In the field of conflict, Lieutenant Rae Sloane of the Galactic Imperial Forces happens upon an awkward young colt far from home.
Lieutenant Rae Sloane is a self-made officer in the Armies of the Galactic Empire with a platoon of firm friends she guards with dedication in her campaigns against the lawless forces of the Outer Rim. Until one fateful skirmish on Umbara, she rescues a strange straggler, a young horse-like child with a piebald coat and a trail of bad luck. Fighting to protect him on both sides of a merciless anarchy, Rae and Pipsqueak discover they are far from alone in the galaxy
My first official crossover. Taking inspiration from my friend, Bronycommander, and getting into the Star Wars spirit. Expect cameos a' plenty! I'm a huge Expanded Universe nerd. Pipsqueak's backstory is based of my own headcanon. Enjoy and may the Force be with you Long Live The Empire.
There was a saying amongst the Imperial Navy, referring to the cacophonic hum of the Low Altitude Assault Transports (LAATs) as they broke the atmosphere and sought out a landing site.
‘It’ll only drive you mad if you let it’
Lieutenant Rae Sloane wondered if it had ever driven anyone mad in the long years of use these gunships had been employed throughout the chaos of the Clone Wars.
According to headquarters, they were working on improving them.
When they’d get around to it remained uncertain.
A blessing then that they were flying at low speeds and the drone of the engines was at its quitest. Flying slowly was the only safe option when flying through the perilous mist of Umbara.
The gunship contained a passenger troop of thirty, a full platoon. Hers.
She hadn’t served in the Imperial Army long but what she lacked in experience, she made up for in tenacity. She’d entered the military academy as a woman, born into a low-class family, raised on a backwater mining planet and with no still-living family or contacts of her own. To say moving up the ranks was difficult would be the understatement of the age.
Yet hope had smiled on her as, in this new age where the Empire required a far reach and a restless eye, those with talent, whatever their background, were invaluable.
In truth, it all depended on who you knew or whose eye you caught. And Rae Sloane had caught the eye none other than Lord Vader himself. After that, everything else had run fairly smoothly.
This, however, was her first official command in battle. Umbara was dreaded by space-farers. Whole fleets took great lengths to avoid it. The planet was haunted, its wilderness a death zone. If, by some miracle, one avoided the cataclysmic atmosphere, perilous terrain and malevolent wildlife, there were stories about the denizens of Umbara, the ‘Shadow People’ as they were known, that turned one’s blood cold. Most Umbarans willingly served the Empire, long-time enthusiasts of this ‘Way of the Sith’ that the Emperor spoke of, but that didn’t make them any less likely to subject unfortunate stragglers to their torments whatever their affiliation.
Thirty men and women occupied the transport passenger seats. She admitted to not knowing all of them but a few were familiar.
Her new corporal was a young and eager fellow named Parisian Froul. The grandson of the regional governor, Moff Glandon Froul, had just graduated from the Academy and was, no doubt, expecting his first battle to be glorious and daring, much the same way as many young officers thought before actually tasting of conflict and all it wrought. Many like him did not survive. Sloane had cursed her fate when she heard she was being lumped with the boy. If anything happened to him, she’d surely pay the price.
Still, she knew his grandfather personally, a fair-minded and honourable man, and growing on Parisian could easily have its benefits.
Among the faceless Stormtroopers, she knew Culic Denwarren, recognisable by his black shoulder pad, denoting his rank as sergeant. A rough, crude and down-to-earth bruiser, Denwarren got away with more insolence than Rae would prefer but was nonetheless an able soldier who treated his troops well and was a proverbial demon with a Z-6 Rotary Blaster Cannon.
The only other Stormtrooper she knew was a mostly-silent Spec-Ops Commando with an antennaed visor and a number of scars across his armour. A veteran at first glance, he would spend his time-off in some sort of trance, sitting alone, never removing his helmet, but in battle appeared to morph into an unstoppable vanguard.
He would mutter to himself but rarely ever spoke to anyone though when Rae once ordered he give his name, he answered with a number.
2-2-4.
He’d said the word Parjai more than several times, the Mandalorian word for ‘victory’. And so that was what most of the platoon knew him as.
Rae did her best to avoid him out of battle and when the fighting began would simply give him an order and leave him to his work. One thing he’d proved was that he was dependable in war.
As far as the Stormtroopers went, that was it. It was a practice in the Imperial Academy not to grow attached to them. Life was cheap for them and basic protocol was to restock. One was rarely ever in short supply and was the dilemma to occur, one word to the Moff would reintroduce conscription in one’s sector, swiftly solving that problem.
But Sloane was different. Her record spoke for itself. Few if any Stormtroopers had perished during her time solving insurgent skirmishes or pirate raids that she’d been allotted to in her early years. Careful tactics and leading at the front proved her victorious time and again.
Her platoon was her honour, her career, her life. And deep down, they meant a lot to her.
That left a newcomer, quietly sitting opposite the front of the gunship, a specialist of the highest calibre and an even greater mystery than Parjai. Though armoured and helmed, no flesh to be seen, he was most definitely not a Stormtrooper. His armour was a dark grey-indigo in colour and slim, streamlined, built for agility and dexterity. Though his helmet appeared similar to Sloane’s, his visor shielded his entire face and more resembled a mask than anything else with a small visor showing eyes and nothing else. One could mistake him for one of the notorious Mandalorian Bounty Hunters of the Fett, Vizsla and Ordo Clans of old. Faceless, fleshless, bloodless, this stranger was called the ‘Dusk Trooper’. A specialism still seen to be in its ‘testing’ stage, the Dusk Trooper was built for the most dangerous operations. Armed with a vibrosword, daggers concealed in the wrist-guards, a pair of blasters and jet-thrusters in his boots, Sloane knew the signs when she saw them.
The Dusk Trooper was a Jedi Hunter.
She did not relish meeting one any time soon. For the sake of her own piece of mind, she prayed this was simply a test for the strange ally.
Umbara was deadly enough without foes with otherworldly magic and blades that cut through lines of troops like cloth.
Dressed in the tight, hardy armour over her standard-issue uniform, her visored helmet, crafted to resemble the helm of the Supreme Commander Lord Vader himself, resting on her lap, she checked her fellows before the ship’s comms-system activated and the image of a senior officer appeared.
Sloane resisted curling her lips in disdain at the sight of him.
Captain Ozzel was despised by soldier and officer alike. A narcissistic elitist whose ambition far outweighed his capability as a commander, he treated those fighting under his command as either commodities or shields. Thankfully the Moff was not such a fool to give him unsupervised command over their troops and so the extent of his idiocy that could threaten their lives ending with his grandiose pre-battle speeches.
Standing smugly before them, his moustache dancing above his lip as he grinned proudly, he spoke, gesturing wildly with each fanciful word.
“Commandants, Captains, Imperial Troops, today we march forth to bring glory and honour to the Empire and his Exalted Majesty and death to all his foes who dare defy the might of the order in this galaxy and all those beyond. I, Captain Kendal Ozzel, a veteran of the Clone Wars, Hero of Khorm, Thwarter of Rattataki Witch Ventress, Bane of the Commerce Guild, Protector and Grandee of Caridia and stalwart Captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Reprisal, speak to you now to tell you that there is no greater glory than this.”
‘Than what? Marching into battle or aggrandising your roles in the ones you happen to have seen?’ Sloane resisted saying out loud ‘Just get to the point, you prancing fool!’
Sniffing loudly, his moustache bristling, Ozzel continued.
“Now, as you know, the majority of Umbara’s denizens rightfully recognise the sovereignty and superiority of the Galactic Empire. However, recently a pocket resistance has garnered an unforeseen amount of support and must be stopped in its tracks. You are to...wh-what?” he turned to the side, speaking with some unseen colleague “Oh...yes...of course...ahem...” In an instant, Ozzel’s bluster was gone and he was doing his best to step to the side “In lieu of these events, his Imperial Majesty has placed his Chief of Administrative Affairs, Madam Sly Moore, as a senior member of the campaign personnel...O-o-over to you, madam, by all means. D-don’t mind me.”
Stammering apologetically, Sloane and her platoon soon realised why Ozzel had suddenly lost his ardour.
Sly Moore now stood before them from the comm-system. Across the Empire, her name was synonymous with dread and unnerve. If ever there was a better definition of ‘Shadow Woman’ it was her. With her pale, hairless head, her great cloak that obscured her entire body and wide, staring eyes, those miniscule pupils boring into a soldier’s soul like blaster-holes, Sly Moore was the subject of many horror stories. A manipulator, an assassin, a hypnotist, warping the minds of rivals, driving them to suicide, some even went so far as to purport that she and the Emperor maintained a sexual relationship.
Sloane shuddered at the thought.
Sly Moore had simply been staring at the platoon for some length of time before she spoke at last, her voice, like many things about her, cold and emotionless.
“Umbara’s late Senator, Mee Deechi, was discovered in the waning years of the Republic to be in league with the Confederacy of Independent Systems. His death at the hands of Rodian anarchists prevented his due sentence but his household remained allies of the Separatists, fleeing the planet when Republic forces under Admiral Yularen pacified the insurgence and returning in secret during the Battle of Coruscant. The current head of the family, Rootai Guulmoth Deechi, was offered a position in the Imperial Senate but has refused, choosing instead to vie for Moff Froul’s position as ruler of this region. This, I need hardly state out loud, is something the Galactic Empire cannot allow.”
Beside his lieutenant, Parisian Froul raised a fist in agreement as he was prone to do whenever someone defended or complimented the authority of his father.
Sly Moore continued.
“You will take to the battlefield and storm the insurgent bunkers. Once completed, you may pass their reserve by scaling the Uskian canyon. That will allow you to infiltrate their headquarters and cut off their retreat.”
She gave them a deathly stare.
“Spare no-one. The Emperor wishes there to be no misunderstanding. When we offer a gift and see it refused, all counter-offers cease. That will be all.”
The hologram blurred and vanished. The engines grew louder as the landing procedures took effect.
Rae heard Sergeant Denwarren groan through his helmet.
“I thought one of the benefits of keeping that mad woman around was so that the Shadow-Men were on our side.” he cursed.
“Well, let’s hope this gets rid of the ones that weren’t.” Rae replied curtly “Get it together, soldier. Behind the shadow, they’re the same flesh and blood. And that’s never enough to stop a blaster.”
Parisian nodded, turning to Parjai who was cradling his head in his hands and slowly rocking back and forth.
“Parjai? Are you alright?” the young corporal asked.
The veteran was mumbling to himself.
“Umbara...The shadow...It was us...Brothers in the shadow...Wa-Wa-Wax...Wax...Brothers...The Twi’lek girl...So...Many...Sabres...”
“Soldier?”
At Parisian’s word, Parjai straightened up as if nothing had happened.
“Ready to disembark, sir?” he said obediently.
The corporal blinked and held the supports as the gunship slowed and steadily set its base upon the ground.
“Hut!”
Lieutenant Rae Sloane jumped from the gunship’s open doors, followed by Corporal Froul, Sergeant Denwarren, Parjai the Veteran and thirty Stormtroopers, the Dusk Trooper bringing up the rear in a nonchalant stride.
The atmosphere was the very definition of bleak. With its endless blood-red haze of sky and thick navy mists, the sight of Umbara boggled the mind. Massive lights had been placed to mark the Imperial HQ and checkpoints, just barely visible in the smog. Their landing site had recently been cleared of enemy activity but the sounds of battle echoed across the landscape, faint flashes of blaster fire noticeable in the distance.
Rae was glad to find Moff Glandon Froul waiting for her, an ancient Imperial General with a thin, weathered face, receding grey hair and a large beard turning white. Standing proud in his light grey uniform, his badges at his right torso decorated him for his service on Geonosis and even before then he’d served as a highly skilled commander in the Stark Hyperspace War (A bloody campaign that claimed the life of Grand Moff Tarkin’s uncle Ranulph) and was credited with saving the life of Senators Horox Ryyder and Zo Howler at Malastare Narrows.
Glandon Froul had been a helpful, hand-on-shoulder supervisor throughout Rae Sloane’s early career, taking note of her achievements battling crime in the main sectors of the Galaxy.
A motley handful of high-ranking men of the Empire had joined him. Sloane knew them by face.
Commander Lorth Needa, an aspiring officer who’d won honours over Coruscant leading a bombardment against General Greivous’s flagship, who greeted them with a respectful salute.
Captain Xamuel Lennox, a grim, unsmiling but honourable officer there to relay the naval placements, who did not seem to react to Sloane and her command.
And finally Ars Dangor, an Imperial Advisor, a squat, sallow-faced, old bureaucrat in a loose-fitting blue-grey robe and a tall, conical headdress. He gave Rae Sloane a smirk that registered somewhere between derision and arousal. Why he was here, Sloane did not wish to fathom.
Glandon, meanwhile, approached her and spoke, a warm smile on his otherwise craggy face.
“Lieutenant Sloane. You come most graciously upon the hour of battle.” he began in a magnanimous baritone that had become something of a trademark to him “I was dreading that our good Captain Ozzel would drag his speech out until the conflict was over.”
Rae gave a chuckle.
“I’m sure we can make ourselves useful in some way, sir.”
“I am quite certain. I trust Miss Moore informed you of the tactical advance planned upon the insurgent headquarters?”
“She did, sir.”
“Well, I very much advise getting about it. Three more platoons will cover your rear and flank and probe droids to signal for any danger in the undergrowth.”
“Thank you, sir, we shall disembark on your command.”
“Excellent.” the Moff turned to notice his grandson peering over Sloane’s shoulder bashfully. The old man smiled.
“Parisian,” he said “It pleases me to see you in uniform. Your father would be very proud.” As Parisian gave a salute, barely able to keep himself from breaking down in awe, Glandon continued “The Lieutenant here is one of the finest in the Sector. She has fought in some of the most perilous scrapes and prevailed each time. I say this once and expect to be listened to...You will follow her command to the letter...to the letter, I say...at all times. Is that clear?”
“Y-yes, grandfa...er...sir.” the boy corrected himself.
“Good. If one is to lead, one must first learn how to follow. Experience is key. The old teach the young, isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.” Parisian saluted.
“You can count on us, sir.” Rae Sloane finished for her corporal.
“Yes.” Moff Froul gave his compatriots a glance “As I have been informing my fellows, your service record proceeds you, Sloane. I expect nothing but the best from an officer of your calibre.”
Lieutenant Sloane saluted and fasted her helmet.
“And you shall have it, sir. I guarantee it.”
As the Moff took a consenting step back, the Lieutenant raised her blaster.
“With me, troopers! Our target is Guulmoth Deechi and his pinched little head! Advance!”
“Into the mess, lads!” Denwarren yelled, his blaster cannon whirring into preparation “Those Shadow-Men aren’t gonna’ shoot themselves!”
They began their trek through the undergrowth at a measured but organised sprint, rushing into the Uskian canyon.
“Life-Sensors on! Hostiles!” Sloane yelled as shapes in the mist took humanoid form. Tapping a button at the side of her goggles, she saw them. Umbarans, blasters at the ready.
“Fireteam formation, right now!” Rolling to the side, her Stormtroopers dispersed and spread out, firing on all hostile activity. Umbarans fell before their first shot, those that remained fired back with ghostly-green projectiles. Finding cover in the tall grass, the troops were largely hidden from view.
Sloane took cover behind a mound, joined by Parisian and Denwarren, who set up his cannon on the ground and fired back and whatever direction enemy fire came from.
Parisian, meanwhile, took a deep breath, holding his blaster pistol in both hands, before rising up and firing.
After a moment too long, Rae grabbed him by the tunic and hauled him back under cover as a hail of bolts just missed him. Shaking dust out of his eyes, Parisian stared up at his commander who stared daggers into him.
“Listen and listen good, corporal!” Rae Sloane roared “First...you shoot...Then...you duck...You never, ever stick around to watch with your head to your backside out in the air for all to see!”
“B-b-but how was I supposed to know if I hit them or not?” Parisian retorted with a fearful stutter.
Rae rolled her eyes.
“Kid...You’ll know if you hit them...when they stop shooting!”
Slowly the corporal nodded.
“That’s...good advice. Thank you, lieutenant.”
“Just make sure it doesn’t happen twice. Few people get to do it once.”
“Sir, don’t look now but I think Dusk’s up to something!” Denwarren pointed out the Dusk Trooper jet-vaulting atop a great tree branch and leaping for an outcrop. Hidden from view, he retrieved a small silver ball, tapped at it and lobbed it at the Umbarans.
A field of lightning blasted out of the ball as the grenade took effect, shocking the Umbarans, disabling every system in their battle-suits and leaving many of them jolting around on shaking legs, those who escaped the blast still suitably disorientated.
“Now! Mop ‘em up!” Denwarren roared as he stood up with his cannon and let fly a hail of blasts at the spasming foe. Parjai yelled his name loudly as he and the other troopers mowed down the Umbarans with deadly efficiency.
By the time the smoke and flashes cleared, it was over as quickly as it had started.
“I got one!” Parisian yelled triumphantly.
“Sorry, Junior, that was one of mine.” Denwarren chuckled sardonically.
The young corporal scowled.
“Don’t call me Junior.” he muttered.
“Stop jabbering and move!” Their lieutenant barked as the advance continued “We don’t have long before the vanguard spread out and come down on every angle.”
It was the work of a moment to scale the Uskian canyon. When last the armies of the Republic had attempted such, they’d lost hundreds to the near-supernatural predators that prowled the zone. But recently, Grand Moff Tarkin had instituted a means of avoiding losing ground and troops to wildlife. Swift aerial bombardments of short-range nerve-gas on multiple pathways, wiping out any wildlife directly in the path of the march and warding off anything else in the vicinity. It dissipated fast but Sloane still felt her eyes sting behind her goggles as they passed.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t like many things Tarkin thought up.
But it did tend to work.
As Sloane found her feet on flat ground once more, she turned and saw the Insurgent HQ just up ahead. Zooming in with her visor, she sighted their leader.
Gullmoth Deechee shared the deathly pale complexion and dark, steely eyes of most Umbarans. He was dressed in a great golden cloak topped by a bubble-like breathing helmet. His hair was cut into a slick stripe down his scalp and his eye shadow and lips were a deep indigo. In the midst of battle, awaiting the various vehicles to resupply, he wore an impatient scowl, flapping his cloak with frustration.
The Insurgents had little in the way of vehicles and artillery. Most of which had been confiscated by the Moore family when it was determined Deechi could not be trusted. This was among the many reasons this battle would be over as quickly as it began. But nonetheless, taking down Deechi would still be a noteworthy achievement.
Sloane took a deep inhale. The platoon hadn’t been seen.
Tapping the side of her helmet, activating her command commlink, she made sure her whisper was heard by all thirty troopers.
“Okay. Surround him on all sides. I’m going down with Corporal Froul and Parjai. I’m gonna’ give him one last chance to back down.”
“Why?” Denwarren retorted “We’ve got him right where we want him. We can bring them all down in one big shower of plasma.”
“I’m sure we can...if he refuses to surrender. Now get to it.”
Obediently, the Stormtroopers ran to position, the Dusk Trooper taking position on the high ground.
Sloane, meanwhile, removed her helmet and paced steadily towards the foe, a nervous Parision Froul and an emotionless Parjai beside her.
Several Umbarans at the vehicles or guard positions noticed her and primed their weapons, saying nothing.
They were a notoriously quiet people but Guulmoth Deechi proved himself an exception.
“Wh-who are you?! What is the meaning of this?! Y-you Imperial hounds dare to harass me?! Answer me, now! Who are you?!”
Rae Sloane spoke frankly, her officer’s tone mixed with a diplomatic politeness.
“Rootai Deechi, I am Lieutenant Rae Sloane of Moff Froul’s Pacification Force on Umbara. We have bypassed your defensive lines which will, in any case, soon be overrun. You’re surrounded and vastly outnumbered. Surrender now and come with us for processing and you and your co-conspirators will receive a fair trial.”
Deechi spat.
“Do you think I cannot see what you hide?! What you scheme?!” he ranted with fury “Your plots against my family and its hold in the Senate will not be forgiven or unpunished! You are filth! And you shall die like filth!”
“That sounds like a no.” Sloane put her helmet back on and yelled “Platoon! Open fire!”
Cacophony and blinding light erupted before her as the Shadow-Men fell in all directions.
Sloane was very particular about the Stormtroopers she took into her platoon, going as far as to spend monthly salaries purchasing the sharpest shooters. It rarely paid off to lead an army that couldn’t shoot straight.
Within moments, Deechi was alone. With a shriek, the Rootai made a dash for it, frantically pressing something that looked foreboding like some form of detonator.
Luminous sickly-green explosions went off behind him as the lights around the abandoned headquarters flashed wildly and an alarm signal went off.
‘Peace and quiet after this.’ Sloane promised herself, gritting her teeth ‘Peace and quiet.’
Beside her, Parisian fumbled with his goggles and earphones, trying to recalibrate them. Sloane, ever the traditionalist when it came to these matters, stood him up, facing her and gave the side of his head a whack.
His devices recalibrated, Parisian gave a relaxed sigh.
“Ah, thank you, ma’am.”
“Stay sharp, corporal. You and Denwarren stay in position and contact the Moff for support. They’ll be on us in minutes.” she gave a not to the specialist “Dusk, Parjai, three of you men, follow me. We’re going after Deechi.”
The Rootai hadn’t gotten far. In his trailing cloak and legs that were not raised for long-distance running, he’d barely made it a few yards before Sloane and her compatriots were hot on his trail.
Struggling to find her voice on her sprint, Sloane called out to him.
“Give it up, Deechi! It’s over! Get the hell back here!”
“Stay away from me, you scum! Stay back!” Deechi was not to be put off. Over vines and thickets, Sloane and her squad ran on.
Deechi hazarded a look over his shoulder.
Stumbling with another shriek, he fell a bare foot from the edge of a cliff, formerly hidden in the mist. Scrambling on the ground, likely thoroughly ruining his cloak, he looked up at the death squad on him.
“No! Stay back!” he wailed.
“Stand down, Deechi. Hands in the air.” Rae Sloane primed her blaster.
“Get away from me!” Deechi withdrew a blaster and frantically pointed it forward “If you come an inch closer...”
He noticed his trailers stop dead in their tracks. Sloane wore a face of dread.
“Sir...I’d advise against that.”
Deechi’s lips twisted into a triumphant snarl.
“Get back, right now.”
“Sir, I-I-I really would advise coming with us. R-right now.” Sloane was beginning to stammer.
“Do you honestly think I’m afraid of-”
Whump!
A formless mass materialised out of the fog and slammed the panicking Umbaran into the ground. Slowly rising, a monstrous tentacle wrapped around his immobile body and raised him high.
Rae Sloane watched, blaster at the ready as Guulmoth Deechi gave one last scream before he was dragged below, disappearing into the crevice, followed by a blood-curdling gurgle of agony and what could best be described as wet, fleshy crunches.
A vixus, Umbaran relative of the infamous sarlacc beast.
Guulmoth Deechi’s fate had not been a pleasant one. Hard to imagine if this was worse than what Sly Moore or the Emperor had planned for him.
Fighting nausea, Rae turned to her squad.
“Well...good work, team.” she said awkwardly “I believe that concludes...”
“Do you hear that?”
The voice had been so soft and monotone, Rae took a while to realise it had come from the Dusk Trooper. He was pointing to the pit the vixus made its home where the faint cry of a being could be heard.
It certainly wasn’t Deechi.
Cricking her neck, Rae regretted ever presuming it would be an easy day.
“Possible civilian in hazard zone. We’re going in.”
“Is that wise, sir?” Dusk asked flatly.
“No. Any more questions? Good.” Rae answered curtly, not waiting for an answer as she peered over the cliff edge.
Two tentacles were slamming themselves against a rocky outcrop where seemingly its prey was hiding.
“Get away you horrible...thingy!” The voice was back again, clearly a child’s, fearful but at the same time sparked with a young tenacity “Don’t eat me! I’m bad for you!”
"Case...Hard...Place...Tuh...Tuh...Ugh..." Parjai was muttering.
Gritting her teeth, Rae adjusted her blaster and shot a rappel hook into the cliff-side opposite.
“Cover me!” she yelled to her troops who unleashed a volley upon the beast’s gaping maw as its shapeless limbs flailed wildly.
If they maintained fire from multiple directions at a time, the relatively blind beast wouldn’t be able to focus.
Nonetheless, she still didn’t fancy her chances and as the stale air filled her nostrils with the stench of decaying corpses, she started having second thoughts.
Steeling herself, she found ground and the civilian, who’ curled up in a ball in fright as the cliff began deteriorating, whole chunks of rock broken loose under the beast’s fury.
The rapel came loose. As she set about firing another, she felt something grab her leg. Dragged off her feet, she slammed into the ground and barely escaped being hauled to her doom by grabbing the outcrop, holding on with all her might.
“Lieutenant. Detonator! Now!” Dusk’s cry came down.
Rae got it.
Priming a thermal detonator, she tossed it forward, its bleeping a target for the beast’s senses. Grabbing it greedily, the vixus tossed the detonator into its open mouth.
One small but powerful explosion and a savage cry of pain and dismay later, it was over.
The vixus was dead, her troops and the civilian saved from Deechi’s gruesome death.
The thick mist and churned-up dust nearly blinding her, Rae called out.
“It’s okay, kid. You there? Hold onto to me and I’ll get us out.”
“O-okay.” came a reply as she felt a tiny pair of arms clasp hold of her shoulders. Firing the rappel up into the air, she felt it grow taut and was steadily able to pull herself back to the surface.
Taking a few grateful gulps of air, she looked to her men.
“There...Now that wasn’t so bad.”
“Sir?” It was impossible to detect emotion behind those helmets but it was the closest she’d ever seen to seeing Stormtroopers surprised.
“Everyone okay?”
“What...is that?”
In the commotion, she’d barely registered the civilian and was only now getting a good look at it.
It was a short, quadrupedal creature with tiny, stubby little hooves, a spiky, mahogany tail and an enormous head. One struggled to imagine now it held itself aloft. A pair of large, tufted ears between a similarly spiky, mahogany mane twitched with wonder as a pair of wide, hazel eyes stared up at her, one eye smudged in a patch of dark brown, the creature seemingly possessed of a piebald coat. Tapping its hooves about, it gave Rae an excited smile.
“Thanks a bunch! That was cracking good! That thing was like ‘Rooooarrgh’ and you were like ‘Shoop...Pooowww!’ and then it was all ‘Aaareeek!’ and then ‘Blurgh!’ and...and...golly, you’re really tall. And you’re standing on two legs. Are you some sort of yeti?”
At closest comparison, the creature appeared to be some kind of little horse, a creature endemic to Endor and a few other planets, though the natives had other names for them.
But strangely, no tales were told of them being able to talk.
“Are you...from around here?”
The little horse looked left and right, showing slight concern but nothing more.
“No, afraid not. You don’t know I can get home, do you?”
Rae Sloane stared in disbelief at the creature, turned to her troops, turned back to the creature again and sighed.
‘Okay...’ she thought ‘As of now...I am officially DONE with Umbara.’
Captain Kendal Ozzel had been boasting of the majesty of the Reprisal, his personal Star Destroyer, for what seemed like several hours.
If he was speaking to anyone else, Moff Froul would have assumed he was claiming his own Star Destroyer, the Hellfire, was inadequate.
But he knew well enough. Boasting about anything and everything he thought he owned was simply what Kendal Ozzel did.
Froul didn’t enjoy reminding himself that men like Ozzel were presently ruling the New Order but he imagined that it would only be a matter of time before those of truly noticeable incompetence would be removed.
One way or another.
Such was the Empire’s way.
As they and several senior officers of the Umbara Pacification Campaign stood on the stately bridge of the Hellfire, Froul took a moment to observe, in the distance, the arrival of the first men and women returning. It brought a smile to his face.
He’d received word that the Insurgency had been crushed bare moments ago. His soldiers worked fast and sure. They had surely done the Empire proud this day.
His commlink started blinking. Fiddling with the receptor, he handed it to one of his more technologically-learned lieutenants who successfully booted it into the main communications system on the bridge.
Parisian Froul, fresh from battle, saluted his grandfather and spoke proudly, like a school-child volunteering to read a speech.
“Your Excellency, officers of the Empire, I bring word of the deserved demise of the treasonous Rootai Guulmoth Deechi at the hands of our platoon and its commanding officer, Lieutenant Sloane.”
“Good.” Xamuel Lennox said flatly “Our first catch of the day.”
“Well done, my boy, well done indeed.” Moff Glandon Froul beamed at the young corporal “I hope you found your first taste of battle enlightening.”
“Oh yes, sir.”
“Good. Are you in the process of leaving the planet?”
“We’re just this minute getting on the shuttle, sir.”
“Excellent. We shall speak more on your return. At this moment, I should like to speak with the Lieutenant.”
“Righto, sir.”
The commlink flickered and the Moff found himself looking upon Lieutenant Rae Sloane, her armour pitted with slight blast-marks and ash but looking as fit and ready as ever.
“Excellent work, Miss Sloane.” Moff Froul began “I see I was right to rely on you. We are presently being recalled to the Oversector Command Post. We will be entertaining very important figures so...” he chuckled “Wear a suit.”
“Thank you, sir-Just one thing, sir.” Rae Sloane interjected before the communication ended “Feel necessary to inform you that shortly after carrying out our mission, my platoon encountered a...unknown life-form.”
Glandon Froul’s brow rose.
“Dangerous?”
“Not as far as we know, sir.”
“Is it some form of local wildlife or a civilian?”
Sloane thought a moment.
“Something between those lines, sir. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before.”
“Sentient?”
“It’s capable of speech and understanding that of others, sir. I’d say so.”
“But it doesn’t appear on any available databank?”
“Well, my scanner didn’t find anything. I’ll have better resources on the Hellfire or at the Command Post.”
The Moff looked concerned.
“You’re bringing it with you?”
“Sir, I assure you, the subject is my responsibility and I shall take any and all repercussions for its suitable containment.” Sloane promised, a hand over her chest-plate.
Froul tapped his foot, his hands behind his back in thought.
“Very well, Lieutenant. Just make sure whatever this creature is does not cause any inconvenience. I shall await you in Hanger Bay Six”
*
Rae Sloane sighed as the commlink deactivated before glancing at the small animal perched on her lap with a patient but curious smile.
She gave him a puzzled look.
What was she going to do with this thing?
Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t dangerous. It had seemed pretty obliging, so far.
As they breached the atmosphere, the shuttle joined a caravan of rendezvous ships heading for the Hellfire, the animal spoke for the first time since they left Umbara.
“Are we in outer space?”
Sloane raised her eyebrow.
The animal had some idea of galactic travel.
Perhaps his species was more advanced than simple wildlife.
“Well...we’re in space. 'Outer', I suppose, depends on your point of view.”
“So...we’re really out...where the stars are?”
“Uh...I guess you could say that.”
“Wow!” the animal gave an awed whistle “I bet Luna could tell me all about them.”
“Luna?”
“Of course. Don’t you know her?”
“Is she...like you?”
“Oh no, no,” the little creature gave a chuckle “She’s much, much bigger than me and has way different colours.”
“Um...okay...” Sloane decided to push for answers of her own. This was growing too awkward for words.
“Do you have a name?”
“Of course.” He placed a hoof on his chest and smiled “I’m Pipsqueak. But my friends all call me Pip.”
“Huh...Interesting” Sloane couldn’t resist a chuckle at the thought of it. It seemed kind of cruel to call a child a name like ‘Pipsqueak’. Still, this was clearly a largely unknown alien race with ways different to their own. Perhaps ‘Pipsqueak’ lost something in translation.
“And...where, exactly are you from? I take it you’re not local to Umbara?”
“You mean, that red, shadow place?” Pipsqueak asked “No, no. I’m from Ponyville...Well, technically, I come from Trottingham, but Ponyville’s where I spend a lot of my time. Most of my friends are there, the colts and fillies at Miss Cheerilee’s.”
“Wait...did I hear you right...Ponyville?” Another name that seemed hard to believe.
“Yeah. Pony town, where the Bearers of the Elements live. Don’t you know Ponyville?”
“You mean to tell me...” Rae interrupted “You’re...a pony?”
“That’s right. We’re all ponies in Ponyville. Well, except for Cranky and Matilda, they’re donkeys. Oh, and Zecora, she’s a zebra, but she lives just outside the town in the forest...And I suppose you have to count Spike as well.”
“Okay, hold on, kid! One thing at a time, here.” Rae was struggling to keep track.
She knew of such things as ponies and horses in the galaxy. They were found on Endor, though the locals called them by different names, and sold or bred by some of the noble families in the Core Worlds. Each world had a different name for them and they were only really kept for the fact they were easy to take care of as opposed to some of the more notorious wildlife of the galaxy.
But no-one, to her knowledge, had ever heard ponies talk.
“Should I try a reading with this?” Parisian held up some appliance in his hand “Perhaps the force is at hand.”
Rae glanced at it and groaned.
“Tell me that’s not a...”
“Midichlorian-Scanner, yes.”
With a roll of her eyes, Rae took it off the corporal and threw it under her seat.
“Are they still making those?” she sighed “They do know it’s all bogus, right?”
“What...Midichlorians?” Parisian looked puzzled.
“A theory.” Rae explained, waving her hands around in recollection “A school of thought. ‘Force in the blood’. Some of the more controversial Jedi Masters came up with it, like Syfo-Dyas and Qui-Gon-Jinn. But it’s just a theory, nothing was ever proven. These scanners only seem to detect for what they call ‘Disturbances in the Force’, whatever those are. There’s no statistics to it. You can’t put a ‘Power Level’ on the Force! It doesn’t work that way! These days the whole thing is considered debunked. I reckon they just came up with it to give them something to do.” Her voice grew grim “Namely, get away with stealing so-called ‘force-sensitive’ children from their beds and indoctrinating them into their ways.”
She was starting to talk in a language Parisian evidently understood as he nodded vehemently.
“What’s all this about?” Pipsqueak spoke up.
Rae turned back to him. She was taking a while to fully get used to this.
Part of her was still wondering whether or not she was lost in some kind of dream.
Though for something quite this weird, she’d have probably had to have started smoking hard death sticks. And that was something she did not, to her knowledge, take part in.
“Uh...nothing you need to worry about, kid.” Rae placed a hand on what must have been the little colt’s shoulder.
“Look, little guy...We’re heading to a large shuttle where...I guess you could say it’s a temporary residence. The ones in charge will want to examine who you are, what you are and where you came from. I’ll make sure they don’t do anything that could hurt you, okay?”
“Oh...um...okay, thank you.” Twinges of nervousness played at Pipsqueak’s face but he seemed fair with the circumstances.
Rae only hoped this would be ended smoothly.
The kid was her responsibility.
And one didn’t find many friendly faces in these times.
The Stormtroopers disembarked in a march, two-by-two, Denwarren in front and Parjai bringing up the rear.
Glandon Froul approached in his stately manner, Ozzel, Needa and Lennox beside him. Ars Dango, it seemed, had shuffled off elsewhere.
Taking a deep breath, Rae Sloane left her seat and knelt down to Pipsqueak’s level, giving him a smile and a slight ruffle of his mane.
“Okay, kid. Just stick by me at all times and I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you. I won’t leave you with anyone I don’t trust and I’ll do all I can to get you home safe. I promise.”
“Th-thank you.” He’d stammered. He seemed very touched.
Truthfully, Rae was very impressed at how chirpy he seemed about the whole endeavour. Though it was more than likely the circumstances simply hadn’t sunk in yet.
“By the way...” he murmured “I’m sorry...I haven’t got your name, yet. I heard one of you say...Sloane?”
“That’s right, kid. Rae Sloane, Lieutenant in the Imperial Navy. Call me Rae, in private anyway.” He patted his back “Just stick by me. I’ll see if I can do the talking.”
Stepping off the gunship, Rae Sloane, Parisian Froul and the Dusk Trooper departed.
It took but a moment for the full confusion to set into the officers present.
Moff Glandon Froul stared at the little colt completely perplexed. Beside him, Ozzel opened and closed his mouth in shock, lost for words.
Trying to brush off the awkwardness, Rae saluted.
“Your Excellency, honoured officers, we have returned. Victory on Umbara has been achieved and...as I mentioned...I have brought the life-form.”
“So I see, Lieutenant.” Moff Froul said at last, taking in the sight of the colt who stared up at him, then the troopers, then the shuttle hanger, then outside, his eyes wide with wonder.
“Cor! This is amazing! Look at all this! This place is huge! And look outside! Just...look at all those stars...and there must be...planets and supernovas and-and-and all the things Luna told me about...Oh, I wish she was here, I could find out so much.”
“It can TALK?!” Ozzel exclaimed at length.
“A great many things can talk, Captain.” Froul said knowingly “It’s simply a matter of understanding them.”
Clearing his throat, he craned his neck down and spoke in a calm, straightforward, somewhat-fatherly manner.
“Ahem...Young one, can you understand me?”
Pipsqueak turned to him and nodded.
“Oh yes, sir. Perfectly.” Clearing his own throat, he put his little hooves together and bowed his head in what must have been some gesture of politeness.
“Good afternoon, sir. How are you today?”
“It’s late evening.” Parisian whispered to Rae who shushed him.
Glandon Froul seemed slightly surprised, pleasantly so at least, by the colt’s manners.
“I’m in very good health, thank you.” he chuckled “Well, whatever it is, it’s certainly been raised well.”
Ozzel curled his lips in distaste and interjected.
“All the same, your Excellency, I find this creature...disturbing.”
“Well, I am sure all disturbances will be cleared up once we’ve finished our examination.” Froul said sagely “Lieutenant. I believe we can consider this a need-to-know matter. I should think it would save some time if you conducted the examinations yourself, if you would be so kind. You shall be permitted to use the laboratories on your corridor. I’ll have the equipment prepared. Would you be available to carry out the procedures.”
“Absolutely, sir. Thank you.”
“Very good. Now, I should like to speak with my grandson...And you.” He pointed to the Dusk Trooper “Later on.”
The Dusk Trooper nodded and departed silently to the armoury. Glandon and Parisian went off together as the aged general and young corporal spoke privately. Rae could just make it out.
“Is it true, grandfather? Are Imperial High Command really going to pay us a visit?”
“Certainly certain elements of it. Yularen and Veers are already here.”
“Golly!” Parisian sounded giddy without excitement “Do you think he’ll sign my holocron?”
“Well, thus far, General Veers has spent most of his time in the boxing ring but try to catch him in a good mood, perhaps when he’s won. Now, when Grand Moff Tarkin gets here, you must on no account...”
The voices droned into silence as Rae Sloane took Pipsqueak off to the living quarters.
“This is incredible! I-I-I’m actually in space!” the little colt was still taking in the sights about him “So where are we going now?”
“Uh...” Rae chuckled awkwardly “The vets.”
*
The scanners and databanks made all manner of bleeps, whistles and drones as Pipsqueak sat patiently on the large white table in the large white laboratory. His huge eyes marvelled at all the gadgets and gizmos spinning round him, though every time the scanners actually went to work on him, trailing their visors up and down, he stood stock-still.
Rae meanwhile tapped at the datalogs.
“So...you mentioned a...Equestria, was it?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, that doesn’t show up anywhere on the databanks. And these things are state-of-the-art. The Moff insists. I can’t find this Planet Equestria at all.”
“Oh, it’s not a planet, it’s a continent.”
“Ah...Right, okay.” Rae continued tapping “...No, no sign of continents either. What’s the actual planet called?”
“Oh...the planet...uh...” Pipsqueak mumbled “I don’t actually think we have a name for it. It’s just called ‘The World’, or ‘The Known World’.”
“Well...” Rae sighed, massaging her temples “That’s gonna’ make things a little confusing.”
“What’s the problem?” It was probably the closest Pipsqueak had ever sounded to worried.
“Well, I can’t very easily find out where you live if I don’t know what planet you live on.”
“Oh...um...Well, I know it has a lot of blue...and green...and yellow and grey and white and...”
“Yeah, that’s great, kid.” Rae failed to hide her sarcasm. She was losing patience.
There was a whistle as the door opened and Parisian almost bounded in, his face lit up with glee.
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant! It’s incredible! High Command is coming and guess who’s leading it!”
Rae rolled her eyes. Corporal Parisian Froul had a habit of what was in some circles known as ‘Fanboying’ over leading, experienced officials of the Empire. It got slightly grating, particularly as anyone who really knew such officials knew they had better things to do than pander to adoring military enthusiasts who were frequently neither leading nor experienced.
But she allowed it in private. It wouldn’t do him any harm, to her knowledge.
“Hazard a guess...Wilhuff Tarkin?”
“The Grand Moff himself!” Parisian hopped about wildly “Apparently he’s taking lunch with several senators to organise a peaceful transfer of power”
Rae’s lip twisted in distaste.
“Senators? We don’t need their scum!”
“Well, no. Exactly. That’s what the Grand Moff’s going to tell them. Anyway, grandfather asked me to tell you that, owing to your recent success, you’ve been asked to join them for lunch.”
The lieutenant sighed. She’d thought such trivialities had died with the old republic.
She’d never liked it; the sycophancy of a government relying on self-interested proprietors half a galaxy away to get anything done, talking and blustering in the tedious halls of government for days on end. The never-ending practice of sweetening senators, buttering bureaucrats and caramelising corporations had been thought to have been abolished long ago as a new order rose that would instead take what it needed, what it deserved.
But if Tarkin had requested it, one would have to indulge him. Tarkin was a man who never went unindulged.
“All right. But I’m not wearing a dress.”
“Righto. Grandfather said you may take the animal as long as it behaves and preferably does not speak.”
“Oh...sorry...” Pip looked downcast “Did I say something wrong back there?”
“No, no, Pip, it’s okay.” Rae ruffled his mane “It’s just...General rule of thumb here, you shouldn’t attract the wrong sort of attention in the Empire...Especially not when Senators are around.”
She turned to Parisian.
“So who’ll be there?”
The corporal pulled out a databank that served as something of an invitation and scrolled down the names.
“Well, Tarkin will be joined by grandfather, of course; Admiral Yularen, Admiral Thrawn, General Veers, Moff Delian Mors, they’re already here on the Hellfire.” He gave another excited squeak at the thought of meeting them “Oh and Captain Daala will be joining Tarkin, as usual. As to the Senators, we have Orn Free Taa of Ryloth, Dar Wac of Rodia, Ask Aak, Ainlee Teem and Baskol Yeesrim of Malastare, Zo Howler, Gorothin Vagger, Eeusu Estornii, Yeb Yeb Adem’thorn...golly, alien names are a mouthful...oh, and the Grand Moff’s niece, Shayla Paige-Tarkin of Eriadu. You’ll be sitting between her and Daala, I believe. The ladies of war.” He gave a chuckle that dried up in his throat at the sight of the lieutenant’s humourless expression.
“I’ve never heard of the Paiges.” Rae said after a moment’s silence.
“You wouldn’t. These days, it pays to call yourself a Tarkin.”
“I can imagine...” the young woman sighed “Ten senators in one room, we’ll be lucky if we don’t all lose our minds.”
“Well, I’d say Orn Free Taa makes it twelve and a half.” This time, Rae actually joined in with his laugh. He counted it an achievement. Pacing over to the computer, Parisian glanced over the databanks.
“Any luck with the pony?”
“None, I’m afraid.”
“So, there’s no real way to tell where it came from.”
“He.”
“Pardon?”
“He, Corporal, not it. He! And he has a name.” Rae gave him a withering stare.
Parisian nodded frantically.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t apologise to me, Corporal.” She gestured to Pip who sat watching the argument with a look of concern.
He watched as the young man in the clean grey suit removed his cap, showing a face of pale skin, brown hair growing just below his ears and large pensive-looking grey eyes.
The young man cleared his throat and gave the colt a smile.
“Apologies...erm...Pip, is it?” He asked to which the colt nodded “We’re finding this all quite a bit to take in but, I assure you, you have nothing to fear from us.”
“That’s alright.” Pip gave him a smile “Um...I didn’t get your name either though.”
“Ah...well then.” Parisian gave him a salute “Corporal Parisian Froul of the Cyrillian Froul family, son of the late Captain Menken Froul and grandson of Moff Glandon Froul. I’m serving under the Lieutenant here. First few months in the navy. Nothing’s killed me yet.”
“I must be doing something right.” Rae chuckled “I suppose I’ll have to introduce you to everyone around once we get the opportunity...Provided, of course...”
“You know, I’m just wondering, begging your pardon sir.” Parisian suggested holding up the damned Midichlorian Scanner again.
Rae tutted.
“I think we’d know if this is a Jedi trick, Corporal.”
“Look, let’s just give it a shot. You never know.”
Rae looked to the scanner, then to the curious Pipsqueak, then to the scanner again and sighed.
“Well, nothing else has worked.” She took the scanner and turned to the colt.
“Okay, Pip. Um...I’m gonna need you to be brave here. I need a small blood sample." She retrieved a small disk-like object slotted in the front of the scanner and held it up to him.
Pipsqueak’s face fell.
“You mean like an injection?”
“Yeah. It’ll only hurt for a bit and it won’t be for long.”
The colt was quiet a moment then took a deep breath, his little chest rising and falling.
“Okay...” he closed his eyes as Rae placed the disk flat on his shoulder and pressed her thumb on its base.
A small, arrowhead-like shard shot out of the middle of the disk and back in again in a second. Pip gave a small cry of pain and tears appeared in the corner of his eyes.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, kid. That’s all there is.” Rae found herself placing a gentle hand on his little cheek and giving him a warm smile that was almost motherly. With her free hand, she inserted the disk into the scanner and handed it to Parisian.
“You okay, Pip?” she said, trying to sound soothing.
“Y-y-yeah...I-I think so.” Pip mumbled as Rae pulled out a drawer from under the table and placed a small, sponge-like band-aid over the the cut.
“You were very brave, Pip.” The woman assured him “I seem to recall Parisian wasn’t nearly as quiet when he had to get his shot taken.”
Parisian gave a small, slightly-sarcastic laugh before the results of the blood-test came through. His eyes grew wide and one eyebrow rose higher than the other as his mouth opened wide dumbfoundedly.
“Sir?” He held up the scanner.
Normally the scanner readings would show up in a wave of blue sphere-like readings as the blood cells were analysed.
Not quite so in this case.
Rae couldn’t tell if she was half-asleep or delirious.
To her eyes, and seemingly those of Parisian, the spheres were multi-coloured. Like a perfect rainbow.
“What...the...hell?”
“I’ve checked. It’s not a fault in the scanner.” Parisian said “Now, to the Empire’s knowledge, there’s only ever been one other event similar to this.” He explained flatly, as if rehearsed “An unidentified object of organic but inactive matter found in the Ferroan Sector by Chiss Ascendry Authorities and transferred to the office of the Emperor. Witnesses claim that the reading was incomprehensible, completely scrambled, but that the spheres were a dark grey in colour, unlike any reading ever taken in this galaxy. The object in question is currently still under examination but the theory is that it came not from another planet but another galaxy...perhaps even...” He trailed off.
“Well?” Rae asked impatiently “It’ll hardly be the weirdest thing today.”
Parisian sighed and continued.
“Another dimension. A universe with similar base and build as our own but with different rules of life and existence. Lieutenant...It may simply be a debunked theory but...Pipsqueak here may be from another world...between worlds.”
Slowly, the weight of the corporal’s words sinking in, Rae turned to Pipsqueak, who stared bewildered at the two.
She knelt down and spoke earnestly.
“Pip...I need to think hard. Do you remember how you got to Umbara?”
“Yeah...Sort of...” Pip looked back, scratching his mane in thought “I was playing in Ponyville with my friends Dinky and Tootsie...Everypony makes fun of me for playing with fillies but I don’t care. Anyway, we passed Fluttershy and Discord having a conversation. Discord didn’t look really well and he said there might be some sort of danger about that he was finding hard to control. It sounded interesting so we hid behind a corner and then these...weird circles of light and colour...Although they were kind of dark actually...They just appeared. Discord did something with his hands and voice that closed them one by one but they started pulling, invisibly...sort of. I saw one of them nearly caught Tootsie, pulling her along the ground. She was screaming. And Dinky was screaming. So I grabbed her forehoof, pulled her away but...I suppose I must have gotten sucked in instead.” Finished, he was quiet a moment as his own words sunk in, his face paling, his expression falling to dread.
“Then...the circle closed...and I ended up on that red, misty world...Fell into that crag...And that’s when you found me.”
“Okay...okay...” Rae brushed her hair with her hand in frustration “That must have been some kind of portal...Took you from wherever you live to where we live...to how we live.”
“So...can you get me back?”
It was Rae’s turn to be quiet a moment as she looked to Parisian who gave a guilty shrug.
“I...don’t know.”
Pip’s face fell as his breath quickened, his tiny hooves shaking on the table.
“Wh-wh-what do you mean you d-don’t know?!” he exclaimed “I-I-I have to get home! M-My mum! And Dinky! And Tungsten and everypony! I-I-I can’t just leave them behind I...I...I...”
“Kid, kid, calm down! Calm down!” Rae grabbed him as the colt gasped for air rapidly before slowing down, crying into the lieutenant’s shoulder as his little body wracked with sobs.
“I wanna’ go home...” he wept, each time quieter and more grief-stricken “I wanna’ go home...I wanna’ go home...”
“Shh-sh-sh-sh...It’s okay...It’s okay.”
Rae found herself hugging him, rocking the little colt back and forth in her arms as she felt what might have been tears in the corners of her eyes.
Beside her, Parisian knelt down to their level and ruffled the little pony’s mane.
“Listen...” he said “I’m sure there’s a way to get you back. If we just work on it. We have some free time between our work and...You mentioned there’s one among your kind who knows a lot about space and stars.”
“Mm-hm...” Pipsqueak mumbled, sniffing “Princess Luna...She’s a friend, she told me herself. And my favourite princess.”
“Well...I’m sure she’ll think of something.”
It was only a passing assurance. Deep down, neither Parisian nor Rae had any idea if and how this Princess Luna could find a way between her world and theirs.
But it was a hope worth keeping.
“But until then, we’ll take care of you. Okay, kid?”
Pipsqueak stared up at the two with those big, bright eyes of his.
Rae felt something warm in the middle of her chest when she saw him smile. Something she hadn’t felt for a long while.
“Okay...” Pipsqueak said, drying his tears “Thank you.”
Hugging him again, Rae patted him on the back and opened the door to the corridors of the Hellfire.
“Come on.” she said brightly “I’ll show you round the place.”
*
“Hellfire? Is that what he’s calling it now?” A low, pompous voice chuckled on the bridge of the Tartarus as the sight of the Outer Rim Oversector Command Post showed itself on the surface of the industrial cityscape of Eriadu.
Planet Tarkin as it had come to be nicknamed. The thought made the speaker grind his teeth.
“Moff Froul is all too full of himself. Always has been.” The red-robed figure of Vizier Sate Pestage craned his neck in thought, his wrinkled face creased with sardonic satisfaction.
“Tarkin’s pawns, the lot of them. I assume you won’t let them stand in your way.”
Beside him stood an imposing figure. A thick-set officer with a weathered, sunburnt face, a head of platinum-blonde hair and small, suspicious-looking eyes. His suit was black with a straps and stamps at his collar, shoulders and down his middle a bright red. He stood with his hands behind his back in the middle of the bridge and smirked.
“Froul’s son gave me trouble...just a little...and lived just long enough to regret it.” he said venomously “If old man Froul or his grandson try the same, I’ll deal with the pair of them.”
Sate Pestage nodded.
“And Tarkin?” he wheezed.
“I have someone who could do the job just fine.” the Grand Moff chuckled, his eyes turning to a slim figure in a red hood and cloak and close-fitting black armour, twirling an inactive lightsaber in one hand impatiently.
From below, one of the deck officers spoke up.
“Your Excellency. Communications are open.”
“Good.” He smirked again “Tell them Grand Moff Croesus Crodd of Imperial Intelligence is docking the Tartarus for entry on the Command Post, with Vizier Sate Pestage of the Emperor’s Court.”
His smile spread across his face, tugging at every wrinkle in his saggy face as his small eyes gleamed with hunger.
Pipsqueak had never imagined he’d ever meet humans before. He’d read the old scriptures and stories of humans seen in the Flutter Valley, said to be Avatars of Happiness and Prophets of Harmony. But he’d never imagined them so tall.
Then again, Pipsqueak had always been a very small pony, young as he was. Most believed he simply hadn’t hit his growth spurt but there were certain hints to some disorder his mother never let him hear about.
But here, he felt smaller than ever.
Parisian Froul had walked ahead to inform the squad of what was presently taking place. It would help to have those around prepared for the sight of the small pony on their ship.
As Pipsqueak and Rae Sloane paced down the corridors of the Hellfire, he took in every sight.
Unlike most Star Destroyers, the Hellfire was light silver in colour and streaked with the royal crimson here and there in stripes and symbols down the walls and frames. Equipped with state-of-the-art equipment and utilities, Moff Glandon Froul was said to have forced himself on a frugal life to pay for the Hellfire’s full upgrade. Now the Star Destroyer was the pride of Cyrillia and a testament to the Froul family’s dedication and loyalty.
Sloane felt almost at home walking its expanse.
“So where are we going first?” Pipsqueak asked, somewhat chirpier.
“Well, first I just need to change in my suit at the armoury.” Rae answered “Leaving your armour unattended is three weeks fatigues and a mark on your record.” They stopped by a large door. The women’s armoury.
Not many women served on the Hellfire but it was certainly more women than on most Star Destroyers. Glandon Froul, unlike some notable members of Imperial leadership, did not separate merit and loyalty based on gender or even species. There were a few aliens serving on the Hellfire, though one was unlikely to count them on more than two hands.
But the Empire was still young and Froul was well on the way to the role of Grand Moff.
Then, Rae thought, they’d see some real changes.
Opening the door and removing her helmet, Rae turned to the colt with an awkward smile.
“Sorry, Pip. Women-Only Room. Would you mind waiting just outside here a moment? I’ll only be a minute. Just yell if there’s any trouble.”
“Righto.” Pip said as Rae disappeared, the door whisking shut in front of him in an instant.
He gazed at the door’s workings. Never before had he seen doors that operated quite like this.
Perhaps somewhere in the Princess’s Palace, he thought, there may have been doors that simply flew open on a whim.
Just then, he gave a jump as a similar whisking sound came from behind him. Turning round, he saw a figure step out of what must have been the men’s armoury and turn his gaze to him.
It was as if his body and all within it slowly but surely grew drastically colder as he looked up at the man before him.
This was definitely no human.
The figure was dressed in an ornate white suit with a shiny black belt and gloves, a pair of gleaming, golden straps over his shoulders and a small pad of blue, yellow and red tiles over his right torso.
His black hair was cut short and combed neatly over his head.
But his face was the most alarming feature.
The figure had skin that was bright blue.
And eyes that positively glowed a deep blood-red.
Eyes he saw were looking directly at him.
With a cold, emotionless face, his age impossible to determine, he slowly paced over towards him, every step, though light, appeared to hammer on the floor, drumbeats of doom matched in volume by Pip’s heartbeat as he took a step back, feeling the cold wall of the Hellfire against him.
Just as slowly, the figure knelt down, tilted his head slightly and spoke, his voice eerily monotonous, chilling the colt to the core before he properly processed the words the man spoke.
“Are you lost?”
“N-n-n-no...” Pipsqueak found himself stuttering “I-I-I’m just...waiting...”
“I see” He tilted his head the other side “May I ask what or whom it is you are waiting for?”
“Um...Miss...Sloane...”
“Oh course. I am glad to hear it.”
There was nothing in his tone other than a sense of due courtesy. Yet Pipsqueak was finding it difficult to believe this man, or whatever it was, was asking out of a genuine sense of concern for him.
There was no hint of compassion in his blood-red eyes. It was all an ice-cold maze.
Another whistle came from behind him as the doors to the women’s armoury opened and Rae Sloane emerged, jumping at the sight of the newcomer.
Pip looked up towards her, the look on his face screaming panic and confusion.
As the blue man stood up and faced her, Rae Sloane saluted.
“Ahem...Admiral Thrawn.” she said briskly “I assume you knew about my new companion.”
The blue man’s lip tugged upwards slightly. Pip wasn’t sure if it could really be called a smile.
“Lieutenant. You ought to know by now that I rarely ever fail to know about anything.” he gave a small bow, his arms behind his back “Exceptional work on Umbara, if I may say. You do the Moff and the Empire proud.”
“Thank you, sir. I am honoured.”
Pip looked at her. She did genuinely seem honoured. There was the bashful hope about her of the praise she’d received. As to whether she felt comfortable was another story.
“And a most daring rescue of your young companion. Vixi are hazardous beasts, it takes great skill in dealing with them.”
Rae looked about instinctively.
“I...wasn’t aware they knew about that."
“I hear you shall be joining us for the Grand Moff’s Senatorial dinner at the Command Post tomorrow.” The man named Thrawn continued in his impassive manner.
“I shall, sir.”
“I am very glad to hear it. I shall look forward to your company.”
Rae Sloane’s legs felt shaky. She was still uncertain whether or not she’d died on Umbara and had entered some bizarre plain of illusions and nonsense.
First a talking little pony had wandered into her life.
Then this news of a different dimension.
And now, right before her, she was receiving compliments from Admiral Thrawn.
“Thank you, sir. You too, sir.” She felt the need to change the subject “I hope you’ve found your time on the Hellfire pleasant.”
“Indeed, lieutenant. This is a very well-kept ship. At the moment, however, General Veers has asked that I spar with him in the boxing ring.”
“R-really?” This day just got stranger and stranger “I...wasn’t aware that was an...area of yours. I thought you’d find it somewhat...crude”
“Oh, on the contrary, lieutenant.” Thrawn said earnestly “I find the experience quite invigorating. And Veers, the academy champion, promises me a formidable fight. I have asked that he take note of any mistakes I make in our match so that I shall emerge enlightened. I hear you have boxed before.”
“Y-yeah...I’ve never won the belt but I like to think I’m...pretty good.”
“I do not doubt it.” he turned his gaze back to Pipsqueak “And how is Pipsqueak?”
Rae knew it was pointless to ask how he knew the colt’s name. She picked up the little pony and held him up like a baby as he stared perplexed at Admiral Thrawn.
“Pip’s fine. I’m showing him round.” she gave him an awkward smile “This is Admiral Thrawn, Pip. He’s very famous. Say hi to the admiral, Pip.”
Pip managed to speak at last.
“I didn’t know humans went blue.”
“Oh...Oh, he’s not a human.” Rae mumbled, hoping Thrawn wouldn’t take offence “Well...he’s Near-Human. Sorry, Admiral, I don’t think Pip’s ever...met a Chiss before.”
“A Chiss? You mean...” Pip searched for the words “He’s an...alien?”
“Well, it’s not really correct to say that. S-sorry, Admiral.” Rae stammered an apology to which Thrawn gently held up a hand.
“Not at all, Lieutenant. I am an alien. In this case, I am a denizen originating from a planet far away from my current area of standing, the basic definition of ‘alien’. Please, allow me to clarify.” he turned to Pip and placed a hand over his chest in greeting.
“I am Thrawn. That is what you may call me. My real name is quite long and...rather difficult for others to pronounce. I am a Chiss from the planet Csilla in the Unknown Regions. Formerly of the Chiss Ascendency, the planetary armed forces. I do not blame you for not knowing of our kind. We are a...very secluded people.” he looked at the boy sincerely “I hope you haven’t been unduly troubled by your predicament.”
“N-no, sir.” Pip said quietly “Miss Sloane’s taking very good care of me.”
“Of course.” With a slow nod, Thrawn looked down the corridor and cleared his throat.
“I am thankful I could converse with you, Lieutenant, Master Pipsqueak, but I believe duty calls.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”
And with that, Thrawn turned on his heels and was gone.
Rae Sloane breathed a weighty sigh and looked down at Pip.
“You okay, kid?” she asked, putting him back down on his hooves.
“Yeah...” he answered quietly “Sorry I panicked.”
“Hey, don’t worry, Pip. Everyone panics when Thrawn’s around.”
“I could feel his eyes.” the colt whispered, sweat beading down his brow “I could feel him looking into my head.”
“I know...That’s what he does.” Rae placed a gentle hand about his forehead and smiled warmly “It’s okay. He’s not gonna’ hurt you. Come on. I’ll show you to the team.”
Parisian Froul greeted them at the mess hall and walked them to the tables where a gaggle of stormtroopers sat without their helmets. Her platoon. Ironically, introducing Pip to them would probably be the best chance to get to know them herself.
Parjai wasn’t there. He was rarely seen in the casual company of others.
And whoever the Dusk Trooper was, there was no sign of him.
Four belonged to alien-species, more aliens than any other platoon. It was this that had gotten her troops nicknamed the Patchwork Platoon by those who mocked her behind her back. But she didn’t let it get to her. She appreciated all her soldiers, whomever and whatever they were.
The first of these aliens was an elderly Neimoidian with a noseless, grey-green face and sad-looking, amber eyes. Lume Tuuk, the platoon medic. Unlike the Neimoidians who’d headed both the Trade Federation and the species’ stereotype as greedy, conniving snivellers, Lume Tuuk was a solemn, patient and dutiful philosopher who’d saved more lives than he’d taken over his time in the Naval forces.
The second was a flamboyant Zeltron, bright-red near-humans, with a shock of dark-blue hair running down his scalp, his lips painted bright-navy as he toyed with a throwing-knife. His name escaped Rae but she knew him to be a sniper and something of a seducer. Whether he preferred men, women or both depended on whom one asked.
And that left a pair of Rattataki sisters with bleached-blonde hair and bone-white faces with stripes and dots of tattoos all over. Their names were Naz’jata and Haz’jara. They worked as the platoon’s interrogators and were in love with torture as much as they were with each other.
The rest were human. Rae had hand-picked each one personally but, in truth, all she’d really paid attention to was how well they coped in a battle situation. Seeing each one helmless and casual was almost enlightening.
So many different colours, shapes or ages about them.
Yet they were all brothers and sisters in arms.
Rae sat down and smiled.
She knew this was what the Empire needed to be.
Her platoon was her Empire.
“There’s the little tyke. How you doin’, sonny?” Sergeant Denwarren, broad-faced, close-cropped hair and stubbled jaw, gave a smile to Pipsqueak and ruffled his mane as Rae sat him down on the table.
“I’m alright, thanks.” Pip gave a smile “So these are all your friends?”
“Yep. My platoon.” Rae stood up and gave a mild but immediate command.
“Troopers. Make our new companion feel at home.” She looked about and decided “I thought, until we can get him home, he’d be kept under our protection as the mascot for our platoon.”
“Ha! I like it. A patch-coated pony for Patchwork Platoon. This’ll stick to ‘em. Glad to have you on the team, small-fry.” The sergeant took Pip by the hoof and shook as if it were a hand, feeling a little awkward while doing so, as he introduced himself.
“Sergeant Culic Denwarren. Born on Ganthel, same as the Lieutenant here. Joined the force when I found mining a pain in the ass, which it was and I got the welts to prove it.”
“Yes, thank you, Sergeant, too much information.” Rae said flatly as the trooper next to Culic introduced herself and the one after that and on and on it went.
Rae got to know them just as well as Pipsqueak. The blonde woman, the red-haired boy, the man with the booster-scars, the girl whose parents sold her, the fellow who’d been raised by Trandoshans, the list went on.
She sat and listened, intrigued. She found herself thinking back to when she was first placed in a platoon. She’d lost troopers before.
How many had been there at the beginning and had stayed with her up to now?
How many soldiers had she sent to their deaths without ever seeing their faces?
“Lieutenant?” Parisian cleared his throat, standing at the end of the table.
“Of course, how could we forget Junior, our new corporal?” Culic chuckled heartily.
“We’ve already met. My name is Parisian Froul.” he said, annoyance in his voice.
“We call him Junior.” Culic whispered, his fellows smothering laughter.
“No, you don’t. Don’t call me Junior!” the young man snapped, before turning to his officer.
“Lieutenant, my grandfa-ahem...the Grand Moff wishes to speak to both of us. Admiral Yularen and Moff Delian Mors are asking to speak to you personally.”
“Me?” Rae shook her head.
If she remained a lieutenant by the end of the year, then something was badly wrong with the Imperial merit system.
“Okay, Pip. Come with us. They won’t mind.”
“Here, we’re going the same way. The route to the Grand Moff’s office goes by the boxing ring. I don’t want to miss Big Max beat the stuffing out of Thrawn!”
“I’m not sure.” Lume Tuuk said uncertainly “Personally, I think Thrawn will have the better of it.”
“That’s ‘cause you’ve never seen Veers in the ring.” Culic guffawed “Mark my words, he’s gonna’ leave a big blue stain across the floor when that bell rings!”
The platoon followed Rae and Parisian as they exited the mess hall, travelled through one of the hangers and entered the stadium.
The stadium was a modest but expansive ring of rubber-like, semi-flexible force field. Surrounding it were rows of seats and a few VIP boxes. Rae and Parisian made their way through a throng of cheering troopers, Culic and the others eagerly racing down to join their chant, as Pip watched in awe.
Both of them were dressed only in black vests, dark grey combat pants and sponge-like strapping over their knuckles as they faced each other, throwing punches hard and fast.
One of them was Thrawn, the blue man from earlier.
The other was a strapping, square-jawed middle-aged man with short dark-blonde hair, piercing grey eyes and a face that clearly said he was well at-home in the ring.
Pip gasped as the man lunged forward and threw a set of ferocious punches. Holding up his arms in a block, Thrawn ducked and weaved, letting the punches brush his sides, before seizing his chance, grabbing an outstretched arm, pulling him forward and delivering a fierce uppercut, before kicking out at the shins, tripping his opponent.
As the blonde man fell, Thrawn stood over and prepared to land a finishing blow. Pip fought the urge to shut his eyes.
There came a roar from the crowd as the man craned his neck to the side, dodging the punch before pushing at Thrawn’s shoulder with his free hand, and his arm with his shoulder, throwing Thrawn with the full weight of his body at the force-field. Bouncing back disorientated, Thrawn raised his arms but just missed his cue as the man laid a breathtaking punch to the Chiss’s solar plexus, fist like a hammer, taking Thrawn clean off his feet.
Rae sucked her teeth at the sight. Thrawn however, was not beaten yet. Getting to his feet, and landing in a deft cut to the side of the man’s jaw, he stood up and retook his stance. His opponent wiped his mouth and gave an exhilarated bray of laughter, enjoyment and excitement gleaming in his grey eyes as Thrawn himself gave an impressed smile.
“Golly...” Pip whispered, eyes wide with awe.
“Thrawn’s pretty good in the ring, I gotta’ admit.” Rae chuckled.
“Who’s the big man he’s fighting?” The colt asked.
Parisian Froul gazed with wonder at Thrawn’s opponent and spoke proudly, as if giving a lecture, something Rae noticed he was fond of doing.
“That big man, young Pip, is General Maximilian Veers, head of our Armoured Assault Corps, founded it in fact, one of our boldest and bravest commanders. So much so that on Jabiim and several other planets he is credited to have virtually conquered in the Empire’s name they call him ‘Krayt-Dragon Max’ both for his valour and for his ferocity.”
He pawed at one of his pockets “I have here a copy of ‘The Thunderous March’, his memoirs of his service, a compendium of his strategies and deeds in the field.” He gave Veers a giddy look “I’m just hoping I can get him to sign it.”
“Wow...you know an awful lot about this.” Pip said, finding it all a lot to take in.
“It helps to. Back at the academy, We always read the memoirs of Veers and Yularen, Parck, Coburn, Kilian and Doriana. I love Doriana’s work...” he sighed “That ploy with C’Baoth and the Vagaari was a masterpiece! I hope to meet him one day but he rarely leaves the Emperor’s side”
“Right, right...” Pip knew little of what Parisian was going on about “So where are we going now?”
“We’re meeting my grandfather and two very good friends of his. Don’t worry, we’ll do the talking.” Parisian answered, catching a glance over his shoulder at the ring and wincing “Ooh! That looked like it hurt! But Thrawn’s still getting right back up, it’s incredible.” He turned to Rae “Haven’t you been in the ring before, Lieutenant?”
“Oh yeah.” The woman chuckled “I’ve seen my fair share. I do pretty well, all things considered. Like back at the academy. Eitel, Admiral Motti’s nephew, he was pushing everyone around but I knocked him flat on his ass.” She cracked a wicked smile “And Myles Grint, that big lug, he didn’t last ten seconds.”
“Didn’t Moff Mors once get you and Captain Daala to fight in the ring, Lieutenant? In the celebration after Or Tuma?”
“Yeah, well...” Rae shrugged “Just cause Natasi’s pretty cute, doesn’t mean she can’t put up a fight.”
“But...is it true Mors made the two of you strip after the intermission?”
Rae shot him a stone-cold look of severity.
“That information is classified, Corporal. And I’d advise it to remain that way.”
“Yes, sir.” he said briskly as they approached Moff Froul’s quarters.
Glandon Froul’s chamber was expansive, enough for several officers to converse, with seats and settees, but was nonetheless modest, without any of the finery most Moffs were famous for. Only work-related utilities and items were kept in the room, the only exception being a large portrait behind his desk.
The portrait consisted of himself, rather less grey than he was now; an infant Parisian, wide-eyed and beaming, in the grey uniform of an academy first-year; and a young man in a shiny, jet-black uniform. The young man rather resembled the now-grown Parisian but broader, more muscular, more confident, and possessed of a trim moustache and beard, his hand on the boy’s shoulder as he looked out from the portrait with pride.
Menken Froul, Glandon’s son and Parisian’s father.
Glandon Froul himself stood speaking to another man as old as he must have been with thinning grey hair and a moustache, dressed in the same white uniform as Admiral Thrawn. The two of them were laughing and regaling of whatever ‘Malastare Narrows’ was, complimenting each other on their deeds against the ‘infamous Trench’.
There was another human in the room. A pale-skinned woman in what may have been her mid-forties. She was rather chunky in the curves, reminding Pip of Mrs Cake, but still remaining quite attractive, though her makeup was slightly obvious. Her dark-auburn hair was tied up in a jewelled net and her grey uniform was decorated by a fur coat hanging over her shoulders. This combined with her monocle on her right eye made her stand out in any crowd. She was reclining idly on a settee, twiddling with a cigarette in its holder and sipping a cocktail.
She was not alone. Pip stared with a mixture of curiosity and disturbance as three alien girls, each with a pair of long, trailing tentacles out the top of their heads and sloping down their shoulders, waited on her. The girls were all very shapely and of very different and very vibrant colours that instantly reminded Pip of the ponies back home. The cyan one was massaging the woman’s neck, the chestnut-brown one was refilling her cocktail glass and the dark-magenta one was on her knees in front of her, playing a bizarre instrument, pausing now and again to lift the woman’s foot out of her shoe and kiss the slope of it.
Rae rolled her eyes at the sight.
Moff Delian Mors and her Twi’lek maids looked the very picture of the hedonistic nature she was famous for.
As the door closed behind them, those in the chamber turned to address those who had entered.
First to speak was Mors who leapt to her feet with an exuberant bray of laughter as she trotted giddily over to Rae.
“My dear Miss Sloane!” she hugged her primly, either more drunk than she was letting on or clearly fond of her “It’s been so long! Go on, give us a kiss.”
Slightly uncomfortable, Rae obediently gave the Moff a peck on the cheek. Delian gave her a faux-sulk.
“Only the cheeks for poor old Deli? Come now, my dear girl, you can do better than that.” Before Rae could object, the woman pulled her close and kissed her full on the lips before turning away to Parisian just as quickly, leaving Rae feeling weak at the knees and thoroughly embarrassed.
“Parisian, you darling little thing!” Mors grabbed him by the ears and planted a wet kiss on each cheek “You are growing simply far too quickly, I’ve told your grandfather. You must come down to Ryloth some time before you get any older.” She gave him a wicked smirk “Ask any of my girls, Ryloth’s where they know how to really make a man out of you! Ha-ha!” She threw her head back in a hearty whoop of laughter as she gave the young man a playful slap on the backside. Parisian jumped with a slight shriek. Out of sight, Pip watched the chaos unfold.
He wondered if this woman had ever met Pinkie Pie.
“Ms Mors, please! Control yourself.” Glandon gave a stern command.
“Mrs Mors, Glandon, if you please.” Delian gave the pair a wry glance and made way for the other old man who approached Parisian with a warm smile and a handshake.
“Is it really you, Parisian? My goodness.” he shook his head “Look at you. Delian’s right, you’ve grown so fast. Heh, shame on you, boy. You make me feel old.” All those in the room indulged in some laughter.
“Uncle Wullf. It’s so good to see you again!” the boy said with glee, turning to the colt hiding behind Sloane’s legs “Pip, this is Admiral Wullf Yularen, senior secretary of Imperial Security, hero of a thousand battles and a lifelong family friend.”
Pip looked up at the man and offered a hoof and addressed him in the way his mother had always told him.
“Good day, sir, very pleased to meet you.”
“Delighted, dear boy.” Yularen shook his hoof “Not to worry, Glandon’s told me all. I’ll say this though, you’re a strong lad to survive Umbara on your own. I barely survived myself last time I visited that dreadful place.”
Parisian nodded and turned to the women in the room. Rae noticed he was struggling not to eye the three Twi’leks.
“And this is...ah...Morf Moss...er...Moff Mors. Delian Mors, Moff of Ryloth, planet of the Twi’leks...And her...lovely assistants.”
“They have names, dear.” Mors said as she pointed to each one “Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.”
With another whoop of laughter, she peered at Pipsqueak.
The woman slightly unnerved him but she didn’t seem too harmful.
Pip had never really been a very loud pony. Pinkie’s parties and wild antics tended to unnerve him and it was only thanks to Dinky’s soothing presence that he managed to endure them.
“Ahem...good day, madam, very pleased to meet you.”
“So is this...Oh, how sweet!” Mors gave another delighted cry as she bent down to coo over the colt who stared up at her, slightly nervously “Come over here, little one, it’s alright. I don’t bite. Ask the girls.”
“Um...Rae?” Pip looked up at his guardian who gave him a half-smile of reassurance.
“Don’t worry, Pip. You’re quite safe here.” Sitting down, Rae addressed the group.
“With your kind permission, I’ve taken on Pip here as my platoon’s mascot. I feel this’ll keep him safe and endear him to our fellows.”
“I don’t see why not.” Glandon gave a nod as Pipsqueak was taken up by Delian Mors.
“Look at you, you little diddums! Look at his little baby-face. Aren’t you just a treasure?!” She nuzzled him fondly and Pip found himself giggling as the Twi’lek girls gave squeals of delight, fighting to pet him as he rolled around, tickled and ruffled, laughing all the while.
“Hey, looks like you’re a hit with the ladies, Pip!” Rae chuckled.
“Lucky nerf-herder.” Parisian muttered with envy.
“My good ladies, if we may direct ourselves to the matter at hand.” Glandon Froul said, Yularen giving a nod.
Mors gave a sigh.
“All work and no play with you two old curmudgeons. Righto, bums on seats, lassies, let’s hear it.” She sat back down as Glandon switched on the holoprojector in the middle of the room.
An image of Guulmoth Deechi’s face appeared alongside several others. Pip looked at the assortment. Faces and figures like he’d never seen, aliens of all shapes and sizes.
He’d have a few ideas for Tungsten’s Ogres and Oubliettes Club when he got back.
“Guulmoth Deechi’s ties to the former Confederacy of Independent Systems were deeper-set than we had previously assumed.” Glandon explained “Though, as we all know, their core leadership was annihilated by Lord Vader on Mustafar bare moments before the Declaration of a New Order, and their battle droid armies largely deactivated, some of their leading figures still remain, using their remaining credit legacies to gain land and armies in the Outer Rim and hold out against the Empire as they did for the Republic. This, it goes without saying, cannot be allowed to continue. If these individuals are allowed to freely carve out criminal empires of their own, restoring law and order to the Outer Rim will become almost impossible. The Hutt cartels can be reasoned with but these fugitives are not reliable. Locating and destroying these holdouts are therefore, at this moment, our top priority.”
Pip watched as the glowing blue hologram focussed on a bizarre creature. It was like a slug from the waist down, one trailing tentacle serving as a single foot, but furry, possessed of an arching back, a gigantic belly and breast, a pair of short-flabby arms and a huge, bulky head that was almost equine with small eyes, a fleshy bat-like nose, a gigantic mouth and three goatees. It wore a gaudy black and umber dress and veil studded with silver inlays and stared emotionlessly out of the screen.
“Toonbuck Toora” Yularen named her “Senator of Sy Myrth before the Separatist Crisis, brought her planet into the Confederacy at the turn of the Clone Wars. Corrupt, self-seeking and utterly without scruples, she is evidently unwilling to give up her accumulated power and resources. She will resort to anything and everything to accomplish her goals. She has accumulated a vast army of pirates, raiders and mercenaries to her organisation and is bringing other Separatists like her, along with their resources, into the fold. She has refused all Imperial negotiations and when we sent ambassadors she returned only their heads. A conflict with the Empire is clearly in her mindset and we must eliminate her before she can begin.”
“So what do you propose?” Rae asked.
Glandon switched the holoprojector to focus on an Ishi Tib. Pip stared with bafflement at the squat, green creature with its eyes on stalks and parrot-like beak.
“This is Gume Saam, formerly the Senator of Tibrin. He was connected to the Intergalactic Banking Clan but disappeared before its compromise. We know for certain he is in contact with Toora. He will tell us what we need to know about the Confederacy’s assets. But where he has taken root is a mystery. We have confirmed he has not returned to his home planet since his disappearance.”
Rae caught on.
“That’s why Grand Moff Tarkin’s meeting with the Senators?”
“Indeed, Miss Sloane. The Senators present are all that remains of those we know still support the Emperor and have been offered sizable retirement packages in return for liberal Imperial supervision on their systems.” Yularen explained “We know some of them previously had relations with Senator Saam before his disappearance, either as friends or rivals. They will agree to give us any information they can. They don’t wish to be linked to someone who’s made themselves such an obvious enemy of the Empire, it will threaten their finances.”
“Among other things.” Rae added.
“Well, quite.” Glandon continued “With this Delegation of 2000 already proving themselves an outspoken threat to the Empire, those remaining in our favour will do everything they possibly can to shake off any sign of treachery. They will give us something to work with, I guarantee it. When they do, Miss Sloane,” he stood up “I am entrusting you to find it.”
“Me, sir?”
“Yes. I have word that your Captain Feanor Rondel will return from Balmorra soon after Tarkin meets with the Senators. He will lead the mission. But your recent exploits will make you suited to the forefront of this operation. Needless to say, you will be given proper briefing closer to the deployment.” He sighed and tugged at his uniform “Now, we must all of us prepare for dinner this evening.”
“Yes, sir. Just so long as I don’t have to sit near that bloated slug, Orn Free Taa.”
“Oh, you don’t like Senator Taa?” Mors asked with a chuckle as the office was cleared “I’ve always found him quite entertaining.”
Pip looked about.
This was certainly a lot to take in. And in such small time.
Rae and Parisian were still talking with the three leaders as they exited the chamber. All about names and events that meant nothing to him.
He’d have to find out more but his mother had always told him not to involve himself with grown-up talk without permission.
He found himself missing his mother.
Any longer...
There was a small gasp from down the corridor, like someone quietly crying.
Pip knew it wasn’t him.
Checking behind him, just so he knew Rae wasn’t too far away, he tottered on his little hooves behind the corridor.
It was one of the alien women with Delian. Though this wasn’t any of the three he’d seen before.
She was bright yellow with a mottled pattern of dark red stripes all down her body that reminded him instantly of Sunset Shimmer. And her uniform was different. While Mors’s maids had been scantily-dressed enough in their skin-light jumpsuits, this woman was wearing nothing but small metal braces around her breasts and waist, along with a metal headband that covered her ears and kept her head-tails in place. She was pressing her back flat against the wall of the ship and clutching her hands together in prayer, her eyes leaking tears as she whimpered in tiny, little gasps.
Pip looked up at her, eyes wide with sympathy.
He was never one to let a lady suffer in distress. Dinky’s father, the Doctor, had taught him that was the gentlecoltly thing to do.
“Excuse me?” he piped up “Are you alright?”
The Twi’lek jumped, staring at him a moment, eyes full of fright, before turning and running down the corridor in a gust of motion, disappearing down the corner.
Shaking his head, bewildered, Pip chased after her.
“Wait!” he cried out “Come back! I just want to talk!”
Turning round the corner, he looked round wildly.
The lady had vanished.
Frustrated and confused, he raced round the next corner.
“Oomph!”
Opening his eyes, slightly spinning, Pip realised he’d collided into someone’s legs with such speed, he’d knocked them to the floor.
“What on Delon?!” A more-than-slightly-peeved voice rang out.
“Ah...” a familiar voice sounded “I don’t believe you’ve met young Master Pipsqueak, General.”
Thrawn was standing over him, back in his clean white suit, a few small cuts and bruises over his face and lip, but no less prim and proper than he’d first appeared.
Fearfully, Pipsqueak looked at the man who was clambering to his feet.
It was General Maximilian Veers, sharing the same bumps and scratches over his features as Thrawn, dressed in a black suit like Rae’s but armoured, chest-plate, shoulder-pads and thick, sturdy boots all made up of a shiny jet-black material.
He was eying Pip with curiosity but didn’t seem angry.
“No...I haven’t...Certainly one way to make an introduction.”
Throwing himself off the man, Pip stammered apologies.
“Oh, I-I-I’m s-so sorry, sir. I w-was...I was-wasn’t looking...I-I hope I haven’t hurt you, I...”
The man began laughing as he dusted himself off.
“Settle down, old scamp, no harm done.” He knelt down and patted the colt on the shoulder “The name’s Veers, Armoured Assault Corps. Good to have you on board, young Pip, Thrawn’s told me all about you.”
“Oh...um...” Pip was struggling for breath in the commotion “Th-thank you, sir.”
“Well...This is an unexpected occurrence.” Thrawn said with what may have possibly been traces of humour “The great General Veers, unwavering and steadfast, is finally floored by the smallest living thing on this ship.”
Veers laughed again.
“Quite a turn-up, indeed! You don’t know your own strength, do you, boy!” he gave Pip a friendly tap on the shoulder with his fist that Pip still nearly fell over from “Took Thrawn here quite a bit more than that to bring me down, I tell you. Maybe you should go into the ring one day, ha!”
“Uh...I’m not sure about that...” Pipsqueak mumbled before remembering his previous goal “Um...Excuse me, sirs, but did you see a woman run past here? She was crying. An alien...the ones with Mrs Mors?”
“A Twi’lek?” Veers asked, shrugging “Can’t say that I have, old chap. Sorry.”
“I don’t believe so, Master Pipsqueak, but I shall look out for one. It is more than likely she is with Moff Mors’ entourage. I would not bother oneself unduly.”
Pip nodded, thinking back.
It did seem more than possible she’d simply shown up later.
But why was she crying?
“Pip! There you are!” Rae appeared, sighing, slightly frustrated “Damn it, kid. Don’t run off like that. You had me worried.”
“S-sorry, Rae. I saw someone crying and I...well...” Pip trailed off, twiddling his hooves shamefully.
“Not to worry, Lieutenant. Pip here was intent on aiding a lady in distress.” Veers chuckled.
“There’s been no harm done...in the long term.” Thrawn added.
“Thank you, sirs. Sorry about the commotion, he’s with me.”
“Glad to hear it. If that’s all, we’ll leave you to it.” Veers said.
Rae bent down to check on Pip before glancing back.
“Oh, before you go, General, Parisian Froul’s looking for you. He asks if you’ll be free to sign his copy of your holocron while you’re here.”
“Hm? Oh yes, Menken’s son. Perfectly fine, tell him I’ll be free to see him before landing.”
And with that, the two of them continued their stride down the corridor, conversing with one another.
With their back to them, Rae bent down and sighed.
“Pip, you’ve got to stay close, okay? It’s not safe to wander off on your own.” she ruffled his mane “Next time there’s a problem, don’t panic. Just let me know.”
“Okay, Rae, sorry, I won’t run off again.” Pip said earnestly.
“That’s all I need to hear. Now let’s get you back to the mess hall.” she reached out to scoop him up again.
Sometime soon, she’d need to find a carrier.
The whistle of the door sounded behind her.
Veers and Thrawn stopped dead in their tracks outside the doorway, slowly pacing back to allow someone to walk in.
“Grand Moff Crodd.” Thrawn said slowly.
Rae froze. Pip looked up and saw what could only be described as dread in her eyes.
Looking over her, he saw a thick-set man with a jowly, ruddy face, untidy blonde hair and small, cruel eyes fixed on the two officers.
He was joined by a wizened, old man in a red gown that swallowed up most of his body.
“Vizier Pestage.” Veers added.
“Thrawn and Veers.” The man named Crodd said slowly, menace in his voice “What treasons are you two hatching this afternoon.”
“Treasons, sir?” Veers bristled “I’ll not even dignify that with a response. What’s your business here on the Hellfire? Where’s your Tartarus?”
‘Tartarus?’ Pipsqueak’s eyes pricked ‘They have a Tartarus?’
“High above all, as ever. I wished to pay a visit to some old...acquaintances.” his eyes moved and widened obscenely as he caught sight of Lieutenant Sloane who was still bent down in the middle of picking up Pipsqueak.
“Well now, this is a welcome sight indeed.” he chortled in an unsavoury fashion, leering at the woman who spun round to face them, eyes blazing with a scowl on her face as she faced a man she loathed without equal.
Vizier Pestage gave a reedy cackle.
“Frolicking in the corridors, are we? I’m hardly surprised by the woman, but Veers? What would your wife, say?”
“Oh, please act your age, Vizier.” Thrawn said tiredly.
“Careful, Thrawn. You ask him to do that, he’ll probably die.” Veers said cheekily, prompting a chuckle from Rae, a small smile from Thrawn and prominent scowls from Pestage and Crodd.
“Get about your business, General, immediately, and I shall forget your insolence.” he snarled. The two officers looked to Rae, who gave them a nod, before departing down the corridor, leaving her and Pipsqueak with Crodd and Pestage, who were being joined by an assortment of guards and attendants. Beside Pestage was Ars Dangor, the squat, old advisor she’d seen on Umbara, and Burr Nolyds, a preening Imperial Councillor with a pale, shrunken complexion and a flat monkey-like face. Beside Crodd was a feminine figure in a trailing black cloak revealing sneaks of dark-red armour beneath, her hood hiding her face from view.
Behind them, four Stormtroopers in sheer black armour and nightmarish, skull-like helmet designs marched in lockstep. Death Troopers.
This was Imperial Intelligence.
A name every soldier dreaded.
Crodd spoke, his fleshy lips twisting in a wavy streak of a smile.
“Well, my dear Miss Sloane. How long has it been?”
“Same amount of time as before- Not long enough.”
“Hmph! She’s a tart tongue indeed.” Burr Nolyds simpered.
“She’s a tart, full-stop.” Crodd added, ignoring the growl from Rae as he turned his gaze to Pipsqueak, who hung in the Lieutenant’s arms, trying to look brave.
“And...What’s this?”
“This is my platoon’s new mascot.” Rae said flatly “Nothing in the rulebook against that.”
“As if the platoon wasn’t ill-kept enough.” Dangor muttered to Nolyds.
“Is that right?” Pestage crooned “I heard you picked him out of Umbara.” He tutted “That will never do, he’s likely contaminated.”
“Sir, I have taken every precaution myself. It was a simple task.”
“For a simple mind.” Nolyds tittered.
Crodd looked the colt up and down.
“There’s room for a lot of improvement, Miss Sloane. And that’s my area of expertise.” He slowly cast his porcine eyes on Pipsqueak, who quaked under the gaze.
“I know you can understand me, boy.” he said slowly.
Rae made to move but the woman in the cloak was faster. Fixing a sight on her, Rae found herself rooted to the spot as Crodd continued.
“Miss Sloane here is protecting you, I hear. But if you think that makes you invincible, both of you are dead wrong. You’re a being from another world, that much is obvious, and that’s something Imperial Intelligence has had its eyes on for quite some time. And when we find what we’re looking for, we always get it...one way or another. Rest assured, we’ll be seeing each other again...very soon.”
And with that, he and his entourage pushed Rae to the side of the wall as they walked on.
Rae’s eyes followed them with abject hatred, gritting her teeth at the man who’d threatened the pair of them.
Slowly, she put Pipsqueak down, and heard his hooves rattle on the floor, shaking in fear.
She closed her eyes, tired and ill-prepared for what the future held.
Dinky Doo had always hoped her first visit to Princess Twilight Sparkle’s castle would be a wondrous occasion, one she’d treasure all her life.
Yet now, there was no other place that seemed more daunting.
She sat outside the main study where Twilight, Princess Luna, Fluttershy, Discord and her father had disappeared into.
The little filly was weeping incessantly as the last, plaintive scream of the colt she adored rang in her ears.
He’d rushed in to save her sister. He’d given his life to protect them.
She’d never known a braver and kinder colt in her life. Even before this event, he’d put his own safety on the line for her on numerous occasions.
And now, it seemed, he was gone.
Tootsie Flute sat silently beside her.
She’d said sorry about a dozen times now and Dinky had said it wasn’t her fault about the same number of times.
Tootsie couldn’t help it. As she paced tentatively back and forth, waiting for somepony to open the door and give them a straight answer on what had happened to Pip and if and how they could get him back.
There came a creak from down the corridor.
A thin, tired-looking mare in a plain shawl appeared in the archway. Her coat was a pale-brown while her mane was a wheat-blonde and frizzy, wrapped in a headscarf.
She’d been crying, the red in her eyes was clear.
And as she noticed the two fillies, those eyes creased in distaste.
Tootsie trembled at the sight of her as the mare approached with that venomous look.
Dinky gulped.
It was Nancy, Pipsqueak’s mother.
A mare she knew was, for whatever reason, not fond of her.
“I might have known...” she muttered, her voice raising itself into a growl “My son only goes missing off the face of Equestria, why did I imagine you two weren’t involved?!”
“M-M-Miss Nancy...” Dinky mumbled, shrinking under her glare “I-I’m really sorry, P-Pipsqueak was only playing and...”
“Don’t!” she snapped suddenly, holding up a hoof. The two fillies fell instantly silent, standing stock-still, their faces pictures of teary-eyed guilt.
Slowly Nancy lowered her hoof and sighed.
“Just don’t...”
Without a word, she trudged weightily down the corridor, leaving the fillies alone with their worries once again.
Opening the door to Twilight Sparkle’s study, she found a room brimming with confusion.
Princess Twilight Sparkle had been joined by Starlight Glimmer, Princess Luna, Doctor Whooves, Discord and three strange ponies in dark armour and capes who stood beside the Princess of the Night.
The chatter between them had become a mad cacophony as suggestions, denials, accusations, apologies and assurances were thrown from one to another.
Nancy found herself with a headache in moments.
Frustrated, she made her presence known, stamping her hoof on the marble doorway and bellowing.
“Where’s my son?!”
All eyes turned to her.
Nancy, in herself, didn’t look much like anypony in Ponyville. She was one of those ironic cases of being able to stand out largely by how normal she looked in comparison to others. Her accent gave her away immediately. She needed no introduction at this time.
With a solemn expression and a sympathising voice, Princess Twilight Sparkle stepped forward and spoke.
“Miss Nancy...Thank you for getting here. I am terribly sorry about this but rest assured, we are doing all we can.”
“Are you now?” Nancy nearly laughed “Standing around bickering like the cast of a bloody soap opera?!” her face turned scarlet with rage as she yelled, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes.
“My son has completely vanished! Where in Tartarus were any of you?!”
The atmosphere had grown a lot less savoury. More than a few looks of suspicion were cast on Nancy as she fumed.
“The least you could do...” she growled “Is put a leash on those two walking disasters outside!”
“Oi!” The scruffy brown stallion shot her a scowl “We’ll have less of that! Those two ‘walking disasters’ are my daughters!”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Nancy grinded her teeth “If you were any kind of father you’d be staying home keeping them out of trouble! I told you to stay away from my son and what do you do?”
“Now you listen-”
“ENOUGH!” A thunderous bellow shook the chamber as Princess Luna stamped a hoof, a dazzling light in her eyes fading out as quickly as it had shone.
“This bickering is pointless.” she said, a great deal more controlled “Now, if we may all remain rational, my...colleague here will explain things.”
“Thank you, ma’am. If I could all have your attention, this can all be made straightforward.” Discord, the bizarre master of chaos, stepped forward, produced a black scroll and opened it out. Through means nopony could fathom, it sprouted a wooden stand and frame and became a blackboard. Pulling out one of his teeth that somehow became a chalk, he began scrawling vague notes and strange diagrams as he begun his explanation.
“Now, as a god of chaos, I am a practitioner of what is called ‘trans-dimensional’ magic. It is a well-held theory that beyond our plain of understanding, there are literally countless worlds each with their own rules of existence. In some ways much like ours and completely contrary in other ways, I am able to enter and exit them at my whim. Now, these worlds are as susceptible to chaos as any other and one such world has recently come under an absurd amount of chaos.”
He glanced around to see if everypony was paying attention. Most of them looked completely stumped.
Shrugging, he continued at his leisure.
“This world, as far as my foresight has recognised, is not so much a plain of earth and sky but an immense universe, far greater in width and age than our own, where life is dominated by crossing of space and stars. Planets upon planets, each with their own systems and species, constantly fought over for control by light and dark magic which, like the trans-dimensional rules, are like ours in some ways and contrary in others.”
“But...but this is impossible!” Starlight piped up “We...We know reality. There’s never been anything more than our world. Reality isn’t travelling through space, fighting aliens and evil empires, its...”
“Walking, talking magical horses?” Discord interrupted “Don’t be so narrow-minded, Starlight, it doesn’t suit you.”
Too confused to respond, Starlight stepped back and watched, perplexed, as Discord carried on.
“Now, these universes grow in strength the more attention they receive from what is known as the ‘Outer-Dimension’, headed by a celestial government that adds to and ages this dimension, ours and all others, the progenitors if you will. Beyond any of our understanding. Only one draconequus ever ventured there and returned, coming to the conclusion that they are perhaps equal in creativity and chaos to us!”
“What are they called?” Twilight asks.
“We knew them as ‘The Fanbase’.” Discord continued.
“You mean like...” Starlight asked, her face a picture of puzzlement “Like Daring Doo?”
“Precisely. It works along those lines. They literally play the audience to our antics and shower their favour upon those that entertain them. And like any fanbase, their favour is...unpredictable, diverse and forever changing like the wind, beautiful in its own way. Our own dimension has received their attention for years now. It comes and goes. And this dimension of space and stars I speak of has long received the same.”
He continued his strange scrawling.
“But recently, Outer-Dimensional activity has caused changes in this dimension’s state of being. Something about an almighty Mouse King, I dunno’. But the change is so great, it threatens to split the dimension in two!”
“Can a ‘fanbase’ really be that strong?” Twilight asked.
“You’d be surprised.” Discord cast her a sage glance and continued.
“Wait a minute...two connected dimensions?” Starlight said slowly “Like...The Crystal Mirror?”
“Exactly, a permanent dimensional portal, very powerful, can only be created when the fanbase is at its most focused. At least, that's the theory.” He cleared his throat “Now, while this takes place, this dimension warps and twists with its fanbase against itself, becoming nigh as chaotic, and reaching out to its equals. Dimensional portals spring up between our world and theirs to bring either the wonder or the horror the fanbase sees in the changes made to this dimension. When I saw the signs, I was quick to try and control these portals, gave me a few sleepless nights, I can tell ya!” He rubbed a dark bag under his eye “But, evidently, they got the drop on me and, regrettably, young Pipsqueak fell into one of these portals.” He spun round and looked to his audience.
“We will now be taking questions, provided they aren’t ‘How Meta Can You Get?!’”
“So...Where’s Pip?” Luna asked.
“In the dimension of space and stars.” Discord answered “There’s no telling whereabouts precisely but if I can recover, trace and copy the form of the portal he fell into, we should be able to locate him and, hopefully, recover him.”
“How long will that take?”
“Hard to say.”
“HARD TO SAY?!” Nancy’s voice was back, staring daggers into all those present “You mean to tell me my baby colt is stuck in another world and you bleeding clowns have NOTHING?!”
“Stay your tongue!” An enraged bark came from the leader of Luna’s armoured guard.
After a pause, this guard removed his helm and showed himself to be a dark-grey batpony with colourless eyes, a white mane and a battle-scarred face, speaking in a more measured manner.
“Apologies...Miss Nancy, but I must ask you to remain calm. We will do all we can, you have our word and the word of all those gathered. But irrationality will solve nothing. We understand your grief but, for your son’s sake, you must have trust in us and allow us to work on recovering him as carefully and securely as possible, when the consequences could more severe than any of us could imagine.”
The weathered Trottingham mare stood stock-still, her chest rising and falling as she breathed heavily. Slowly, she trudged over to a marble bench, sat down and hung her head in her forehooves, making small, strangled noises that came from one struggling not to cry.
“I just want him back...” she mumbled “I just want my son back safe.”
“He will be. You have our word.” Princess Luna said with earnest, turning to her guard as Twilight Sparkle, Starlight Glimmer and Doctor Whooves tended to the bereaved mother.
The Eternal Knights, Luna’s personal bodyguards, most able operatives and dearest friends, removed their helms and saluted before their Princess.
“We are at your command, your grace.” Lord Commander Midnight Blade, the batpony, declared.
“I’m glad to hear it. While this search is in effect, I am granting Discord permission to enter the House of the Rising Moon on Sunless Isle, your base of operations, to better conduct whatever magic must be used to begin this ‘dimensional travel’. Now...” she took a deep breath “You, my knights, have some experience with dimensional travel, journeying across time and space as the Draconequui and the Time Turners are wont to do.”
“Our experience isn’t exactly...extensive.” Fletcher Fray, the elegant green unicorn forgemaster, admitted “But it should suffice as long as Pipsqueak isn’t there for too long.”
“Regardless, we’re ready, willing and able.” White Wolf, the tenacious dark-blue pegasus beastmistress, declared “Anything gives us trouble, it’ll be thankful we’re worlds apart.”
“Opening and travelling through a portal will take a great deal of time and resources but it should indeed be possible.” Midnight summarised “It might help if we had prior record to this. Mr Discord?” He called out to the Draconequus who twisted his head right round to look at them, his body snapping round to follow suit.
“Moi?” he asked.
Trying to ignore the mad god’s antics, Midnight spoke.
“Is this level of chaos unheard of to your knowledge? Or has this sort of...incident ever taken place before?”
Discord rolled his eyes.
“Oh, if you think this is bad, last time this happened a dozen years ago, longest day of my life!” he griped “I was closing portals for months! I found myself surrounded by a bunch of googly-eyed, floppy-eared duck-faced freaks doing terrible zebra impressions and a skinny, angsty muffin-top yelling about how much he hates sand!”
“Hates sand?” Midnight asked, perplexed.
“You’ve no idea, on and on...” the draconequus groaned, holding up one hand to mouth an impression “Wah-wah-wah! Grr-grr! Me so edgy! No-one will ever understand the pain I feel! The pain that comes from the sand on my buns! It’s coarse, it’s rough, it’s irritating and its gets everywhere!”
“Hey, so's Fletch after a few ciders but I don’t hate him.” White Wolf chuckled.
The green unicorn gave his compatriot a bemused glare.
“You’re not funny, Wolf.” he muttered, ignoring Wolf’s cheeky grin and Midnight’s muffled snigger.
“Regardless, that could help us.” the Lord Commander adopted his more serious tone “We journey to Sunless Isle. There we’ll have access to magics and devices that could easily speed up our search for the colt. I shouldn’t have to remind you...” he kept his voice down and checked before assuring them.
“Master Pipsqueak is very dear to our Princess. She owes him a debt of faith and friendship for the kindness he showed her on the night of her return which...avoided the unpleasantness we may have caused if she’d been shown none.”
The Eternal Knights hung their heads at the memory while Discord tutted.
“Ooh, some naughty secrets Little Miss Twilight never put to letter?”
Midnight sighed.
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now, we’ve got work to do.”
***
Pipsqueak had sat quiet and unmoving on Rae Sloane’s bed for the rest of the voyage. Rae had been trying to reassure him he was safe after his run-in with Crodd but she too had hardly looked in the best of states. She could be heard in the conjoined storage room furiously striking a small punch-ball set she’d installed in there some time ago. Normally she’d use the ship’s fitness suite but there were times when she needed seclusion and this was such a time.
The door whistled open, causing Pip to jump, spinning to face whoever entered. To his relief, it was just Parisian Froul.
“We’ll be landing in five minutes.” he announced before glancing around to spot only Pip. Listening out for the sounds of his lieutenant with her punch-ball, he sighed and turned to the colt.
“She ran into Crodd, didn’t she.”
“Y-yeah...” Pipsqueak murmured “Um...Who is he?”
When he’d spoken of Veers, Yularen and other officers, Parisian Froul had puffed out his chest and regaled Pipsqueak with wonder and praise.
Now speaking of Crodd, his voice lowered and his tone was utterly grim.
“Grand Moff Croesus Crodd is the head of the Velcar Oversector, bordering the Seswenna Oversector Grand Moff Tarkin controls, the twin Imperial colonies of the Outer Rim in the known galaxy. The two draw their lineage from the Quintad, the ruling families on Eriadu, the planet on which the Forward Command Base is placed, an industrial powerhouse and the Empire’s bastion here in the Outer Rim. The Crodds and the Tarkins were always enemies and Wilhuff, at a very young age, actually managed to implicate the Crodds in high treason and had the whole pack of them exiled. As you can imagine, Croesus has been looking to get even ever since."
He cleared his throat, looked to either side of him for some reason, and continued.
"Now, Tarkin’s closer to the Emperor than any other Moff but Crodd has a great many friends elsewhere in the Council, the Intelligence Bureau and the Interior Security Bureau known as COMPNOR. His own web of influence he hopes with which to outdo Tarkin. Crodd’s built up something of a personal sub-Empire. His own Sector Army isn’t officially recognised by the Emperor but his contacts grant him the necessary authority. Under him, the Brimstone Anvil Command consist of an army and fleet led by many members of his own family but is nonetheless joined by very powerful figures across the sector.”
“So...he’s dangerous?”
“Oh, incredibly so. At this stage, perhaps one of the most dangerous and powerful men in the Empire. Why do you ask?”
Pip was almost shaking as he, appropriately, squeaked.
“I...I think he wants to hurt me...”
There was a pause. As Parisian mentally kicked himself, he backtracked.
“Well...that is to say...in his own Sector, certainly, but here, with Tarkin and so many others around, I-I...ah...”
“You’re not in any danger, Pip.” Rae Sloane emerged from the storage room in a plain black vest similar to what Thrawn and Veers had worn when they sparred. Sitting herself down on the other side of the colt, she ruffled his mane fondly.
“I’m not going to let anything happen. Crodd’s scum. That’s all you need to know. And here, with us, you’re safe from scum.”
Little Pipsqueak gave a small sniffle, looked up at his two guardians with wide, hopeful eyes and smiled.
“Thanks...” he said quietly.
“Okay...” With the colt suitably calmed, Rae threw on a shirt, jacket and cap nonchalantly “We’d better get to the hanger if we’re landing soon.”
“Righto.” Parisian nodded, getting to his feet “Is it my turn to carry Pip or will I?”
“I think it might be better if he walks for this round. You know how Tarkin gets when the march is out of order.”
“So...who’s Tarkin?” Pip asked again “I’ve heard a lot about him. Who is he and what does he do?”
“Well...That’s a bit of a loaded question.” It was Rae who explained this time “Grand Moff Tarkin is the head of Imperial operations in the Outer Rim. He’s a close personal friend of the Emperor, has a long and dedicated service record and...is not a man you try the patience of under any circumstances.”
“So...he’s dangerous as well?”
“Yeah but don’t worry. I’ve been working under him for a while and...let’s just say I know how to handle him.” Rae gave him a smile. Exiting her room, she, Parisian and Pipsqueak made their way down the corridors to the hanger.
“So what are Moffs? I thought they were insects?”
Parisian chuckled at the colt.
“Not moths, Pip. Moffs.” he explained “You see, the Empire is divided into sectors of solar systems under Imperial control. A Moff is a Sector Governor, responsible for the political, social, economic and military matters within. For instance, my grandfather’s the Moff of the Umbara System where we found you. With the Galactic Senate dissolved, the Moffs have been given far more power and can get away with almost anything provided they do their job in the process. They’re a...diverse bunch. Some can be very decent chaps, some less so. Grand Moffs command Oversectors, multiple sectors of high priority. Tarkin and Crodd command the two in the Outer Rim, Seswenna and Velcar. The word Moff itself, I remember hearing, is taken from an old Rakatan word meaning ‘Lord’ or ‘Master’.”
“I always forget with you, Parisian. Ask a question, and you get more answers than you ever thought possible.” Rae said, shaking her head.
Parisian gave an awkward look as they opened the doors to the hanger elevator.
They found two men waiting for them. Both tall, fairly young men in officer’s uniform. The first of them had a light grey garb, almost white, black hair reaching just down to the back of his neck with a faint beard. The second of them had a far darker garb, just turning artichoke-green. His hair was light-brown, short and slicked back, combined with a trim moustache.
Neither of them looked happy to see them.
At their sight, Rae and Parisian saluted. Pip, instinctively, did the same, wondering he silly he must have looked.
“Captain Rondel.” Rae said “First Lieutenant Teradoc.”
“Lieutenant Sloane.” the first man, Captain Rondel, said slowly, just enough to sound like a sneer “Corporal Froul. It’s about time you two got here.”
“This is unacceptable!” First Lieutenant Teradoc snapped “The regiment is due to disembark at Forward Base, the entirety of Imperial Command will be present, and you imbeciles are too busy fooling around with wildlife to be bothered!”
“Sir, I assure you...” Sloane said, noticeable distaste for the two in her voice “I was informed in good time and headed here as soon as possible. I’d like to point out, my room is substantially far from the elevator.”
“Excuses. You bring a lot of those wherever you go, don’t you.” Rondel said, his lips tweaking into a derisive smirk “Well, whatever the case, I’d like the animal placed in storage.”
Pip’s eyes widened at the thought but, before he or Rae could object, Parisian spoke up.
“Out of the question, Captain...It grieves me to say.” his militaristic tone betrayed nothing “My grandfather insisted Pipsqueak is taken with us.”
“I couldn’t give a damn what your grandfather wants.” Rondel’s tone turned vicious in an instant, before stopping himself, realising what he’d just said.
Parisian gave him an inquisitive look.
“Is...that...right?” he said. Rae gave him a smile as Rondel tried to backtrack.
“No, no, what I...meant to say was...”
“Perhaps you’re on the wrong ship.”
“Shut up!” The captain snarled, jabbing a finger at the Corporal before sighing, brushing his hair out his face.
“Fine, keep the animal under control and do not speak of it without permission. It causes any trouble and you are both history...” he gave a pause to let his warning sink in “Now fall in!”
Without another word, Rae, Parisian and Pip walked on, passing by ranks and ranks of stormtroopers lined up in single-file, standing at the ready in rigid discipline.
“Who was that?” Pip whispered.
“Our commanding officers.” Rae answered “Feanor Rondel and Taubrey Teradoc.”
“Are they dangerous too?” the colt asked.
At this, Rae gave a derisive snort.
“They wish.”
“They won’t be a problem, Pip. They just hate the fact that they have a common-born woman in their ranks.”
“And hate the fact that she’s doing pretty well even more.” One of the stormtroopers, Denwarren by the sound of him, whispered behind them.
“Lola...Sayu...” Parjai was muttering quietly under his helmet “He was on...Lola...Sayu...”
“Shut up back there!” Taubrey Teradoc snapped as he and Rondel marched to the head of the regiment.
With a great whistle and a jet of vapour on either side of it, the hanger bay doors opened as the Hellfire docked at the Forward Command Base.
Pip gazed out. A great assembly of faceless, ivory troopers, their spotless officers in their uniforms and, atop a great overlook, a congregation of the most bizarre creatures he’d ever seen, all in gaudy robes and applauding.
At the head of the assembly, a group of decorated officers stood before them, all standing tall and proud with their hands behind their backs in expectance. Crodd was no-where to be seen, Pip was thankful to realise, but the man standing at the very front of them was a pale, gaunt individual with a grey-widow’s peak, sunken cheeks and a grim, unsmiling visage.
Pip had known more than a few angry old ponies back home. Trottingham had once been famous for its hellish mines, mills, foundries and work-houses overseen by the greedy and scheming Elite Industrial Guild in their tall top hats and lack of regard for those who slaved under them. Numerous stories went about how the Princesses and a few of Trottingham’s greatest heroes destroyed their stranglehold and opened the town to the rest of Equestria and its slower but far more compassionate methods of progress.
If ever those joyless fellows found themselves in human form, a great many of the old men standing at the head of the assembly were making a very good impression.
“Hut!” Captain Rondel bellowed as the regiment disembarked.
Chaos broke loose. Pip found himself separated from Rae in the time it took to blink as the masses upon masses of identical, unrecognisable stormtroopers marched in lockstep out the hanger bay doors, their steps deafening and threatening to crush the colt underfoot.
Stumbling wildly, too confused to form words and unlikely to be heard over the din, Pip flailed around, tripped and fell under the enormous grey ramp the troops were walking down from. His head ringing and his heart pounding, the little colt curled up in a ball, hidden in the shadow, and hoped it would all be over soon.
Rae Sloane found herself glancing round desperately in their march, trying to find some way to search for her missing ward whilst staying in ranks. Parisian was attempting the same, though was clearly far less willing to incur the ire of Imperial High Command. Rae felt her brow dampening as the troops lined up, she and Parisian taking their place at the head of their platoon. Parjai was silent, standing without an inch out of place. The Dusk Trooper seemed to have materialised beside them in his strange armour, standing just as straight.
If the army stood any more still, they could be mistaken for statues.
Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin cast his steely eyes across the company. A look from him was capable to sap away at a man’s strength. Rae had endured it several times and, while she’d demonstrated at every turn she was made of sterner stuff, she did to feeling more than slightly unnerved.
Nonetheless, his tone was cordial.
“Sentinels of Umbara, the Empire thanks you for your service this day. May you find the remuneration you have earned here on Eriadu, the shining jewel in the Outer Rim. I welcome you all but must hereby remind you...” His raised voice was enough to overpower any shot from the most demented individual. Tarkin’s presence was dread authority personified. “Never grow lax in your victory. War is ever imminent and you, as soldiers of the Empire, must be ready to march to battle whenever and wherever you are called. The rewards for your service are glorious to imagine. The punishments for neglecting it, hellish to experience. Never forget.” And with a nod from him, the troops dismissed.
‘Pip...’ Rae was yelling in her head, turning back to the Hellfire ‘Find Pip.’
“Sloane!” A bark from behind her caused her to spin round. The eyes of Captain Rondel and First Lieutenant Teradoc were boring down on her.
“I’d like a word in private. You too, Corporal. The pair of you, immediately.”
Gritting her teeth, Rae looked to them, then back to the Hellfire, then back to them again.
“Sir, I need a minute, I think I left...”
“I said immediately, Lieutenant!” Rondel barked, eyes beginning to blaze.
Cursing Rondel and herself, Rae slowly turned away from where Pip was last beside her as she and Parisian followed their Captain with hearts gripped by worry.
“H-hello?”
Pip’s voice was barely louder than a squeak.
His head was still pounding from the stampede he’d narrowly avoided but now the silence was growing far more foreboding.
He was alone in the darkness. If he left, whole yards of station stood between him and wherever Rae had gone. He didn’t want to think about who he might run into if he left his hiding spot.
Rae would come back for him, he knew it.
Peeking his head out, he chanced a look at his surroundings.
The place was deserted. But he knew it would take a great deal of time and trotting for him to cross the station and find Rae. In that time, anyone might enter and spot him.
He felt cold, like there were eyes already on him.
Looking up, he felt a chill grip his heart.
Someone was watching him from the walkway up above. The woman in the black robe who’d been with Crodd.
He knew at once that she’d seen him. And faintly, ever so faintly, he thought he noticed a smile concealed under her hood.
Above him, there were footsteps. Huddling up with terror, clutching the bottom of the ramp as he backed into the corner, the hooded woman disappeared as, above him, voices were heard.
Both were female and sounded young. One was low and somewhat growly, the other was high-pitched and seemed close to crying.
“Look, we just grab them, find the ship and leave. Simple!” the first one griped “Just so long as you can keep it together!”
“But he saw me!” The other one whined “He saw me in the corridor!”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you stand around whining, Ayy! Anyway, he’s no-one important. He’s a stupid talking animal they picked up from Umbara. No-one’s gonna’ listen.”
“But he felt sorry for me.”
“Ayy, we don’t have time for another con!”
“No, I mean he genuinely wanted to help me, Lunae.”
“That’s great, Ayy. We got a zoo exhibit helping us. I swear I'm working with a plank of damn wood! Now shut up and let me do the talking.”
There was a slight gap just at the bottom of the ramp Pip could just peek under.
There was the Twi’lek girl with the yellow and red skin from earlier. Beside her was another Twi’lek, pale lilac in skin with indigo blotches along her head, shoulders and back and with a more stocky build to her, wearing similar garb as her companion. Walking across the station, they stopped and turned to an approaching officer.
“Halt!” the officer called out, not threatening but certainly stern “Identify yourselves.”
The officer was a short but shapely young woman in a khaki officer’s uniform, her long copper-red hair tied in a ponytail slung over one shoulder. Beside her was a young stormtrooper, his helmet removed, with short brown hair and an awkward expression, clearly hesitant to point his blaster at them.
“Please, madam.” The twi’lek named Lunae bowed her head and spoke in a slower, quieter and more sultry voice than before “We are with Moff Mors’s entourage but...we got separated. When the troops disembarked we were...in the bath.” she gave a small giggle at the officer who eyed them humourlessly “If you could show us where she is staying...”
The officer rolled her eyes.
“Very well. Sergeant Ian Takan.”
“M-me, Captain?” the stormtrooper asked.
“No, a completely different Sergeant Ian Takan. Yes! You!” The officer snapped sarcastically “Please escort these two ladies to the Moff of Ryloth’s quarters.
The trooper’s face lit up with eagerness.
“Yes, ma’am!” he said “If you ladies would like to follow me.”
“Thank you, sergeant.” The yellow and red Ayy Vida held his hand as the two were led away “You know...you have very nice muscles, sergeant.”
“Thanks...Nice to hear you say so.”
“Give me strength.” The officer facepalmed, Pip assumed that was the right word, as the sergeant and twi’lek girls disappeared through one of the station doors.
At the sight, Pip gave a small giggle.
The effect was instant. The officer’s eyes snapped open and she fixed her sights on the Hellfire.
Pip’s eyes widened as she marched forward, an expression of anger and suspicion on her face, and drew a blaster, a small thin specimen but no less mean-looking than any other Pip had seen.
She called out, her voice hard and fierce.
“Right! You in there, whoever you are, you’re not welcome here! You’re trespassing on a restricted area! For the ignorant, that means death! Now, because I’m nice, I’m going to give you to the count of ten before I fry you wherever you stand! One...Nine and a half...”
“Wait! Wait! Don’t shoot!” Pip found himself screaming from the shadows, shutting his eyes tight as his little hooves shook. He felt himself breaking down “I’ll come out! I’ll do whatever you want...j-just don’t sh-sh-shoot me...”
There was a pause. Under the gap, he noticed the woman had put away her blaster and was slowly approaching, her face far less fierce than before, more confused and concerned than anything else.
“Who are you?” she asked in more measured tone “How old are you?”
“S-s-seven...” Pipsqueak answered.
The officer brushed her hair in befuddlement, betraying a certain amount of guilt.
“Okay, well...Sorry I scared you. If you come out and behave, I’ll get this whole thing sorted out and you can be on your way. Okay?”
“Okay...” Pip answered back as he slowly emerged.
The officer was kneeling in front of where he’d been hiding and was now staring in surprise at the colt, her bright green eyes wide, her mouth slightly open.
Shaking her head, she blinked and spoke.
“Alright then...Not what I was expecting.” she said flatly “I’ll hazard a guess you’re not from here.”
“No...” Pip mumbled “But I was with Rae Sloane...Um...she’s a Lieutenant.”
“Ah yes.” The officer smiled knowingly. Pip realised she looked really rather pretty when she smiled “I’m more than familiar with Lieutenant Rae Sloane. You’d best come with me. Tarkin will want to see you before you go drawing attention to yourself and...I’m probably the best chance you have of getting you on his good side. If you don’t mind being carried.”
“Okay...” Pip remembered his manners “Thank you very much, madam. You’re very kind.”
“Heh...Only when I can afford to be.” Pip didn’t really know what she meant by that but he found himself scooped up and carried in both her hands like a newborn. Ordinarily he would have felt degraded but, in the current circumstance, with this young lady helping him from such a terrifying state of uncertainty, he felt very comfortable.
“So what’s your name?”
“My name’s Pipsqueak, ma’am.” He answered “Rae’s taken me on as the platoon’s mascot.”
“Without consulting the Grand Moff evidently. Not to worry, I’ll sort that out.” The officer gave him a warm smile “I’m Captain Natasi Daala, Grand Moff Tarkin’s personal attendant.”
“So...you’re like a...secretary.”
“Sometimes. Other times I’m like a bodyguard, sometimes like an informant...but otherwise I am whatever he needs me to be.”
Carried along at her prompt but gentle pace, Natasi Daala walked through an open door to find her superiors.
Grand Moff Tarkin was conversing with Captain Ozzel from earlier along with two others.
One was a middle-aged angular man with slick brown hair streaked with silver and a slightly pointy look to his brow, nose and mouth. The other was a broad, bulky fellow with a thick brown beard and a calm expression.
Both of them wore dark grey with silver straps over their shoulders.
Ozzel was blustering as Daala entered, seemingly unaware of Daala’s entry.
“I tell you, Tarkin, you must be informed! It is crucial something is done about this! This Grand Admiral Thrawn is nothing more than an alien!”
Grand Moff Tarkin’s voice was dripping with derision.
“Yes, thank you, Ozzel. I was not aware.”
“Oh well, it’s quite simple. It’s the blue skin, you see, that’s how you can tell...”
“He was being sarcastic, Ozzel.” The bearded man said flatly.
“Oh...” Ozzel gave them a puzzled look “Are you sure?”
“Captain Ozzel,” Tarkin sounded tired “Now, you know I prefer the company of humans as you do but Thrawn is a very capable asset and, I assure you, absolutely loyal. He serves us well which is, by and large, all we need from him. Minister Doriana and Lord Vader personally vouch for him and both I and his Imperial Majesty are convinced of his dedication.”
“Well...You never know, sir.” Ozzel bumbled “In any case, surely it’s a sign of weakness to rely on such a creature. We, his natural superiors, cannot possibly kowtow to this outsider!”
“In my book, superiority is rarely ever natural.” the bearded man said emotionlessly “Skill and experience. That is the measure of superiority. And Admiral Thrawn has that in abundance.”
“There is merit in your words, Teshik.” Tarkin added “Exactly how welcome Thrawn is among us is...debatable. But in terms of potential, there are few better. We must have him.
“Yes, but...”
“Look at it this way, Ozzel,” the thin man interjected, patting Ozzel on the shoulder “Thrawn is a most capable alien, one of the most capable. Who better to command him than us? Is it not enough to simply be secure in the knowledge that, as a human, you are naturally superior? Don’t give him the satisfaction of getting heated. Who cares for all his praise and posture? He’ll never be anything more than an alien.”
“Yes, I...I suppose you’re right, Delvardus.”
“In any case, Ozzel, it would be far more profitable for you to focus on your own efforts to the Empire before objecting to those of others, whatever their species.” Tarkin fixed the preening Ozzel with a steely glare.
A pause in the conversation reached, Natasi Daala spoke up.
“Oh Willy?” she called cheekily from behind Tarkin who sighed in frustration.
“Daala, you are not to call me that in uniform. If I’ve told you once, I’ve...”
He stopped as he beheld the little colt in the Captain’s arms, who gave him a smile.
“Hello, sir.” he chirped.
For a moment, Tarkin simply stared at the colt, one eyebrow raised, his lips pursed in uncertainty.
“What’s this?” he said at last.
“This is Pip.” Natasi answered “Say hello to Pip, sir.”
There was another pause. Wilhuff Tarkin was, evidently, not a humorous fellow.
“Are you trying to be funny?” he asked, glaring at the pair.
“No, sir, wouldn’t dream of it.” Daala said plainly “I just wondered if you’d like to know he’s with Lieutenant Sloane, under her supervision. Just to avoid any awkwardness at the dinner this evening.”
“I did not agree to...” Tarkin started before sighing, struggling to keep his authoritative tone “I’d like no nonsense from anyone, least of all from the animal. Is that understood?”
“Absolutely, sir. I’ll be on my best behaviour. I promise.” Pip assured him.
“I wasn’t asking...” Tarkin sighed again “Fine...I was informed of this unknown life-form from Thrawn. He's quite a bit smaller than I imaged considering Ozzel wants to have the creature processed and locked away in maximum security.”
Daala shrugged.
“Ozzel’s a buffoon.” she replied.
“A fair point.”
“I say, look here-”
“Don’t interrupt, Ozzel.” Tarkin held up a hand, silencing the blustering captain “If Rae must bring it...him along, then so be it but if we find anything untoward about the creature...”
“I’m sure she’ll get the message. In the meantime, weren’t you going to pay her a visit?”
“I believe so.” he straightened up and gave what could have been a smile at the young woman “If you’ll accompany me, Captain.”
“It would be a pleasure, sir.” Natasi gave him a look that reminded Pip of the looks Miss Cheerilee, his schoolteacher, would give Big McIntosh, Applebloom’s gigantic older brother. He’d never quite understood the meaning behind it.
“I told you Miss Sloane would impress.”
“Thank you, Daala. I don’t need to be reminded. She is indeed performing well.”
“Frankly I’m surprised she got anywhere with Ozzel leading them.”
“Excuse me, I’m standing right here!”
Daala and Tarkin turned to Ozzel with looks of annoyance.
“What do you want? A medal?” Daala snapped.
Ozzel’s bluster dried up immediately. Behind him, Teshik rolled his eyes while Delvardus gave a quiet chuckle.
“W-well...”
“That will be all.” Tarkin barked as the officers dispersed. With a sigh, he and Daala walked with Pip to where Sloane had been led.
Pip’s ear pricked as Daala whispered, not knowing whether he was meant to be listening or not.
“Delvardus was looking at me when I entered.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“He looked at me when I left as well.”
“He’s not a problem.”
“He’s your brother-in-law.”
“I don’t need to be reminded.” Tarkin’s voice was low and near devoid of emotion before it took on an earnest tone “I told you...Natasi...You’re safe with me. Remember.”
Their voices were quiet, not just out of a wish to stop others hearing.
There was genuine affection in their voices.
“I will...Wilhuff.”
Pip tilted his head and mumbled off-hoofedly.
“Are you two...”
“Not your concern.” Tarkin snapped quickly.
Out the corner of his eye, Pip saw Natasi Daala give him a wink.
The prisoner had to open her eyes thrice to make sure she was awake. The room she found herself within was in pitch-blackness. The floor beneath her was cold, hard stone that chilled her legs as she knelt, arms and hands tied tightly behind her back.
Wearing nothing, she found herself shivering without even noticing. The only warmth was on her was her injuries, deep cuts and rough burns across her body. Her mouth was dry and encrusted with red salt.
She felt another abdominal pain in the pits of her chest. Crouching into the corner, her head pressed against the stone wall, she threw up another mouthful of blood and bile. Coughing and spluttering, her stomach and lungs feeling shredded, she found herself crying in pain and despair.
It seemed like only a week ago she’d been living safely back home. And while her days had been by no means easy, she’d had hope for the future.
Now she was starting to hope for death.
A dull whistle behind her was joined by a sudden light, blinding her in the darkness. As she adjusting to it, it vanished just as quickly.
A man had entered. A faint light above them switched on, bathing the room in an ochre hue.
She found herself staring up at a male human in a hardy set of beige combat armour and swathed in a golden-brown cloak. He was tall and muscular with a broad chin covered by a thick blonde beard and moustache, barely showing a frown that conveyed only mild disappointment. His thick head of hair was tied up in a topknot. His eyes were dissimilar. One was a hazel-brown, the other was grey. The latter eye was marred by a grizzled set of scars over his left brow and cheek. Both eyes, however, were tired-looking but unwaveringly keen, boring into her.
“Hello Senator...” he said calmly and quietly “May just be the light but I have to say, you’re still looking pretty good for a backstabber.”
The prisoner stumbled on the stones and looked up at her captor.
“You...” she coughed again, her voice hoarse after weeks of dehydration “You have no right to hold me here...Th-the Delegation...”
“The Delegation doesn’t need to know about the state of your current residence. And what I have to say will give them...pause for thought.”
He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small holoprojector.
Hers.
Switching it on, it replayed the last message. The image of a tall, sharply-dressed, dark-skinned man appeared and greeted her with a warm but slightly apologetic smile as he’d done when she’d first received the message bare hours before her capture.
“Hello Senator.” the man said “I know we haven’t been in contact for a while now but...Well, things have been rather rough...for both of us. I don’t blame you if you’re having second thoughts. To be honest, I feel the same from time to time. But I promise, it doesn’t have to end in despair for people like us. Come join us a week from now, co-ordinates follow. I and a group of...like-minded people have big plans for a better galaxy. I would...very much like you to be part of it. I know things have been bad but it doesn’t have to get worse. We can fight, my lady, and we can win. I promise.”
And with that, he shrunk into the holoprojector and disappeared.
As a tear rolled down her cheek, the prisoner felt her captor grip her chin in his gauntleted hand and look her in the face.
“You’ve been dealing with our enemies, Senator.” he said quietly as ever with hints of burning hatred flickering in his tone “You were planning to betray us.”
“No, I...” she struggled in his grasp “I...I hadn’t even replied! I was...I was still deciding!”
“Why? The decision was obvious...I would have hoped.” He took a deep breath as she felt his fingers threatening to crush her jaw between them “You were in contact with a known traitor. You have compromised our security. A death sentence.”
“No! I had to speak with them!” she wailed “I was trying to prevent a war!”
“Were you?” Her captor leaned in close, her face inches from hers, threads of her long hair caught in his breath as he whispered.
“You failed.”
He pressed something electronic hidden in his cloak and a light switched on behind him, big and bright-orange.
A hovering black sphere slowly crept into view, edging closer and closer like some foul, otherworldly predator, numerous appendages drawing and whirring into life.
The prisoner’s eyes widened with horror.
It made her captor smile.
“We managed to get it working again. I’ve been waiting to test it out.”
“You...You’re mad!” her whimper became a furious shriek “You’re pure evil!”
“Says the betrayer.” he replied softly. Pressing another button, the cords that held his prisoners arms and legs grew taught and pulled her back to the pulley systems behind the walls from which they were attached.
The prisoner gave a cry of pain as she felt her back slam into the wall, her shoulders nearly smashed as she felt her body grow weak, her eyes fixed on her captor and his new device.
“Where are your associates?” he asked “The ones with doubts?”
Her face contorting with rage, the prisoner spat.
The greyer of the man’s eyes shut as a trail of bloody saliva smacked into the side of his face. His lips creased and twitched with indignation as he wiped off on his hand and gave it a look.
“Pity...” his voice was now deathly quiet and chilling to the core, each word slow and venomous as he glared at the prisoner “The people were so very fond of you.”
Taking a step back, he allowed the terrible device to draw nearer, listening as the prisoner’s breath quickened and the smell of sweat grew distinct in the cell.
Before the screaming would begin, he made one last utterance.
“Remember how you used to say ‘To live for one’s people is the greatest sacrifice?’” he said “Well...Tonight, that sacrifice will end...”
His eyes gleamed in the darkness as the IT-O Interrogator set about its work, his final word slow and dripping.
“Eventually”
*
“Unacceptable!” Feanor Rondel’s yell sounded in the company mess hall “Absolutely unacceptable!”
“And entirely without cause.” Taubrey Teradoc added with a sanctimonious jab. Rae Sloane was grinding her teeth to breaking point and Parisian was fighting not to show contempt in his gaze as the two stood before their raging captain and derisive First Lieutenant.
“You bypassed the advance path set out for you by my vanguard,” Rondel snapped “And nearly compromise the bombing zones! And then, and then...” he repeated for effect “You give the priority target, Guulmoth Deechi, the known fugitive, the opportunity to run, thereby costing us a valuable asset for interrogation and nearly getting your entire platoon killed by a wild vixus!”
“Sir, I...”
“All for the sake of some idiotic animal you picked out of goddamn no-where!” the Captain bellowed, his face scarlet with rage “What have you to say?!”
“We weren’t ordered to capture Deechi alive, sir.”
“You imbecile! First law of Imperial Laws of Offensive Warfare; Any enemy command is to be captured alive if possible! Evidently, it was possible!”
“For a qualified officer.” Teradoc chided.
“Yet you botched even that! And then this business with the local wildlife!”
“No-one was killed.”
“Oh, that’s alright then!” Rondel snapped sarcastically “Let me tell you, Sloane, I have had just about enough of your consistent insubordination! I assure you, if I don’t have you court-martialled by the week’s end, you’ll wish I-”
“Is there really a need for quite so much shouting in here, captain?”
The sound of the door opening had gone unnoticed under Rondel’s berating but the Grand Moff always cut through any sound.
Snapping to attention, Rondel, Teradoc and all others present clicked their heels and saluted.
Grand Moff Tarkin approached in his usual sardonic manner. Glancing behind him, Sloane’s eyes brightened as she caught sight of Pipsqueak safe and sound, though her mood soured slightly at seeing him in the hands of Natasi Daala, a woman who Sloane found rather objectionable in regards to her methods of climbing the chain of command.
The torrid office romance of Wilhuff Tarkin and Natasi Daala was one of the worst-kept secrets in the Imperial Command. She knew of only two people who weren’t aware; Tarkin’s own wife, Thalassa, living in opulence at her family estate on Phelarion; and her brother, Admiral Conan Antonio Motti.
Rae knew it was tough for a young woman to make a living as an Imperial officer but sleeping one’s way to command was something she’d never considered nor ever would.
Sleeping with Tarkin of all people was something she found most distasteful.
Though Daala had privately confided in her that, perhaps through some way, she could serve as a good influence on her otherwise cold and uncompromising lover.
Sloane exercised a slight hope but expected little to come of it.
Tarkin gazed a steely eye over Rondel and Teradoc.
At last he spoke.
“Well?” he began “What seems to be the trouble?”
“Ahem, well...sir...” Rondel’s ardour had shrivelled almost entirely “Irregularities occurred during the retaking of Umbara and the apprehension of Guulmoth Deechi, chiefly involving one Miss Rae Sloane.”
“Lieutenant Rae Sloane?” Tarkin asked “Yes, I had heard of that. Going into battle with only a handful of soldiers and bringing down a fully-grown vixus single-handed.”
“Exactly. Of course, I was just saying...”
“Well done...I should hope.” the Grand Moff cut off Rondel’s explanation, giving him a curt look “Here in the Empire, we admire ambition. An Empire rarely ever gets far without it after all.”
“Yes but...” Rondel blustered “She disobeyed orders, orders I gave her.”
“Did you?” Tarkin raised one eyebrow “From what I heard you were on Balmorra. Am I correct?”
“I was, sir.”
“What were doing on Balmorra?”
“Well, I was...sent to transfer prisoners, sir.”
“Were you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Apparently this was a job that gave you enough time to know of events on Umbara in which a platoon under your command was involved.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you took time during your mission on Balmorra...to relay orders for Lieutenant Sloane on Umbara?”
“Well...”
“Despite the fact that Moff Froul was leading the assault on Umbara, a man whose orders outweigh yours at any rate.”
“Well...no, sir.”
“No? His orders don’t outweigh yours? Is that what you are suggesting”
“N-no...No, sir...what I mean is, I gave her orders to follow in any situation. And she disobeyed those orders.”
Tarkin gave a small nod, registering no clear response.
“What is your name?” he said after a pause.
“Er...” the officer jumped slightly “Captain Rondel, sir.”
“Who?”
“Captain Feanor Rondel, sir.”
There was a pause.
“Who?” the Grand Moff repeated.
Sloane was finding this all rather entertaining. She, Parisian and Natasi shared a similar insolent grin.
“I...saw action at the Battle over Coruscant, sir.”
Tarkin gave him an unimpressed look.”
“Saw it? Yes. So did I. As did many, many...many others. And what were you doing at the battle? Transferring prisoners?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Just as well.” And with that, he turned away from the stammering, sweating Rondel and turned to Taubrey Teradoc who stood stock-still under his gaze.
“And you are?”
“First Lieutenant Taubrey Teradoc...ahem...sir.”
Tarkin raised an eyebrow again.
“Any relation to Admiral Treuten Teradoc perchance?”
“Yes, sir.” Taubrey puffed himself up with pride “He is my uncle, sir.”
“...You both have my deepest sympathies.” He turned away as, after a slight pause, Taubrey’s face fell in indignation.
Tarkin clicked his fingers as he paced to the exit.
“Daala, Sloane, Froul. A word, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Sloane said, a satisfied grin etched on her face.
“But, sir?!” Rondel spluttered, trying to get a word in edgeways.
Grand Moff Tarkin turned with a tired expression.
“Captain Rondel, is there any reason why you appear so graceless at this hour? I am a very busy ma-”
“But sir, you don’t understa-”
When Grand Moff Tarkin held up a hand, he may as well have drawn the galaxy’s biggest blaster. Rondel was silenced and any chance that anyone present was about to speak was instantly crushed.
Tarkin’s brow furrowed an inch yet Sloane found it more frightening that the jaws of the vixus.
“Rondel...” he said in a low but absolutely severe tone “You are on no account to ever interrupt me again. It is exceptionally rude.”
“Y-yes, sir, but-”
Tarkin waved his hand, silencing the stammering officer. The Grand Moff’s gaze was razor-sharp.
“You have a lot to learn, young man.” he said flatly.
And with that, he left, taking Daala, Froul, Sloane and Pip with him.
As the door shut, Tarkin and Daala turned to face Sloane and Parisian.
“Lieutenant.” the Grand Moff pointed to the colt in Daala’s arms “I believe you left this on the ship.”
Giving a grateful sigh of relief, Rae scooped up Pipsqueak, placed him safely on the ground and ruffled his mane.
“Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to lose you like that.” she caught her breath and gave him a small nuzzle “I hope you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, Rae.” Pip replied chirpily “I was found by Grand Moff Tarkin’s wife.”
“My wife? Where?!” Tarkin’s face portrayed the closest thing to fear Rae had ever seen from him as he looked to his left and right. After an awkward pause, Daala burst out laughing.
“Its okay, Pip. I’m not the Grand Moff’s wife.” she struggled to contain her mirth as her lover gave them an irritated glare.
“Oh...your girlfriend then?”
“She is my personal assistant.” Tarkin snapped “Remember that.” Tilting his gaze upwards he fixed Sloane and Parisian with a stern glare.
“There is to be no nonsense from the colt...or from either of you, while on this command post. Is that sufficiently clear?”
“Absolutely, sir.” It was Parisian who answered.
Tarkin took a deep breath through his nostrils and tilted his head up.
“Both of you must get changed immediately. A continued peace in the Outer Rim will be cemented by this evening’s festivities. Make of that what you will but...at this stage...we wish to avoid bloodshed while the Empire is still so young.”
Rae and Parisian nodded.
Before Tarkin disappeared, a door opened beside them and a familiar blue face showed itself.
“Ah, Admiral.” Tarkin said, barely managing a smile “How goes your work?”
“Very fruitful, Excellency.” Thrawn replied “You keep a very well-ordered planet. Your markets are quite spectacular. I just came from an auction, in fact, and picked up something quite invaluable.”
“Really?” The Grand Moff’s eyes gleamed with intrigue “A map?”
“No, sir.”
“A starship?”
“No, sir.”
“A weapon?”
“No, sir.”
Tarkin gave an impatient sigh.
“Very well, what did you find?”
Thrawn reached into a back pocket and retrieved a medium-sized book with silver patterns on its cover and a bright blue metallic border. Tarkin gave it a glance and read the title.
“Tales from the Forgotten Regions: Schoolboy Edition...Pardon?”
“The Tales from the Forgotten Regions are quite enlightening, sir. Tragically, the ‘Schoolboy Edition’ is the only issue that has, to date, been translated. The rest are in Neti, a language I am...only slightly familiar with. But the book is a collection of fables and moral narratives and is a most thought-provoking read.” Thrawn gave a smile and admired the book as if it were a jewel “I can let you borrow it, sir, once I’m finished with it.”
Tarkin gave the Chiss a frustrated look.
“Thrawn...You have a peculiar skill for trying the patience of others. I suggest you stop honing it and start practicing your keys for this evening.”
“At once, sir.”
Tarkin left with Daala in tow. Thrawn turned to Rae and Parisian, depositing the book into his pocket.
“Keys, sir?” Rae asked.
“Yes, I have volunteered to provide the music at the gathering tonight. I fear I will only be a...modest performer.”
“Hey, can’t be any worse than at the academy.”
A voice, one with a strange drawl to it that reminded Pip of the strange accent of the Breezies.
Turning, they saw a young Imperial officer with tanned skin, curly auburn hair that was growing slightly longer than most and a welcoming expression, leaning against the corridor, his indigo-eyed gaze on Thrawn.
Upon noticing him, Thrawn actually smiled.
Approaching him, he held out his arms and, to Rae and Parisian’s utter dumbfoundedness, hugged the man.
“Eli Vanto...” he said fondly “My dear, faithful friend...It’s been so long.”
“Too long, pal. Far too long.” The man named Eli Vanto patted his shoulder and gave a glance at his fellows.
“Friends of yours?”
Thrawn turned back and held out a hand.
“Lieutenant Sloane, Corporal Froul, Master Pipsqueak. This is Commander Eli Vanto, an old academy partner and one of the truest and wisest friends I’ve known.”
It was peculiar, the degree to which Thrawn could swing from terrifying to amiable in such short lengths of time.
“Pleasure.” Vanto shook their hands and looked intriguingly at Pipsqueak.
“Platoon mascot?” he asked to which Sloane nodded, still too stunned to speak. Pipsqueak gave him a smile and nodded.
Eli chuckled.
“That’s alright. I keep meaning to get Thrawn this pet he’s always wanted. From the old Neti planet. What’s it called?”
“Ysalamiri.”
“That’s it. Trouble is the damn things can’t survive without the tree they live on and the ones that can cost a damn ton, let me tell ya’. Well...” he gave his hair an idle brush and grinned “We’ll have to catch up later. I need to make sure my old chum doesn’t fail too badly at dinner.”
And with that, the two school-friends walked off down the corridor, quietly discussing.
“So what instrument are you butchering this evening?”
“A Selkath Janteillium.”
“Krayt-spit!” Vanto exclaimed “Where the hell did you get that?”
“An auction on Cato Neimoidia. I must confess, however, I am...still struggling to master it.”
“I’ll bet you are. No worries, Old Eli’ll talk you through it.”
As the silence brewed, Sloane and Parisian looked to each other, then to Pip, then to each other again.
Parisian opened his mouth and spoke.
“Do you think they’re...you know...”
Rae rolled her eyes.
“Oh shut up, Junior.”
*
“You done in there?” Rae tapped the door as girlish whooping and giggling continued to sound.
“He is just about ready, madam.” An accented voice replied before the doors opened.
Delian Mors’s twi’lek assistants had volunteered to ensure Pipsqueak was groomed for the senatorial gathering. The little pinto tottered out, his fur sleek and smooth and his scruffy mane combed and curled over his head, similar to his friend Scootaloo back home. They’d tied a red ribbon round his neck from which hung a small pendant of the Imperial seal.
He gave a smile.
“How do I look?”
Rae and Parisian gave him an awkward glance.
“Well, Twi’leks do seem to know a lot about keeping up appearances.” Parisian said before a slight jab to the side from Rae shushed him.
“You look great, Pip.” Rae herself was dressed in a fresh suit with red and black sashes and a couple of medals she’d earned over the years on her lapel.
Parisian, meanwhile, was dressed in a sheer black longcoat over a white suit with the Imperial Navy signet upon one shoulder pad, held by a navy-blue sash.
The suit had been his fathers.
What little they could do to dress themselves up, they had done so.
Delian Mors herself appeared in a silky cloak of wampa fur, the beast’s black horns arranged in a collar. She claimed to have shot the beast on Hoth but some found this doubtful.
“Well then, chaps.” she chortled “Ready to face the hordes of opulence, eh?”
Rae rolled her eyes.
“It’s not enough that we have to have Senators on our command base but now we have to dress up like them?”
“I’ve always loved dressing up.” Pipsqueak piped up “Back home, on Nightmare Night, we always dress up as monsters or fairytale characters. I like dressing up as a pirate.”
“Pirate?” Parisian gave a chuckle “Best not let the Moffs hear that, Pip. Pirates give us a lot of trouble these days.”
As the great doors to the gathering opened with a rustle like wind through leaves, Pipsqueak found himself looking at a great expansive hall with carpets and drapes of red, white and gold, strange treasures and antiques dotting every spare corner. Out of enormous windows, the world outside was nearly invisible through thick mist that was a midnight blue in the evening haze.
The hall was packed. Twi’lek serving girls glided through the throngs with platters of drinks and appetisers.
Froul, Yularen and Veers could be seen talking with various men of similar dress. Tarkin was at the head of the room on an elevated incline, dressed in his usual ware but for a trailing navy cloak with a glassy collar of electric blue, fastened with gold inlays, giving the impression of an insects wings. The seal of the Tarkin family was emblazoned into the cloth.
This cloak was shared by another, a young woman in a silver-grey dress and a trailing brooch of golden beads tying up her brown hair. The woman had a thin, keen face but a moderately kindly expression and was talking to Tarkin who seemed to be smiling at her.
This must have been Shayla Paige-Tarkin, the Grand Moff’s niece.
Behind them, Thrawn was playing away at a strange-looking instrument, shaped like a piano but lined with thick, flat strings that he plucked with grace, filling the room with resounding hums like a choir. Atop the instrument were sets of weights, pendulums and other odd devices that Thrawn would press or click or tap, causing them to play a percussive beat on their own. Eli Vanto was leaning against it patiently, nodding with approval and turning the music sheet for his friend.
Thrawn was a one-man orchestra.
“Is there anything that fellow can’t do?” Parisian chuckled.
Before Pip was sufficiently through gazing at all those present at this grand social, Delian Mors made her way to greet someone.
“Orn Free Taa, old thing! Come to old Deli’s arms, you magnificent ton of fun!”
She engaged in a warm hug with a bizarre alien that Pip’s eyes boggled to observe. A monumental mass of fat blue blubber, like a beached whale, with great flaps from the back of his head hanging over his shoulders, covered by a great copper and cobalt-coloured gown that looked more like a tent than anything else over the wearer’s staggering girth. A hooked nose, beady eyes and a mouth of yellow teeth set themselves in an expression of amiability as he gave a hoot of laughter, his multiple chins rippling.
“Mrs Mors, how marvellous to see you.” he said in a chewy, accented baritone “Come, come meet my new attendants, they’ve been begging me to introduce you to them.”
And with that, Delian was led on by this obese alien senator who Pip would forever regard as living proof of the benefits of a healthy diet.
Hopping on his feet, Parisian rushed down to meet his heroes one by one. He found Veers with his grandfather and at last had his holocron signed, Moff Glandon Froul having to tap him on the shoulder and give him a gesture of temperance.
Rolling her eyes, Rae stepped down and tried to make herself feel welcome, Pip trotting along beside her.
“Sloane, is it?”
A woman’s voice sounded, low and stern. Rae and Pip turned to see a tall alien woman standing before them, though this one was dressed in Imperial Officer’s uniform with light blue accents and a cyan lash with a spearhead embroidered into it. Her face was what drew attention to her. She had a flat, emotionless expression, her eyes hidden by a pair of dark-magenta tinted goggles. Her hair was silver and spread out like a lion’s mane, cut into a fringe just above her brow, reminding Pip startlingly of the eccentric photographer, Photo Finish.
Her skin was chalk-white but turned into a leopard-like patchy pattern at her sides, pale cyan in colour. On either side of her face, just in front of her ears, a trio of sky-blue horns could be seen.
A Theelin, an endangered species across the galaxy, their kind subjected to a terrible mutation that hindered their reproductive cycles. Only hybrids survived and even then only barely.
Rae had remembered hearing of a Theelin woman in the Imperial ranks. Somehow she’d gotten in with Thrawn and Vader and had risen to command.
The name...
“Therbon?” Rae recalled aloud “Grand Moff Suadela Therbon of the Cerulean Spear Command of the 12th Oversector Maldrood?”
Her mouth, lined with black lipstick, betrayed no emotion.
“Correct. Lieutenant Sloane? And her platoon mascot? You’ll be serving under me against Toora. I hope I can count on your continued record of competence.” she said with the same emotionless monotone of Thrawn “I’m no stranger to climbing the greasy pole, as it were, but hindrances of any kind I do not find tolerable.”
“I promise my fullest effort and attainment in the coming conflict, sir.” Rae gave a salute “It will be an honour to serve under the Hero of Charros IV.”
Therbon gave a noise that could have been a chuckle.
“Never heard myself called a ‘Hero’ of Charros IV. Butcher, certainly.”
“Um...Charros IV?” Pipsqueak mumbled.
“Planet of the Xi Charrians. There was an uprising there a while ago, shortly after the Confederacy was dissolved” Rae answered.
“Horrible creatures. They're what the Vulture Droids were based off. Took a great deal to bring them down but we did it.” Therbon recalled “Once we had them contained, in exchange for ceasefire, they agreed to have tracking devices inserted under their skin to monitor for any further insurrections. At the time of ceasefire, there were only twenty-thousand Xi Charrians left alive on the planet.”
Sloane was quiet, forcing herself not to step back.
“Wow...” she mumbled “That’s...unfortunate.”
“Indeed.” Therbon replied “And even more unfortunately, we had to cut their number down to just three-hundred.”
This time, Rae did take a step back, horrified.
“Wh-why?!” she spluttered.
The Theelin shrugged and answered.
“We only had three-hundred trackers.”
Rae felt a bubble of air catch itself in her throat as she struggled to put that thought out of her mind.
“Have I frightened you? Sorry.” Therbon said emotionlessly as ever “You do things to rise in this Empire. Things you’re not always proud of. You’ve no fear of such measures, madam. As far as we can tell, Toora’s armies comprise mostly of mercenaries of no fixed residence. There’ll be very little weight on your conscience. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be joined by Black Sword Command, Sixth Sector Praxlis, under Mister Weblin, who I believe has just finished speaking to your friends.” She held up a hand and signalled for an officer to approach.
Finbar Weblin strode forward. An aged but nonetheless handsome Grand Moff with blonde hair that had turned flour-white in age grown long down to his shoulders in curls, a pair of stiletto-like mustachios lining his upper lip as he smiled and shook Rae Sloane’s hand warmly.
“How do you do, Lieutenant. Froul and Yularen have told me much about you. I look forward to seeing your expertise first-hand.”
Rae found herself smiling.
“Thank you, sir.”
Weblin’s appointment to Grand Moff had been a smart move from the Emperor. Finbar Weblin had braved many hazardous exploits of the Clone Wars and served the Republic as ably as he now served the Empire. He was charismatic to a fault, his men idolised him, and he was comparatively tolerant of aliens in the Empire, abhorring slavery and persecution, a few non-humans even serving as his sectorial Moffs. Serving beside him was considered a great honour to many. Rae herself had hoped she’d one day find the opportunity.
“Stunning work on Umbara, Grand Moff Griffadon Praji’s very pleased with your efforts, Froul tells me. I can’t deny...It’ll feel jolly good to put an end to the Separatist menace for good this time round.”
“I’ll make sure the opportunity isn’t missed, sir.” Rae assured him. Feeling a tug on her trouser leg, she looked down to see Pip looking precarious.
“Um...Rae?” he murmured “There’s a woman over there who looks like she’s crying...Can I go and see what the matter is?”
Rae glanced in the corner of the hall. One the Senators was looking out of the window in a distinctly glum manner, pausing to dab at her eyes with a handkerchief.
It was no secret that most Senators hadn’t wished to part with the Republic when it came down. Few of them could be trusted. Even the ones gathered here had to be kept a watchful eye on.
Still, here where the weird and wonderful were gathered, Pip didn’t look that out of place. And if anyone could cheer someone up or help them come clean, he seemed as likely as any.
Giving an uncertain look, she turned to Pip.
“Okay but quietly. See what the matter is and if anyone asks, you’re with me.”
“Thanks.”
The unhappy Senator was a tall woman in a trailing maroon gown that hid all but her face. Her off-white hair was tied into two knots trailing over her shoulders and her skin was abnormally pale. She was sitting on a bench looking out the window into the expanse of Eriadu. Sniffing, she retrieved a handkerchief and wiped at her sunken, tear-stained cheeks.
As Pip approached, he cleared his throat.
“Excuse me?” he said softly “Is something the matter?”
As the woman turned, Pip nearly jumped.
Her eyes were huge and solid black, far bigger than a normal human’s, almost stretching her face to contain them, surrounded by a dull-pink hue. Her brow was high and decorated by an intricate bug-like brooch that didn’t seem to be held by anything, causing Pip to wonder if it was actually part of her body. The woman stared jadedly at him.
“Are you lost, child?” she said, her voice low but very soft, quite soothing in fact.
Pip found his hooves and shook his head.
“Um...no, I’m with one of the officers. I just came over to see why you looked so sad.”
The alien’s lips pursed slightly.
“You are a sweet boy to worry so...But please, there is little need. Forgive me...I am still in mourning.”
“Oh dear...um...did someone die?”
“Yes...A lifelong friend...and her children...the poor, sweet children.”
As the woman started weeping, a hand placed itself upon her shoulder. Both she and the colt looked up to see a sharply-dressed dark-skinned Imperial officer looking at the woman apologetically.
“Oh...Mr Panaka...Thank the stars...”
“Hello Eeusu.” the man said, bending down and hugging her “I’m so glad to see you. Don’t worry, don’t worry.” he whispered “We can be safe now. I promise. If you’ll excuse me a moment.”
He paced over the colt and knelt to his level.
“Pipsqueak is it?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. Word gets around, much as Tarkin would prefer otherwise.” he smiled fatherly and shook him by the hoof “I’m Quarsh Panaka, Moff of Naboo. Miss Estornii’s a friend of mine. You’ll have to excuse her...She’s grieving for someone who I knew personally and...still feel the loss of to this day.”
“Wh-what happened?” Pip asked glancing round.
“Well...It's not a pretty story.” Panaka sat down on a bench and explained.
“Before the Empire, there was the Republic, managed by the Senate. The man who is now our Emperor was only our Chancellor. But at this time, the Republic commanded a group of warrior monks called Jedi, famous for a field of sorcery they perfected that they knew only as ‘The Force’, capable of telekinesis and mind-control among many other things. They were a secretive people and guarded their ways fiercely. When war began, the Senate moved to appoint the Jedi as commanders of their armies. We had little organised defence at the time so we had little choice.” he sighed “For years, we fought and observed the Jedi working their way across the galaxy. But as the war drew to a close...we realised the Jedi weren’t ready to part with the power we’d given them. In fact, they wanted more, as much as they could gather. A group of them attacked the Chancellor and scarred him horribly with the force, trying to twist his body and mind.”
Pip’s eyes widened at the thought.
“He was saved by the one Jedi who remained loyal to the Republic, a young man named Anakin Skywalker, who would defend him from then on. Unfortunately, because of this defiance...the Jedi went after Skywalker’s wife, Padme Amidala, the Senator and Queen of Naboo, a woman I had protected for many years.” his face twitched and Pip noticed the beginning of tears on her face “She was pregnant with twins at the time. We begged her to stay safe at home but...when she heard of the attack she fled to the volcanic world of Mustafar where Skywalker had rooted out and captured the remnants of those leading the war against the Republic. But as they embraced...Skywalker’s master, a man named Kenobi, appeared and...” Panaka took a deep breath.
“Wh...what did he do?” the colt asked tentatively.
“He used the force...” Panaka said with a cracking voice “...to choke the life out of Padme Amidala. Then...he seized Skywalker as he rushed to help his wife, held him in the air...this boy he’d raised and tutored, this boy who’d seen him as a father...and threw him into a pit of fire.”
Pipsqueak was quiet, covering his mouth with a hoof in shock.
“The Chancellor arrived just in time. Skywalker was horribly scarred, burned all over, requiring his body to be rebuilt through cybernetics...Haven't heard from him since...But there was nothing that could be done to save Padme Amidala...or her unborn children.”
Pipsqueak was quiet. Reaching carefully, he patted the man’s shaking hand.
“I’m so sorry.” he said sincerely “I...I hope you’ll be alright.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.” Panaka sighed “Amidala’s friends...No-one took it well. Some blame the Empire for failing to protect her or worse...think they were somehow involved.” He stood up “I aim to settle things between us...peacefully.”
“Friends need to stick together.” Pip said with a nod “Especially when one of them’s lost.”
“Ah, Moff Panaka.” Tarkin approached with his hands behind his back. Panaka saluted and Pip made an attempt to do the same.
The old man rolled his eyes but spoke cordially.
“Master Pipsqueak, I believe it would be best if you found Miss Sloane. We shall be dining shortly.”
“Oh...alright.” he gave a smile and turned about though he made sure to keep his pace slow.
His large ear twitching, he overheard the conversation between Panaka and Tarkin.
“I see Eeusu has joined us at last.”
“Yes, sir. As I promised.”
“That is a boon. She will prove useful in settling ties between Amidala’s former cohorts. Tell me, how is your nephew, what was his name? Typho?”
“Yes, Gregar Typho...still unresponsive, I’m afraid. He blames himself.”
“I fail to see why. We know who’s to blame, Panaka. The Jedi.”
“I know, sir...You must understand, the whole of us were shaken. It’ll take time.”
“A short time, I hope. And...I don’t see Miss Riyo Chuchi of Pantora.”
“No, she’s been...”
“Unresponsive?”
“I got in touch with her a while ago. She said she’d be willing to talk and get the whole story straight. I sent her an invitation here but I never received a reply.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“Sir, I assure you, she is still loyal to the Empire. Pantora needs its resources. She’s not like the others.”
“I can only hope you are correct, Panaka, for both your sakes.”
And with that Tarkin left the man with Eeusu, pacing over to the elevation of the room as Pip searched for Rae in the throng.
“And so I turned round and I said ‘Mister Aldrete, there is no enemy presence here in the sector. There has never been any enemy presence here in the sector'.” The bearded man called Teshik regaled his friends “'Mister Aldrete’ I said ‘I have had enough of you using my fleet to check under your bed for monsters every night. My men and I are going home’”
He was applauded modestly by those around him.
“Alderaan! Pah! They all think they’re too good for us to breathe their air! The Organas, the Celchus, those damned sanctimonious Antilleans! Pah! Scum, the lot of them!” Veers bellowed, swinging a cocktail glass as if it were a staff “Pompous, cowardly scum! Give me my Armoured Division, send me and my lads to their square and we’ll teach them respect. We’ll see how well they prattle and preen with my AT-ATs lined up outside their palace windows!”
Mild laughter and encouragement followed.
At last, Pipsqueak caught Rae’s voice on his ear, following with relief.
“It’s so good to know you’re doing well.” Shayla Paige-Tarkin was proving herself a great deal more jovial than her notorious uncle, Rae was discovering “Us girls need to stick together in these times. I’ve told Uncle Wilhuff that this bloody prejudice needs to end.”
“Does he agree?” Rae asked.
Shayla tilted her head with uncertainty.
“Well, he wouldn’t object, so he tells me, but he needs the consent of all the Grand Moffs at once, sadly. While their families occupy the Oversectors, their word is law but he thinks they can come to a compromise soon. It’ll take time, in any case.”
“I guess.” Rae sighed as Pip approached “There you are. Stick by me, we’re about to eat.”
“About damn time.” Shayla chuckled as the room fell silent.
Tarkin stood tall and proud in his regalia and spoke.
“Officers, Senators, honoured guests...I must thank you all for appearing here today.” he declared “It heartens me, as it will hearten his Imperial Majesty, to know that the Empire is made all the more stronger by such loyal and trustworthy followers as yourselves, for these are dark times and they threaten to grow darker still. It is through unity and loyalty in our new order that we shall endure and be made all the more stronger and wiser for our enduring resolution.”
There was a round of applause.
“Senators of the former Republic.” he continued “Please step forward.”
Pip watched as young Shayla Paige-Tarkin, the morbidly obese Orn Free Taa, the gloomy Eeusu Estornii and various other oddities stepped forward.
A scaly, green-skinned, bug-eyed creature with a duck-like mouth, protruding antennae and a spiky stripe of hair down his head.
A trio of squat, orange, horse-headed aliens that would have looked equine if it weren’t for the three eyes on stalks they each possessed.
A old, reptilian-like fellow with an enormous, high crest on his head, who was walking with a stick.
A short, bald-headed humanoid with six eyes and huge fangs like a great spider.
And a large, stocky, hairless senator with a huge, bloated head of large red eyes, an enormous, gaping grin of irregular fangs and a set of stubbly horns at its cranium.
Pip had never seen anything so strange in his life.
“Steadfast senators, your journey has been a long and arduous one.” Tarkin said “But now, at last, you may be satisfied to see that your duty has been fulfilled. There is no-one here who does not owe you thanks for your efforts in battling the corruption and chaos of a sadly-dying Republic. Now it is time to rest and look back with pride upon your many long years of loyal service.”
“Ah...ahem...Excellency...” a piped-up whimper came from the green alien who was fussing nervously with his long purple robe and stammering “I...I just want to say...just to assure the Empire, you understand...th-the business with the Chatza and the clan wars on Rodia. We...we did all we could but these things...We can still guarantee the planet’s support I just...” He was beginning to cry under pressure “There was nothing we could do to stop the fighting. I’m sorry. We are still loyal, sir. We...”
“Senator Wac.” Tarkin interrupted, slowly stepping down and placing a gentle hand on the alien’s shoulder. He managed a smile that just didn’t look sincere to Rae Sloane and spoke cordially.
“Senator Dar Wac...You have absolutely nothing to apologise for and nothing to worry about.” he said slowly and sincerely “His Imperial Majesty spoke to me personally to ask that I pass on his undying gratitude to you for your many years of serving as his faithful and ever-helpful secretary.”
“R-r-really?”
“Indeed, Senator. He assured me wholeheartedly. He will remember your friendship always, be certain of that.”
“Oh...” the Rodian sighed “Th-th-thank you, your Excellency. S-sorry for the...”
“Think nothing of it, Senator. It is all in hand.” Giving him one last smile he turned back to his elevated podium, Rae just catching him rolling his eyes derisively while he had his back to them before he continued.
“His Imperial Majesty sends you all his gratitude and later this evening, we shall be joined by the Lord of the Council Kinman Doriana and Senior Councillor Ister Paddie, who I’m sure you all know well, to pass on the Emperor’s thanks. Now, let us dine and drink to peace and to prosperity and to the future of our great and glorious Empire.”
The applause came loud as, in the centre of the room the floor opened up for a great white board rising up and splitting in two, forming a large table with seats rising up in the same manner. As the guests sat down, the ceiling opened up as hovering droids placed dozens of assorted platters down upon the table removing the silver lids one by one.
A magnificent array of dishes greeted them. Pips eyes boggled as the mass of multi-coloured salads, breads and other foodstuffs met his gaze. Further into the centre was what could pass as a menagerie. Meats of fantastic space creatures, cooked in every manner, the taxidermized skins and shells of mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, amphibians and arthropods rising lifelessly in advertisement.
As the Grand Moff pressed a button under the table, the dishes revolved perfectly around the table, ensuring everyone got a chance to taste each dish.
“Please be seated and enjoy all that the mighty House of Tarkin has to offer its firm friends.” Tarkin said, hanging his cloak over his chair and sitting down.
Many of his guests needed no persuading. Orn Free Taa in particular parked his massive backside down upon his seat and eagerly helped himself to every dish that passed him. Others such as Eeusu and Panaka ate slowly and sparingly.
Rae glanced down at Pip and placed him on her lap so that he could reach the table.
“What do you fancy?” she asked him.
“Well...I don’t eat meat. None of us do, really.” he said “But...that thing with the green leaves looks nice...And then that yellow thing that looks like a feather boa.”
“Okay then.” Rae reached and loaded her plate with salad as she and her new ward shared supper together.
The green leaves were tangier than he was expecting and slightly salty but not unpleasant. The yellow feathery vegetable he found felt like cabbage but tasted of sweet lemons though it may have been a garnish. A dish he found most enjoyable however was a teal-coloured lichen with large blue bulbs on stalks growing out. The lichen itself tasted oniony and had been drizzled with some kind of soft cream cheese (A pink one at that) but the bulbs he found felt like cherries but tasted like carrots.
It certainly was one of the most interesting meals he'd had.
For hours the dinner continued. Then Thrawn rose to play another tune, Vanto supervising wherever he found necessary, then dessert. Pip’s eyes gazed in wonder at the sights of wonderously-shaped and coloured sweetmeats passed themselves round the table.
Only Pinkie Pie could be capable of matching such craft.
After a while many of the guests were idly conversing, their stomachs sated. Orn Free Taa will still ploughing through any leftovers while Rae did her best to be social.
Placed between Natasi Daala and Shayla Paige-Tarkin, Rae and Pip were sitting very close to Grand Moff Tarkin who spoke to the colt.
“Young Pipsqueak...” he began “I see you’ve eaten well.”
“Yes, thank you, sir. It was delicious!” the colt piped up.
“Glad to hear it.” Tarkin gave a nod “Tell me...If you wanted more...and I had the servant take away your plate...what would you do?”
It was a strange question. Pip took a pause before answering.
“Aside from asking for it back?”
“If that weren't an option?”
“Um...I don’t really know.”
“Hm...” Tarkin raised an eyebrow “My father did so once...When I was about your age...To teach me what it was like to lose something I had grown so accustomed to...”
Pip had no idea what to say to that. Above her, Rae heard the conversation, ready to butt in whenever it became safe to do so.
“I’m...sorry.”
“Don’t be. I needed that lesson. To grow. To know the nature of a galaxy that can very easily turn on you whenever you turn your back...Have you ever had such a lesson?”
Pip thought back.
Had his father really taught him anything.
He had never enjoyed thinking about his father.
And he didn’t particularly feel like explaining why.
“M-maybe...”
Before Tarkin could press further, Ian Takan entered the room carrying a medium-sized grey box under one arm.
“Ah, Sergeant.” Captain Daala, dressed in a close-fitting silver and red dress that clung to her chest and thighs, no doubt to catch her lover’s eye, said with a wry smile “I trust the two ladies found their quarters.”
“Absolutely sir...” he said with a slight giggle, trying to wipe away lipstick-marks with his free hand “Ahem...Package came for you, Excellency.”
Tarkin’s brow rose.
“From whom?”
“No address but it was to be delivered and opened here and now according to the log. We’ve scanned the exterior, it’s not trapped.”
With a suspicious nod, Tarkin opened the lid.
Pip watched as the Grand Moff’s leaned back in his chair with eyes wide and lips tight. Beside him, Natasi Daala shot up from her chair and clutched her mouth, staring at the contents of the package in horror. Yularen and Veers got out of their seats and stared in turn, Veer’s balling up fists and grinding his teeth in fury while Yularan shut his eyes tight, murmuring 'No' over and over. Thrawn stopped playing, gazed at the scene and slowly bowed his head in remorse.
“Wh-what’s the matter?” Rae asked tentatively as the room fell silent, all eyes on Tarkin.
“I should warn you all...” Tarkin said gravely, reaching inside the box “You are likely to find this...distressing.”
“Oh, please, Excellency. We all survived the Clone Wars, you know. We are no strangers to...ugh...uh...” Orn Free Taa’s smatterings stopped as Tarkin drew out the package. Gaping and gasping like a fish out of water, the enormous Twi’lek keeled over backwards and crashed to the ground, comatose. Beside him, Eeusu Estornii let out a wail and broke down crying, Panaka clutching her as she fell, showing tears of his own. Officers rose to their feet in shock and senators covered their mouths in horror.
Kendal Ozzel went green, lurched from his seat, stumbled to the nearest waste-bin and set about loudly re-depositing his supper.
Pip felt Rae’s hand clasp itself tightly over his eyes, shielding him from the sight before he could get a good look.
Rae herself stared, petrified at the spectacle.
Out of the box, Tarkin had produced a severed head.
The head had been of a young woman who had likely once been quite pretty. Her face was marred with deep scars that hadn’t had time to fade between the time they were made and the time she died. Her mouth was open wide morbidly and crimson from lip to chin.
The woman was an alien, blue of skin, pale-pink of hair and bearing a pair of yellow stripes over both her cheeks, barely visible behind her injuries. One of her eyes was staring above her lifelessly, her golden iris barely visible under the half-fallen eyelid. The other was missing, forcibly removed, and wedged in the empty socket was a holoprojector, a message from whomever was responsible.
Clearing his throat, the scene disturbing even him, Tarkin looked to the grief-stricken Moff of Naboo and spoke.
“Well, Panaka...I believe this explains the peculiar silence from the unfortunate Miss Riyo Chuchi...”
Rae heard Yularen’s voice cracking as he paced around, his hands clasped behind his back to stop them shaking. She checked on Pip, sitting quietly in her lap, looking to the Admiral with a face of concern.
He had, by now, either overheard or worked out for himself that the thing in the box no-one was letting him see was the head of a woman people quite liked.
Quite evidently, he had little to say about the situation. Rae would honestly have worried if he had.
“Um...” he mumbled at last “Who...who is it?”
“Her name was Riyo Chuchi.” Rae answered glumly, her breathing slow “She was a Senator. A...a good one...”
“She was...one of the finest women I ever had the privilege of knowing.” Yularen said desolately “Everything she did was for the sake of peace, for the safety of her people and for the chancellor. It was...” he caught his breath “It was our intention to bring her over to our Empire to ensure lasting peace and to see her good work fulfilled...Now...”
“But...” Pipsqueak murmured, blinking wildly in confusion “Then wh-why would anyone kill her?”
“Because they’re spineless filth, that’s why!” Veers thundered, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists with fury “When I find the curs who did this, I’ll have them thrown into a compactor and crushed like the trash they are!”
“To hell with that! I’m going to lock him in a cell with a mad Doashim!” Delian Mors raged, her wampa-fur coat looking very appropriate with her bared teeth and blazing eyes.
“Veers, Mors, please don’t bellow.” Tarkin snapped as he turned to an officer looking over the box “Can you determine anything, Screed?”
The officer in question was a middle-aged man in the same white uniform as Yularen with a bald head, a turned-up nose and a cybernetic eye implant. Pip looked at the bizarre contraption with unease, the red light flashing a little as he stepped back and spoke.
“Well, it’s a grisly scene, sirs.” he answered, his voice low and oily, speaking like an undertaker, nothing but a dry courtesy in his voice “It wasn’t a clean cut. It appears Miss Chuchi’s head was taken off after multiple swings of a suitably-sturdy knife best suited for hunting or jungle-trekking, judging by the curve of the blade and slightly jagged edge. It wasn’t even properly severed. See, at the end here?” He pointed “What was left was wrenched off the neck. All of the wounds around her face were made pre-mortem, including the removal of the eye, though the holoprojector was placed afterward. The various blemishes have a range of different dates and times. It appears she was tortured...For quite some time...Until at last whoever had absconded with her...had finished their endeavour. A dreadful shame. So dies Riyo Chuchi at just twenty-one years of age.”
“Why? Why her?” Quarsh Panaka murmured, sat on the steps of the chambers, resting his head in his hands, Eeusu Estornii clutching his shoulder, no longer sobbing but streams still falling from her large sheer-black eyes.
They’d since moved out of the dining hall, the mood thoroughly soured. The senators had been asked to remain in their rooms, promised that they were quite safe, though a few had insisted on staying for the examination. The officers of note had proceeded immediately to where the unsavoury contents of the package could be examined by the head of Judicial Intelligence, Terrinald Screed.
Screed himself looked at some of the injuries and raised the brow above his single remaining eye.
“Ominous...” he mused aloud.
“What is?” Tarkin asked impatiently.
“Are you sure you want to know, Grand Moff...In the company of...” Screed waved a hand around the room and was met by Tarkin’s stern glance. Obligingly, he answered.
“Some of the injuries here, tiny little pincings and peelings...” he sucked his teeth “They are consistent with an IT-O Interrogation Droid.”
There was a pause around the room. Numerous senators cast their eyes at Tarkin and his staff, some standing up with expressions of deep suspicion.
Tarkin, tight-lipped and steely eyed, met their gazes with his usual frankness.
“Well...As we are all well-aware, we gave no such droid any such order. We had no possible reason to. So we couldn’t have been involved” he said plainly “It is painfully clear someone has commandeered one such droid, through one means or another. Such a thing is not impossible. Regardless, we shall know who and why as soon as we are all gathered. If you will all remain patient.”
Rae watched as those already gathered were quiet. Tarkin could achieve with a raised voice more than a normal could with a primed blaster.
Pip was eying the Grand Moff with a mixture of fascination and unease.
Tarkin was disappointed for certain. He had needed Pantora’s alliance and this was bound to impact poorly on that requirement.
But Pip saw little in the way of actual sympathy in the man.
If a severed head of a friend or ally was placed before Celestia, Pipsqueak had a pretty decent image in his head of how she’d react. Grief, dismay, blazing rage, the promise to carry out justice personally.
Luna, perhaps even more so.
Even the famously mild and gentle Cadence would demand those responsible to be punished severely and would certainly weep over such a cruel death dealt to one she knew.
But Tarkin just seemed concerned for his own potential losses.
He found himself mentally asking what had happened to Wilhuff Tarkin to make him so...cold.
The main door gave a whistle as a motley quartet entered. All those present stood and snapped to attention.
An old man stood in the doorway, dressed in ornate lavender and silver robes with a high collar and held a tall staff of office topped with a statue of the hooded Emperor. His balding scalp was blotchy and wrinkled, grey hair around his ears and the back of his head grown long and dry. A scraggly beard adorned his jutting chin beneath his thin, crumpled mouth. His rheumy eyes were a pale olive-green and peered about the room with concern.
From the look of such a man, one would not expect hope and respect to fill the hearts of those present.
Yet that was what they felt.
For Kinman Doriana had arrived.
The Lord of the Imperial Council had stood beside Palpatine since his earliest years. While this was normally a cause to dread or despise such people, Kinman was different.
He and Sate Pestage shared similar rank and authority but their personalities were about as similar as a Pylat Bird and a Womp Rat. Where Sate Pestage was cruel, arrogant and intolerant, hated by the populace and hating them back, Kinman Doriana was kind, humble and open-minded, credited with feats of legendary altruism and wisdom in the days of the late Republic and early Empire. While many who knew him personally were aware of his hidden cunning and fierce dedication to his service, he was for the most part a purveyor of benevolence in the Emperor’s inner circle. A peerless and effective politician, a celebrated noble of Naboo and tender-hearted father and grandfather, Kinman Doriana was regarded by the general public as one of the most beloved men in all the Empire.
And Rae considered it testament to just how unfair the galaxy could be to know the man was dying.
Kinman’s voice had grown hoarse and his cheeks sunken in his old age as Kanju’s Disease gripped at him. At just over sixty, it was surprising he’d lasted this long. Rae prayed that when the time came, Kinman would have left a lasting impact and have people he could trust ready to continue his work to make the Empire a better place for all those within.
Three others joined him.
Captain Voss Parck, one of Kinman’s closest confidantes concerning the Unknown Regions and a known acquaintance of Thrawn when he first revealed himself to the Republic. Clean and sharp, his uniform coloured a dusky indigo of Council Serviceman while on leave, he quickly noticed Thrawn in the chamber and gave a half-smile, not forgetting the atmosphere of the situation.
Ister Paddie, the former Senator of Sermeria, now a member of the Imperial Council. Dressed in a flowing robe of golden cloth and a bizarre headdress of twin bulges on either side of his head like blunted horns, he wore an expression of abject gloom, though one was pressed to remember a moment when he’d ever looked happy in his life.
And Keyrai Amedda, a beautiful Chagrian girl who claimed to be a distant niece of Grand Herald Mas Amedda, though rumour had it she was in fact his illegitimate daughter. Mas had given her to Doriana as a concubine, harem culture still practiced among the nobility of Naboo, as a means to earn his favour in the Council. Whether her ‘uncle’ had intended it or not, Kinman had treated her with cherishment and Keyrai had repaid in kind, serving as his nurse in his old age, dressing in a plain white tunic and long-coat with a case of necessary medicines and vitamins at her side.
Making their way down the chamber steps, Yularen and Panaka, the two men most familiar with the old councillor, greeted him.
“Yularen...Panaka...” Kinman wheezed, worry in his voice “I-I-I came as quickly as I could...Is it really true?”
Yularen held up a hand to calm him and answered.
“I’m...afraid so, sir.” He made way for Doriana who walked gingerly over to the box before drawing back gasping frantically, Keyrai ready on hand to steady him. Paddie cupped his mouth and groaned in dismay while Parck sucked his teeth, shaking his head.
“Oh...the poor child...” Doriana murmured “Who...who could have done this?”
“Stranger to blood, are you, Kinman?” A dry, derisive voice followed as Sate Pestage entered, followed by Crodd, Dangor, Nolyds and a few others. The vizier gave Doriana a smirk of contempt.
“Your time with aliens has taken half the man out of you.”
“And Kanju took the other half.” Crodd added, chuckling.
The mood of the room soured as Doriana glared at the pair venomously and slammed the butt of his staff loudly upon the floor.
“Silence! Both of you!” he barked, coughing a few times before continuing “Now is no appropriate time for bickering. A young woman has been horribly murdered.”
“I wish I was told it was a young alien woman. I wouldn’t have had to rush things.” Crodd retorted nonchalantly.
Doriana bristled and looked ready to use his staff as more than a symbol of authority but Tarkin interjected.
“Please assemble yourselves.” he ordered, taking care to ignore the eye of Croesus Crodd who was fixing him with a murderous glower.
A small door to the side of the chamber, leading to the supply cabinet, opened up.
Pip nearly jolted in Rae’s lap as he saw a man with the head of a fish emerge, slightly hunched and blank-eyed, dressed in a plain black coverall that left only his head, hands and feet uncovered. He was carrying a large bunch of holoprojectors in his webbed hands. He plodded forward with fin-like feet and gave Tarkin a respectful nod.
“These are all the holoprojectors in the storage, sir.” he said softly.
Tarkin gave something close to a smile to the creature.
“Thank you, Raddus.” he said “If you could place them round the table, any order’s fine.”
“Yes, sir.” The creature named Raddus set about doing so, then adjusted some buttons on its side, Terrinald Screed helping with a few of them, until the holograms of Grand Admirals, Moffs and Councillors materialised from the devices.
Wilhuff Tarkin and Kinman Doriana stood beside each other, facing Croesus Crodd and Sate Pestage, flanked by the foremost heads of the Empire, minus the Emperor and Lord Vader.
Pipsqueak and Rae Sloane watched in silence.
“Gentlemen.” Tarkin began “An incident of an alarming nature has occurred at the Senatorial Gathering on Eriadu a bare hour ago.”
“Let me guess,” one of the Grand Admirals, a short, moustached man with a thin, weasel-like face and an arrogant sneer “Did Mrs Mors run off with your niece? Or did Free Taa’s hand somehow find itself landing on one of Miss Daala’s ample buttocks?” He was met by chuckles from Crodd and Pestage and murderous glares from Delian Mors, Shayla Paige-Tarkin and Natasi Daala.
“This is neither the time nor place for mockery, Grand Admiral Il-Raz!” Tarkin snapped “The severed head of Senator Riyo Chuchi of Pantora was delivered to our table.”
“Tch! Was she the Talz-lover? Someone did us a favour!”
“Shut up!”
Yularen was staring daggers into the stunned face of a thick-set Grand Admiral with wonky-shaped ears and a furrowed brow and did not wait for him to respond.
“And stay shut up! Because this is not funny, Pitta! Riyo Chuchi was a remarkable woman and you will show her proper respect!”
As Pitta’s mouth twitched and pursed wildly, trying to muster up a response, Tarkin interjected.
“Calm yourself, Yularen. We must approach this with the necessary stability of mind. Our lack of caution is exactly the wish of whomever did this.” He held up the holoprojector, still coated crimson with blood “This was found on her. It is a message for all those who bear influence in the Empire. Therefore, sirs, we will watch and listen intently. Screed, please place this on their channels.”
“Yes, sir.” Screed fiddled with a device in his hands as Tarkin placed the holoprojector on the table and activated it.
Pip stared as the table glowed a bright electric blue and displayed an image in mid-air. He knew there must have been some form of magic that could create a similar effect but he had never seen it performed.
There was a woman, stripped and bound to a chair. She was moving weakly, her face and body scarred and bruised all over. Raising her head, those in the room noticed she was missing an eye. The one remaining was blackened and weeping, her lips dribbling scarlet.
She murmured incomprehensibly, weeping softly and shivering all the while.
“P-P-Pana...” she choked, barely articulate “Eeu...Yul...” With a small cough, a mouthful of blood fell and spattered over her legs, her face twisting in pain.
Eeusu, Panaka, Yularen, Paddie and Doriana wore expressions of earnest grief, tears in their eyes as they beheld Riyo Chuchi’s last moments.
Pip had never seen anything more pitiable in his life.
He’d never imagined a grown woman to look so hurt and scared. He’d always thought adults were beyond that once they grew-up.
Another figure strode into view, obscured by a raised hood. He began speaking, his voice low but growly.
“Five million credits...” he said “Renovation of all living estates and properties...A permanent spot in the Imperial House of Representatives...And three cadres of Stormtrooper bodyguards...” He looked out, not at Chuchi but at the leaders gathered, addressing them as if he was speaking to them directly there and then.
“That is...what you were promised? All you noble senators? And all it would cost was your loyalty to the Republic and the freedom of everyone who trusted you.”
He took off his hood and fixed them with a hateful glare.
His mouth was obscured by a thick beard and moustache but his frown was very clear. His hair was tied in a topknot and half his face was scarred horrifically, making one eye paler than the other. He continued, louder and angrier.
“Well, you can add another promise to the list! Death! Slow, painful and well-deserved death! Your betrayal will not go unpunished! I will come for each and every one of you and if you believe your new overseers among the Moffship will protect you, I shall take great pleasure proving you wrong!”
There was a pause.
Dar Wac, the nervous green Rodian Senator, and Ainlee Teen, the oldest and fattest of the three triple-eyed Gran Senators, gave frightened gulps.
The man in the projection brushed his hair with a free hand and shook his head before continuing, in a calmer, softer tone.
“Perhaps introductions are necessary.” he held out his hands and gave a small bow.
“I am Favon Berec, Starmarshall of the Bakuran Resistance, Admiral of the Sicarius, bearer of liberty’s lasting flame and thorn in the Emperor’s side!” He paced over to Chuchi, grabbing her by the back of her hair, forcing her to stare at the projection, her wide eyes gripped by dread.
“And this...well...” He reached behind him and revealed a knife, thick-bladed and jagged as Screed had suggested, holding it high.
“This...is the fate...of all who betray the Republic!”
“Oh stars above, I can’t look!” the crested Anx Senator, Zo Howler, whimpered, turning away as the room grew silent, eyes fixed on the scene as the man calling himself Favon Berec craned his head over to whisper in his captive’s ear.
“If you have anything to say, now would be the best and only time.”
Riyo Chuchi’s breath was shaky, echoing through the projector. Closing her eyes, she managed to speak, fighting hard to keep her voice steady.
“I...I would like to feel...that I did my duty...To protect my people...To protect those I loved...” Tears ran down her eye as she stared at the onlookers “My friends...Thank you...Thank you for trusting me...Please don’t give up...Please...protect Pantora...I’m sorry...so...so...sorry...”
Around the table, Eeusu Estornii broke down with a whimper, lost in dismay. Panaka held her shoulder as he, Yularen and Doriana stared up at the young Pantoran with teary eyes, nodding as if to salute her.
Favon Berec raised one eyebrow and spoke again.
“Touching. Now, I think it’s time you answered for your betrayal, Senator. And just keep in mind...” He raised his knife “This is the kindest fate any of you will receive from me.”
Before the knife landed, Riyo Chuchi’s lips moved, a small murmur escaping them.
Favon paused.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked nonchalantly “By all means, let’s hear it.”
The prisoner’s lips raised slightly, the smallest of smiles, as she spoke.
“You’ll lose...” she said quietly.
Berec raised an eyebrow.
“Is that so?”
“Yes...People like you always do....” Riyo Chuchi’s voice was louder and clearer than ever as she made her final declaration “You’re no better than the evil you claim to fight...And you doom everyone you claim to liberate...You fight solely with fear...And that only ever gets you so far...”
There was a pause. Around the table, numerous individuals gave the doomed senator a look that may have been respect.
Berec was quiet for a moment, before nodding and speaking in a blunt, candid tone.
“Interesting theory...But to be quite frank, senator, your fear doesn’t interest me nearly so much...as your blood!”
The knife came down, burying itself into the side of Chuchi’s neck. Her eyes and mouth opened wide as she gave an agonised scream.
With a horrified gasp, Rae Sloane clasped her hand over Pipsqueak’s eyes again.
Pip gave a small scream himself, both dreading the sight yet desperately wanting to know its outcome, torn between the fear of witnessing the butchery and the fear of uncertainty of it.
However, just above Rae’s little finger, there a small gap in her grasp, just enough for him to see the bottom of the projection.
The screams had stopped as another slicing sound filled the room. Those witnessing drew back, looking either dismayed, furious or unwell.
Pipsqueak, meanwhile, stared at what little was revealed to him, unable to close his eyes no matter how much he wanted to.
The woman’s feet were still moving, twitching and jolting horribly, wrestling at the bonds that tied them to the chair-legs.
And the noise. It wasn’t a scream anymore so much a hellish series of chokes and gurgles.
Another slice, disturbingly similar to the sound of his mother’s cooking knife through a ripe tomato.
Pip finally found the strength to shut his eyes as the slicing and gurgling finally stopped.
Rae had no privilege to shield her own eyes. As the head of Riyo Chuchi was finally removed from her convulsing body and held high, Favon Berec’s face twisted into a feral snarl as he bellowed.
“Look closely, dogs of the Empire, and listen well! Your fate is sealed! I come for you! Nothing will protect you from us! Nothing! You chose to hear the Empire’s message, promising full pockets and an empty conscience! Now hear my message! I promise you blood and fear! As of this night, none of you are safe!!!”
And at last, the projection ended. Doriana fell into a gasping fit, falling to one knee, a hand over his chest as Keyrai frantically handed him a vial of medicine which he quaffed quickly and settled, breathing deeply and slowly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief, helped to his feet by Parck. Eeusu was held tightly in Panaka’s hold, having obscured her gaze from the event as Rae had with Pip, while Yularen paced steadily over to a chair and held his head in his hands.
Even Tarkin looked more than a little unsettled.
In the confusion, Pipsqueak took a while to notice he was crying himself.
Rae took her hand of his face and looked him in the eyes. She looked just as shaken.
Perhaps it was the light, the noise or simply the fact she wasn’t holding him anymore but the little colt broke down, curling up in a tiny ball, gasping and sobbing.
“It’s okay, Pip. It’s okay...Breath...”
Delian Mors and Shayla Paige-Tarkin hurried over to Pipsqueak, patting him. Eventually, Rae picked up the sobbing foal and cradled him in her arms, gently rocking him back and forth.
“Can’t you shut that beast up?!” came a loud sneer from across the room.
“Shut your trap, Nolyds, no-one’s asking you!” Shalya snapped.
“Don’t you dare talk to me like-”
“Enough!” Tarkin barked, silencing all those present. Massaging his temples with a thumb and forefinger, he gave commands.
“Raddus...” he said to his Mon Calamari servant “I believe some...pick-me-ups are needed for those present. Could you please fetch a pitcher of water, a bottle of spirits and glasses for all of us?”
“At once, sir.” The alien bowed and departed, knowing his way around.
“Yularen.” Tarkin continued “You and Panaka are to head to Pantora and settle things with Baron Papanoida by any means necessary. He and all those who serve him must be absolutely assured that we were not responsible for this. Bless him, threaten him, put a blaster through his skull, whatever you need to do, make sure Pantora stays loyal!”
“Yes, sir.”
“I shall have the head prepared for burial.” Thrawn spoke up “I have attendants who are versed in proper protocol and an urn that will suffice.”
“Good, good, deal with it.” Tarkin waved a hand impatiently “Screed, who is the Moff of Bakura?”
“That would be Gotric Speck, sir.”
The muscles on Tarkin’s thin face were stretched with fury, his grey eyes staring icy daggers at all around him.
“Get him on the holoprojector. I wish to speak with him...Right...Now...”
Rae glanced around awkwardly, her gaze falling from Pipsqueak to Tarkin again and again.
If she left without permission, it wouldn’t go unnoticed.
But if this got any more unpleasant, she had no wish for Pip to be around.
“Do you mind if I call you Rae?”
She spun round to see Shalya standing before her, holding Pip in her arms.
“Shall I, um...take Pipsqueak to your room?” she asked “I’ve a feeling my uncle will want you stay but...I’m not sure Pip needs to see anything more.”
Rae glanced at her then at Pip.
“Would you be okay with that, Pip?”
The colt looked up, staring blankly, mumbling a small ‘mm-hmm’ in response.
“Okay...” Rae felt somewhat safe with Shayla and reached for her room card.
“No need.” Shayla held up a free hand, balancing Pip on one shoulder “You don’t need a card when you have the word ‘Tarkin’ in your name.”
*
Shayla’s grip was gentle as Pip was carried in a pair of arms. His mind a raging torrent of anxiety and horror, he barely noticed the arrival of Parisian Froul as they turned down the corridors to Rae Sloane’s chambers.
“Senator.” Parisian gave a respectful bow, his voice tinged with nervousness “I heard what happened. Is it true? About Senator Chuchi?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“My gosh, that’s...that’s horrible...” the young man shook his head “She never hurt a living soul...Was it rebels?”
“Certainly seems to be. Everyone’s in a bit of a state, poor Pipsqueak among them.”
At this, the young officer glanced at the small, silent colt, sitting blank-eyed in Shayla’s grasp.
“Are you alright, Pip?”
There was a pause as the little colt gave a muffled squeak that turned into a whimper and finally sobbed into Shayla’s arms.
“Why did he do it?!” he screamed “Why did he kill her?! Why?!”
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay...” the young senator whispered, cradling the little pony “Corporal, I was tasked with taking her to Lieutenant Sloane’s room. If you’d please show me the way.”
“Of course.” Parisian bowed, his solemn gaze still fixed on the weeping colt.
Safely inside Rae’s room that had opened obediently for Shayla’s identification pass, the senator and the corporal sat Pipsqueak down on Rae’s bed. The colt was all set to curl up again before Shayla placed her hands on his cheeks.
Her hands were cold but soft, tilting his eyes towards her.
“It’s alright, Pip. We’re going to make sure nothing like this happens again, alright? The Empire’s reach is infinite and now that a threat has shown itself...It won’t be a threat for long. Nothing will happen to you, or Rae, or anyone else, I promise.”
“I...I...I’m sorry, I just...”
“It’s okay, Pip...I don’t blame you...You’ve never seen anything like that before, never needed to. It happens to us all.”
Slowly she began stroking the back of Pipsqueak’s head tenderly until his crying settled.
Parisian poured the colt a cup of water from the room’s dispenser and held it out, slightly uncertain if he was meant to simply hand it over to the colt or feed him like a pet but, strangely, Pip took the cup in his little hooves and sipped shakily.
“There...better?”
Pip had never really gotten a good look at Shayla Paige-Tarkin until now.
She was a pretty young woman with the long face, grey eyes and angular features of her uncle but with oak-brown hair falling to her shoulders somewhat scruffily, despite her elegant brooch. Her garb was benefited with a high-collar and a dress that opened at the front below the waist, showing a pair of slender legs in tight trousers and high boots.
When she smiled, it was an inspiring thing. It wasn’t like Dinky back home who, in Pip’s eyes, positively brightened up the sun with her smile. But Shayla nonetheless had a certain atmosphere about her that relaxed the mind and strengthened the heart, even in little Pipsqueak.
Glancing out the corner of his eyes, he noticed Parisian was looking upon her in a suspiciously similar way as Pipsqueak often did towards Dinky.
“Lieutenant Sloane needs to wait for orders before heading back here, Pip, sad to say.” Parisian answered “Don’t worry, I know she won’t forget you.”
“Okay...” His voice was still very quiet, his eyes almost blank.
“Its okay, Pip. We’ll stay by you as long as you need.” Parisian ruffled his mane as the colt rested his head on the blanket and murmured.
“Thanks...”
*
“Transmission has been established, sir.” Screed said flatly as Grand Moff approached the holoprojector.
Rae watched as a projection of a befuddled-looking officer appeared and saluted.
“G-Grand Moff Tarkin, sir!” he exclaimed “This...this is an honour.”
“No, Commandant Nereus, it isn’t.” Tarkin snapped “I would like to speak to Moff Speck. Put him over.”
“Um...I’m awfully sorry, sir, but the Moff is very preoccupied and cannot be disturbed.” Nereus burbled.
“Don’t talk rubbish, Commandant, not unless you’ve grown tired of your rank.” the Grand Moff barked “Let me speak to the Moff immediately.”
“Y-y-yes sir.” The commandant needed nothing more than Tarkin’s stern face and sharp tongue to get him moving.
The figure of Gotric Speck appeared, a fat, feeble-looking man with a bald head and a hairy little puff of a beard on his double-chin. When the projection showed up, his uniform was barely on and a couple of Twi’lek girls were hurrying out of view. As he hurried around, buttoning his jacket and adjusting his belt, Tarkin shot him a bemused glare.
Rae bit her lip, unsure whether to laugh or cringe.
To the side of her, Sander Delvardus turned to Suadela Therbon and drew a line across his neck to which the Theelin nodded sardonically.
At last, Moff Speck saluted and spoke.
“G-G-Grand M-Moff T-T-Tarkin, how...how nice to see you. I...I was just...working on...”
Tarkin held up a hand for silence, breathed deeply through his nostrils, and spoke.
“Berec.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The name Berec. Does it ring a bell in that hollow little head of yours?”
“Um...well...I may have gone to the academy with someone named Berec...Is he the new head of sector affairs? Or perhaps...”
Tarkin slammed his raised hand on the side of the desk in irritation.
“Berec! The name of one of the most prominent leaders in the Bakuran Miner’s Revolt one year ago!”
“Ah...y-yes...I thought it sounded familiar” Speck was pale and sweating but trying to keep an innocent smile “B-But the Revolt was put down, Berec and his family were executed. What could be the problem?”
“The problem, nincompoop, is that a man carrying that name just sent me the head of someone we very much needed alive!”
There was a pause.
“Oh...” Speck murmured.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“W-Well...how...how was I to know?”
Tarkin raised his eyebrows.
“How were you to know? Are you not Moff of the sector? Do you not have control over what happens within it? This is not the Republic, Speck. Politicians can no longer do a shoddy job at keeping order and then blame it on the system!” the Grand Moff barked “You had one simple task, Speck. One!”
“F-f-forgive me, Grand Moff, I...I shall make amends, I promise.” Speck burbled fearfully “P-p-perhaps...in light of my service in putting down the Revolt, avenging your dear friend-”
He was silenced once again as Tarkin raised a hand, his piercing grey eyes boring into the projection.
“You arrogant little worm...” he hissed “You weren’t even in the star system when I avenged my dear friend. I, Romodi, Motti, Holt, Delvardus, Kaine, we avenged him...Not you...” He lowered his hand and placed it behind his back, straightening himself as the Moff of Bakura trembled, nearly on his knees as Tarkin finished his piece.
“I will be presenting note of this failure to Grand Moff Sulamar and her father tomorrow afternoon. Enjoy taking up space while you still can, Speck.” He leaned forward, growling one last insult with what could only be deep resentment.
“Nils Tennant was worth a thousand of you!”
The projection ended as Tarkin straightened his uniform and took a glass of spirits Raddus handed him.
In the silence, Sloane saluted and spoke.
“Sir, if you would wish it, we shall depart with all haste to the Bakura system and prevent any more lives being threatened by Berec’s forces.”
“You’ll do no such thing. You already have your orders.” Rae jumped as Therbon seemed to materialise behind her, her voice and face emotional “Once Toora’s dead, Froul can send you anywhere he likes but not before.”
Before Rae could reply, Tarkin turned and spoke.
“Grand Moff Therbon is right, Miss Sloane. We cannot let this predicament change our current priorities. At this stage, Toora still presents the greatest threat to Imperial security. The threat of Berec will be dealt with promptly. I am assigning Ardus Kaine to oversee the pacification of Bakura.”
“A reasonably adequate choice, Tarkin, but for true naval prowess, a Grand Admiral would be the natural choice of leadership, don’t you agree?” Pestage asked, idly checking his nails “I nominate Rufaan Tigellinus and Martio Batch to command the pacification fleet. I shall make note to the Emperor”
Two of the projections, a smug-looking ruddy-haired young man and a pasty, dull-blonde man with a nervous tick in his eye, both in clean white suits, saluted.
“And, let’s not forget the might of the Brimstone Anvil Command.” Crodd added with a superior smirk “I shall prepare my fleet. Three of my Star Destroyers have just been refuelled and will disembark when ready. I am certain the Lydian, the Ixion and the Mesothelae will make short work of these insurgents.”
“Excellent. That should suffice, don’t you agree, Tarkin?” Pestage turned a smirking face to the Grand Moff.
Tarkin seemed wary, though his expression barely changed a great deal.
“I should think so, Grand Vizier. In the meantime, I must make preparations for tomorrow. Gentlemen, ladies...” he gave a bow as Raddus turned off various equipment “I believe we shall depart. It is later than I would like. I bid you all a quiet evening.”
As officers and senators departed, Rae was tapped on the shoulder by Glandon Froul, who had been very quiet in the commotion.
“Lieutenant.” he whispered “A word.”
Rae followed Froul who was joined by Yularen, Screed, Weblin and Therbon. Pacing briskly out the meeting room and into the corridors, they stopped at Yularen’s office and entered.
A middle-aged man in a light grey uniform was waiting at a desk. His face was thin and expressionless with copper-brown hair combed back and inquisitive amber eyes. He stood and spoke.
“Good evening. Are we all assembled?”
“Indeed. Let us be seated.” Yularen said as the man approached Sloane before she sat down.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” he said, his courteous voice betraying nothing “Ardus Kaine, Moff of Bastion, Grand Moff Tarkin’s foremost lieutenant. Apparently I’ve just received orders for deployment.”
“Honoured, sir.” Rae felt more overwhelmed than ever before.
She’d been called into an office with no fewer than six of the most senior officers in the Empire.
This couldn’t just be a passing whim of theirs.
What was it about her they found interesting?
Kaine gave her a half-smile in much the same way Tarkin would do. She saw now why the two of them were so close.
“I confess I’m only half the soldier you are, Miss Sloane. By trade I used to be an orator. Still, at the moment, we have a pressing concern we must address to you.”
“We believe Gume Saam is still on Coruscant.” Yularen said “In our meeting earlier, we discussed this and we have since looked into every instance of Ishi Tib travelling to and from the planet. Gume Saam would have been identified yet so far he has not.”
“We are sending you on a search and capture mission, Lieutenant.” Froul continued “The Hellfire is making a stop at Coruscant for contractor details and we see a chance to turn a triviality into a victory. Find Gume Saam, capture him and bring him in for questioning.”
“I...sir...” Rae stumbled on her own words “I-It’s not that I refuse, I’m just...confused as to why you ask me. Captain Feanor Rondel is my commanding officer.”
“Captain Rondel and Lieutenant Terradoc are being sent to Muunilist.” Therbon stated “Saam’s financial account must be looked into and the Banking Clan needs to be renegotiated with.”
“I see.” Sloane brushed her ponytail awkwardly “Do I have a contact?”
“Yes, Miss Sloane. A member of Imperial Intelligence.” Yularen said “A man named Rax.”
The name rang a bell. Gallius Rax was an up-and-coming hot-shot in Imperial Special Service, said to be favoured by the Emperor himself.
Working him would prove eventful if nothing else.
“A safe rendezvous point?”
“A mechanic’s home in the middle-city. A man named Torland Storm and his family have agreed to grant you, Rax and my nephew lodging.” Froul said “Oh and, uh...I don’t think they’ll object to young Pip, of course.”
“Fair enough.” Rae nodded “I suggest, for the sake of the men’s morale, only Parisian and myself are sent to Coruscant. My men have earned their rest and I’m sure the less men I bring, the less suspicious Saam will be.”
There was a pause as the officers from one to the other.
“An unorthodox request but...I see your reasoning.” Kaine said flatly “However you are to notify us of any possible escalation in violence without hesitation. If this mission goes awry, it will not give the Emperor any conciliation to know that at least your platoon was having a lie-in while Gume Saam escaped.”
“I understand.” Rae said “I’ll take a starship and head to Coruscant tomorrow afternoon. I won’t return without Gume Saam or the workings of his conspiracy in tow.” She stood up and saluted “You have my word.”
“Excellent. Work swiftly, Lieutenant and Toora’s contacts will fall like snow on Ilum.” Weblin said “The Empire is most thankful for your selfless duty, Miss Sloane. You shall not find High Command overlooking your loyalty or, should you be successful, your capability.”
“Thank you, sirs. I shall make preparations for tomorrow.”
“Dismissed.”
As Rae left the office, she found herself barely avoiding walking straight into Grand Moff Tarkin.
She snappily saluted.
“Lieutenant.” Tarkin said flatly.
“Sir...How’s the...situation?”
“Calmed...slightly. I have assured the senators that they have nothing to fear from Berec and that Chuchi’s fate will not be shared by any of them.”
“Can we promise that, sir?”
Tarkin gave her a stern glance.
“Riyo Chuchi, while willing to negotiate with the Empire, had not yet accepted our terms. There was no-one guarding her, hence Berec’s ease in her capture and murder. The senators gathered at this meeting have all agreed to allow an Imperial garrison to be established on their estate. They are quite safe, lieutenant, I assure you, just so long as they keep their heads down and their mouths shut, which I’m sure they will.”
Before giving her time to reply, his tone grew less stern.
“You’re getting along with my niece?”
“The Senator? Yes, sir.”
He half-smiled. The ‘Tarkin’ smile as it was known around the forces.
“Good. I’m pleased to hear that. She quite admires you.”
“I...am honoured.”
“As you should be.” Tarkin put his hands behind his back and looked away from her, still talking “Shayla is a precious thing to my family. She is all that remains of my valiant uncle, Ranulph, the previous head of the Tarkin household.”
“Of the...Stark Hyperspace War?” Rae’s knowledge of the war was minimal. As a war that had been led by Jedi, the facts were still being checked and revised by the Imperial Bureaus, likely to find some evidence that the Jedi were responsible for the chaos.
“The same.” Tarkin’s brow furrowed darkly “When Valorum’s Republic chose to idiotically disband their own military, my uncle trained, supplied and equipped an army from Eriadu, out of his own pocket, and took the fight to the hordes of pirates making use of the Senate’s complacency. He died putting an end to the lawless thugs that both the Jedi and the Senate believed safe in letting run wild in the Outer Rim.”
He shook his head.
“His only daughter, Cindabelle, heavily pregnant, fell into a deep depression and her husband, Commodore Dothwold Paige, had died with her father. She did not survive giving birth.”
Rae gave him a look. The idea of the Tarkin family coping through tragedy seemed almost alien.
They were a family of iron, notorious for their ruthlessness.
What was she to say?
“I’m...terribly sorry to hear that, sir.”
“It was a...difficult year for certain.” His voice was quiet and heavy “Regardless, Shayla was now mine. I have...little experience in raising young girls. My wife tutored her on how to be a well-mannered lady, Thalassa’s only real skill. I asked my friend, Hurst Romodi, to teach her history, Nils Tennant to teach her spacecraft, Senator Ha’Nook for politics and, after a great deal of pleading from her, Veers for hand-to-hand combat. Though she would not inherit the Tarkin estate, I made sure that she would nonetheless be granted all the proper tuition to make her a worthy heir. And so she became Eriadu’s senator, at around the same age as the late Senator Amidala when she took up a similar role.”
He breathed deeply through his nostrils and actually gave a smile.
A genuine smile of affection.
“I remember once...I shall never forget. Shayla had come to visit me after I escaped Lola Sayu. She’d just had a statue of me built on Eriadu, opposite her grandfather’s, and the Senate had agreed to fund a replica outside the Coruscant Republic Garrison. She then told me it was my birthday which, in the commotion, I had rather forgotten. As we said our goodbyes in the Senate corridors, who should she run into but that smug, self-righteous Duchess Satine Kryze of pseudo-Mandalore and her snivelling cohorts.”
He curled his lip in distaste.
“As was her custom, she turned her nose up at Shayla as soon as she hears Ranulph’s name and denounces him and his family as feckless brutes and wanton tyrants. At this point, I was resisting the urge to slap the arrogant tart across the muzzle but there and then my Shayla responds with words that I could never match with any actions.” he gave what may have been a chuckle “She dressed down Satine and all who stood by her for every fault they had, a diatribe that lasted a good three minutes. It was thanks to the Tarkins that parasites like Kryze were alive to sneer at them, along with their Republic. By the end, the Duchess could do little more than leave in a huff.”
“I...am glad she honours you, sir.”
“And you, Miss Sloane.” Tarkin turned to her “One day, Shayla will inherit part of the noble Tarkin legacy, if not perhaps all of it. She trusts you in the short time she’s known you. An uncle sees these things. And a Tarkin’s trust is hard to come by and should be treasured and protected by those that receive it.” He retrieved his hands from behind his back and for a moment, Rae thought he’d put one on her shoulder. He didn’t. He simply folded his arms and nodded.
“Look out for her, Lieutenant. Consider that an order.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted “If that is all, sir. I believe I shall head for my quarters.”
“By all means, Lieutenant...In fact...” he gave a slightly different smile as Natasi Daala gave him a sultry look from just outside the door to his own quarters “I believe we should all head for bed, it’s been...a trying day.”
*
Rae returned to her chambers to find Shayla and Parisian propped up against either side of her bed, slightly sleepily. Between them, Pip was curled up on the bed. Rae noticed he wasn’t asleep, his eyes were half-open. She couldn’t blame him after what he’d witnessed.
As Rae entered, the colt looked up and tottered over to hug at her leg.
Without fully realising it until it had happened, Rae picked up, held him to her chest and hugged him warmly.
“It’s okay, Pip. I’m here...I’m here.” she whispered. As her harder shell regained a hold over her again, she took note of the expressions of the lieutenant and senator in her room who were eying her with what could have been amusement or admiration.
Clearing his throat, Parisian stood up and saluted.
“Lieutenant.” he said flatly “I believe I’ll go to bed.”
“Same here. Goodnight little Pip” Shayla got up and gave Pipsqueak’s mane a ruffle and his muzzle a small kiss before turning her gaze to Rae “I’m glad we could get to know each other, Miss Sloane. I hope we can meet again under...better circumstances.”
“Thank you, Senator. I share the feeling.”
“Please, call me Shayla.” she gave her a smile “Just so long as I can call you Rae.”
Rae paused. For a while, thanks to her family, namely her uncle, she’d avoided trying to give Eriadu’s senator any impression she was anything more than a loyal soldier.
Now, looking at her with relaxed eyes, Rae found a new sense of rapport with Shayla Paige-Tarkin.
Without turning her gaze, Shayla opened her mouth.
“Corporal, weren’t you leaving?”
Parisian, having stopped in the doorway and beholding the two ladies with a blank look, jumped slightly and nodded.
“Y-yes, Miss...Ma’am...Senator. Sorry.”
“No need.” Shayla said, turning to him “If you wouldn’t mind staying up a little longer, I’d like to get to know you better as well...”
Parisian paused, his cheeks slowly flushing red.
“You mean...”
“On the way to our respective chambers.”
“Oh...I mean yes, of course...right...thank you.” Bowing fussily, he and the Senator departed. Rae shook her head with a chuckle.
“Kids.”
Sitting down on the bed, the woman placed Pip down and slowly rubbed his cheeks.
“It’s okay, Pip. I promise, Berec won’t hurt you. Or Crodd or Pestage or Toora or anyone. Okay?”
“Mm-hmm...” Pip mumbled quietly, looking up at his protector with wide, frightened eyes “I just...I don’t understand...Why would he do that to her? They said she was a good person, that she never hurt anyone, why...”
“Because...” Rae thought of an answer one could give to a child without making them scared of growing up. All her life she’d been aware of just how hard life itself could be.
But to this colt, violence in general seemed abnormal.
What could she say.
“Men like Berec...fight with fear. And to sow fear, they take something that gives hope to others and they destroy it. Sometimes this takes us by surprise. There’s no protecting yourself from it, only recovering. But other times, you’re ready. Other times you and all those beside you band together and stop yourselves from giving into fear.” she gave him a smile “And this will be one of those times, Pip. Because now we’re ready. And anyway, we’re not gonna’ be anywhere near Berec after tomorrow. You don’t need to worry about him. We have our best officers taking care of it.”
“Okay...what’ll happen to him.”
Another difficult question.
But there was honestly only one answer.
“Justice.” she said “Imperial justice.”
Getting up to change into her bed-wear, Rae heard Pip’s voice again.
“Is is...bad...that I want him to be punished?”
“Well...after what he’s done, no-one would fault you.” Rae gave him an earnest look “But the important thing is to remember why. Why it’s important to see justice done.”
“Okay...” Pip mumbled as he tottered off the bed again, his head to the ground.
“Hey.” Rae bent down and tilted his gaze upwards “In any case, don’t worry about it now. Let’s just some sleep.”
Noticing quite a bit of dust from Umbara still clinging to Pip’s coat, Rae felt inclined to give him a wash.
So in the en suite bathroom, for lack of any better methods, she ran a basin of warm water and gave his coat a brushing with a sponge in the same way one would clean a pet.
He was quiet all the while, staring blankly at his forehooves in bleak contemplation.
She still pondered whether or not it was ethical to treat him like a non-sentient animal. Most Imperials no longer worried about insulting aliens but, regardless of how she felt about granting them the same power and influence in the galaxy as humans, she felt they deserved to be treated like people nonetheless.
But then, was Pip an alien?
Such questions, she resolved, could wait for another day.
Giving Pip a towel and letting him dry himself outside the bathroom, she took a quick shower, changed into a vest and shorts, and settled down on the bed. She noticed Pip had placed the towel on the ground, folded quite impressively for someone without hands, and seemed to be making a makeshift bed.
“Hey, kid. It’s okay. You can sleep up here if you want.” she patted the duvet.
Pip gave it a glance.
“Um...okay. If that’s not too much trouble.”
“Pip...” Rae gave him a gentle smile as she picked him up and propped him down on a corner of the duvet, pulling up an extra blanket over him and a mini-cushion from a stool to serve as a pillow.
“It’s no trouble at all. You get a good night’s sleep. Goodness knows you deserve it.”
Pip blinked and smiled, brushing his eyes out of either fatigue or tears of happiness.
“Thanks...Rae. Thanks so much.”
Settling down, resting his big head on the pillow and his tiny forehooves pulling the corners of his blanket over him, he closed his eyes and at last found sleep.
Smiling, Rae herself settled down, switched the light off at the button over her pillow, and slept off one of the most confusing days she’d had in a very long time.
She didn’t want to count how many hours of sleep she had before a noise woke her.
One hand reaching for the small stun-blaster she kept wedged in a corner of the bed, the other for the dim, overhead light, she gave a listen.
A small sniffle.
It didn’t take long for her for to realise the noise was coming from Pip.
Putting away the blaster and sitting up, she looked to Pip who was tossing and turning frantically in his sleep and mumbling.
As she listened, Rae could make out some words, spoken in a fearful, teary squeak from the colt.
“No...Please...I’m sorry...Don’t...Dad, don’t...”
“Pip?”
Awakening with a small gasp, the colt clutched the corners of his blanket and slowly looked up at Rae.
“S-s-sorry...” he mumbled “I...I woke you up.”
“Never mind that, Pip. Are you okay?”
“I was...it was just a bad dream.”
“You said ‘Dad’.”
The effect was evident. Pip winced and clutched at the sides of his blanket, whimpering softly.
“What...happened to your dad?” Rae asked tentatively. Pip turned his head away in response.
“I...I can’t...”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Pip. But...if you’re having trouble sleeping...”
Pip shuffled his hooves uncomfortably. Giving a sigh, Rae patted the head of her duvet.
“It’s okay, Pip. I don’t mind. As long as it’ll help.”
“...okay...thanks...” Slowly, Pip crawled up to her, placed the cushion against the wall, rested his head at the bottom of Rae’s pillow and shuffled slightly as Rae gave him a gentle hug.
“I’m here, Pip...” she whispered “I’m here for you...Feel better?”
There came no answer. Glancing at the colt, she noticed Pip was already fast asleep beside her, his little chest rising and falling silently.
Rae couldn’t help but smile as she turned out the light and settled down. It wouldn’t be difficult to sleep even with the little pony beside her and seeing him there snoozing contentedly, made her feel a warmth in her chest she kept buried most of the time.
She wondered what the presence of the strange creature was doing to her both as a soldier and a person in general.
But those worries, she decided, could wait for tomorrow.
With a soft hum of her alarm, Rae greeted the morning.
As a junior officer, she didn’t have an actual room with windows but it didn’t bother her too greatly.
The skies over Eriadu were almost always a shade of grey.
As she got out of bed, she turned to see little Pipsqueak stirring, blinking wearily and rubbing his eyes with his tiny forehooves.
“Hey, little guy.” Rae greeted him with a smile “Sleep better?”
“Quite a bit, yeah.” he answered with a tiny yawn “Sorry if I kept you up.”
“You didn’t, Pip, don’t worry.” Pacing over to a small dispenser, she pressed a combination of buttons and several small, wrapped packets and two steaming cups exited the machine. Rae passed Pip a cup and one of the packets, unwrapping it to reveal a group of small dry golden-brown sticks.
“A bit of early breakfast. While on leave, soldiers can indulge in a bit of brunch in the late morning so we’ll see the platoon there.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Pip took a sip from the cup. It tasted mostly like tea with maybe some sort of spice or sugar mixed in. He’d drunk tea before. His mother rarely went more than three hours without a cup, Trottingham ponies famous for their fondness for it. But he wasn’t allowed it before bed and he normally stuck to juice or milk at any rate.
The golden-brown sticks were quite tasty, the colt discovered, almost like some sort of sweet rice-cereal.
Rae couldn’t help but chuckle as she watched Pip rapidly munch on them like some kind of little rodent.
“So...” Pip asked, licking crumbs off his lips “How do you normally start the morning?”
The woman shrugged.
“Normally, after this, I take a shower and then start the morning with a jog.” she answered “How about you?”
“Well...I fancy a look outside and I normally take a run to the train station. I won’t mind.”
“Okay then...” Rae took a look inside the bathroom. She wasn’t sure if Pip could really use the shower effectively or if he’d want help.
That was something that bugged her. Did these ponies wear clothes, day to day? Or did his fur count as clothes?
Rae elected to remove the basin from its stand, fill it with warm water, place it just outside the bathroom on top of a few towels and let Pip wash himself in her bedroom. Not just to avoid any possible indecency on either party but because she rather enjoyed singing and dancing in her morning shower to the tunes on the bathroom radio and this was a secret pastime she would take her grave if necessary.
Once in the shower, she switched the radio and listened to the morning’s announcements as the warm water washed the remaining slumber from her shoulders.
“Good Morning to all listeners across the Empire, I am Lubis Blane of HoloNet News speaking to you from Coruscant which is, let me check...yep, just as beautiful as ever. Top Stories; In response to news of hostilities on Pantora and the murder or attempted murder of its leading officials, the local Moff Shokan issued a statement declaring that the protection of the people of Pantora was now the Sector Army’s top priority. Commander Pter Thanas of the Alzoc III garrison has stated that the rumours of the primitive Talz being involved in this are highly unlikely, blame being placed on insurgent groups originating from the unguarded sectors. Moff Shokan insists that the killings were accomplished due to Pantora’s absence of proper Imperial protection and now that a planetary garrison is being established, the people shall have little to fear. Grand Moff Kintaro and Baron Papanoida have not been reached for comment though the Baron will be speaking to HoloNet journalists later today.
Elsewhere, Harch raiding-parties have been spotted north of the Ando sector, believed to be in service to the plutocratic Sy Myrthian warlord, Toonbuck Toora. The Imperial Navy have been quick to respond, with the valiant Fleet Admiral Bannidge Holt assuring the Empire’s citizens that their homes and families are safe from any invaders. The respected Grand General Hurst Romodi advises that, in the very unlikely occurrence of an orbital battle close to home, citizens will be informed in good time and escorted safely and sensibly to a nearby bunker. The Navy have sworn to keep Toora’s arsenal as far away from any and all Imperial territories as possible.
Tune in later today for more. In the meantime, here is Glaama-Laam to wake you up with a smile and a wave with ‘Blown to Carida’. Enjoy.”
As the music thrummed through the shower block, Rae found herself jiving to the tunes.
In the main room, the music coming through, Pip himself started bobbing his head and gently splashing with his forehooves to the music, taking care not to make too big a spill.
As a rule, Rae kept her personal and professional life separate. It paid to do so in the Imperial Military. Most didn’t even have a private life.
She had little doubt that Pip would indirectly threaten the balance of that separation.
But for now, it was nice having him around, she decided.
The sooner he was safe the better but while it lasted...
After their wash, Rae and Pip took an elevator, Rae in her black top and shorts with a pair of jogging shoes, to the grounds outside the House of Tarkin’s garrison.
She hoped she wouldn’t pass Crodd in her current attire. Fortunately, now that he had no obligation to stay, it was very likely he’d made his way back to his own palace on Eriadu.
Eriadu’s landscape was a strange one. When the Quintad rose to power in the early days of the Republic, they’d determined that then and forever more, they would be high among its runners and turned whole expanses of their world into industrial parks where weapons, armour, munitions and vehicle parts where churned out in record time and quantity, arming the Republic, and itself, in the case of any threat.
As a result, the planet had become heavily polluted, its skies a swirling haze of whites and greys and bombarded by perpetual rain. Though in the Quintad’s defence, back when it had been green, Eriadu was still virtually uninhabitable, host to some of the most fearsome wildlife in the Rim that nowadays brought big game hunters all across the galaxy to the planet’s outback that still remained relatively untouched, too dangerous even for the industry.
So to protect themselves from the outside, the Quintad had built enclosed glass domes around their palaces, huge transparent pentagon panelling forming a hive-like shell around the House of Tarkin. And it was this sight that greeted Rae Sloane and Pip as they made their morning exercise.
It was like being in a big white honeycomb, the fist-sized raindrops blanketing the glass, making the Quintad palaces appear similar to the bubble cities of Otoh Gungah at the bottom of Naboo’s oceans.
Pip gazed speechless before Rae bent down and patted him on the back.
“Ready for that run?” she asked with a grin “I’ll race you!”
Rae took off on a brisk jog while Pip cantered along, both with eager smiles on their faces as the cool air filtered into the dome blew through their hair and mane. Running round the garrison and palace on a great marble-tiled courtyard, they passed by other officers greeting the dawn.
Old Wullf Yularen was jogging along a bit slower, his fatigued panting suggesting he’d been doing this more than he was used to. Clearly not such an early riser, he was still in his grey pyjamas, looking more like someone’s embarrassing grandfather than the Secretary of the Imperial Intelligence Services. Pip had to wonder whether he not he actually had children.
“Come on, Wullf, one lap left!”
Speeding by him at a brisker, bolder pace, was Maximillian Veers, slapping his faltering colleague on the back as he passed. Veers was in short tracksuit trousers and, to Rae’s fluster, was bare-chested, showing off a hefty pack of muscles that would have been the envy of a man half his age.
Though it seemed, contrary to what Sergeant Denwarren had said around the mess hall, Veers did not in fact have his chest hair shaved into the shape of the Imperial crest.
He owed Tuuk ten credits.
“A fine morning to you, Miss Sloane, and to you, young Pip!” he hollered back, already a yard away from them, Yularen plodding along behind.
“This is the absolute last time I’m joining him for calisthenics!” the old admiral gasped.
Shaking her head with a chuckle, Rae carried on.
Further down, on a large terrace, Sloane saw Grand Moff Tarkin greeting the morning alongside Natasi Daala.
Alarmingly, they were doing stretches together.
Natasi was, at any rate. Her lover was either joining in rather half-heartedly or observing while slightly copying her movements, deadpan-faced. Tarkin was wearing his usual uniform. Rae wondered if he ever took it off.
Captain Daala, meanwhile, was wearing what Rae assumed was a swimsuit that revealed quite a bit too much of her body. That was to say almost all of it. Her breasts and thighs were shown off to absurd degrees while only barely holding onto her decency as she flexed to her full capacity.
Rae’s brow furrowed with disapproval, fighting to ignore the flush of sudden heat on her cheeks.
Exactly what she had to do to bring someone like Wilhuff Tarkin to arousal did not bear thinking about.
Tarkin himself didn’t seem to notice them but Pip caught Daala giving a quick wink toward them.
Was she winking at him or Rae?
And even further down, upon a circular dome just outside the palace overlook, Grand Admiral Thrawn was engaged in a daunting exercise.
He was dressed in the same attire he’d worn in the ring but instead of boxing, he appeared to be practicing Teras Kasi, the prestigious martial art practiced across the galaxy. He was sparring with a young man about Rae’s age in similar attire to Thrawn’s. The human was bearded with straight, jet-black hair tied in a ponytail behind him and piercing navy eyes fixed on his opponent as they landed lightning-fast punches, kicks, jabs and trusts at each other in a formidable dance between grace and fury.
Their race forgotten, Rae and Pipsqueak paused to watch the battle unfold. Both men seemed slightly worn and had likely been sparring for some time. The young human cut and swiped with outstretched legs at Thrawn’s ankles. Evidently, the Chiss had learnt from the boxing with Veers and blocked each strike with keenness, backing against the elevated wall. Just as his opponent readied his fiercest blow, Thrawn leapt up atop the wall, and spun himself round, landing a ferocious kick at the young man’s side, sending him to the floor. Before he could recover, Thrawn stood atop the wall, leapt from it like some nightmarish predator and prepared to land a hammer-punch directly upon his fallen foe. Pip shut his eyes tight with a small gasp and Rae came close to doing the same.
There was silence.
Glancing tentatively, Rae saw that Thrawn had halted his punch as if frozen in time a bare inch above the other man’s forehead who gasped for breath before giving a begrudging smile. The Chiss stood up straight, gave the man his hand and the two of them bowed toward each other respectfully.
“Well done.” Thrawn said flatly “You’ve performed quite competently but your main fault is your rigidness in reflex. Do not be afraid to use your surroundings to your advantage, work not always forward but around if necessary.” he paused and slightly tilted his head “Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Sloane?”
‘Of course he knew we were here.’ Rae thought sardonically ‘He’s Thrawn. That’s what he does’
Bowing in the same way, she greeted them.
“A very impressive show, sirs. I admit, I know next to nothing about Teras Kasi myself so I don’t know if I’m one to judge.”
“Well, if it looked alright to you, that’s fine by me.” The young man chuckled, his voice fairly middle-class and a city-accent that was either Corellian or Caridan. He held out a hand in introduction which Rae shook.
“Soontir Fel, 37th Fighter Wing. Nice to meet you.”
“Rae Sloane, my exact position seems to change like the wind.”
“Sounds quite exciting to me but then I spend most of my time crammed into a cockpit.” he chuckled “The Grand Admiral has taken me on as something of a protégé. Time will tell if it’s a good move on his part.”
“If it’s not, take comfort in the fact that you’re perhaps his first mistake.” Rae gave a cheeky grin “That, in itself, would be an accomplishment.”
“Don’t be too sure, Miss Sloane.” Thrawn gave her a knowing glance between disapproval and mirth “My record is far from spotless. But then from mistakes come experience, the most valuable spoil of war. Remember that.”
“Yes, sir.” Both Rae and Soontir said at once in vehemence.
Pip meanwhile, had wandered, making sure to remain in Rae’s sight. He was keen to admire the intergalactic foliage in the flower beds surrounding the courtyard. The trunks of the trees twisted round each other in conjoined pairs and hung not leaves on their branches but bright yellow-green bulbs.
Walking round it with wonder, Pip nearly bumped into someone.
He jumped as he looked. Whoever this was wore a thick white gown and a strange gas-mask and goggles. He was holding a bizarre appliance shaped almost like a blowtorch that was shining some leaf-green light out its nozzle. Upon noticing him, he held out a hand and made some incomprehensible warble through his mask as he shone the light at the tree-trunk.
Pip took several safe paces back but still stared curiously.
“Um...pardon...sir?”
Switching off the appliance, the man removed his gas mask.
“I said ‘Not too close, lad.’ This thing can give you a nasty burn...and it doesn’t pay to trust the tree either.”
“Pip, you okay?” Rae made her way down to retrieve the little colt and met this strange man face to face.
He was a middle-aged gentleman with a long, broad face and a full head of slightly greying oak-brown hair combined with his yard-brush moustache that curled upwards like a crescent as he gave the pair a warm smile.
“A fine morning to you, lass. Would this be the exotic pet the men are speaking of?” he chuckled “He’s an intriguing little fella and no mistake.”
“Thank you, sir.” Pip chirped.
“Yeah it’s...been an eventful past...day.” Rae sighed, realising how short a time she’d had Pip in her care for the first time “Well, ah...If that’s all, we won’t keep you from your work, Mr Gardener.”
“That’s Captain Gardener to you, missy.” The man placed his hands on his hips and gave them a roguish grin.
Rae and Pip looked at him, then each other, then to the man again.
“Excuse me?”
The man chuckled again, evidently something he was used to doing, and held out a hand in greeting.
“Gardening is just a past-time, helps clear my head. I don’t expect to get paid which suits old Tarkin quite nicely. By trade, I’m a captain in his Imperial Majesty’s navy...And by name, I am Pellaeon. Gilad Pellaeon.”
Rae shook him by the hand. Afterward, he bent down to shake Pip’s hoof in turn.
“Rae Sloane.” Rae introduced himself “And this is Pip.”
“Glad to meet your acquaintance. I’m afraid your name is unfamiliar to me.”
“That’s fine. I like not having to use my military record as a first impression.”
“Ha! Same here!” he guffawed “I’m under the Azure Hammer Command at the moment, Anaxes and Coruscant guard. But I got word a while ago I’d be reinforcing Weblin’s fleet”
“Ah, then we’ll be working together.”
“Glad to hear it. Hope to catch up later on, young Miss...” Pellaeon gave a nod as he turned to examine the next tree down the walkway.
“Captain Pellaeon?”
The gardener stopped in his tracks as a figure in a black dress appeared, her arms hidden from view.
“Ah, Miss Estornii.” he said “You’ll be...heartened to know that I found what you were looking for in the greenhouse. Take care with them and...My deepest condolences.”
He reached into a medium-sized satchel and held out a bouquet of vibrant yellow flowers, their petals like wide upside-down bells with ivory-white stamens dipped in lilac sitting in their centres.
“Ohaara-Hwatsan Flowers.” Pellaeon mused “Named after the one of Eriadu’s most treasured royal ladies in the early days of the Republic. I believe they will be a most appropriate gesture of remembrance.”
“Thank you dearly, Captain.” the solemn alien senator accepted them, finally showing her hand to possess four webbed-fingers with ebony-black nails “You are a man with a warm soul...Please never lock it away.”
Before she turned away, Pip’s voice cut the silence.
“Are those for...your friend?”
Eeusu paused, gave a weighty sigh and answered.
“Yes...For a small shrine. Then I and Panaka will depart with Admiral Yularen to Pantora for...the funeral arrangements.”
“Um...I’m really sorry about what happened.” Pip piped up nervously.
“I assure you, Miss Estornii, the Empire will ensure Riyo Chuchi is avenged.”
The Zeoul sighed, turning away.
“You did not know her.” she said quietly with a hint of disdain “Riyo abhorred the notion of vengeance. The blood of her killer...will not honour her spirit.”
“What about protecting her friends?”
It had Pip who had spoken. Rae had her mouth open and had planned to say words of somewhat similar nature.
Now she was silent, stunned at the colt’s understanding.
He was a stranger to violence. That much had been clear.
But he seemed to have a head for keeping strong in the face of it.
Eeusu Estornii tilted her head and gave a small, slow nod.
“Yes...her friends in the Senate...Her friends on Pantora...That is something you will honour, yes?”
“Of course.” Rae saluted “Yularen and Panaka will do all they can to protect them. You can trust them, my lady. They’re good men.”
“As you say, Lieutenant. And to you, Master Pipsqueak. I am thankful for your warm words at times so gravely cold. May they also be as a breeze, or a shower of rain, when the heat of battle threatens to set us all aflame.”
And she turned and left the way she came.
Eeusu Estornii’s manner unnerved Rae somewhat. She was a strange woman in general with an odd way of talking that was apparently a cultural trait among her kind, the Zeoul a race few actually knew a whole lot about.
Nonetheless, she was clearly going through quite some grief.
Admittedly, Pip seemed better at helping than her.
But then helping people through grief wasn’t what she was trained or paid to do.
It wouldn’t stop her trying.
With a weighty sigh, she turned to Pip.
“We should probably head back.” she said “I’d like to catch the platoon later on before we leave.”
*
Spying on her uncle’s meetings wasn’t something she admitted to doing a lot of.
But then what she admitted to doing wasn’t always all she did.
Shayla Paige-Tarkin was like that.
Paige was a name barely worth speaking of, according to the other four families of the Quintad.
Dothwold Paige had set out to prove them wrong when he went with his father-in-law to Troiken in the Stark Hyperspace War, though it had cost him his life.
Shayla wasn’t her father. She wasn’t her mother either. She’d never known either of them.
But she’d been raised a Tarkin and a Tarkin made the most of every opportunity.
Her opportunities simply came differently to those of her uncle.
Perhaps her uncle did know she spied on him. Perhaps what he’d take issue with if if she were actually caught.
She made sure that did not happen as she ducked into a cupboard as the last couple of Grand Moffs present for the meeting appeared. The House of Tarkin was where she’d been raised and the Imperial Garrison was where she’d been educated. She knew the way of the place like the back of her hand.
When the Moffship had first been drummed up in the last years of the Republic, the Tarkins had focussed on getting to know their new potential friends and rivals closely and Shayla was no exception.
Of the twenty original Grand Moffs chosen from the most decorated officers or most influential nobles in each Oversector, four had already been replaced in the years before. Anaxes’s Trachta, Chandrilla’s Bartam and Chardaan’s Coy had died in an assassination attempt on the Emperor, their roles filled respectively by Osvald Teshik, Kohl Seerdon and Rufaan Tigellinus, and Ryloth’s Ravik had gone missing with the Moff of Tatooine, Alexander Julstan IV, filling the role in his absence though most knew that it was really Delian Mors that held true power as she did at the meeting.
Even before the rise of the Empire, Wilhuff Tarkin had brought together many influential members of the Republic’s key strongholds and spoke to them in Palpatine’s name, confiding in them the threats of the Jedi conspiracy and the need for new and trustworthy protectors of the Chancellor.
The first time he’d gathered all his old friends and allies together, it had the last time Shayla had seen her family friend, Uncle Bradar from Serenno. Old Uncle Bradar who’d delighted her childhood with tales of Hutts and Mandalorians and Nightsisters and Bando Gora and the brave folk who kept them at bay. Wilhuff and Bradar had been inseparable in their childhood. There was even a painting of them in the Grand Moff’s private study when they were boys in the Eriadu canyon, grinning proudly with rifles in hand, arms over each other’s shoulders as the corpse of a once-dreaded dragonsnake lay behind them, lured out of the swamps and brought down.
Of course, that had been before the war.
Tarkin never talked about how it ended between the two of them.
Keeping the door of the cupboard she hid inside slightly open and hiding her face behind a thin veil hanging from the door, she looked inside the Grand Moffs meeting.
Wilhuff was talking with a withered old man with a craggy face, a bald scalp and a crooked chin. Marcellin Wessel, the Grand Moff of Bilbringi and something of an old mentor to Tarkin in the field of governance.
“I tell you, Wilhuff, I don’t want to see anything with scales until I’m recalled. Those damn Yinchorri are driving me up the wall!” he griped.
“Is it really that bad, Marcellin? You’ve dealt with Trandoshans before. You said you rather liked them.”
“Because they can be reasoned with. A hunk of meat and a few credits and they’ll kill whoever you want, straightforward bunch. These ones though! I get back from Corulag and I find the leader of Clan What’s-Name telling me the leader of Clan Who-Knows has pilfered his hunting grounds! So I have to drop whatever I’m doing to go and see these hunting grounds for myself and hear that Clan Who-Knows says it’s theirs and always has been and Clan What’s-Name stole it in the first place! Then I get back and find that since I looked away for ten minutes, both clan leaders have stabbed each other and now Clan Why-Do-I-Care is claiming the hunting grounds! It’s ridiculous!”
“Hard luck, old chap.” Tarkin patted his shoulder “Not to worry, enjoy your recuperation here.”
“While it lasts.” Wessel muttered before turning to the sound of a man singing. Down the corridor came a man slightly older than Shayla, tall and slim with bright hazel eyes, curly auburn hair and a strident smile as he positively skipped into the room with a jaunty song.
“When he lets our foes take over all of space,
We Krayt-Spit, Krayt-Spit, right in Valorum’s face.
To equip our army is a great disgrace,
So we Krayt-Spit, Krayt-Spit, right in Valorum’s face!”
A classic in the Imperial Academy, some of his compatriots joined in while Wilhuff and Marcellin smiled slightly in the closest thing they came to mirth.
“When Organa says ‘The Emperor’s a case’
We Krayt-Spit, Krayt-Spit, right in Organa’s face!
When Mon Mothma says ‘The Moffs must know their place’
We Krayt-Spit, Krayt-Spit, right in Mon Mothma’s face!”
“Young master Wessex.” Marcellin chuckled “Is there a reason for this unusual buoyancy or do you just feel lyrical this morning?”
Denn Wessex, the Grand Moff of the Relgim Oversector and a man Shayla quite enjoyed the company of, held out his arms for attention and declared.
“Gentlemen...Ladies...I am going to be dad!”
There was a generous roar of praise as Grand Moffs left their seats to shake his hand and pat his shoulder.
“Congratulations, old boy!”
“Lira must be overjoyed!”
“I’m sure you’ll make a fine father, Wessex.” Weblin slapped him on the back “Have you thought of a name?”
“Well,” Denn scratched the back of his head and blushed bashfully “Forgive me for being a sentimental young fool but...Tarkin, Wessel...I’d like your permission on that.”
“Oh?”
“If it’s a girl, Wilhuff...We were thinking of calling her Cindabelle.”
Tarkin raised an eyebrow but nothing about his expression changed.
“We know how precious she was to the Tarkin family, Eriadu and the Core in general. Ranulph was a hero and both he and his kin deserve to be remembered. Me and Lira felt...”
Tarkin raised a hand gently and nodded.
“You needn’t say more. I believe it would be...quite appropriate. You will, of course, ensure she does the name proud.”
“Certainly. And Marcellin,” he turned to the eldest Moff who gave a fatherly smile.
“If it's a boy, we thought we’d call him Campanius.”
“Fancy that.” Marcellin chuckled “I suppose, purely coincidentally, the name of my late brother who...”
“Saved my family and that of Lira’s at Bespin.” Denn Wessex finished with a smile “From the Death Watch. I’ve never forgotten that day. I never want to. And with his namesake behind the son who, if not for his courage, would never have been born...”
“Say no more, my boy.” Marcellin gave a dry chuckle “I would consider it an honour.”
“In any case, I believe it is past time we discussed crucial matters.” Tarkin cleared his throat and gestured “If you will all be seated.”
The Grand Moffs sat down as one and began discussion. It was a ponderous excercise but at least things actually got done, more than could be said for the dissolved senate.
“Where’s Kintaro? Pantora is under his jurisdiction?” Wessel asked.
“Likely in the arms of a couple of Twi’lek girls on Nar Shadaa.” The gruff, furrow-browed Griffadon Praji grumbled.
“Where was Moff Shokan in all this?” Teshik asked.
“Shokan was sent to quell the hostilities concerning the Farang and Waroot warlords. She has been...rather hard on herself and promises she’ll make amends.” Therbon said.
“May I just say, I’m terribly apologetic for Moff Speck’s ineptitude.” Zandia Sulamar, a woman so deathly pale it was impossible to determine her age, said softly to Tarkin “Rest assured, I shall make certain his lapse is not repeated...by his successor.”
“So I should hope. We cannot leave pivotal points of interest in the hands of incompetents.” Dolcas Vanko, the oldest, richest and skinniest of the Grand Moffs, sneered cantankerously.
“As to that matter, we have no current idea of just who is supporting him and how many they number. Kaine wishes to conduct espionage projects in the Bakura sector but Tigellinus and Batch inform me that will not be necessary.” Tarkin continued.
“Makes sense to me.” the haughty Octavian Grant declared “Strike hard and fast, what has the empire to fear?”
“Don’t be too cocksure, Grant.” Teshik said darkly “These men were capable of abducting a senator while completely bypassing authorities.”
“Pantoran authorities.” the sour-faced Lynch Hauser scoffed “Their kind didn’t even know Talz lived on their vacation planet until after a massacre.”
“In any case, our current priority is ending the threat of Toonbuck Toora.” Tarkin butted in as the Grand Moffs murmured in agreement “Above all else, Toora must absolutely not be allowed to take Centares. The spaceports and routes of the planet will grant her the capability to attack all of our surrounding fleets and sectors at once, leaving her with a nigh impregnable stronghold she’ll able to hold for decades. Centares wishes to remain neutral, hence why there’s no immediate garrison, though High General Tagge assures me his discussions with the planetary government are making progress. Right now, we must ensure our secondary fleet can hold out against that of the Sy Myrthians while the primary takes the fight directly to Toora and her associates."
He turned to the only Theelin in the room "Therbon, it falls to you to end the threat for good. Both I and Teshik will be commanding the auxiliary but the attacks are due to take place in your jurisdiction and as such, must be dealt with by your command.”
“Consider it my finest honour, sir.” Therbon said as firm and resolute as iron.
“Weblin has, very generously, volunteered to bring his fleet to join yours.” Denn Wessex gestured to Weblin with a smile. Weblin himself nodded magnanimously.
“Admirals Shoan Killian and Barton Coburn will take command of the Praxlis left and right flank.” he said “They’re dear friends of mine and their records speak for themselves.”
“And the Grand Admiralty,” Tarkin concluded “Will be headed by our Grand Admiral-Moff Osvald Teshik.”
Before the bearded man could speak, Grant stood up with a smirk.
“And Grand Admiral-Moff Octavian Grant.” he added “Let it never be said that the Tapani Royal House was absent from the grand finale of the Clone Wars.”
“Very well.” Teshik said dourly “I intend to take Admiral Thrawn as my vice-admiral.”
There was a mumble around the room of mixed approval or disapproval.
“I am absolutely fed up of hearing about that insufferable creature.” Grant sulked “You all treat him like he’s some sort of demi-god or demon. So he’s clever, fine. Give him a ship, a position, a silly hat, whatever you need, but for goodness sake keep him there! Other people have lives too!”
“Poor fellow can’t get a moment’s peace.” Shaylas Tanniel, keen and jovial, said light-heartedly, perhaps to ease the mood.
“His peace is no concern to us. We’re at war.” Tarkin snapped “Meanwhile, when the Alderaanian figureheads grace us with their presence.” His voice dripped with sarcasm “I believe Froul Sr. will be ably tasked for that.”
“Hear hear.” Praji muttered.
“You’re absolutely certain there’s no need for his Imperial Majesty’s Inner Circle to be involved?” Kohl Seerdon leaned forward, a most sly and surreptitious fellow if ever there was one “Their insight in this matter could...”
“Their insight will be better put to use in the Emperor’s recovery.” Tarkin interrupted, not turning to look at the man as they prepared to stand.
“Well, if that’s all...”
“Not quite all.”
All eyes turned as the imposing figure of Croesus Crodd stood in the doorway, hands behind his back; a smile similar to Tarkin’s sown into his features.
The Grand Moffs were quiet.
As a rule, Crodd rarely appeared at Moffship meetings when Tarkin was present and vice versa. When the two met in person, it was never a good sign.
A few of the Grand Moffs departed without a word. Others such as Teshik, Grant, Wessex, Weblin and Therbon stood adamant.
“I believe that will in fact be all.” Tarkin said sternly “I am certain I and my...colleague...have private business to discuss.”
“Indeed.” Crodd replied darkly, loathing in his voice unhidden despite his calm smile.
It seemed he was practicing the ‘Tarkin’ smile. It had never suited him. While the Tarkins were famous for their wit and cunning, the Crodds had always been built on bluster.
The Grand Moffs departed silently, going off in pairs or groups to discuss or gossip among themselves.
In the darkness, Shayla Paige-Tarkin crouched, stiller than ever, as she tentatively observed her uncle’s conversation with their family’s arch-rival.
Tarkin began, arching his eyebrow imperiously.
“I must admit, you have more courage than I gave you credit for, Crodd, to show your face on Eriadu again.”
Crodd smirked and held up a holocron.
“An official pardon. My exile has officially ended.”
Tarkin glanced at it.
“It’s a copy.” he said “And it’s not even signed.”
“Yet. I have Sate Pestage’s ear. It’s only a matter of time. And my Brimstone Anvil Command has claimed many victories in the Empire’s name.”
“And you believe that will put you on my level?”
At this, Crodd’s face twisted in indignation. He stepped forward, leaning over on the table, his small yellow eyes boring into Tarkin’s.
“Fifty years, Tarkin! Fifty years since I last stood on the ground of my homeland! Fifty years since my entire family were thrown into Wild Space to scratch a living off the galactic wastes, many dying there, alone and unprotected. Fifty years since we were accused of conspiracy against the Quintad and the Republic, branded as traitors and deprived of every friend and ally we had! Fifty years...Because of you!”
Tarkin tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanged.
“You say that as if you weren’t guilty.”
Crodd’s knuckles grew white.
“Changes are about to be made, Wilhuff. Changes that will not end well for you.”
“Is there anything specific in your threats or are you simply being cryptic to cover-up the fact that you haven’t actually got a plan, nor ever will, to remove me from power?” Wilhuff stood up “Crodd, let’s not lie to each other, it’s never worked. We both wish dearly to see each other eliminated. But as it stands, we stand on the same side. So let’s leave our little rivalries in the past until such a time as they would be...convenient for both of us? Does that not sound reasonable?”
“Oh-ho...You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Crodd growled “You’d love for me to let my guard down, just as I did the first time. No...Not again. I know what you are, Tarkin. And I know never to turn my back on you.”
“Ah good, you’re learning.” Tarkin gave his trademark smile “I’ve survived this long, I can multi-task perfectly ably. We may be of similar age and rank but I never had to sacrifice education and training for hiding from pirates.”
“What makes you think I hid?” Crodd gave a leer, showing yellowed teeth “Honestly, Tarkin. Exile made me far stronger. In a way I’m thankful...though don’t hope that’ll save you?”
“Save me? Oh Crodd, you really don’t know me at all. Now, if you’re quite finished blustering, I have other business to attend to that doesn’t include looking at your face so if you’ll excuse me.” And with that, he walked past him coolly and exited the hall.
With a dark, murderous scowl, Crodd turned his back and headed down the corridor then stopped.
Shayla held her breath and ducked deep into the shadows, the inside of her chest gripped by dread.
Crodd’s face was creased with curiosity. Was he sniffing?
After what seemed like several dreadful hours, he lowered his gaze and continued on.
Shayla wasn’t sure if she’d ever held her breath longer in all her life.
*
“And here’s to Lieutenant Sloane, tireless and ever-eager!” Culic Denwarren raised his caf cup with a bray of laughter.
Rae Sloane shot him an unimpressed look.
“Okay, you made that innuendo on purpose, didn’t you.” she grumbled, causing the Sergeant to shrink awkwardly.
“Yyyyyyeah...yeah I did.”
“To Lieutenant Sloane.” Lume Tuuk raised his own cup before the two could get into a fight. He was joined by the rest of the platoon.
“Now don’t think this means you guys can slack off.” Rae said firmly “Recreation’s all well and good but I expect my platoon to stay in shape. When I get back here, I’m checking the log for the training facility and if I find any of you have spent less than three hours a day in there, you’ll be cleaning the AT-AT production line on Ganthel.”
“She means it.” Denwarren added.
“Understood, sir. We’ll make sure to do you proud.” one of the stormtroopers, a pretty young blonde woman who’d talked about her little sister she was looking after on Glithnos, said sincerely.
“Good to hear, Private...” Rae thought a moment. The names? The names escaped her.
“Bruula.” Pipsqueak piped up, sat upon the dining table as the platoon chatted over brunch in the cantina. The stormtrooper nodded in confirmation.
“Yes, that’s it! Private Veladi Bruula.” Rae couldn’t quite understand how Pipsqueak could remember names better than her, her own platoon no less.
Must have been a skill of his.
“Right...” Sloane checked herself, feeling slightly awkward and not wanting to drag out the conversation too long “Anyone needs me, contact me in my ship. You know the feed codes. Corporal!” She snapped her fingers and Parisian Froul jumped to his feet.
“On our way, sir.”
Pip trotted along, marvelling at the vast, shimmering starships collected in the great hanger of the Eriadu outpost’s central docking bay. Each one seemed bigger and stronger-looking than the last. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to actually pilot one, what it would be like to see the stars in one, perhaps up-close, or close as they could manage.
Almost dreading the answer, he asked tentatively.
“Um...Rae? Which one’s yours?”
The Lieutenant smiled and pointed.
“That one over there.”
The TIE/sh VIP Shuttle was a curious specimen of Sienar Fleet Systems. One could plausibly imagine two TIE Fighter cockpits stuck together and given concave wing-plates on either side to look rather silly but it prevailed against the odds. The shuttle was durable, sturdy, very malleable and could safely contain a crew of four; pilot, navigator and two gunners.
Upon her promotion to Lieutenant, thereafter no longer a mere ‘Subordinate-Officer’, she’d been allowed to personalise her ship. Hers was now recognisable by its black, white and red stripe-pattern spreading from the centre of the cockpit like symbolic sunbeams.
At the stern was a dynamic artwork of a young woman in the uniform of a Ganthel Engineer but wearing the helmet of a TIE pilot and cloaked in the skin of a mysterious Lothal Wolf, holding the Imperial flag high. A friend of hers back on her home planet had made it for her. Ganthel after all was an industrial park which housed the conveyor belts for constructs such as the TIE Fighters.
Strictly speaking, she was allowed to do anything with a ship she’d built.
Rae had first found work as a mere factory hand.
There were times she was still stunned that she’d made it this far.
Yet her shuttle was proof of it; the Lupercal.
To her curiosity (And some concern) there were two men already at her shuttle.
One was the Dusk Trooper, his faceless helmet and sharp poise betraying nothing.
The other was a slim, cheerful-looking young man in a white longcoat with messy red hair, a pointed nose and amber engineer’s visors.
As they approached, the Dusk Trooper saluted while the newcomer smiled and waved. Pip instinctively made himself slightly less noticeable hiding behind Rae’s boots.
“Ah, hello.” he had a jovial tone to him “I take it you’re the proud owner of this lovely old girl. Yes, the old TIE/sh does its job well but then you’d have to qualify for the VIP treatment. Not like the other stuff, flying coffins we call them...Maybe I’ve said too much.” He held out his hand “Liegeus Vorn, Sienar Fleet Systems Consultant. Here to pitch another scheme for the Empire. They sent me because it’s slightly more dignified than a sad-looking porg with a begging bucket...slightly.”
“Uh...hi.” He was a quirky chap to be sure. Rae Sloane shook his hand and Parisian did the same “Good luck. The Moffs aren’t in the best mood.”
“Ooh dear. I told Mr Sienar we should have bought the porg.” Vorn mused aloud “Well, in any case, I’ve got tech to peddle and you’ve got a nice ship to fly around in so uh...toodles.” And with that, he scampered down the hanger to the elevators.
There was a pause.
“Well, he’s daft.” Rae said at last.
“I like him.” Pip chuckled “He reminds me of Dinky’s dad.”
“Reminds you of who’s what?” Parisian asked befuddled.
“Uh...long story.” Pip said before hopping excitedly on his hooves “Do we get to fly in the ship now?”
“Yes, Pip. Yes, we do.” Rae smiled. At least she now knew she had one thing in common with the little foal.
They both were just as eager to get in a ship and go star-sailing.
“The Lupercal is fully fuelled, primed and waiting your command, Lieutenant.” the Dusk Trooper said flatly.
“Very good, Trooper.” she said, craning low to fit in as the Shuttle doors opened for them “I’d like you in the gunner’s seat if you please. I’ll log you into dual-control. Corporal, you work the navigation and Pip, you’re with me in the pilot’s seat.”
“Yay!” Pip cheered as the minimal crew took their respective positions.
*
They’d found the body.
Wullf Yularen caught something bitter in his throat as stepped out of the shuttle onto the landing bay outside the Senator’s Office on Pantora, the mist from the wetlands outside rising about him as if to announce the arrival of the feared Imperial troops.
He wasn’t paid a great deal of attention to. Most focus in the area was directed solely on a horrific sight outside the Senator’s Office, Pantoran guards and attendants rushing back and forth.
The decapitated body of Riyo Chuchi had been frozen in carbonite and hung upside-down over the archway, limbs tethered at each corner in a grisly ‘X’ shape. The body was steadily being taken down and placed upon the ground before the ruling Papanoida family who were on the scene, supervising the matter.
Yularen approached, joined by Panaka and the heads of the local governing forces.
The bumbling and corrupt Grand Moff Luridus Kintaro, squat and stubbly, looking half-asleep. He’d never known Riyo Chuchi’s works but had been known to have tried to fondle her once or twice at gatherings and had been reprimanded sharply by Yularen for it.
The ambitious, young Moff of Sujimis, Maigora Shokan, her white ponytail fastened with a rosy Pantoran brooch and her pale face relatively emotionless.
The amiable Commander Pter Thanas, who’d been able to negotiate with the Talz on Alzoc III, stocky but keen and able to a fault with chestnut hair slicked back and an expression of earnest solemnity, the Talz he knew having loved and admired the late Senator Chuchi.
And Centurion Kosh Kurp, a heavily-built Pantoran in Imperial service, helmless but dressed in crimson armour, denoting him unofficially as a member of the Auxiliary Royal Guard, sent to bodyguard the Emperor’s most crucial contacts as a sign of goodwill (And to ensure they stayed loyal). How well he’d known the Senator was uncertain.
Kurp brought forth the head of the lamented senator in a decorative urn Thrawn had given them, a costly thing with sacred Wroonian inscriptions and carrying the heavy scent of burial oils and incenses.
Dreading the reactions of those before him, the old admiral hailed the royals.
The old, distinguished Baron Notluwiski Papanoida stood in his dark-plum gown and mitre, massaging his temple with one free hand while the other supported himself with a cane.
His eldest daughter, Che-Amanwe, was arguing with a guard captain while his son, Ion, and his younger daughter, Chi-Eekway, were cradling each other for support. Ion looked up at the Imperial retinue and gave them a suspicious look.
Chi-Eekway, however, was inconsolable, sobbing loudly into her brother’s shoulder.
Yularen halted his entourage and spoke.
“Excellency Papanoida.” he said solemnly “Words...cannot express how sorry we are.”
“Yularen.” the Baron looked tired. His eyes were red. He’d clearly been crying and, glancing at Ion and Che-Amanwe, so had all his children.
It wasn’t surprising. Riyo Chuchi had been beloved by all her kind and the Baron’s children had practically grown up with her, treating her as a sister-figure. The senator had once personally rescued Chi-Eekway herself from the clutches of the Trade Federation. To see her dead, defiled in this way, Yularen could not fault their grief.
Deep down, he felt like crying himself. But for the sake of public peace, he would have to steel himself, as Tarkin had ordered.
He had known he, out of any Imperial, would be trusted by the Baron, if only a little.
The old Pantoran looked to the urn, pointing shakily.
“Is...Is that the...”
“I’m afraid so.” Yularen said flatly “It was sent to the dining hall of the Senatorial meeting where she was...due to meet us.”
“Who did this?!” Ion suddenly yelled, his bloodshot eyes blazing “What sort of monster would do this to her?!”
“There was a message placed in...with the head.” They weren’t ready to know the full story “The murderer is a Bakuran insurgent leader calling himself Favon Berec.”
Young Chi-Eekway raised her head suddenly, her teary eyes wide with horror.
It didn’t go unnoticed.
“Miss Papanoida?” Yularen asked.
“I...I...” the former representative’s voice wavered.
“Director!” Che-Amanwe stood in front of Yularen, her eyes accusing “Whoever this Berec is couldn’t have come alone. Twenty-eight Pantoran guards and six medics were killed along with a family of three who...just wondered close to the area. No mercy was shown, no hesitation in dealing death. They’re monsters!”
“Berec is a dangerous man. He clearly has no respect for life.” Yularen said “This was meant as a warning to any potential friend or ally of the Empire. He is gathering a force against us. We have prepared a retaliation force but currently know little of just what he intends or when he plans on doing so.” We gave a meaningful look to Chi-Eekway “We need any information we can acquire.”
“Are you suggesting my family is involved, sir?” The Baron’s tone grew fierce “Do you not imagine this is enough torment for them?!”
“You’ll lose your tongue if you address us in that way, you...” Kintaro began blustering before Yularen shushed him with a raised hand.
He’d been taking lessons from Tarkin.
“I’m not suggesting anything, sir.” Yularen answered plainly “Unless you are.”
There was a weighty pause.
“Father...” Chi-Eekway said softly “I’d like to speak with Yularen...privately.”
“No, absolutely not!” The Baron’s beard was bristling. Fear was showing in his fatherly eyes “Admiral, you have no right to interrogate my family, particularly not at this time.”
“Father, stop!” Ion clutched his sleeve, the baron having balled a fist and raised it closer to an Imperial Grand Commander than was safe.
“Excellency, please calm down.” Panaka stepped in “We take full responsibility. Whatever happened here was...”
“It was me!” Baron Papanoida stared, wide-eyed at them, his voice close to cracking “I was in contact with him. Mothma and Organa need soldiers to protect their hideouts, they found him. You want me, fine! But my children had no part in this, none! I swear to...”
“Stop it! Just stop it! All of you! You’re making it worse!” Chi-Eekway was screaming now, tears streaming down her face.
“No! I’m not letting you do this!” The Baron yelled.
“Father, please.” Che-Amanwe joined Ion in restraining him “You’re not well, we need to...”
“Enough.”
The alarming sound had come from Thrawn. All eyes had turned to him with shock and confusion.
He still stood primly as always. In truth, his voice had little different from usual, just a great deal more audible.
Yularen wasn’t even sure if he’d been particularly loud.
“Your Excellency, honoured Pantoran citizens, fellow officers.” he said slowly “In the wake of the tragedy, it is quite clear this is a matter of galactic security and not of mere civil unrest. I believe sensible negotiations are in order here when the losses could be so many. We would not find any issue with a simple talk with anyone who would wish it. Please understand that.”
There was a pause. The Baron was breathing heavily, his fury spent, his fear weakening his old bones.
“Admirals...” Chi-Eekway said quietly, shuffling forward in her robe, her voice as calm as could be managed “I know of this man, Berec. I haven’t been in direct contact with him, nor have I ever been in any sort of contact with him recently. But...I know of those who have. It would be wise and prudent of you to check first, since I could be wrong. But I can tell you all I know.”
“Thank you, madam.” Yularen said with a nod.
“Chi...” Che-Amanwe said with uncertainty “Sister...I know you’re upset but...They trusted us.”
“And we trusted them!” the younger sister retorted, indignation in her streaming eyes “Look what they’ve done! Riyo wasn’t involved with anyone’s war. She never hurt a living thing. But they murdered her, butchered her, they cut off her head!” She was almost sobbing. Instinctively, Che-Amanwe hugged her sister.
“If I may have a word, when you’re ready.” Yularen said who then made way for Panaka who stood solemnly.
“I take full responsibility for this tragedy. I was in contact with her. I believe Berec intercepted my transmission somehow and...mistook it for direct Imperial allegiance. I was trying to get her to meet with me and the other Senators...talk things out. I wasn’t going to pressure her or Pantora, I just wanted her safe...” He sighed weightily “It’s what her highness would have wanted.”
“...I see.” Baron Papanoida was quiet a moment.
Then he turned to his daughter.
“You do what you feel is best, Chi-Eekway...I’m very proud of you.”
“Thank you, father.” With a solemn bow, she, her family, Yularen and Panaka departed to the office of the former senator while Thrawn stood outside with the remaining entourage.
“Sir. I must protest!” Kintaro piped up “The Papanoida’s are out of order! They were clearly involved in Rebel schemes! They should be made examples of! COMPNOR will not allow it!”
“COMPNOR manages domestic security, does it not?”
“Well, of course.”
“This act of terror was perpetrated by a Bakuran cell working outside of Imperial space, attacking alien planets. Therefore, this is a matter of intergalactic security, not domestic. ISB’s territory, Yularen’s business. At this time, I believe we may settle things with the Papanoida’s without any interferences.”
“W-well...” Kintaro blustered indignantly “We shall see what Il-Raz and Greejatus have to say about...”
“Without - any - interferences.” Thrawn’s voice grew slower and slightly louder, his deep red eyes boring into Kintaro’s. Beside him, Shokan, Thanas and Kurp fixed the Grand Moff with a similar steely gaze as Thrawn continued.
“You will notice, sir, that I did not use the word ‘dangers’ or ‘dilemmas’ or ‘obstacles’. I used the word ‘interferences’. Minor, fragile things. Easily removed.”
There was a pause longer than any that had previously transpired there that day.
“I...I think Director Yularen can handle things fine, don’t you?” Kintaro mumbled nervously, sweat beading down his brow.
Thrawn gave a coy raise of his eyebrow.
“Oh, most surely.”
*
It was a bit less cramped in the cockpit than Pip had expected but distressingly dark. He found himself picked up by Rae as she got into the cockpit. A quartet of glowing midnight-blue screens appeared before him as the octagonal windscreen revealed the world outside.
Rae pressed various buttons and touched screens and the ship whirred into life.
“Course set, Lieutenant. Hyperdrive should be ready to run and we are clear for takeoff.” Parisian sounded to their left, fiddling with some sort of glowing green globe diagram set into the wall in front of him.
“Logged into dual-manual turret control, sir. Lock-On systems and Alarm fully online.” Dusk added behind them.
“Very good.” Rae said, grabbing hold of two handles and pulling them towards her.
Pip felt the ship rumble and steadily began rising, a jet of vapour billowing out from under it as they slowly began turning.
As the little colt beheld the sight in wonder, he caught something out the corner of his eye.
Overlooking them on a walkway, seemingly ignored by all present, was the hooded figure from before.
He couldn’t quite tell but he felt like the figure was giving a smile.
“Yes please!” Trepidation quivered in his voice as the roar of the engine sounded.
Soon the grey skies of Eriadu disappeared from view as they ascended higher and higher.
Pip blinked as the darkness of space, matched with the lights of the stars greeted him. There were thousands, millions, too many to count.
“Its...amazing...”
“Oh that’s not the cool bit, kid.” Rae chuckled, stretching her hands on the handles and cricking her neck.
“Ready to jump, Lieutenant.” Parisian called.
“Jump?! From here?! In space?!” Pip yelped in confusion.
“No, no. Just watch, kid.” Rae answered, her voice rising to match the rising drone of the hyperdrive.
“Engines to full power!” she hollered, gripping the handles tight “Hold onto your butts! Jump to Hyperspace!”
Her hands, and the handles clasped inside them, shot forward.
“WhooooaaaAAAAAAAA-YAHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”
Pip’s excited yell only just sounded over the howl of the hyperdrive jump as the stars turned to a swirl of silver streams before his eyes. Thrown back against Rae’s chest, the whole world leapt forward in a colossal surge of motion. His teeth chattered, his eyes boggled, his ears popped, his hooves shook. He felt sparks of static running through his mane and tail.
In that moment, Pipsqueak knew what it must have been like to be Rainbow Dash.
He couldn’t tell how much time had passed before time slowed, the stars became dots once more and the noise had subsided. Slightly dizzy, he shook his head a little and gazed around.
Rae looked down at him with an amused smile.
“How was that?”
Pip found his mouth.
“H-h-how...how fast were we going?”
“Around 50,000 miles per hour.” Parisian was fussing around with the controls somewhat worriedly “But we’ve come out a bit soon. There’s unidentified craft in a flight path.”
“Where are we?” Rae’s tone became concerned.
“Click and a half from Kuat. Not too far from our destination.”
“Can we establish contact with the craft?”
“I’m trying...wait...”
“Sir? We’ve been locked-on.” Dusk called from the turret seat “It seems this craft has its own method of contacting us.”
“Get us a scan!” The Lieutenant yelled as Pip huddled in her lap, the confusion abound beginning to make him nervous.
“Already on it, sir...Alright, and...” Parisian mumbled as he tapped and fumbled at the controls.
“Oh dear...” Pip heard Parisian mumble as in the dark void of the space before him, the dim outline of a spacecraft glided into view.
Parisian pressed something that brought up the full view of the ship in a holographic diagram.
The ship was a sleek, streamlined, shimmering cruiser. It resembled some form of long-necked flying bird, its wings arching forward with tips that curled into a full circle which conducted its shield-generators. As it drew closer, Rae noticed it seemed silver and gold.
Tell-tale signs Imperial pilots looked out for.
“It’s a Hapan Selina-Class Noble Starfighter.” Dusk said, without even looking at the diagram.
“Oh...Fry me to Korriban!” Rae growled.
Pip looked up with concern.
“The Hapans?” Parisian asked not with confusion but curiosity.
“How much do you know about them?”
“Well, I’ve read about them. Records are rather obscure. I also know that Denwarren calls them the ‘Space-Divas’.”
“Oh really? I’ll see how funny he thinks that is when I get back.” Rae muttered under her breath.
“So are they...not-nice men?” Patch raised his brow nervously.
“Not-nice women.” Rae gripped the controls tightly with one hand and held Pip close with the other as she explained.
“You could say they’re a...vindictive bunch. According to their own histories, they were born when the Republic was young from the Galaxy’s most prestigious pirates and their most beautiful captured slaves. So that the sons died when the Jedi hunted them down, the daughters were all that was left. As such, they practice a fierce matriarchy where males are second-class citizens, basically slaves.”
“Doesn’t that make them just as bad as their former captors?” Pip asked, somewhat dumbfounded by what he’d heard.
“Well yes, but they have a very good system to deal with this serious moral issue.”
“Which is?”
“They don’t care.”
Pip thought a moment, a bad taste in his mouth.
While he learned a modest amount of history at Cheerilee’s, recently he’d begun exploring more complex studies with books at Dinky’s house that the Doctor received from his occasional work partner and Canterlot’s librarian, Purple Patch, that detailed many histories and philosophies unknown to the majority of Equestrians. The Doctor had needed to check which books were safe for foals to read but that still left quite a few.
The concept of inequality was not alien to Equestria. Many times in one era or another, stallions had seen mares as inferior, to be chained, commanded or mistreated without care. And, on a few occasions, mares had given stallions a similar treatment. But all that ended under the alicorns. Their code was a simple one. None would be superior or inferior based on gender, colour, sexuality or background, for a pony was judged on their merits and their virtues as the Cutie Marks would show. Not always a system ponies took to heart but in order to see a kingdom prosper in harmony, there was no better philosophy.
To persecute or scorn a society based on what you were born with, Pip had always been told, was an awful thing.
He’d even once read that, ages past, pintos and patch-coated ponies, like himself, were drowned at birth, believed to be an ill-omen, a carrier of some imagined disease.
Who were these Hapans? And what had made them this way?
An age-old slight was never a good enough excuse for an ages-long slight, the Doctor had once told him.
And there were few wiser ponies Pip knew than him.
“Transmission on the open frequency.” Parisian declared, once more waving his hands around the controls as the hologram changed.
The ship’s communication screen shot up as a bizarre-looking woman showed herself.
Hapans were said to be the most beautiful species in the galaxy.
Rae assumed that whoever had said that had very odd standards of beauty.
When she first looked at the Hapan, she wondered if the screen had rippled accidentally. The Hapan’s chest and hips were almost twice the size of Rae’s yet her waist was smaller than her head. Her lips and eyes were so large they appeared swollen, almost piscine. The lips, eyelids and absurdly long fingernails were painted a bright gold and her headdress and dress appeared like a set of conjoined strips of gold that rattled and rustled as she moved. Her hair was a deep cherry-red and didn’t so much flow out the back of the headdress as arch and curl, reminding Pip of the twisty tail of a pig.
This Hapan in question began speaking, her voice loud and booming, her eyes blazing at Parisian who seemed to shrink under her gaze.
“Insolent outsider! You bar the path of the noble and splendorous Olva Ba’Vira of the Primaruda?!”
“Oh this is gonna’ be fun...” Rae muttered. Parisian tugged at his collar, cleared his throat and spoke.
“I assure you, madam, this is not meant as a...”
The Hapan gave something between a hiss and a squawk, baring her spotless teeth in rage as she bellowed.
“Dog! Maggot! You dare to address me with improper salutation?! Such is to invite death!”
“I’m awfully sorry, I don’t know the proper salutation!” the nervous navigator mumbled.
“Hah!” Olva Ba’Vira tossed her head with a scoff “Such is to be expected from a crass, low-born male outsider.”
“So...why were you angry if you expected it?” Parisian was becoming ever more confused.
“Corporal, stop blathering and let me talk.” Rae sighed.
“As you say, sir.” Parisian swiped the screen and Olva Ba’Vira’s face appeared above their windscreen. Pip jumped at the sight as Rae began talking.
“Lady Olva Ba’Vira, I am Lieutenant Rae Sloane of Imperial 12th Sector Army Cerulean Spear, on course to Coruscant. We mean you no harm and have no intention of interrupting whatever journey you are heading. But please, I must kindly ask you not to verbally abuse my corporal. He’s still learning the ropes and this sort of attitude will not teach him anything.”
“Not to mention, I am technically also a deck officer, temporarily.” he added.
“Don’t interrupt, corporal.” Rae said calmly “So if you’ll please let us pass and we’ll be on our merry way, sound good?”
Olva Ba’Vira raised an eyebrow (Far higher than most humans could) and snarled.
“Hapans fly where we please, as our ancestors did. And we take what we please, as our ancestors did.”
“Is that a challenge?” Rae asked gruffly “The Empire will have quite a few things to say about that.”
“Bah!” The Hapan squawked “The Jewels of Hapes laugh in the face of your paltry Empire’s threats. Your ship, madam, will be ours and the men aboard it. You may leave with your life...” She glanced at Pip who was looking up at her with an aggressive pout he must have thought looked scary “...along with your pet, whatever it is. A walking mould from the Coruscanti sewers perhaps?”
“I’m a pony, thank you very much, Miss Meany!” the little colt retorted. Rae and Parisian managed a chuckle at the foal’s pluck. Olva Ba’Vira meanwhile drew back with a hiss.
“You insult a royal of the Hapes Consortium! Such is to invite death!”
“Miss Ba’Vira, with the highest possible respect...” Rae tightened her hold on the controls “...if it’s a fight you want, you got one.” She switched off the transmission and barked orders.
Dusk swung the turrets into life as Parisian threw on a pair of large black headphones and flipped a switch on his chair. His chair rose and arched back as various screens of the enemy craft, damage report, shield and fuel level and ammunition type switched on all around him. Pip felt himself and Rae tilt slightly diagonally as the Lupercal and the Primaruda squared off, spinning round on opposite sides of a circle.
Something beeped and one of Parisian’s screens went red.
“We’re locked-on.” he said “Dusk, you’d better be ready.”
“Of course, sir.” Dusk replied flatly, showing no sign of unease.
Pip gripped the side of Rae’s arms instinctively.
“Wh-what’s happening?” he asked with a tremble.
“Don’t worry, kid. I promise, we’ve got this all in hand. Just...be ready in case anything gets nasty.”
“Wh-what do you mean by that?” Pip asked before the ship lurched suddenly.
“Ion Blast. Just missed us.” Dusk answered their concern.
“How did the alarm not go?” Rae was close to screaming.
“They must have sensor-blocking devices. Specificity means total focus. All we have is our wits to detect when they’re firing the ion blast.
“I suppose they’re making up for what they lack.” the Lieutenant declared “The Selina-Class uses homing missiles. Solid projectiles, something our sensors can easily detect and track. Our cannons should be able to hit them in flight but one direct hit from them and we’re space-dust.”
“Meanwhile, their shield is far greater than ours and auto-repairs. Our cannons will barely dent it.”
“So what do we do?”
Rae gritted her teeth, finger’s tensing on the handles. Needing only one handle pushed forward to keep the ship turning, her other arm wrapped itself around Pip protectively.
“Keep the missiles off our backs. I think we’ll need to use our initiative.”
As if in answer, the Primaruda fired a hail of around eight missile, flying like wasps out of their great trumpet-like cannons and hovering a moment before careening towards them.
Dusk swivelled his turret controls round fiercely and fired. The sound of missiles exploding mid-flight grew louder and louder with each shot until at last the ship jolted again. Pip gave a cry as he nearly fell from Rae’s lap.
“Damn it!” Rae yelled “Dusk, shoot the bloody things?! Is that so hard?!”
“I’m working as well as I can under the circumstances, sir, and I respectfully advise not to curse in the young one’s presence.”
“Will you shut up and hit the d...darn missiles?!” she replied exasperated, before turning to her corporal “Parisian! Damage Report!”
“Superficial.” Parisian answered, his hands tapping away frantically as the screens before him flashing green, blue, red, yellow and amber “Navicomp’s haywire, slight rupture in engine...” He winced as he pulled off the headphones “...and somehow the headset got jammed on the Gamorrean Opera Channel.”
“Our speed’s down way too much to remain safe. Another graze and we’re sitting ducks.” Rae shook her head “Corporal, our defence is now a two-man job. You take the other turret, I’ll give you manual.”
“Righto sir.” Parisian rolled out from underneath the flashing navicomp and took the other turret as he and Dusk kept the missiles off the Lupercal.
“Is...is there anything I can do?” Pip asked with a slight stammer.
The colt was terrified. Terrified and confused, that was plain to see.
Yet still he was ready to help for other’s sake.
It was enough to give Rae hope.
And a spark of ingenuity.
“Yeah, Pip, can you take Parisian’s seat?”
“Um...okay.” Pip hopped over to the other side of the Lupercal and crawled into the seat, staring at the flashing navicomp system “But, uh...I don’t know how any of this works.”
“Don’t worry, just bear with me.” Rae turned on the voice command on the pilot controls and spoke flatly and clearly.
“Shut down all non-essential systems. Now, Dusk, take the controls and give me that turret.”
“What is this? Bloody musical chairs?!” Parisian was getting exasperated as he desperately tried to keep each ever-multiplying missile out of their way.
“Just shut up and work with me here! I’ve got a plan!” Rae and Dusk squeezed by each other and the Lieutenant gripped the turret handles, pulling the scope in front of her eyes.
“Now, Pip.” she said without turning “In front of you should be the exterior scan of the enemy ship. You see it?”
“Yeah, right in front of me.” Pip answered, hooves shaking “Do I press anything?”
“No, no, what I need you to do is look closely.” Rae explained, trying to keep focussed “When the ship fires missiles, the scan will show the cannons flashing red and white arrows coming out of it. I need you to tell me exactly when the first arrow is on their way out. Not when it flashes. Not when it’s heading toward us. When it’s just coming out. Okay?”
“O-okay...” Pip held his breath as the cannons flashed red “Wait...wait...Now!”
On his word, Rae’s thumbs slammed down on the homing proton missile buttons that shot like lightning bolts toward the locked-on target.
Hapan ships were notorious for their intricate design, many Imperials fearing to cross them.
But Rae had familiarised herself. Her lessons with Bannidge Holt on the key tricks of the trade of soldier and spacefarer had proven invaluable.
Hapan cannons were shielded but not shock-absorbent, else their homing missiles would risk careening into them.
They needed time for the missiles to drop out, hover a moment, pick up their target and fly. If the cannons were hit, their shields would protect them from any enemy missile...but not their own.
As the cannon shook violently, the missiles, at least three of them, broke on their way out. The great, sudden implosion took off the cannon and a lot of the wing it was placed upon. The other cannon twisted and fell limp and the bright electric-blue field around them flashed and dissipated. Smoke trailed out the side of the Primaruda as it spun round wildly, the impact sending it hurtling away.
It was out for the count.
Lieutenant Rae Sloane led loose a raucous cheer from her turret seat. Parisian sighed in relief, his sweaty hands prying themselves off the turret handles as he steadied himself on the navigator’s seat. Pip stared around breathlessly, a dizzy smile on his face as Rae reached round and clapped his little shoulders.
“Nice work, kid! You did great! Well done!”
“I...I...I just did what you told me.” the colt gasped.
“Exactly. And you did it well. No soldier could have done better.” Parisian added, ruffling Pip’s mane.
“...thanks...I’m just glad it worked.” It had been a while since Pip had felt so proud, or quite as close to death. His heart was beating fast and his hooves were still quivering.
“Lieutenant.” Dusk sounded “Transmission from the enemy.”
“Thanks, Trooper. Budge over now.” Rae retook her pilot’s seat, Pip on her lap, as the face of Olva Ba’Vira appeared again. The Hapan was in a far less-regal state than before. The side of her face was blackened slightly, her hair was all over the place and behind her smoke and bleeping computers were beset upon by frantic deckhands.
“You...you...do you not know what you have done?!” she spluttered “You have defiled a craft of the Hapan Mistresses! You have perpetrated an act of aggression!”
“Hey, you started it!” Pip piped up “We were minding our own business. You tried to take our ship and then blow us up when we said no.”
“The boy has a point.” Dusk added nonchalantly.
“I’ll say he has.” Rae chuckled.
“Listen...Miss Rae Sloane, is it?” Olva stared at the lieutenant with wide, apprehensive eyes “There is no need for this. There is no need to stay on the losing side. Bring your ship to mine. Offer it to the Consortium and we will take you to Hapes. We know how you must suffer under the Empire’s despicable male hierarchy! I can ensure you will never need kowtow to their kind again...” She held out a hand to her “You wish to be a strong soldier? You will be conqueror of all the core! The men who have spat on you shall be made to lick it from your boots! You will live as we do, free to sail and plunder and punish whomever has spited you. Come aboard, Lieutenant...And we can help each other.”
There was a pause. Rae Sloane raised one eyebrow, sighed and spoke, sincerity and sternness in her voice.
“Well...I’ll be honest, that is a very tempting offer, Lady Ba’Vira. And...after some consideration, here is what I say to that.” She cleared her throat before continuing.
“Not if you offered me every sewage-smeared precious stone in your entire inbred-haven Cluster. I say with utter certainty that the only reason I would ever set foot on Hapes is to shove angry womp rats up every orifice your bullying, self-righteous Consortium presented to me, you overbearing, tarted-up, posturing sack of Bantha droppings.”
“Wh-what?!” Olva Ba’Vira shrieked, equal parts rage and alarm “But...why?!”
“Because, Miss Ba’Vira, if there’s anything I’ve learned rising up the ranks in the Empire it’s that when a woman is faced with injustice she must fight it, she must break it, she must crush it to dust before the eyes of those who built it...What she must not do is wield it herself!” Her voice having grown into a yell, her fingers tightened on the front seat blaster controls “And that, milady, is why my ‘proper salutation’ comes to you from down a blaster barrel, proudly made in Ganthel by men and women of the Empire, and to that I say good-night!”
Pip found himself instinctively gasping, watching with horror as a pair of pale cyan spheres shot out the front of their ship and headed straight for the Primaruda.
“...Rae...what did you...”
As the sphere’s hit, the Primaruda was spent spinning wildly at every angle as every light on it dimmed or fizzed out.
Yet it stayed in one piece.
Pip didn’t want to think about how long he’d held his breath before Rae patted him on the head.
“Hey, kid, relax. That didn’t kill anyone.” she said nonchalantly “They’re concussion shots. They short-circuit every device on a star-fighter. All this means is that they can’t fight back against us or anyone else.”
Pip blinked.
“And...what happens to them now?”
Rae and Parisian gave him a slightly confused glance, as if they couldn’t understand why he’d be concerned.
“Either they wait for their systems to repair themselves and shove off back to Hapes or they drift into an Imperial fleet who’ll probably escort them back to Hapes after relieving them of anything stolen or harmful.” Parisian summarised.
“Either way,” Rae said gruffly stretched her hands and pressed down on the handles again “For at least a few days and a month at the most, they’ll float there and think about what they did. Now, let’s get back on course.”
*
The office of the Papanoida’s was a large, grand, stately suite, adorned with cream and maroon, overlooking the steamy wetlands of Pantora below.
Yularen felt small in the room. It was terribly quiet.
He felt uneasy talking in a place like this under such circumstances. Yet there seemed no other place to do so.
Chi-Eekway, draped in her Wroonian robe and hood, sat down on a settee, clutching the edges of her robe making her appear as if she were hiding in a cocoon.
“Mr Yularen...” she began “My father says that, at these times, I can trust you. I hope you can trust me and my family in return.”
“Of course, ma’am.” he and Panaka sat down opposite her “If Pantora is under threat, which it evidently seems to be, the Empire will do all they can to see its citizens protected.”
“Very well.” Her voice was quiet and dissonantly calm “I was involved in the Delegation of 2000...at first. Many of my friends stood among them. But then...Panaka and Doriana spoke to me.”
“So...you took our concerns to heart?” Panaka asked.
“Well, they made sense in the broad scheme of things. If the emergency powers went right back to the Senate, they’d just end up using them against each other. That was exactly how the Clone Wars started in the first place. And, when I asked Amidala or Organa or Mothma or any of the others, they never really answered if that would happen or not, just that it was important for them, as Senators of the Republic, as servants of democracy, to follow this course of action.” she shook her head “The way they said it, it sounded like they’d be fine with every life in the galaxy threatened with another war worse than the last, all for the sake of their ‘principles’.”
Yularen nodded. One corrupt senate had plunged the galaxy into war. Who was to say another couldn’t do the same?
“I voiced my concerns but no-one seemed to want to listen. They said the statement of goodwill alone would discourage their opposition from starting another conflict but...that didn’t sound like a lot of the opposition I knew. And when they found out I’d been speaking with Doriana, Fang Zar and Sweitt Concorkill especially, grew downright hostile towards me.” She looked downcast “When I found out they were trying to get in touch with Chuchi behind my back, I could see that I wasn’t wanted and I headed home.”
“It sounds like you did nothing more than do what you thought was right, Miss Papanoida.” Yularen said gently “But...you must tell us, how does Berec fit into this?”
Chi-Eekway sighed.
“Berec is...was...a freedom-fighter and political campaigner on Bakura who caught the eye of the Delegation. He was the son of a mine-foreman who was trying to get Bakura officially recognised and represented on the Senate. Before, most people just regarded it as a forge world where minerals and materials were crafted and transferred to the Republic’s arsenal.”
“Yes, yes, we’re aware. What happened? Who was in contact with him?”
“Zar and Concorkill, they were quite close. Bel Iblis and Organa agreed to meet him but none of them spoke about it afterwards. Bel Iblis said he liked him but Organa didn’t seem so sure. Berec was apparently training a planetary militia and...as far as I know...was asking the other Senators to send him recruits as a means to, what was it he said...” She thought a moment “...‘give their propositions weight’.”
Yularen shook his head. Militarisation and armed coercion? Exactly what the Delegation claimed to be against.
“When Mothma found out, she said that Berec could serve as a speaker but she didn’t want him representing his planet. Of course, Palpatine had to find out and he placed Nils Tennant, you remember him, as Moff of Bakura in the last years of the Clone Wars. And then I left the Delegation. I’m afraid that’s when my contact with them ceased.”
“So Berec must have been the one to head the Miner’s Revolt.” Panaka supposed.
In the first year of the Empire, Bakura had been stage to a bloody revolution where local workers and soldiers attacked the Imperial Garrison and mounted a coup. Nils Tennant and his family were executed in the city square. In retaliation, Tarkin, Tennant’s childhood friend, had led a brutal counter-revolution alongside other personal friends of Tennant such as Conan Antonio Motti, Hurst Romodi, Sander Delvardus, Bannidge Holt and Ardus Kaine, all under Tarkin’s Night Hammer Command (The HoloNet news nicknamed the Generals ‘The Hammer Bros’).
“I was told Berec and every one of his family were executed.” Chi-Eekway said gravely “It sounds as though he, evidently, survived.”
Yularen nodded, harbouring knowledge unknown to her.
As Director of ISB, he was privy to information few wanted spread.
Nee Alavar, the Lorrdian Senator, known for her outspokenness and rigid ideals, had secretly been Mas Amedda’s contact among the Delegation, feeding Palpatine’s office information. Little of what the Delegation did escaped them and Yularen was quite certain that the moment the word ‘armament’ was mentioned, the Inner Circle took the opportunity to crack down. Of course, none could know of Alavar’s involvement, so when the Delegation were branded traitors, she and all her independent associates were the first to be executed.
Yularen had always hated politics.
“That all seems fair.” Yularen said flatly, rising to his feet “I believe we can consider this a need-to-know matter among the Imperial leadership. You have freely co-operated and thus you and your family can, indefinitely, be considered an innocent party in this affair. We shall, of course, contact you or your father in any more matters that concern them.”
“Thank you, Mr Yularen. When the Empire landed on our planet, I can’t tell you how glad I was to know you were leading them.”
“Your faith in us is highly appreciated, ma’am. We’ll see ourselves out.”
As Yularen and Panaka paced towards the door, Ion Papanoida entered. To their surprise, he gave a salute.
“Director Yularen. Moff Panaka. I understand that, whatever my sister may have said, there is a chance that the Imperial leadership or inner circle may consider my family suspect in this matter.” he said crisply.
Before either of them could answer, the young Pantoran placed his fist over his chest and clicked his heels.
“Then hopefully, this will eliminate that chance. Consider this my enlistment.”
“Ion?!” Chi-Eekway stood up with alarm “What are you doing?”
“My duty as a Papanoida, a Pantoran and a friend. If you are pursuing Favon Berec with intent to bring him to justice, I have to be there. I have to be a part of his downfall and see him brought to justice, whether in the Emperor’s court or on the battlefield.” His eyes were blazing “Riyo Chuchi was the kindest, finest woman I ever knew and that murdering son of a murglak is going to burn for what he did to her.”
The two men glanced at each other a moment.
“Ion...don’t you know what you this will mean?” Chi-Eekway stammered “I mean, it’s safe here. In the garrison...there’s no telling what might happen to you.”
“I’ll take the risk.” the boy declared “I know where my loyalty lies and it is not with Riyo’s killers. If people who once called ourselves our friends have abused our trust in this way, then they need to answer for it. I need to do this, Chi...” His voice wavered “For Riyo, if not for everyone who loved her.”
Chi-Eekway, gloomy-faced, nodded slightly but said nothing.
“Very well, young Master Papanoida.” Yularen said primly “I advise you to explain yourself to Thrawn. He’ll make the necessary arrangements. Now we must depart to oversee the battles to come. Hopefully, they shall be few.”
Before leaving, he gave one last declaration.
“I promise the Papanoida’s and Pantora solemnly...justice will be done.”
*
Coruscant was unlike anything Pip had ever imagined.
In truth, he’d never liked the city. He hated the crowds and noise and confusion, it made him feel even smaller than he already was.
On an entire planet that was one big city, towering spires and funnels reaching up into the sky like claws and domes and amphitheatres as big as Ponyville and trailing caravans of ships and shuttles floating between them, he felt certain he was going to end up stepped on at some point.
The great ochre and azure haze of Coruscant dazzled them as they approached. A few TIE Fighters and a floating security platform hovered before them a moment before departing as Rae Sloane drifted the Lupercal over the cityscape.
Parisian checked the overhead navicomp and directed Rae to the rendezvous point.
It was mid-evening. The city was slow at this time of day.
“Here we are,” he said at last after much flying “Kalpana Street Mechanics.”
With a resounding hum that steadily faded to silence, the Lupercal landed on a large platform close by a modest little house. The side of Coruscant they were on avoided both the blinding lights of the industrial district, where work was constant and no-one saw anyone sleep, and the entertainment district, the depths of Coruscant providing them with an endless artificial night where vice and crime ruled all. Nearby was Dexter’s Diner, or what had once been Dexter’s Diner. Rae wasn’t sure what it was now. No-one had seen Dexter Jettster since the Clone Wars. A diner still stood but she’d never yet set foot in there.
Stretching her legs, she was joined by Pip who tottered in, followed by Parisian and Dusk with their luggage.
“Finally.” Rae sighed “Flat, unmoving ground again. So Pip, how was your first starship-ride?”
“Well...” Pip chuckled nervously “I can’t say it was like anything I can remember. I think my head’s still spinning a bit.”
“Don’t worry, Pip. Everyone needs time to get their head for space. First time I took Parisian, I had to change the seats.”
Rae gave something between a chuckle of approval and a gulp of dread as a collection of familiar faces strode in.
Eight mechanics, all young women, shapely and grinning at the officer. Five human, three alien.
Jonava ‘Smokin Jo’ Belstar, the tomboy with close-cropped blonde hair.
Ardanna Cynn, the luxurious Rutian Twi’lek.
Kandria Valouri, the crimson-haired Corellian.
Daer’ey’ath, the enigmatic Chiss beauty.
Tallisibeth Kel’Vannon, the tallest of the group with dark-auburn hair tied up behind her head.
Aleyna Ulyette-Kalosi, the lithe, slender Mirialan.
Laera Cross, bespectacled, her ponytail a rich scarlet.
And Kimmy Skylow, her blonde hair spiky and died pink in strands.
She knew for a fact some of them used names that weren’t their own. She also knew for a fact they weren’t fans of what the Empire did as a whole but they valued what few friends they had within it. Rae was one of them.
When she first met them on her first year as a patroller, they were on the run, hunted by a depraved Aqualish gang leader going by the rather unsubtle name of Gabo the Wicked.
She’d taken them in, helped them find work at the garrison and gladly aided them in persuading Gabo to leave them be.
Which he did.
Readily.
Regardless of what they got up to in their own time, she knew she alone could trust them.
More than most people she knew in the Empire.
All of them wore the usual jacket of an Imperial Servicewoman but their legs were bare. Rae tried not to look too obviously at them as they sauntered towards her, their hips swaying in unison.
“Hey...girls.”
“Rae Sloane, sweet Coronet, we’ve missed you.” Kandria sighed, slinking her arm around Rae’s and fluttering her eyelashes..
“How’ve you been keepin’?” Jo asked, clasping Rae’s shoulder “Hear you’ve got your own platoon now. Bet that’s livening things up.”
“Cute mascot.” Aleyna giggled as she bent down and ruffled the silent Pipsqueak’s mane “We got our own recently...A BD-3000, rose-standard. I think you’ll like her.”
Rae edged back slightly and cleared her throat.
“I wasn’t aware you were back on Coruscant.”
“We’re filling in jobs at Kalpana Street.” Ardanna said with a shrug “The Mechanics service is a pretty easy deal. They’re always taking volunteers.”
“And some of them actually do their job.” A gruff but not unpleasant voice sounded as a bulky, middle-aged man paced out the door to one of the houses where the mechanics dwelt beside their workstations. His hair was wheat-gold and grown down to his neck with an impressive beard. His eyes had a tired, weathered look but his smile was a warm one.
“Torland Storm.” he said “Our...resident told us you’d be here today.”
“Really? Literally today? He was sure?”
“On the hour.” Torland shook his head “I hope you’re taking him with you, he’s been insufferable.”
“No worries, sir. It’s all in hand.” Rae gave him a reassuring nod, then turned to Tallisabeth.
“As long as you girls are on your shift, my ship could need a bit of a buff-up.” she said, gesturing to the battle-worn Lupercal “Slight engine rupture, a few glitches in the navicomp, dented stern...We had a hard rub with a Hapan.”
“You lucky thing.” Tallisabeth cracked a wry smile.
“Yeah, not funny.” Rae replied flatly “I suppose I don’t get free service as an officer?”
“Dream on, girl. Rose-Quartz Bettybots don’t pay for themselves.” Laera Cross answered bluntly, checking out the ship “Though, since you’re a friend, you’re liable to receive some...perks.”
“Great. How much do you charge?”
“Seventy-eight credits an hour plus expenses.”
“Wha...just for that?!” Rae spluttered indignantly before Laera held up her hands apologetically.
“Hey, I didn’t say the perk was a discount.”
“Then what is it?”
The girls fixed Rae with a devilish smirk.
“You’ll see.”
Shaking her head, Rae budged past the throng of old acquaintances and followed Torland to his house.
“Parisian, close your mouth, your letting the flies in.”
The young corporal, his mind having been very busy up to then, mumbled and blinked.
“Yes, sir. I wasn’t doing anyone...thing! Anything!”
“Officers, please.” Dusk sighed “There’s a child present.”
“You’re not my mum, trooper.” Rae sighed as they entered a small but comfortable lounge.
A young man in a white Imperial Officer’s garb with a crimson cloak reclined on a couch, brushing through a hologram with indistinct images on it. His face was shockingly pale, almost snow-white against the cream of the wall and floor. His hair, in contrast, was a dark mahogany and hung shoulder-length in curls. The way he was, he looked rather effeminate, greener than Parisian Froul.
Yet as he turned to face them, his eyes fixed Rae with a steely glint, his chrome-coloured irises shining at any distance.
He gave a smile.
“Welcome to Coruscant, Miss Sloane, Master Froul, Master Pipsqueak.” He got to his feet and held out a hand “I’m Gallius Rax. Charmed.”
Awkwardly, Rae and Parisian shook the hand of this strange individual. Pip was quiet throughout, looking up at the man with curiosity and some amount of dread.
Thrawn had at least been easy to see how dangerous he could be, yet had proven amiable around him.
This man, though, was an even greater enigma. There was something about his eyes Pip found...foreboding.
“How was your journey?”
“As well as can be expected when-”
“Wasn’t really interested. Onto business.” Gallius interrupted, slumping back on the cough nonchalantly “Gume Saam’s here. His contacts are in with the former local authorities. We know the criminal classes are offering him protection but we can’t count on the local garrison. Discretion is key to uncovering what Saam and, by extension, Toora, are up to.”
“Very well.” Rae brushed her uniform in preparation “Will be working through the night?”
“Not this night. You’ve had a long journey and I think we could all do with some refreshment and sleep.” Gallius gestured to the kitchen.
“Storm and his family have been very obliging, despite themselves. They have drink if you like, though if you're hungry, you're out of luck. It not that they don't have any food, it's that Mrs Storm's cooking is unspeakable. I dread to imagine what unfortunate animal ended its days in her stew. All I know is that it has a lot of fat, not a lot of meat and some sort of disease. It won't kill you though you'll wish it would. Though I have often found that it is only when the dish is tempting that one must beware. Poisoners invariably choose the choicest dishes...”
He turned and saw a woman standing in the doorway looking more than a little irritated. His nonchalant expression didn't change.
“Good evening, Mrs Storm...Is supper ready?” he asked.
Tutting, the woman turned to Rae and Parisian. She was around Torland’s age but far from bulky, being of quite slim build, her blue eyes slightly tired-looking and her ink-black hair tied in a bun behind her head, fastened with a little blue-metal brooch. She gave her two new guests a gentle smile.
“Dinner’s on the table if anyone's hungry.”
“Of course. We thank you for your hospitality.” Rae said, bowing as she, Parisian and Pip headed to the kitchen, Gallius remaining in his spot, leafing through his holograms.
Dinner was a modest but pleasant affair, Pip sat on Rae’s lap and eating from her plate like the dinner at Eriadu. Contrary to Rax's statements, their cooking was excellent. Torland and Pendre Storm were a jovial couple and congratulated Rae on her efforts. Though they didn’t sing praises of the Empire, they seemed supportive enough, the planet having seen far worse days before the Clone Wars in the sea of corruption the Senate had waded in. They said they had a son a few years younger than Parisian who was out most nights.
In truth, Pip was only half-listening. He was quiet, eating slowly and his eyes were looking into nothing.
After dinner, once Rae had washed and was preparing a little fort of cushions and blankets for Pip to sleep on at the end of her bed, she turned to the little colt and asked.
“You feeling okay, kid?”
“Hm...” Pip mumbled sleepily “Sorry Rae...Just a lot on my mind. I didn't want to draw attention to myself too much.”
“I understand.” Rae ruffled his mane “Don’t worry. This won’t last forever. While you’re with me, you’re safe. And if things in Equestria are as good as they must be for you to miss it so much, they’re working on getting you home.”
“I suppose.” he said flatly “Thanks for taking care of me though...I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there on...wherever that place was?”
“Umbara.” Rae answered “Don’t worry, I can see you’ve had a pretty full day. Sleep’ll probably help a lot.”
“Rae?” Pip asked tentatively, crawling into the pillow fort “I know this might be a weird question but...your friends back there.”
“Yeah?” Rae’s tone was awkward.
“They seem very close...to you, I mean?”
“Yeah, why is it an issue?”
“Well...I don’t mean anything bad here but...are you gay?”
Rae was quiet. She wasn’t quite sure how to react.
The question wasn’t one she’d never heard before but the talking pony from yesterday’s news had so far been the only person to simply ask straight out.
“...What would you say if I said I was?”
“I’d be alright with it. I was just puzzled.” Pip gave a shrug “I mean, I know quite a few mares who like mares and stallions who like stallions...Well I don’t know them but I know of them. There’s Lyra, Tootsie Flute’s music teacher, and Bonbon who runs the Candy Store. There’s Silver Spoon’s cousin Octavia and the DJ Vinyl Scratch. There’s Perry Pace and Timber Spruce, Alma Rose and Lemon Hearts. I’m pretty sure Babs Seeds, Bloom’s cousin, has something going with Twist but no-one’s certain. And somepony said Rainbow Dash kissed Fluttershy once but I don’t think that means...”
“Okay, kid.” Rae chuckled slightly “So...you’re no stranger to the concept.”
“Course not. If you love somepony, you love somepony, that’s what we say. I won’t think less of you, it’s natural.”
“Very mature attitude...” Rae gave him a smile “Well...to be honest, I’m kind of both ways. But whatever the case, I keep my personal and my professional life separate.”
“Ah...I suppose I’ve kind of got in the way of that.”
“Pip...” Rae ruffled his mane and rubbed his cheek, a sense of fondness blooming in her, her smile wider and more tender than ever “You’re worth it. I promise.”
“Thanks, Rae...Thanks so much.” Relaxed at last, Pip nestled down and placed his head flat on the pillow.
Rae reached for the light.
“Sleep well, Pip.”
“Good night, Rae.”
*
That whistle.
That whistle of the sliding door.
It jerked Pip out of his sleep.
Where had it come from?
His head poked out of the makeshift bed as he looked around.
Quiet. All very quiet.
Maybe someone was in the bathroom.
Speaking of which, he was thirsty.
Taking care not to wake Rae Sloane, sound asleep close by him, Pip crawled out onto the floor and tottered quietly to the bathroom. Mrs Storm had pointed him to it before they went to bed, he remembered. It was through the lounge, just opposite Rae’s room.
He hoped the water wouldn’t cause any problems for him. He remembered the first time he’d stayed at the Apple family residence he’d drunk a little tap water and felt very sick.
Still, if the city had such technology like he’d never imagined, it couldn’t be that bad for him. Just to be on the safe side, he kept his drink small.
There was another whistle. Pip’s ear pricked tensely.
Silently walking back to his room, Pip noticed the next whistle was very close by.
Someone else was in the house.
And they were getting nearer.
His mind was a lightning-fast storm, glancing in every direction. There wasn’t enough time to reach Rae’s bedroom before whoever was coming opened the door.
He wasn’t sure any of the other bedrooms were unlocked.
And there was no telling which room the intruders were headed for.
The closest thing next to him was a medium-sized box. Dusk had brought it in.
Opening the box, Pip crawled into it and snapped the lid shut as the door to the lounge slid open.
In the darkness of the box, Pip lay utterly still. Familiar voices sounded in whispers.
“Right. There, so far so good.” A woman’s voice, slightly low “Just be careful with the doors, Ayy. Remember, use the manual override. It’s slower but quieter.”
“Uh...sorry, Lunae. Mine doesn’t work.” Another woman’s voice, higher and more stressed “I...kinda dropped it in the shower.”
“Oh for crying out loud. Just stick with me and shut up. Now...if this works...”
Something blinked in front of Pip, bare inches from his muzzle in the box.
He glanced at it.
It was his little pendant he’d worn around his neck at the dinner at Eriadu, still attached to its ribbon. It was blinking red.
“There, see. Let’s get this to the boss, then we’re outta’ here.”
“Thank goodness. I can’t take another day of this.”
Pip’s heart lurched as he felt the box moving.
One of the women outside had picked up the box and was taking it out the house.
He clasped a hoof over his mouth. Yet more than anything, he wanted to cry out.
But what if the intruders were armed? What about Rae, Parisian, Dusk, the Storms?
How had they even got in? What his pendant doing there and why was it blinking?
Had someone set them up?
Huddling into a corner, shutting his eyes tight and hoping the box wouldn’t sway too much for him to lose control, he gave a slight whimper he wasn’t even sure was just in his thoughts.
His mouth felt dry. That was the worst thing he found.
Pipsqueak didn’t do well without his morning tea. No Trottingham pony ever did.
He’d been sleeping on his side on a pile of scrap paper and utensils. The box he found himself inside was barely big enough to fit a foal even of his size. Each joint in his legs ached bitterly.
He gave a groan.
Then his eyes snapped open as he remembered what had happened last night.
“Did you hear that?”
‘Oh bother’
Instinctively, he tried to get up and find a way out, were there one to be found.
Women’s voices could be heard outside. Familiar voices.
“Is that...Is that coming from the box?”
“Why would it...Oh, don’t tell me...”
Footsteps approached before Pip could even comprehend the surroundings.
Light hit his eyes, bizarre pink, blue, red and purple lights above bathed the room in a heady luminescence. A woman was staring at him.
It was the red and yellow twi’lek he’d seen on the Hellfire, her eyes wide with shock.
Pip looked up at her with an awkward glance.
“Um...hello.” he mumbled “I’m...terribly sorry, I think I’ve got the wrong room.”
“Lunae! Lunae! It’s him!” The twi’lek cried out.
The other twi’lek showed herself, the stockier, lilac one. She too stared dumbfounded at the little colt.
“You’re kidding...” she said flatly “Please...tell me you’re kidding?”
“No, no, see. It’s the little animal from before!”
“Pony. I’m a pony.” Pip piped up.
The red and yellow twi’lek raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly.
“What like...on Endor? I didn’t know you little guys could talk?”
“Ayy! Shut up and focus!” Lunae gave her colleague a clip round the back of the head, scowling “Look, get this thing out of there and for star’s sake, look for the documents!”
Pip found himself hoisted into the air by the scruff of his neck. With a nervous yelp, his tiny legs waving at thin-air, he caught sight of Lunae’s furious glare and paled.
“Listen, whatever you are. I don’t know how you got here or what you’re playing at but you’d better not have screwed this up!” She glanced down at Ayy who was rummaging through the box he’d been cramped in a moment ago and spoke with exasperation.
“Well? Is it in there?”
“I-I-I d-don’t know.”
Lunae covered her face with a rigid hand and gasped.
“No, no, no, gimme’ a break!”
“It’s gotta’ be here somewhere, don’t worry.”
“Um...can I help?” Pip mumbled, who swiftly learned it wasn’t smart practice to ask that with tension so high.
“No! No! Just shut up!” Lunae snapped, pacing around the room, still gripping him by the scruff. Pip was starting to feel a bit ill swaying to and fro in mid-air.
“Where’s the key?” Lunae mumbled as she went through a pile of things on a small, shiny, black table.
Taking in the room, the place looked large but almost purposefully stifling.
There were no windows. The red-violet light and sheer black furniture somehow made the room feel a lot hotter than it was inside and there was a pounding bass music from some large room below that reverberated within.
The whole place made him dizzy just to look around.
Impatiently, Lunae took some sort of fob-like object from a drawer and paced over to the corner of the room.
Pip saw there was a cage in the corner, a lofty specimen definitely tall enough to house a person fully standing up and wide enough to stretch fully. What it was doing here was anyone’s guess but it didn’t fill him with a lot of hope to know they kept such a thing in their room.
Ayy looked up with a concerned look.
“Lunae, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m not letting this thing get in the way, okay!”
“But we can’t put him in there!” The red and yellow twi’lek stood up and stared appalled.
“Why not?! No-one uses this and where else are we gonna’ keep him?!”
“But Lunae...” Ayy glanced at Pip and spoke in an awkward mumble.
“That’s where they put the...strpprs...” She said the last word out the side of her mouth, trying not to let the foal hear.
Lunae cupped her temples in her free hand then used that hand to slap her friend at the side of the head.
“Ayy! Focus! It is not important where we put it!” She threw her arm at the box and pointed with force, yelling each word “Box! Documents! Find them! Now!”
“Okay, okay, sorry...” Ayy shook her head bashfully and went back to the box. Lunae pressed the fob against a panel at the cage’s base. Five bars rose up into the top, making way for whatever went inside, in this case Pip himself who Lunae tossed inside like a garbage bag.
“Lu, c’mon.” Ayy whined “Be gentle with him.”
Lunae turned back to her and spoke sternly, reminding Pip of his mum if she ever ran out of patience with somepony, which thankfully wasn’t often.
“Ayy, I don’t want you talking until you find those frakking documents, okay. The boss’ll be here any...”
The door gave an electric hum. The instant the sound filled the room, the two twi’leks froze, their faces pictures of dread.
As they slowly turned, the door opened.
Pip watched as several individuals walked in.
The first was a woman with pigtails, wearing tight black and maroon leather with shoulder pads and a plain semi-circular headdress. In the dim light, Pip first assumed she was human but as she drew near, he was taken aback.
The woman’s face wasn’t so much wrinkled as ridged, thick and leathery, as if dried in the sun. She lacked lips and her nose was flattened against her face, a frill along each of her jowels. Her eyes were a dull green and deep-set, her furrowed eyebrows set in a suspicious scowl. Her hands, consisting of two huge, thick, clawed fingers and a tiny thumb, we set on her hips. Pip thought her appearance was almost like a cross between ape and alligator wrapped around the body of a human.
The second was a very curious creature indeed. It was squat, hunched and yellow-green with a tall, narrow head and four short horns on either side of four goggle eyes. Around those, wide, fan-like ears; a large, flat nose with gaping nostrils, more like a parrot’s beak than anything else; and a great, m-shaped jaw with smatterings of small teeth sticking out. He was dressed in a dented metal collar and shoulder pads, the rest of his body obscured by a dusky brown cloak with intricate dark inscriptions upon it. His gnarled, three-fingered hands were tipped with stubby claws and were constantly twitching, dipping into his cloak now and again to check for mystery items. His four eyes were wide and one tended to twitch. His massive mouth was glistening with drool.
The third was obscured almost entirely by a great red robe and gown, topped by a shroud that hid all but her eyes from view, showing through a visor like a pair of inbuilt sunglasses. Her hands were shown, tattooed with bizarre writings. Everything else was a mystery.
For a moment, there was silence in the room.
“You girls don’t look all too busy.” The leathery woman said, her voice low and croaky, reminiscent of the accent of the Trottingham gangs back in Equestria, as she approached the two twi’leks.
“Uh...look, Tas. We have what you asked us to...”
Lunae’s words were cut off as the woman named Tas placed a hand on the lilac twi’lek’s shoulder. Flipping it up, a knife flicked out just above her wrist, extending a bare inch from the twi’lek’s neck. Lunae paled, her brow cold with sweat. Ayy crouched beside the box she’d been searching, wide-eyed, cupping her mouth with both hands.
Tas gave them both a look.
“That’s ‘Miss Kee’, you snivelling trollops.” she hissed before patting down Lunae’s shoulder and stepping back “Now...make yourselves presentable.”
The red-robed woman held out a hand and spoke as more footsteps approached.
“Bear witness to the entry of the King of Coruscant, the mighty Hat Lo.”
Pip stared as this ‘King’ made his entrance.
Hat Lo was perhaps the strangest sight Pip had ever seen. He entered in a floor-length lavender robe and a great, intricate, indigo collar that stood high around his neck and head.
It would have likely made a very majestic sight if Hat Lo stood over four-and-a-half feet tall.
If the humans Pip had seen so far were anything to go by, the robe Hat Lo was wearing wouldn’t have come up to their knees and the collar he was wearing was far too tall for him, obscuring most of his mouth and all of his neck and chin.
Pip could see enough of his head though, fleshy, puce and wrinkled, thin hair and eyebrows making the creases in his brow that much more prominent, his baggy, blue-grey eyes cold and hungry.
Himself smaller than the average pony, Pip could somewhat relate but with the enormous garb he wore, the towering associates at his back, and his self-proclaimed ‘Kingliness’, it was all he could do not to burst out laughing at the sight.
Yet the two twi’leks stood rigidly to attention, their entire bodies gripped by fear.
It didn’t take long for Pip to gather that this was an angry little man.
An angry little man who liked hurting people.
As he turned to face them fully, Pip saw that he was carrying some kind of walking stick. There were buttons on it close to his hand, his ring-adorned fingers tapping on them impatiently.
Again, there was silence.
Ayy glanced at Lunae nervously and mumbled.
“H-h-hello boss...We were, uh...I mean, we’ve...”
Hat Lo raised a hand, silencing them both. With his raised hand, he snapped his fingers. With a bow, the red-robed woman glided over to a machine on the wall, held a fob to it and pressed a few buttons.
A moment of heavy silence later, she brought out a large cocktail glass of shimmering, vibrant liquid, opened a draw, placed in it a long extendable straw and held it graciously to her boss. Hat Lo manoeuvred the straw into his mouth, hidden in his collar. There came a slurping sound before he waved the woman away. The drink was placed on a table and the attendants stood stock-still as Hat Lo cleared his throat and spoke.
“My dear girls...” his voice was dry and hoarse yet trying to sound cordial “It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that your selfishness is starting to become problematic to my various invaluable business interests. Now, I’m as eager for the end result of your endeavour as you must be. However, don’t forget that everything has a time limit to it. Grav-Ball, Podracing, the Galactic Stock Exchange...hell, even sex.”
“Mr Lo...” Lunae began in a shaky voice “We’ve done as you asked and we’ve...kept in contact as best as we could under the circumstances. As before, we are very sorry but we weren’t to know that the ship we were on would take a detour to...”
Hat Lo slammed the butt of his walking stick against the floor. Lunae’s mouth snapped shut.
“Listen...” the little man’s voice grew a lot more growly “You and the lovely Miss Vida here are the only ones who care about the small details. What matters is that arranging to get you home cost me four-hundred-thousand credits. I suppose that’s the price of success...that is, if you weren’t supposed to have gotten back two months ago.”
Tas Kee withdrew her wrist knife again and the four-eyed alien grinned obscenely as Hat Lo snapped his fingers again. The red-robed woman reached into her gown, withdrew a flat box of thin black sticks and handed it to Hat Lo who placed it in his obscured mouth, lit it with a fob he took out of the top of his walking stick and smoked whatever stick it was.
Pip had always hated smoking. It reminded him too much of his father.
“Now...” Hat Lo continued “Personally, I have a hard time believing this but some of my colleagues think...Well, they think you might be trying to screw us over. As in, take advantage of the care and generosity I have shown you all these years, paid for in no small part by them. I’m sure you can imagine how upset that would make them.”
Pip could hear Ayy gulping.
“But I wouldn’t worry, sweethearts. Lucky for you, I don’t believe a word of what they’re saying...And you’d better hope I’m right.” His voice grew venomous, like a hissing cat “Because if what they’re saying turns out to be true, I’m going to have to cut you in places where you do not want to be cut!”
“B-b-boss, it’s...It’s okay.” Lunae held up her hands apologetically “We have the plans, I promise. Ayy’s just searching for them.”
“That’s good to hear. But what’ll be better is if the plans are in my hand.” Hat Lo held out an open hand meaningfully “And by better, I mean ‘Won’t be reason enough to let Mumpfasoom here show you why they called him ‘The Butcher of Almak.” At this, the squat, four-eyed alien grinned openly, showing off slavering jaws and a lapping tongue, his eyes boggling wildly.
It steadily dawned on Pip that these were not people to be trifled with.
It also dawned on him that these twi'leks, Ayy and Lunae, were under their protection.
And he was not.
Hat Lo paced on his stubby little legs over closer towards them.
Pip then realised he and his three associates had caught sight of him.
The boss cleared his throat and spoke.
“And would you care to explain just what the frakking hell is that?” He jabbed the air with his walking stick.
“Uh...he followed us-No! He didn’t follow us!” Lunae exclaimed, noticing Tas Kee drawing the knife again and Mumpfasoom licking his lips “He um...well...”
“He stowed himself away in the box we found the plans in.” Ayy Vida piped up, looking up from the box.
There was another weighty pause.
“How?” Hat Lo asked.
“We’re...not quite sure.”
Hat Lo shook his head in his high collar and muttered.
“By the stars, I know I don’t pay you for your brains but damn it...” He gave Ayy a snarl “Find those stinking plans already!”
“Y-y-yes, sir.” Bending down, the red-and-yellow twi’lek continued to search through the box frantically. Behind her, Hat Lo gave a half-hidden smile, raised his walking stick out in front of him and pointed the tip of it at Ayy Vida’s backside. He pressed a button and a buzzing electric charge crackled against the twi’lek girl’s buttock. Ayy gave a high-pitched shriek and bolted upright, clutching the mark the shocker had made on her rear. As Hat Lo and his associates gave cruel chuckles as Lunae Minx bit her lip, hiding anger, and Ayy Vida gave Hat Lo a frightened, pleading look.
“P-p-please, boss. I’m looking for it, I-I’m going as fast as I can.”
“Well if you were faster, I wouldn’t get bored, now would I?” Hat sneered before turning his cruel gaze towards the colt.
“And what are you supposed to be? How did you find your way into the company of my girls here?
Pip stared, stock-still at the crime boss, eye to eye from the elevation of his cage.
He fought to keep his voice level and his eyes away from the tip of the walking stick.
“M-my name is...Pipsqueak, sir.”
Hat Lo sniggered behind his collar.
“Pipsqueak? Well...can’t say the name don’t suit ya.”
“Now look here, Mr Hat...Er...Lo...This is all a misunderstanding.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.” Hat Lo nodded, holding up the walking stick again “But another way of looking at it is that you’ve been poking your nose where it don’t belong.” The tip crackled with electricity again, causing Pipsqueak to jump in his hooves.
“You know what happens when I find something where it don’t belong?”
The colt gulped, staring at the blue coils of voltage at the walking stick’s end.
“I have a...fairly good idea, sir.”
“Ooh, a fairly good idea, sir.” Hat Lo mimicked Pipsqueak’s voice in a squeaky, exaggerated accent “You talk fine, I’ll say that. But in this part of Coruscant, talking fine doesn’t always keep you fine.”
As Pip felt his little hooves trembling, he remembered the words of his godmother, Blue Murder. She was tough, she was straightforward and always ready with advice whenever Pip had trouble with the bigger colts.
‘Never show fear. That’s what they want. Whenever somepony’s trying to make you afraid, it just shows how afraid they are. They need you to be afraid to make themselves feel braver. It’s a sure sign of a weak heart and mind behind a big empty show. And a brave little colt like you shouldn’t ever be afraid of that.’
It was her words that had got him in many places he found comfortable, namely ignoring Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon’s taunts whenever he tried to talk to Dinky.
Standing steady on his hooves, Pip gave a quiet shrug and simply turned away.
He could practically hear Hat Lo’s knuckles tensing.
“You making fun of me, you little pissant?!” he snarled “You know what your sorry ass’ll be in for if I find out...”
“B-b-boss?”
All eyes turned to Ayy Vida staring tentatively at her employer, holding up what looked like a flat, black card. Hat Lo snatched it dismissively and scowled at the colt.
“You’re damn lucky I ain’t got the time to teach you some manners! But once this is done, you and me are gonna’ have a nice little chat.”
The door hummed but didn’t open. Not long after, there came a quick knock.
“Miss Nod.” Hat Lo ordered “The door please.”
The red-robed woman they called Nod bowed and opened the door as a nasally, whiny voice sounded from the newcomer.
“M-M-Mr Lo...H-have you got them, yet? The...important plans?”
Pip resisted laughing as a ridiculous-looking man entered. His face was flabby and queasy-pale, his eyes were droopy and dull. He was balding and must have assumed his comb-over hid that fact, his nose was tiny and turned-up like a rodent and his lips were moist and fish-like, twisted with nervousness.
With a pot-belly and bandy little legs, he walked in a manner similar to a duck or goose. There was little intimidating about this man.
Yet Hat Lo held out his hands in welcome, the black card still in his grasp.
“You’ve come at the perfect time...Inspector Tan Divo.”
*
Parisian Froul ate breakfast at the usual hour but the space caper yesterday had stopped him sleeping that well. Unlike his father, he’d never had much of a head for the stars.
His light blonde hair was scruffy in the morning as he ate the plain but filling cereal from the bowl.
Gallius Rax was at the table along with the Dusk Trooper. Neither of them were eating.
Parisian wondered if they ever did.
As Pendre produced another round of tea, Rae Sloane emerged, bedecked in a dressing gown with a towel wrapped around her head.
Gallius Rax cocked an eyebrow and spoke sarcastically.
“Well done, Lieutenant, breakfast at o’ eleven-hundred on investigations. Wouldn’t the Emperor be proud.”
“Sorry...” Rae sighed sleepily “I was in the showers.”
“For two and a half hours?”
The Lieutenant’s eyes shifted about awkwardly.
“The girls wouldn’t let me leave.” she mumbled.
There was a pause. Parisian’s mind went rather busy.
“...Could you explain what you mean by that?”
“...No.” Rae reached for a cup of tea and practically gulped it down.
Torland Storm had been having breakfast around the same time after tending to the fuel tanks and boilers around the station and while he often disappeared into the kitchen to help out his wife, he often came out on the conversation he’d started this morning. While the Storms didn’t sing praises of the Empire, Torland wasn’t shy about letting them know what he thought of the Republic. To many average Coruscanti, the Senate and its practices had not been missed.
“What they don’t tell you is that when that blockhead, Valorum, disbanded the entire military just to make some Jedi come close to smiling, they put half the republic out of work!” he thundered “Then, they give the job to a bunch of test-tube babies?! Soldiers pumped out of a factory?! It’s not right!” He gestured with his empty coffee mug as if it were a stick to hit Valorum with “I mean, I don’t know much about the Jedi, I don’t know if they were evil or corrupt but they weren’t all too frakking smart, that’s a dead certain!”
“We’re better off without them is what I think.” Rae added, speaking her mind as she was wont to do “Sitting up there in that bloody temple, blind to the suffering of others, only daring to venture out to make people suffer for breaking rules no-one else knew existed. If we need to keep the peace, let’s do it ourselves, I say!”
“Well, of course, there would be strong reasons to get rid of the Jedi, after all.” Gallius said with a shrug and a slightly smug look in his eyes that suggested he knew more about the matter than most.
Dusk spoke up.
“Lieutenant, have you seen Pipsqueak this morning?”
“I thought he was in the bathroom.” Rae answered “He’ll probably come down for breakfast soon. I’ll check on him later”
The door went and a young man walked in. He was about as tall as Rae and fairly muscular but had a certain naïve look to him. His hair was cropped short like most junior mechanics (Essential if one’s head was close to jet engines or fuel tanks) and he was trying to grow a beard but wasn’t getting far, the gold-brown fuzz on his lower face barely visible. He smiled apologetically as Torland and Pendre turned to him, Pendre with a welcome smile and Torland was a raised eyebrow of slight disapproval.
“And just what time do you call this, my lad?” he asked sternly.
“Uh...” The young man checked the lounge clock “Is that a trick question?”
Torland’s gaze darkened.
“Forren, if the Guard tell me you’ve been around the lower streets after curfew, there’ll be trouble in this house of mine, you hear?!”
“I wasn’t, dad. I promise.” The boy named Forren assured them “I was...with Miro.”
“Miro Bel’Wara?” Pendre asked “She’s the waitress at that old diner, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, I told you, we were having dinner. But it got late, the airbuses were out again and she let me stay at her place. I left you a message.”
“Is that all that happened?”
“Get off my case, dad! I’m a grown man.” Forren sulked, sitting down.
“Debatable.”
“Boys, let’s not argue.” Pendre’s voice raised firmly “Not when we have guests.”
Forren turned to the four at the table and gave a polite nod.
Gallius tapped his chin in thought and spoke.
“Miro Bel’Wara...You mean she’s a girl? When I saw her I just thought that diner doubled as a drag bar. You might want to double-check on that one, Forren...I mean, unless you like that sort of thing.”
At this, Forren shot him a look of resentment. The cocky agent shrugged.
“What? I won’t judge you...”
“In any case, let’s hear about the investigation.” Rae interrupted “I’m sure Mr Rax is just dying to tell us what he’s found out.”
“Very true.” Gallius said with a smirk and held up a hologram “Coruscant Guard found Gume Saam’s flat but he hasn’t checked into it for some time. But four days ago an individual matching Gume Saam’s species, height, weight and features was spotted on hidden surveillance camera in the Coruscant Underworld, approaching the Moga Mouth Club.”
“Who owns that?”
“In this part of the city, used to be the Baath Brothers. But ever since Yularen had those tattooed slime-balls locked up, there’s been a bit of a power vacuum as you might say.” Gallius explained “Now, these are the individuals we found in Saam’s company.” He swiped the holocron and three images showed up. A female Weequay, a male Leffingite and a woman obscured by a red veil.
“The weequay is Tas Kee, a skilled assassin and bodyguard in the Coruscant Underworld, known to just about every gang boss in the lower streets. The Leffingite is Mumpfasoom, nasty piece of work. Earned the name ‘Butcher of Almak’ during the Clone Wars and has been known as a murderer and predator of young women. And this enticing lass is Seib Nod, once a member of the Sisterhood of Beatific Countenance on Lorrdia but banished from the group and has since served multiple sentences for heist and grand theft.”
“What do they have in common?” Rae asked. Gallius smiled, tapped the holocron and produced a picture of a short man in a high collar.
“This chap. He's hired Tas Kee as a bodyguard, granted Mumpfasoom sanctuary in the underworld and employs Seib Nod as a secretary. His name's Hat Lo.”
At this, Forren Storm suddenly spat a mouthful of tea on the floor in shock. Catching sight of his mother’s peeved expression, he reached for a kitchen cloth while staring at the group with wide, frightened eyes.
“Hat Lo?! You’re going after Hat Lo?!”
“Someone you know?”
“Know of. Almost everyone in this part of Coruscant knows who he is. I mean, he’s small-time when you consider guys like the Hutts or the Black Sun but he knows dangerous people and, honestly, he’s pretty dangerous in himself.”
“Do you know where he resides? Or just where he frequents?” Parisian asked.
“Of course, The Sign of the Tri-Forked Tongue Cantina. Big club in the Underworld. You find the worst kind of people in there.”
“How do you know?” Rae asked.
“Yes, Forren. How do you know?” Torland asked with a look of grim suspicion.
“Take it easy, dad. I haven’t gone near the place.” Forren sighed “You remember Boco Bunyea?”
“Do I?!” his father thundered “Your deadbeat friend still owes me the credits he promised to pay for that generator he broke. Clumsiest mechanic I’ve ever seen, off his face on spice most of the time.”
“Yeah well, he got in with the guys at the Cantina, gambling.” Forren shook his head “The other mechanics told me Lo’s boys cut off three of his fingers when he couldn’t pay the debt he owed them.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.” Torland grumbled before Pendre shushed him.
“The Sign of the Tri-Forked Tongue Cantina, eh...” Gallius whispered, amused “Well, that sounds promising. I’ll have my people keep an eye on that one.”
“We’ll check out the Moga Mouth then.” Rae said “Captain Rondell will get in touch once he’s done checking out Saam’s accounts on Muunilist. Might lead us somewhere new.”
“Excellent. Let’s be quick about it.” Gallius glided gracefully to his feet and almost skipped out the door.
Rae gave him a look as he departed.
There was definitely something odd about that one.
When Rae went to change and gather her equipment in her room, she was concerned to see Pip neither in his bed nor in the bathroom or anywhere else she could see.
She gave the room another look-round and sighed.
Perhaps he’d just gone to where he was meant to be. He’d mentioned this ‘Princess’ of hers had powerful magic. Maybe she’d found him or he’d found her and he’d left the place as quickly as he’d entered it.
Gone. Forever.
Rae shook her head, brushing the corner of her eye.
It was for the best. She was a soldier. She needed to be professional and in this kind of mission, one couldn’t very easily carry a little animal about the place. No telling what he’d get up to.
‘Back to work’ she thought ‘No more nonsense. And a good thing too’
The Storms had given them civilian fatigues to wear over their armour. Rae found hers to be a beige and lilac Kuati robe. Understandable. They covered almost all the body and Kuati were known to carry their worldly wealth on their person. Suicide for anyone entering the Coruscant Underworld but then few Kuati did so; the rich ones anyway.
Parisian came out dressed like a Serennoan Attendant in a wide black collar, fur trim and a plain, dark cloak. Anyone who saw such a garb would assume he was probably working for the Great Houses. But in the Underworld, it was likely he was hiding from them, finding work as an accountant for a gang boss or a casino owner.
In a plain robe and hood, the Dusk Trooper could easily pass as a bounty hunter or bodyguard.
Together, they would look as if they were on their way to see someone, someone no-one else needed to see. Probably a prize for any thief but death would follow once their mystery contacts got wind of it.
In short, a very decent disguise for masquerading in the murky depths of the capital.
Parisian shrugged in his ungainly collar, making sure it was fitted with a catch to open it out and quickly throw itself off if he got in a fight.
“I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Sir?” The Dusk Trooper entered with a grave voice “Problem.”
He pointed to a bare patch of carpet in the middle of the room. Parisian and Rae glanced a moment and turned back to him.
“What’s the problem? Did someone make a mess?”
“No...Someone cleaned it up.” Dusk sighed behind his mask “I must confess, I was given a confidential mission from Imperial High Command. I was to deliver a package containing various items of high importance to Grand Commandant Honor Salima’s office at the Coruscanti Imperial Garrison. Yet now I see it has been taken from where I put it. Have either of you moved it since last night?”
“No.” Rae said with concern “May we know what was in the box?”
“I am afraid all I can say is that it was highly confidential and very important. I did not care to ask too many questions. The orders came from High Command.”
“No, no, I understand.” the Lieutenant sighed “Is there any way to track them?”
“If we are fortunate. I was told there was meant to be an emergency tracker but I did not discover how strong the signal was. If I may...” He held up a small control switch and tweaked at it.
“Hm...It seems the signal is trackable. We are pointed towards the Coruscanti underground.”
“Mr Storm?” Parisian called into the kitchen “We appear to have had something taken. Can you check the door mainframe and see if it was used at any point during the night?”
“Hold on.” came the reply and a pause “Yes. Yes, it was. Blow me, that’s some sleepless nights I’ll be having! What’s taken?”
“Don’t worry. It’s our stuff they were after. We’re off to get it back.” Rae replied “Don’t wait up and thanks for your help. If you don’t hear from us in twelve hours, go to the garrison and tell the Grand Commandant you want to speak to Moff Kaine about a disappearance on Tibrin. Tell no-one else and say nothing else. She’ll know what you’re talking about.”
“Right. Good luck.” Torland Storm called back as they departed for the wretched hive of scum and villainy that was the Coruscant Underworld.
*
“The Lorrdians said it best...All warfare is based on deception.”
Liegeus Vorn stood before the gathering of Imperial higher-ups with a nervous, almost delirious grin as he stood atop the podium of the Eriaduan Grand Declarant Chambers reserved for speeches, announcements and demonstrations.
And, on some occasions, executions.
How his legs weren’t shaking was beyond him.
Then he caught sight of the woman he loved in the audience, giving him that encouraging smile.
Holding up a small, ovoid device for all to see, he continued.
“And so, taking a lesson from them...And going one step further, Sienar Fleet Systems presents the latest and greatest in holographic technology. Through this perfectly innocent-looking imagecaster comes the perfect combination of power and manoeuvrability. Allow me to demonstrate.”
He held the device between two hands, pointed it at himself and pressed several buttons.
“To start with, you point the device at yourself or the object or individual of your choosing. Wait just a moment as it calibrates and...”
The projector flashed on and scanned up and down Liegeus’s body. The audience gave varying looks of intrigue.
“Now the image is saved...Which means all that standing around looking stupid I just did can be done anywhere you like at anytime. Now here’s the fun part. Once the device is primed, like so, you remove the projection switch, like so.” He pressed a wide button in the middle of the device and unplugged a tiny wired switch, holding the caster under one arm and the switch in his free hand.
“Now watch closely.” Turning to one side, he took several exaggerated strides, pressing the device with each stride.
The audience gave a collective hum of fascination as four Liegeus Vorns appeared, the blue of the hologram only faintly visible. Each one copying the original’s movements, slightly slower than the one before, all turning to the audience with a smile. The holograms lips opened but didn’t move noticeably.
“You know what they say. Two’s company, three’s a crowd, four’s awkward to get through a narrow doorway.”
A generous applause sounded across the hall.
“It gets better. You’ll notice the holograms don’t speak when I do but with some careful calibration...” he showed up the necessary dynamics “You can prerecord audio on the projection device, choose which image that speaks and...”
He pressed a few buttons and the third image, though standing exactly as Liegeus did, spoke clearly in sync.
“They just let him talk ‘cause he has the looks. I’m the brains of the outfit.”
“Suck it, SoroSuub!” The fourth one added.
There was some moderate laughter as Liegeus held the device high triumphantly.
“The Sienar Endymion-Series Imagecaster is the cutting edge. And you know what we say. ‘Sienar for the Empire; The best technology for the best people’.” He bowed as they applauded “Any questions?”
Wilhuff Tarkin stood and spoke.
“All very impressive but vague truths and compliments do not win wars nor secure space. What are the specifics, Mr Vorn? I believe we are entitled to know.”
Liegeus Vorn chuckled.
“Ooh, he’s good, isn’t he? Straight to the point is old Grand Moff Tarkin.” he jested. Some officers gave chuckles. Tarkin meanwhile simply raised an eyebrow unimpressed.
“Of course, specifics.” Liegeus continued in a more dutiful tone “Currently, the first edition is capable of generating six images of any choosing. By our calculations, each image moves ten percent slower than the one that came before it, unlikely to matter too much if you’re only showing one at a time. You can turn off the mimic pattern cycle at any point and place them anywhere. Instructions are in the manual.” He waved the device around and the still images of himself glided about the floor “The projection can pass through a surface area of two and a half inches and a distance of fifteen paces...” To demonstrate, he walked said distance across the podium and held up his suitcase between the projector and the images which flickered and switched on and off “And for a little bonus, we installed this baby.” He drew a short-range stun gun he’d requested to keep for the demonstration and fired on one of his images which fell back, crumpling dumbly like a ragdoll.
“Aw, that was uncalled for!” It whined comedically on the ground.
The less-serious officers gave another chuckle.
“And if you need the image to fall over in a way only you can do right, you can also save certain movement patterns as you do for images. Now the device currently has a small memory so connecting and saving the selected data to a larger holoprojection station is advised. But once you’ve got the right images, movements, sounds and whatnot, this device is perfect for protection, distraction and deception tactics that will make the Empire a powerhouse in strategy as well as strength. Now to improve the utilities and supply them galaxy-wide, Sienar will need plenty of time...”
“And money.” the second image added.
“Shut up, you.” Liegeus retorted “But I doubt its anything the Empire can’t handle and these babies will be well worth the price, let me promise you. Free first-editions are being given to every member of High Command as a token of our esteem. Use them well, you shan’t regret it. Thank you, men and women of the Empire.”
The audience stood and applauded graciously before the lights around the chambers dimmed and Liegeus Vorn gathered his things and left the podium, passing by the various officers, the more amiable of them talking to him.
“An excellent demonstration, young fellow.”
“Yes, I believe investing in the Fleet Systems may prove very wise.”
“Mr Sienar will be most pleased, esteemed officers.” Liegeus bowed and continued on.
And there she was.
“Lig!” The long, fire-red hair of Natasi Daala swayed back and forth as she ran at him and hugged him.
She still hugged just as tight. Most likely she did it to keep up her intimidating persona.
“Hi...Nat.”
“You were great up there, Lig. And I gotta’ say, I reckon we’re looking forward to trying those things out.”
“I should say that is very likely.” Wilhuff Tarkin walked up behind them, a small ‘Tarkin-smile’ on his face “An impressive demonstration, Mr Vorn, though I would prefer a more formal approach in future. Nonetheless...”
“Didn’t mean to irritate you, sir.” Liegeus assured with slight unease.
“No great worry...I can’t remember the last time anyone deliberately tried to be funny with me.”
“Yeah, I...er...I can imagine.” The young engineer cleared his throat “Mr Sienar gives his regards and asks that I supervise while the devices are still in their early stages.”
“As he wishes. I am confident you’ll be eager to make yourself useful.” Wilhuff placed a hand on his shoulder “This equipment certainly does the Fleet Systems proud. My friend, Raith, has outdone himself. I shall inform my associates of the potential these devices could bring to our proposed strategies.”
“Thrawn’s bound to think of something.” Natasi added.
“Thrawn’s the blue guy isn’t he.” Liegeus piped up.
“Very well-informed.” Wilhuff said aside, rolling his eyes “I believe you might benefit from your time here.”
“Thank you, sir.” Liegeus bowed “I’ll contact Sienar and tell him the good news. Be right back.”
He dashed off. As Natasi turned back, he noticed Wilhuff was giving her a look of intrigue.
“I’m told you and Mr Vorn were academy partners, Miss Daala.”
“Ah...In a manner of speaking. We learned under some of the same fields, cultural and political studies. I went into military training, he went into engineering. We crossed paths now and again but...”
“I am sure.” The Grand Moff gave a smile “Stay by his side. He has a fine mind for mechanics but he’s an...awkward fellow. He’ll need someone looking out for him.”
“No argument from me, sir.” Natasi gave him a smile, saluted, and departed in tow.
The derisive scowl the back of Captain Daala received from Shayla Paige-Tarkin did not go unnoticed by her uncle.
“Excellent work, Vorn. I must admit, some of my associates had their doubts about your...disposition, shall we say, but if High Command are impressed, our chances of maximum profit improve dramatically which should make all the costs worthwhile.” the trimly-dressed figure of Chief Executive Officer Raith Sienar, silver-haired and straight-faced, spoke through the holoprojector in the minor conferral room opposite the declarant chambers.
“I’m pleased that you’re pleased, sir.” Liegeus said with an awkward grin.
“Course you are. You should find the list of persons allotted for a free first-edition holoprojector. Make sure they get them while you’re there. And if that’s all, I’m due to have lunch with Onara Kuat and the new Emir of Skako. Enjoy your stay with the gentry, Mr Vorn, might learn some useful things. Take notes.”
“Righto, sir.” The holoprojector turned off. Liegeus heard footsteps behind him, a woman’s by the sound of it, then jumped in alarm, wide-eyed, as a hand landed fast against his backside.
“Oi!” he whooped “Hands to yourself!”
“You were asking for it, getting cheeky with the Grand Moff.” Natasi Daala chuckled, striding in “He says I’m to keep an eye on you while you’re here.”
“Huh...He must be starting to like me.”
“Or starting to hate me.”
“Nat, no-one could hate you.” Liegeus said fondly.
“Lig, you’re a great engineer but you’ve always been a terrible liar.” The woman leaned against the holoprojector in what could have been a flirtatious manner.
Liegeus shook his head.
“So how does he treat you?”
Natasi gave a wry smile.
“I know what people must think of it when they hear it, but trust me, he’s very charming. To me anyway. It was me that initiated the...shall we say affiliation.”
“So are you just into older men?”
“Look, I won’t lie...and he won’t either. It started out as a matter of convenience. I needed to be noticed by someone who could pull strings at my garrison. He needed...well...” Natasi sighed “I think what he needed most was someone he could talk to, someone he could be himself around. Even someone like him needs an outlet, a rapport with someone. His first wife had died around the time I joined up, you see.”
“And worse still, his second wife hadn’t.” Liegeus joked.
“Oh she’s a nightmare, let me tell you.” the captain shook her head “But you know, we just got along, really. I guess both of us know it’s not the real deal but...it’s nice. We mean a lot to each other.”
“Natasi Daala, the woman who finally warmed the heart of Grand Moff Tarkin. It’s as I always said, Nat...” Liegeus gave her an amorous smile, one of the few times his grin didn’t come off as goofy or nervous, only around her.
“You’re one incredible girl.”
*
“Good luck, officers. I wish you as safe a journey as these streets will allow.”
“Thanks for the help.” Rae Sloane patted the shoulder of the Judicial Officer who’d piloted the air taxi into the underworld, an aged Tarnab in a blue-grey suit. Despite the humanocentric policies of many of the Moffs, most aliens who had jobs in government before the Empire’s foundations had kept them on, little changing in the short-term as long as they didn’t draw unwanted attention. After all, what sad excuse of a Moff wanted to scour their entire workforce for any non-human? While no fan of aliens himself, Tarkin would have a few things to say about wasting the Empire’s time and resources in such a way.
Dressed up in their curious costumes, Rae, Parisian and the Dusk Trooper stepped into the colourful lights, eerie coldness and hungry eyes of the streets of constant night.
It was said that those who ventured into the Coruscant Underworld were either very brave or very desperate.
And at this point, Rae supposed they were a bit of both.
The Moga Mouth was an imposing place, the doorway decorated to form the head of a great carnelian serpent, open-mouthed, guests invited to walk into its gaping maw.
They found Gallius Rax there, dressed in his usual officer’s attire.
Yet somehow he’d seemed invisible until he stood up and smiled at them.
“Nice spot for a bite, eh?” he jested, ignoring Rae’s unimpressed expression “And do you see what I see?”
He gave the snake’s lower jaw a point. The three eyed it.
“Three forked-tongues.” the Dusk Trooper said flatly.
“If that’s not a clue, I don’t know what is.” Gallius chuckled.
“The Moga’s a popular emblem for gangs. It could just be a coincidence.” Parisian pointed out.
“Kid...” Rae gave him a look “In the Empire there’s no such thing as a coincidence. Right, Dusk, you keep looking for your box. If it’s as important as you say, we can’t let it stay with whoever’s taken it. Junior, Rax, you’re with me. Inside.”
The inside of the Moga Mouth was a proverbial haven of gambling and vice. Huge casino machines and betting tables adorned every corner where players gained or lost years of wealth in a single throw. Before the bar were a labyrinth of elevated tables where the young dancers (For lack of a more cordial word) played their part.
“Sir...” Parisian whispered at her side.
“What is it, Corporal?”
The young man glanced about awkwardly and answered.
“I need to use the toilet.”
“What...now?!” Rae resisted facepalming.
“Please.”
She sighed.
“Be quick.”
“Yes, sir.” Parisian Froul dashed off to the side, ignoring the venomous looks the patrons gave him.
The clientele was the unsavoury sort. Many were armed and most looked hungry for a fight. If one of them grabbed one of the dancers and brought her onto their bench for a ‘better look’, no-one stopped them. It was little wonder the place didn’t have a bouncer to check their entry, the patrons themselves needed little guarding.
The barman, a withered, old Er’Kit, was polishing glasses and handing out cocktail samples with a quiet, shifty-eyed look of unease, almost as frightened as the dancers that, on closer inspection, looked as though they hadn’t slept in days. Those within had practically taken over the cantina, those working within little more than prisoners for their pleasure.
And Rae saw, sitting comfortably in the centre of the place was Gume Saam himself, guarded by a pair of stocky Skrilling in jet-black armour who’d hauled a pair of dancers, a Nautolan and a Balosar both barely older than twenty, from the dancing podiums. The Ishi Tib ex-Senator was dressed in his usual opulent manner, dark indigo trimmed with gold, and was sipping a tall, colourful cocktail. His eyes seemed fixed on them as the three made their way to his table.
Rae recognised the Nautolan from her years in the Coruscant Guard, before the New Order emerged. As she unveiled her hood, the amphibious female gave a small gasp. One of hope.
“Ah, I recognise the scowl. You must be Imperials. Do sit down.” Gume Saam said in his syrupy voice, the folds at either side of his beak twisting into an amused grin, holding up his hand for the barman “Dozby. Drinks for Palpatine’s finest, if you please.”
“Y-y-yes, Mr Saam.” The Er’Kit stammered.
“No need.” Rae held up a hand “We don’t drink on the job.”
Gallius Rax lounged in the seat he’d been offered.
“You haven’t done too bad for yourself, Mr Saam.” he said nonchalantly, as if he'd only spoken to Saam yesterday.
The Ishi Tib shrugged.
“Well, you have to put what you've saved to good use one day. I’ll admit the drinks around here aren’t anything special but not to worry. Once this is over, I’ll be living in true luxury on an estate in Zeltros. Might take these pretty little things with me.” His stubbly, scaled hands groped at the two girls either side of him. The Balosar gave a whimper but the Nautolan said nothing.
“You won’t be going to Zeltros, Senator.” Rae said, standing up “You’ll be going to an Imperial command for questioning. Gume Saam, for fraud, bribery, illegal warfare and conspiracy against the Empire, I am placing you under arrest.”
There was a pause. Gume Saam gave her a pitying look.
“You are just adorable. I wish I had a camera.” He placed his cocktail on the table, got his feet and called across the cantina.
“Excuse me.” he declared “Sorry to interrupt but would you fine gentlemen care to show this lovely lady how many people I paid to kill those the Empire sent after me?”
There was a collective rumble of boots and weapons as every hard-faced, able-bodied cutthroat in the cantina stood up and drew a variety of blasters and blades. The pair of Skrilling drew slug-throwers and glared menacingly at them.
With cries of alarm or terror, the dancers and waiters hid under tables and booths.
Rae looked around at what could only, at least, be fifty armed guards all pointing their aforementioned arms squarely at her.
She tilted her head slightly and retorted.
“Is that all?”
Gallius Rax raised his eyebrows.
The Ishi Tib gave a chuckle.
“Don’t think your bravado will do you any good.” He backed away towards a small exit where two guards stood, a bald human in skull-shaped goggles and a skinny individual in a brown long-coat, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. Edging between them, he nodded.
“Take care of these two clowns. Then get me on the speeder, Lo’s waiting.”
“...‘Fraid not.”
Gume and the goggled human turned to the hat-wearer, the Ishi Tib’s face creased with indignation.
“What do you mean by that? What do you think I’m paying you for.”
“You ain’t payin’ me...” He raised his head.
Gume Saam’s eyes boggled, his parrot beak opened wide with terror.
“Y...Y...YOU!”
Before Rae could blink, the mysterious figure leapt forward, grabbing the sides of the goggled man’s head and wrenching it to the side. There was a dull crack and the man toppled over. With a horrified squeal, Gume Saam found himself kicked over a table, a foot placed over his chest as his betrayer tipped his hat.
A blue-skinned, craggy-faced Duro with sheer red eyes and breathing tubes at his cheeks greeted them.
“Don’t anybody move!” he yelled in a croaky voice “Saam here’s got a date with the Black Sun!”
“Wrong!” Rae drew a blaster “He’s wanted for questioning by the Imperial authority. He’s coming with me.”
The Duro gave a coy grin.
“You want him? Come get him!”
“Don’t just stand there, you morons! Help me!” Gume Saam screamed.
As the pair of Skrilling drew up their firearms, Rae spun round and fired.
The one on the right fell back with a blaster hole through his head, the one on the left took three shots to the face and toppled over as the Duro drew two LL-30 blaster pistols and grinned at Rae Sloane.
Strangely, she returned the grin, pointed her blaster at the ceiling lights and fired.
The room devolved, or perhaps evolved, into chaos. The heady coloured lights flashed maniacally, sparking in all directions. In the brief darkness, the streak of plasma bolts lit up the cantina. Rae threw off her cloak screamed at the top of her voice as she let fly blast after blast at any who looked at her wrong. Someone grabbed at her and received a bolt at close range for their trouble. As the hired thugs shot at anything that was shooting back, the Lieutenant scooted along the ground, ducking behind the tables, whispered to the girls by her to keep their heads down and fired.
The Duro meanwhile punched Gume Saam into semi-consciousness then vaulted backwards onto the bar, shooting at every armed thug he spied, dodging and dancing out the way of every shot coming for him as if he’d been brought up doing this (Not impossible under the circumstances)
Men fell in the dozens, time slowed for Rae Sloane as she rushed toward her target. The Duro jumped off the bar table, rolled across the floor and aimed his sights.
Gume Saam shrieked and covered his head, crouching into a ball on the floor as Rae Sloane and the Duro stopped between him. Rae Sloane’s rifle was pointing squarely at the Duro’s forehead while his blasters were primed at each of her eyes.
The Duro smiled.
Then there was a click as another blaster rested by the side of his head.
“Don’t move, Bounty Hunter.” Parisian Froul commanded, seemingly having appeared from nowhere.
“I told you to be quick.” Rae sighed.
The Duro gave a chuckle.
“Gotta’ say, you ain’t bad with that blaster.” he said dryly “You ever considered takin’ up Bounty Huntin’? Might suit you?”
The Lieutenant smiled.
“Well that’s praise indeed from you...Cad Bane.”
Gallius Rax hadn’t moved since he sat down. Calm-faced and nonchalant, he looked at the carnage, leaned over the table, picked up the cocktail Gume Saam had left and sipped at it.
Gallius Rax, Parisian Froul and Rae Sloane kept their eyes fixed on the old Duro and their quivering Ishi Tib quarry.
Hands hovered over their blasters, daring the other to move first.
“The Senator’s comin’ with me.” Cad Bane said again, quietly and threateningly.
“Over our dead bodies.” Parisian growled, trying to be just as imposing.
The Duro sighed.
“If you wanna’ go down that route, fine by me.”
“Okay, look...” Rae held up one hand, keeping the other by her weapon “We’re professionals, right? Can’t we come to some sort of compromise?”
Cad Bane cracked a derisive smirk.
“Compromise? I don’t think that’s something the Empire do very well.”
“Well, we all have our bad days. All I’m saying is that it’d be a waste for us to kill each other over this puss-bag.” She gestured at the cowardly Gume Saam.
“Heh...No argument here.” the Bounty Hunter sniggered “But how exactly do you propose we compromise? I need to get this guy to the Black Sun a.s.a.p, so to speak. If I tell ‘em he died under the IVO Droid’s needle, they’ll cut a lot more than my paycheck.”
“Well, that just stopped being an issue as of three days ago.”
Gallius Rax hopped to his feet with a nonchalant smile and stood between the two.
“It may interest you to know, my good sir, that members of the Imperial leadership and its most prominent financial figureheads, including but not limited to High General Cassio Tagge, First Minister Tannon Praji, Grand Magistrate Kren Blista-Vanee and Tapani High Lord Bal Jaset, will be meeting a certain Miss Savan, kin of his grace Prince Xizor, to bring about an alliance of the Black Sun and the Galactic Empire. The plan was put forward by Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo three days ago at a board meeting with Admiral-Secretary Wulff Yularen.”
There was a pause. Rae gave Gallius a puzzled look while Cad Bane gave a snort.
“Big names, big talk, big deal. Yer’ point bein’?”
“Well, simple.” Rax shrugged “Gume Saam comes as part of the bargain, a gesture of goodwill on the Empire’s part. We interrogate him, I can’t imagine he’ll put up much of a fuss, he tells us what we want to know then we hand him over to the Black Sun and let them know of your principal involvement in his capture. You collect the bounty, the pact is forged, we know Toora’s contacts, Palpatine’s on his throne and all’s well with the galaxy.” He cracked another boyish smile “What say you?”
The cowering senator was too petrified to offer his opinion.
Cad Bane’s craggy face crumpled in distaste at the man before him. Rolling his crimson eyes, he gave a sigh that sounded slurpy through his breathing tubes.
“The things I do for a score these days...Fine.” He deposited his blasters, prompting Rae to do the same. The Duro gave Gume Saam an impatient kick and growled “The whiner’s all yours. For now. But you’d better not be tryin’ to screw me over on this. ‘Cause lemme’ tell ya, that never ends well for anybody.”
“Fine.” Rae checked around and gave an order “Corporal, you’ll take the ex-Senator here to the Security Bureau. Inform Grand Commandant Salima of the proceedings and...” she caught sight of the Bounty Hunter’s scowl “And take this fellow with you, if he’ll oblige.”
“Oh I’ll oblige real good.” Cad Bane cricked his neck imposingly. Parisian Froul paled under his gaze but saluted nonetheless, the two of them carting the snivelling Ishi Tib out the club with his arms behind his back.
At their departure, the denizens of the club slowly raised their heads and breathed a collective sigh of relief.
It was over.
“Rae!”
Rae Sloane found herself enveloped by a warm, smooth hug as the young Nautolan who had been seated beside Saam leapt into her arms and planted kisses over her cheeks and one long one over her lips.
Her affection was marred by the feeling of Gallius Rax smirking behind her.
Gently pulling the alien girl off her face, she gave a smile.
“Suui Do...” a relieved smile lit up her face “Kid, I haven’t heard from you since I last left Coruscant. You had me real worried.”
“I know. I’m really sorry.” Suui was close to crying “It’s just...after Fong got out of prison...everything went wrong after that...”
“Sit down.” Rae Sloane took the Nautolan’s hands in her own as the two sat down on a settee. Drosby the Er’Kit barman got them drinks, trying not to look at the unimpressed Gallius Rax.
Suui spoke.
“We...we got the money for a ship, like you said. But...” she was close to crying, her wide, black eyes moistening more than usual “The day we were going to head off for Glee Anselm, Fong asked me to get the holocron of our parents. I mean, he’d never wanted it before so I thought maybe...Maybe he was ready to change at last...But then...”
“He didn’t...” Rae prayed.
“He did!” Suui wailed “When I went back inside, he took off...without me! He left me here! He left me!” She broke down sobbing into Rae’s arms who held her close, rubbing her shoulder motheringly.
“I’m so sorry, Su.”
“After everything! After all we did to get him out of jail...He just didn’t care!” The Nautolan shook with grief taking a moment to collect herself, her cries slowly settling in Rae’s chest.
“You don’t need him, baby. You never did.” The lieutenant kissed her former-confidante’s forehead “He’s a good-for-nothing murglack and if he’s not working off a debt in a spice mine in Hutt Space, he’ll wish he was if I find him.”
“Fong Do?” Gallius Rax butted in with an inquisitive air “Ex-death-stick dealer and information broker?”
“Yeah...” Rae glanced at him “Why? What do you know about him?”
“Well...” he tilted his head in a sing-song fashion and held up his hands “Oh, you wouldn’t be interested.”
Fighting frustration, Rae chose not to encourage him and turned back to Suui.
“So what happened afterwards.”
“I...I had to get back with the Blangko’s.”
“Oh, Su, you promised!”
“I know, I’m sorry, I just...” The Nautolan wiped her wet cheeks “I just couldn’t go back on the streets again. So I...did what I had to for a while. Then when the Blangko Brothers went down, I found work in the clubs. Then Hat Lo started keeping that Ishi Tib here and, well, you saw what that led to...”
The Blangko Brothers, Papeh and Pepah, a two-headed Troig credit-lender and pornography king, was once a sizably-powerful criminal around the Coruscant Underworld but was one of many Rae Sloane sent down, that particular job she worked with Alix Balan and Karyn Faro. When she left, like many criminals, Blangko was able to plead unsafe conviction using his untouchable contacts (Several of them among the Senate) and get back up to his old tricks. A few months after the Declaration of a New Order, Rae and Honor Salima were contacted by Balan and Faro to tell her Blangko had been sent down again, for good this time, and any contacts of his were hereby no longer untouchable nay-sayers but wanted men, as they damn well should have been from the very start.
Rae remembered the celebration they’d held on Ord Cestus, specifically the awkward moment when she, Balan, Faro and Salima had woken up in the same room.
In the same bed.
Suui Do had been one of many girls the Blangko’s had abused and exploited, having begun working with them at just fourteen. Rae had been able to help her as best she could.
It still didn’t seem to be enough. Misfortune had stalked after the girl relentlessly, largely through her elder brother Fong who’d had no qualms against using his little sister as a bargaining tool to compensate the criminals he got on the bad-side of. Whenever he slipped up, which was often for a wannabe like him, he’d force her into satisfying them in his stead, one way or another.
It turned Rae’s stomach.
“Look, Su...” Rae brushed the girl’s head-tails “You need to go with the corporal and the bounty hunter to the head office. Don’t worry,” she held her hand as the alien’s face flashed with fright “I know the Grand Commandant. Honor Salima is a good woman, I’ve worked with her. Say I sent you here and she’ll listen to whatever you have to say and put you in one of the mid-street safehouses. Right now, that’s the safest place for you. Please trust me. I’ll pick you up soon and get you to a friend when this is over, I promise.”
Suui Do sniffed and spoke in barely a whisper.
“Okay, Rae...Thank you...” She kissed her again “Please come see me later...Back when you were around, I used to feel safe. I used to hang out with friends and stuff...” She glanced down “Now anyone who notices me just wants to hurt me...”
“Don’t cry, baby.” Rae kissed her on the nape “I’m back to fix that. When I leave, I’ll make sure you’re safe this time. Now, I need to know, first of all, where was that Ishi Tib due to meet Hat Lo? Did he mention anything?”
“Uh...yeah actually. You can’t go in the Sign of the Tri-Forked Tongue. The place is watertight, even after everything changed. You won’t find anything. But Saam said Lo keeps some of his stuff, important stuff, in a warehouse on Scampac Street. I remember, he said it’s...” she wracked her brains “It’s in between a Koorivar Tailors and a Preserved Gorg Shop. He got drunk with us one night and wanted to scare us so he told us that’s where...” She gave a shudder as her voice darkened
“...He used to work.”
Rae groaned.
"I thought we’d never find it...Never really wanted to. Thanks, Su. You’re a gem.” Clasping the Nautolan’s shoulders, she helped her to her feet with a smile and kissed her forehead “I’ll see you later. Be a good girl for me, okay.”
“Okay, Rae. Thank you so much.” She hopped up and gave her another hug, kissing her again, and turned.
“Honor Salima...” she put a finger to her lips in thought “Tall? Tan? Side-shaved-hair?”
“Yep. You’ll know her when you see her.”
“Yeah, I know her.” The Nautolan nodded “Does she still have that tattoo of a narglatch on her butt?”
Rae blinked.
“How do you...”
“I thought it was a nexu?” The Balosar girl who’d stood by her piped up.
Lieutenant Sloane was nonplussed. Suui Do, meanwhile, seemed in brighter spirits.
“Okay, Rae. Thanks so much for your help. See you later.” And with that, she left with Froul, Bane and the handcuffed Saam.
Sloane straightened her uniform and snapped at her associate, not turning to look at him.
“And you can wipe that look off your face, Mr Rax.”
“As you wish.” Gallius Rax gave a sardonic chuckle “Though I must say, for someone who reacted with such famous indignation when a certain Grand Moff Crodd declared you’d only spent so long in the Coruscant Police so as to plough every working-girl in the Underlevels...”
“Finish that sentence at your peril, Mr Rax.” Rae fixed him with a murderous glare. The insolent investigator held up his hands in mock-apology.
“Very well. Though I will simply say you do seem to have an odd habit of picking up unfortunate stragglers.”
The Lieutenant shrugged.
“Well, someone has to.” she sighed “Now, what do you know about her brother that I don't."
"I said, you wouldn't be inter-"
"Wrong."
Gallius gave his lips a purse and looked around, pretending to feel awkward.
"Let's just say that pissing off the Pyke Syndicate does not do wonders for one's health, physically or mentally."
Rae scowled.
"Fine..." She was done talking to the cocky spy for the day "Come on. I know the place.”
*
“WHAT?!”
Hat Lo round, raw face went puce with fury as he held his commlink close.
Seib Nodd held up her half-concealed hands and bowed.
“Your grace, are you discomforted?”
“Not even close! I’m frakking pissed!” The Crime Lord swatted at his secretary with his cane. The woman didn’t seem to react to it, simply stepping back with another bow.
The two twi’lek girls meanwhile, were backed in a corner, holding each other for support.
And Pipsqueak stood stock still in his cage, hoping not to be noticed, knowing full-well he was the one Hat Lo would be most likely to take his anger out on.
“They have Saam in custody!” The little man was close to exploding with rage “Wiped out my gang in the Moga Mouth! Every frakking one!”
“W-w-w-well...where does that leave us?” Tan Divo mumbled, twiddling his hands nervously.
“Up the Poodoo Nebula without a hyperdrive, that’s where!” Hat Lo massaged his temples a moment, pacing back and forth.
“The claim is that the club was attacked and the Senator abducted by an undercover Imperial Officer under the name of Lieutenant Sloane.” Nodd added.
Pip’s heart sparked with hope at hearing Rae’s name.
She was coming. What started with Gume Saam would lead to Hat Lo.
He was saved.
Hat Lo’s glare wiped the smile from his face. The crime lord gave a growl.
“Of course that schutta would have to be back! Alright...You!” He pointed to Lunae and Ayy who snapped to attention “Get this stuff down to the safehouse, right now!” He snatched the documents the Inspector had been cradling and tossed into Pip’s cage. Divo gave a frightened burble and tried to grab it back.
“No, no, Mr Lo, I need those!”
“Not yet, you don’t. You don’t get your compensation until you make sure that safehouse is locked down and Saam’s out of his cell. Go down to the head office and get that broad to let him out!”
“But she won’t listen to me if I don’t have any barter!”
Hat Lo gave a loud groan, stormed over to the cage, snatched the documents back and opened them a moment.
“Salima...Salima...Okay, say you know who’s been spreading that graffiti art of Tarkin and Daala ‘in a series of intimate situations’ all over the plaza.”
Divo’s milky eyes bulged.
“Her?”
“No, dumbass, her niece. Glira. Just say the word and she’ll crack!”
“What about Balam? And the Yularens? Any dirt on them?”
“I’m not giving you anything on anyone ‘til you do as you’re told!” Lo snapped “Get down there, get Saam out before he says anything and have your droids lock down my warehouse!”
Obligingly, Tan Divo waddled out the room on his spindly legs.
“What about the girls at the Moga Mouth?” Tas Kee spoke up “Knowing Saam, he must have let his beak run away with him when in their company. One of them has to know something and Sloane knows almost every hooker in the Underlevel.”
“Damn it...” Hat Lo shook his head “Okay, Mumpfasoom, that’ll be your area.” He handed the grinning Leffingite a holocron “All my girls are tracked. If any of them head near the station, follow them and...well...I’ll leave them in your care.”
The ugly alien’s smile stretched across his features, drool running out the middle of his lips as he shuffled off.
“Right, Miss Kee, you go with the ladies here and see them into the warehouse. Have it locked down and guarded and then,” he fixed the two twi’leks with a vicious glare “Find out just what was taking our good ladies so long to tell me the Empire were after Saam!”
“B-b-but, boss...” Lunae stammered as Tas Kee grabbed them by the shoulders.
“You heard the big man.”
“Heh, big man...” The little foal was heard to give a small snigger.
A deadly silence hung over the room.
‘Stupid!’ Pip cursed himself in his head ‘Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!’
His brow furrowed with so many creases it resembled a roadmap, Hat Lo stomped over to the cage and shoved his cane through. A crackling bolt of electricity shot into Pip’s shoulder and sent him slamming into the bars behind him. The colt cried out in pain and clutched the burn mark that was slightly smoking.
Struggling not to show tears, he stared at the venomous criminal’s eyes boring into him.
“You don’t seem to learn, do ya!” he snarled “You don’t make fun of me in my city, you little maggot! Nobody mocks me! Nobody!”
“Boss, please, don’t hurt him!” Ayy Vida’s voice piped up, fighting to ignore Lunae frantically trying to shush her “He’s just a kid, he won’t-”
“Shut it!”
Slap!
With a whimper, Ayy Vida fell to one knee, clutching her cheek, tears streaming down her cheeks. Lunae was held back tightly by the weequay henchwoman while Hat Lo stood over her like some nightmarish overlord.
“You wanna’ get the same as he does, you stupid little skag?! Do ya?!”
“Hey! Stop that!”
All eyes turned back to Pipsqueak once again. This time however, there was no feeling of guilt or terror. He stood against the bars, poking his muzzle through, baring his little teeth and giving off the biggest scowl he was capable of as he yelled at his captor who moments ago had singed him.
“You leave her alone!”
Lunae Minx held her mouth open in surprise.
Tas Kee raised an eyebrow with disdain.
Seib Nodd gave a long inhale behind her veil in a gesture of outrage.
Ayy Vida stared, a spark of hope in her streaming eyes.
And Hat Lo looked ready to pop a vein.
“You what?” he choked.
“I said leave her alone, you...you...bully!” Pipsqueak gave a short, blunt billow out his nostrils, something he’d seen ponies do when they wanted to look tough.
Hat Lo pressed his stubby fingers into his forehead and massaged fitfully and spoke through gritted teeth.
“When this is over, crap-stain, I’m gonna’ make you wish ya mother never pushed you outta’ her!” he hissed at the colt “You better believe me when I say you will never have felt real pain ‘til after I’m done with you! Kee!”
“Right, boss.” The weequay nodded and hauled Ayy away, pointing to the cage. Tentatively, Lunae obediently opened the cage, grabbed Pip by the forehooves and held him tightly, trying to shield him from her master’s view.
As Pipsqueak huddled against her shoulder, he heard her whisper.
“Look...You’re a good kid...But please shut up...”
Outside, on an elevated platform where a rotund speeder-truck waited for them, Pipsqueak caught a glance of the world outside.
The sky above looked as if it were night but the city below seemed like midday. Aerial traffic was flying past on mid-air roads over warm, yellow lights illuminating the ground. It was like nothing Pip had ever seen before. It wasn’t so much the splendour of the place, it was the sheer overwhelming sensation of it.
Canterlot couldn’t compare, nor could any city Pip had ever seen pictures of.
Tas Kee pressed a button on a wrist-guard she wore and the back of the speeder-truck opened up. She gestured at it, fixing the three with contempt.
“Get in.”
“Okay...But please drive safely.” Ayy mumbled.
It didn’t go unignored by Kee who grabbed her by the chin and growled.
“Listen, I don’t want to have to deal with you the same way I dealt with poor, stupid, little Sel Maa.” she sneered “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed every moment of it but it took forever to clean up your vomit and if it gets in my truck, it’ll only get worse for you...Now shut up and get in the back.”
Lunae and Ayy nodded, silent in fear, fearing to look at the woman.
Backed into a truck with a long, narrow incline on one side that served as a seat, the two twi’leks sat down. Lunae held the little colt in her hands, gave him an impatient look and handed her to Ayy.
The twi’lek’s hands were soft but cold. So was the rest of her, Pip discovered, as he found himself hugged by the young woman.
“Um...excuse me...” he murmured “I-I-I know you two are having rather a bad time of this but... please could you tell me what’s going on?”
Lunae placed her hand at the bridge of her nose and groaned.
“You’re really not helping.”
“Lunae, please, it’s okay.” Ayy held up a hand “It’s just us here...I...” She turned to Pip “I guess we could um...” She cast a sheepish look to her friend “Can you tell him?”
“Do you want me to hold him as well?” Lunae gave her an unimpressed look.
“No, no, he’s fine. He’s light...” Ayy purred contently as she hugged the little colt “...And warm.”
“Um...thank you, miss.” Pipsqueak said, a mite uneasy, but not uncomfortable.
He was only glad his mother wasn’t around to see this. She’d never really approved of him hanging around with girls.
Lunae gave him a look that wasn’t resentful, just fed up.
“So, how exactly did you come here?” she began.
Pip puffed his cheeks bashfully.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I was with an officer. Her name’s Rae Sloane.”
“Oh...” Lunae sighed “Well, at least you weren’t dumb enough to say so when Hat Lo was throwing a fit. Sloane’s been on the bad side of every criminal in the lower and middle cities since she first joined the academy...and the ones in the high cities weren’t too fond of her but most of them are all dead now, thanks to Amedda’s finest. Sloane has cost Lo literal millions since she worked the streets.”
“Do you know her?” a spark of hope shot through Pip’s chest. Maybe they could get him back to her.
“Not personally.” Lunae answered, shooting down that possibility “But she’s notorious. A real go-getter, her job’s her life and when she picked up a case she worked it till she dropped. And now that there’s an Empire running things, when she puts someone inside, they stay inside.”
“So...you like her?”
The two twi’leks gave him an odd look.
“Kid, Rae Sloane scares the crap out of us!” Lunae said bluntly.
“Wh-why?”
“Because she makes Hat Lo very angry and Hat Lo very angry scares the crap out of us! In case you haven’t realised, we aren’t exactly a legal profession here.”
“Yes but...It looks like this Hat Lo character’s forcing you to do what he wants.”
“Of course he is. But that doesn’t change anything. This is the Empire now. If you’re involved with any criminal activity, you go down with the rest of them. You go down hard, and you rarely ever get back up.”
Pip was quiet.
This was a side of his current protectors he hadn’t seen.
He wasn’t under the illusion they were perfect people. Tarkin had certainly struct him as very abnormal. But was Rae part of that strange group?
“Why is that?” he asked quietly.
“Simple. Because the Empire know that if they don’t rule Coruscant’s streets with an iron fist, then the criminals do, as they did during the Republic. No other way works here, not on Coruscant.”
“I see...” Pipsqueak found himself lying. He didn’t see at all.
How was that the only way? How could things have ever gotten that bad?
It wasn’t like Canterlot or anywhere else he knew.
But then, how much did he know Equestria?
“Um...so who’s Hat Lo?”
“Kid, you’ve probably seen enough of him to know who he is...and what he is.”
Ayy rubbed her reddened cheek, wincing. Pip gave it a look.
“I’m really sorry about him hitting you, Miss...”
“Oh, um...thanks.” She gave him a heartened smile “Call me Ayy.”
“You should be more sorry for yelling at him! Do you honestly have a death wish?!” Lunae said impatiently “I’ve been trying to tell you to keep your head down and your mouth shut. That’s the only way you survive in this city.”
“Sorry, I just...I couldn’t let him hit you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Shows what you know...” Lunae muttered.
Ayy cradled him fondly and whispered.
“You were very brave, kid...Braver than I could ever be.”
“So, how did you find yourselves in with...him.”
“Well, we’re not. At least not anymore, not since-”
“Ayy! Shut it!” Lunae hissed.
“Sorry, sorry...” Ayy winced, as if cursing herself.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Pip said, instinctively “Look, I’m not interested in whatever this man’s doing or what he’s making you do...I just want to know how it happened. This sort of stuff...confuses me.”
The two twi’leks sighed.
“There’s not much for me to tell.” Lunae said dismally “My dad was a cop, married to the job, even before his divorce. Don’t know where my mom ended up, otherwise I’d have gone with her.” She shrugged “I was an impressionable teenage girl, wanted to go out and experience the wild side of life and my dad wouldn’t let me out the house without his notice and a police droid on the watch...So I snuck out and made friends in the gangs and ended up here...Just to get back at him.” She lowered her head, traces of what may have been tears in the corners of her eyes.
“Shows what a dumbass I was...”
“As for me, well...I was one of the countless refugees that flooded into this planet when the Clone Wars kicked up.” Ayy added “I came here with my mom. She was rich back home but that just made her a bigger target for a spice addiction she caught here. By the end, she was willing to sell anything she had for it...even me.” She shuddered “So I ran off and found protection in the only place Coruscant’s underlevels would provide; from the gangs.”
“Why don’t you leave? I don’t think anyone would know as long as you were careful.”
Lunae and Ayy gave each other a look.
“Sel Maa thought the exact same thing.”
Pipsqueak blinked.
“Well...what happened to her?”
“...She was wrong.” Lunae shook her head “That’s how things work here. I don’t know what you’re doing here or why but take it from me; it was the biggest mistake of your life. On Coruscant, the only way you protect yourself from the worst person you know...is hiding behind someone even worse.”
*
The mask did nothing to obscure Coruscant’s ugliness.
As the Dusk Trooper paced slowly through the streets, he kept his gaze broad and open.
He knew as well as anyone that every city’s high rises hid long shadows. And you didn’t have to be in Coruscant for ten minutes before you dreaded what kind of things those shadows hid.
Though the things in the light weren’t all that much better. Human or alien, those who dealt in such a place as this were a thoroughly sordid sort.
The murky streets were lit up by a giant holoscreen. A conical yellow head with a pair of eyestalks on either side of its head chattered out the screen, its dry lipless mouth clacking indignantly.
Acros-Krik, the Ongree Mayor of Coruscant’s Uscru Entertainment District, a thoroughly corrupt and unscrupulous individual.
‘I am speaking to express my severe disappointment in any Coruscanti misguided enough to be supporting the charlatan, Trey Duma, in this year’s elections. The man is nothing more than an Imperialist self-promoting stooge who I have on good authority fools around with far too many women below his age. And on that subject, I have heard of the accusations levelled against my office and I declare them unbased and biased. She was the instigator, I tell you, and I conducted myself properly by. I never touched her-”
The Dusk Trooper gave a sardonic shake of the head.
Acros-Krik was a fool. It was common knowledge that he’d been involved with the dealings of the Black Sun since before the Clone Wars. But after the Black Sun’s leaders lost their heads to a pair of mad Zabraks, many of their so-called friends had jumped ship, taking up with their chief rivals such as the Hutts, the Valarians and the Pyke Syndicate.
Now, however, the formidable new head of the Black Sun was set on teaching each and every one of them the folly of their disloyalty. Acros-Krik knew his life was on the line. If the Black Sun didn’t come after him, the Empire would. He was desperate to cling onto whatever power he believed kept him safe.
Playing the 'Alien Card' had worked for him during the days of the Republic but doing so under the Empire would only land you in even more trouble.
Acros-Krik had made himself the face of Coruscant and learning only too late how foolish that was.
“Get that kid! Somebody stop that kid!” a throaty yell sounded across the street.
A little Togorian girl who didn’t look much older than eight was rushing in terror out of a street corner, wearing a dirty, flaxen dress. Following her was an old man, human or humanoid, out-of-shape and draped in a furry yellow jacket and a strange tubular hat. The Dusk Trooper thought he looked absolutely ridiculous, the look of a wannabe gangster.
As he yelled, an IG Droid followed the direction he was pointing, running ungainly but fast, its block-like feet clanking on the road. The little Togorian gave a frightened squeal as she tried to quicken her pace. But she was a little girl in a long shawl, tripping her every few steps, and the IG Droid, while unarmed, was unrelenting.
No-one moved to stop it. No-one would. Anyone who could afford an IG Droid was a man best avoiding.
The Droid was gaining fast. The Togorian was crying, wailing for anyone to help.
No-one seemed to hear.
No-one except the Dusk Trooper.
His eyes darted like lightning. Glancing through his visor, as if scanning if he were a droid, he noticed a sizable object in front of him. Some old rubbish, compressed into hard but light cylinders about half as tall as a person.
The Togorian passed him.
He waited.
Waited.
Then, deliberately treading on a corner of his cloak, he tripped over the boxes and knocked them to the side of him, right as the IG Droid approached.
The matchstick-shaped robot fell like dead tree, colliding with the garbage and ending up jumbled in the rolling obstacles, unable to find his feet.
The man in the ridiculous yellow jacket gave a scream of anger and lumbered up to kick at the droid impotently, promising it the scrap-heap.
Once the noise had subsided and a handful of Coruscant Guard approached the scene, the Dusk Trooper ducked into another corner, his cloak hiding his feet so cleanly he appeared to hover.
Hoping he’d got the accent right, he spoke.
“You can come out. I’m not about to hurt you.”
He impressed himself with his own knowledge of the Togorian language.
There was a shuffle behind the dumpsters as the little alien crawled out. A fluffy, golden-brown creature with messy black hair, tufted-ears, a tiny pink nose and wide, staring, green eyes restless and frightened.
“You...speak Togorian?” she mumbled.
“A little.” The Dusk Trooper answered, kneeling down to look her in the eye “Are you hurt?”
“N-not really...” She looked down “I’m not a thief.”
“I know. You wouldn’t have called for help if you were. But I’d like to know why you were running.”
The girl shivered, brushing away tears from her eyes, thin silver whiskers on her cheeks and brow shaking.
“That man...He told me to get into the back of an airspeeder. He wouldn’t tell me why and the more I asked, the more angry he got. I-I-I was s-so scared!”
She covered her face and cried. Tentatively, the Dusk Trooper held her shoulders and bowed his head.
“It’s alright.” he said calmly “It’s over now. I’m not going to let them find you.”
A moment later, the girl hugged him, wrapping her little arms around the cowled shoulders.
“Thank you.” she whispered.
“Do you have parents?”
“Y-yes...But I haven’t seen them for three days. We...We came on a refugee ship but it...c-crashed...somewhere in the other district.” she whimpered “Everyone ran out, I fell over and when I woke up...I couldn’t find my mama...”
“I see.” The Dusk Trooper checked round the corner, casting his eye across the streets “I would see a guard and explain your problem at the municipal office. Tell them about your parents and about the man who scared you.”
“B-but...the soldiers scare me.” The girl was biting her claws in anxiety.
“Do they.” The Dusk Trooper gave a slight chuckle “That’s quite alright. They scare me too. But there are some I know you can trust. Give me a moment to check...”
He didn’t need long to watch. Passing by, heading for the escalators for the upper city and the municipal office, was his compatriot, Parisian Froul, accompanied by an apprehended Gume Saam, a Duro in a longcoat and wide-brimmed hat and a Nautolan girl in skimpy clothing, covering herself with a thick black coat.
“There. The young blonde officer with the Duro, and the Nautolan.” he pointed “Go and tell him you need to see the guard. I’m certain he’ll oblige. He’s a good man...”
“Thank you...Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The little Togorian nodded rapidly in thanks and gave him another quick hug before scampering over to Corporal Parisian Froul, hopping over to clutch his leg.
“Er...hello.” the young man said awkwardly, trying to keep steady with the child clinging to him.
“Friend of yours?” Cad Bane asked sarcastically.
“Aw! She’s so fluffy!” Suui Do exclaimed in joy.
“Can I speak to the guard?” she spoke in her best Galactic Speak “I’ve lost my mama and I saw a bad man.”
“...right.” Parisian cleared his throat “I should think that’s fine. Follow us, we’re on our way there ourselves. No worries, little one, you’re quite safe with the Empire’s guard.”
“Speak for yourself!” Gume Saam snapped indignantly.
“Can it, you!” Cad Bane retorted. As the four walked off, the little Togorian turned and waved a grateful goodbye at the Dusk Trooper who nodded in thanks.
Togorians were one of the several species who had recently been put on the ‘Level 1 Special Civility Affirmation’, a list of the galaxy’s species reconsidered by the Imperial Bureau and judged ‘safe’ in the public eye, allowed to live, work and speak as Imperial citizens, a mostly ceremonial act but one many were grateful for. How long they’d stay on that list was anyone’s guess but regardless, however safe the Empire felt in the company of aliens, it was rare that those aliens felt safe in the company of the Empire.
Nonetheless, there were worse people to live under. Hat Lo was one of them.
His good deed for the day done, the Dusk Trooper returned to his scanner.
The object of his attention wasn’t too far.
He paused.
The object had moved. Far outside of where he'd expected.
It wouldn't have been moved unless...
Checking his blasters, the Dusk Trooper found a suitable spot to use his jet-boots and headed for the Sign of the Tri-Forked Tongue.
*
It was fortunate that the Arcona had been placed on the Special Civility Affirmation with honorary status for their open support.
To say he was busy would be an overstatement but he was occupying himself, checking through the collected data for the upcoming battle. The Empire would have more than enough heroes leading the front.
He liked to know who he’d be working with before a battle.
And, if possible, who he’d be fighting.
An ugly assortment, and not just in the aesthetic sense.
Guun Cutlax was such a fearsome-looking Dashade he was surprised the holoprojector didn’t break. Pale, razor-teethed, one-eyed and hook-handed. Looking at his list of horrific crimes, it was no wonder he had earned the death sentence on a hundred systems.
Pugglugg was a warty, sunburnt Gamorrean, morbidly obese even for one of his kind, walking around on a set of cybernetic stilts, his skin almost orange, his warts purple, discoloured after a lifetime of faring close to suns to hide from his quarry.
Jerd M. Waunkitongo was a squat, saucer-eyed Toong, a bloated, flat, green, egg-like face on legs, dressed up with fanciful decorations of his own creation.
Then there were Aqualish. Tusked, spider-eyed creatures. Though Senator Vagger represented the Andoan Free Colonies, sizeable and wealthy territories of their species, the majority of Aqualish were fiercely anti-Imperial, as much as they’d been anti-Republic several years before.
Kendu Ultho, Warden of Andro Prime, bedecked in rich, winter-clothing that befitted both the icy coldness of Ando Prime and the even icier coldness of his four menacing eyes.
Daragi Hoba still served as the First Minister of Ando, the de-facto ruler after Po Nudo’s death, still wearing mourning garb decorated with a collar of furry, crimson curls from some unknown animal or plant.
There was also a Neimoidian among them, Marath Vooro, Customs Vizier of Enarc, finely-garbed and possessed of a strange infection that left one of his eyes swollen and surrounded by fleshy, orange bags.
He couldn’t yet determine if Toora would stand among them personally when the fighting began.
There came a tap on his door which he opened from his desk.
A young Imperial officer, one of the Praji family from the looks of her, saluted and spoke.
“The Senator of Alderaan requests an audience, your excellency.”
Glandon Froul felt something hard jump in the pit of his stomach and for a moment, he considered excusing himself on grounds of ill health. Conversing with the Senator of Alderaan had always been a dreaded duty among the officials. Bail Organa had always had an unfortunate reputation, military minds seeing him as sanctimonious, self-righteous, rigid in his impractical ideals and showing no respect to the men and women who really protected the Republic he was so proud of.
Glandon hadn’t actually ever seen him as that. Despite all the problems Bail Organa had with him, Glandon Froul had always quite liked the man. Since he’d gone into hiding after Order 66, he’d hoped Organa was working to make peace with the Empire in what he hoped had been a catastrophic misunderstanding.
Yet many more now missed him. For in his place was another, even worse in reputation.
With a sigh, Glandon Froul massaged his temples and nodded.
“Send her in.”
A young woman entered all in white. Her face was pale and tight, her gleaming lips thin and pursed, her sky-blue eyes restless and suspicious. Her thin nose, line-thin eyebrows and slightly sunken but powdered cheeks made her look elongated, as if stretched. Her hair was clay-brown and tied up in a curling bun behind her head with intricate pins and brooches. Alderaanian dresses were famous for being incredibly rigid and this was no exception. The dress below the belt was so cylindrical and the collar was so high that if she turned her back to him, he could mistake her for an unusually tall wastebasket.
Senator Elenwen Juben, the new Senator of Alderaan, carried herself with poise and elegance but many among the Empire knew her to be delicate in disposition, and not in a good way. Tapped against and the glamour would shatter and she would lash out. How and why she was appointed was anyone’s guess. She was no friend of the Organas, this was common knowledge.
But neither was she a friend of any in the Empire.
She walked past the young Praji, flatly pushing her aside with her fingertips, not caring to look at her. The Praji girl gave her a scowl but said nothing.
“I will speak with you in private, Governor.” Juben said without a shred of courtesy or patience “Immediately.”
Glandon Froul looked up and gave the woman an unimpressed look.
“Senator, while you are in my office, by your own volition, you will speak with me when I choose and with whom I choose.”
“Do you presume to intimidate me, Mr Froul?”
“Miss Juben, if I wanted to intimidate you, I’d send someone else.” The Moff replied quietly. He gave a nod to the Praji girl who saluted and left the room.
“I have come on behalf of the Delegation, governor.”
“I did not doubt it. Now, how may I help you?”
Juben raised an eyebrow.
“Is that a genuine query or false courtesy?”
“Whichever is less of a hassle.”
“If you genuinely wanted to help me, governor...” the Senator tossed her head “You will pull your troops out of the Mid Rim, take them back to your outpost, disband them there and secede any and all military and political authority before heading back to Coruscant to tell your Emperor and his Inner Circle and Moffship that the Delegation demand they do the same.”
There was a pause.
“I see.” Glandon said mirthlessly “I would ask where such authority comes from.”
“A stupid question.” Elenwen snapped “It comes from the Galactic Senate of the Republic!”
“That particular authority does not surpass those of the Moffs or, for that matter, the Emperor.”
“That is where you are wrong, Mr Froul.” The woman gave a tight smirk “Under the rules of the Republic, if the Chancellor, or whatever he’s calling himself, chooses not to abide by the Senate’s expressed wishes and/or instructions, his authority is vetoed and passes to the Senate, the chief elements of which are represented in the Delegation. And now, we will make our wishes known by one means or another.”
“Miss Juben...” Glandon stood “Your wishes are impossible for...a great number of reasons.”
At this, perhaps more by Glandon standing up than his words, Elenwen Juben slammed a fist on his desk.
“We are not to be perturbed, Froul! We are the Senate!”
“No.” Glandon raised one finger in the air, undisturbed “Palpatine is the Senate...I think you’ll find.”
“No longer!” Juben retorted “No man, whatever his station, is allowed to interfere with the decisions of the democratically elected leadership of the Republic. As such, we have cut ties with the man who calls himself ‘Emperor’. It is we who represent the Republic and its interests until this farce is at an end.”
There was another pause.
“So...let me understand this?” Glandon said slowly “You present yourself as a representative of an independent party?”
“Indeed.”
“In that case, madam, I must ask...” he cleared his throat “What authority do you have over an empire you have cut all ties with?”
Juben blinked a couple of times.
“...Don’t change the subject!” she snapped “You are to bring our demands to the Emperor and have them met, without delay!”
“Ah...no. I don’t think I will.” Glandon said quietly.
“To refuse the declaration of the legitimate-”
“Now, I’m going to stop you there a moment, madam.” the Moff held up a hand “You yourself accepted that you were an independent party. If so, you are called to present your demands to the Emperor himself...as wishes, not demands. If you are not part of the Empire, milady, then you don’t make any any sort of demand on those who are.”
“That is a threat!”
“No, madam, it’s simple logic. You can be part of the Empire and try to influence it or you can act as an independent party and remain that way. Not both.”
Juben’s lips pursed in frustration.
“You make me sick.” she hissed “You Moffs are all the same, a bunch of senile, cold-hearted old fools who spit on those who defend the Republic!”
“Defend the Republic, ma’am?” Glandon rose to his feet again. Though old and grey, he was still well-able to stand to his full height “You are a high-born young heiress born and raised on one of the galaxy’s richest and safest planets who, despite their very loud and physical opinions on just about every action taken in the Clone Wars, stayed out of it. You know next to nothing about what it’s like to defend the Republic and you should thank the stars that, thanks in no small part to a bunch of ‘senile, cold-hearted old fools’...you’ll never have to.”
Elenwen Juben was near white with indignation.
"You...You cannot speak to me in such a way! I am a Senator of the Delegation.”
“And I am a Moff of the Empire, equal standing to your own position. Here, in my office, you will speak to me as an equal, repaid in both courtesy or contempt, and if you do not care for that, milady...the door is just behind you.”
The young Alderaanian’s eyes blazed and after a weighty glare, she spun on her heels and left with one final word.”
“We are far from finished, Froul.”
“Arguable.” Froul sat back down as the door closed behind Senator Elenwen Juben.
Pondering a moment, Glandon measured events.
The Delegation had always made a show of non-violence.
Yet, from what he’d heard from Yularen, they’d been in contact with this murderer, Favon Berec.
Could Juben have been involved?
The longer she represented her planet’s interests, the closer she brought it to war.
*
The van came to a stop at last. They felt it in the back, the sudden jolt of motion and then stillness.
Ayy Vida was now clutching at Pip. Terror was in her eyes. She was muttering something.
Pipsqueak could just make it out.
“I don’t want to go in there...I don’t want to go in there...I don’t want to go in there...”
“Shh...” Lunae shook her shoulder firmly but not forcibly “Let’s just do this and get out of here.”
“Where are we?” Pip piped up. No answer came. The two twi’leks stood still as the door was opened.
Tas Kee gave them a threatening look.
“Out” she growled. The twi’leks obeyed without a word.
They were parked squarely in an alley, facing the exit, blocking anyone even looking in on the small dark lane in the lower street (Though who would want to was a mystery.)
A door was a solid grate, barely noticeable in the scant light. As the weequay held a fob to a small switch hidden in the works, the grate slowly opened with a dull, almost deathly rattle.
“Well,” Tas Kee gave them a sardonic smile “Welcome to hell, girls. In you go.”
Ayy gave a slight whimper as the two walked in, the door giving another rattle as it closed behind them, Kee bringing up the rear.
The first thing Pip noticed was the smell.
It was revolting. Unlike anything he’d ever smelt before, it nearly brought his eyes to water, throwing a forehoof to his muzzle as he gave a sickened muffle.
The closest he’d ever come to any scent like this was when a pig got loose from Sweet Apple Acres and the CMC had volunteered to get it back. They’d found it stuck in a tank of mud that they’d had to jump in to push it out of, only to get stuck in turn and require their sister’s personal aid in rescue from the mud.
Then it transpired that it wasn’t mud.
Rarity’s shriek could have been heard in Trottingham if he’d been back home at the time.
But this was worse, old, musty, rotten.
Another scent he was reminded of was when some ponies he lived close to went on holiday but nopony told the milkpony so the bottles were just left there for weeks until summer ended and during an early rainstorm, one of the bottles smashed on the pavement, leaving behind a sickly, yellow sludge with patches of grey that wouldn’t wash away with the rain. All the foals in Trottingham gathered and regarded the spoiled milk as something of a local curiosity, daring one another to prod it. Thankfully he’d never been singled out but the smell was horrid enough.
All he knew for certain was that it involved more than one kind of bodily excretion left some time ago with no-one cleaning it up and made him feel as though there was a rusty object scraping at the inside of his nostrils.
The place was virtually lightless, bare, dying lamps flickering above them down a dingy staircase.
Tentatively, they paced down and opened another door, a manual one.
They entered on a large, dark room. A filthy toilet and sink was spreading mold up the ceiling but strangely the scent wasn’t just coming from that. Half the room was taken up by grimy shelves full of jet-black canisters and other things. Strange instruments that all carried the rancid stench. Most were metal and had gone to rust some time ago. The other walls were plastered over with some kind of paint-like fluid that had bubbled and cracked over time. Presumably it had been placed over the original walls to cover up whatever had left the stink.
The two twi’leks stepped tentatively into the middle of the room, making space on the shelves for Pip and the box of plans. Tas Kee threw Lunae a pair of cuffs and gestured to the colt. Without a word from either of them, the twi’lek cuffed Pip by the neck to the shelf through a hole in one of the boards.
Ayy Vida wouldn’t stop whimpering.
“Why do we keep having to come back here? After everything that happened here?”
“Look, he’s dead. He’s not going come back to hurt you.”
“I’m not worried about him hurting me, I just hate it here! All the stuff he did here, to all those girls!”
“Don’t think about what he did here. I don’t think about what he did here and you shouldn’t either, just put it out of your mind.” She leaned in close “Do you have it?”
“Yeah.”
“Give it to me, quick.”
“Alright, that’s enough time to sort things out. Both of you, up against the wall” Tas Kee barked. The two young twi’leks obeyed wordlessly. The Weequay fixed Pip with a venomous leer before turning to Lunae, clasping her by the chin.
“Now...where to start?”
“Ms Kee...Please...” the lilac twi’lek mumbled, giving Ayy a desperate look. Whatever she’d been asking for was still clutched in her hand “Look, no-one asked us anything! I don’t know how they found Saam!”
“But you knew they were after him.” Tas Kee’s knive drew close again “You were on their ship. You’re seriously telling me you never once thought to look in on it?”
“We couldn’t tell you! You just wanted us to find the documents!”
“Oh...” The weequay’s eyes widened venomously “So what you’re saying is that this is all our fault?”
“N-n-no, I...I just mean...”
“You know what? Frak this.” Kee spun the knife and aimed it at Lunae’s eye “I’m doing this on principle.”
Pip shut his eyes tight and turned away, curling up in a ball, unable to watch this torture.
Grrzzzzzzt!
A sharp, sudden buzz sounded suddenly, causing Pip’s eyes to snap open with shock.
The formerly-timid Ayy Vida had lunged forward and pressed some form of pointed utensil into the side of Tas Kee’s neck. A jolt of electricity crackled out its nub and the weequay woman jolted and spasmed, her face twitching in pain.
The buzzing subsided and Tas Kee flopped unconscious to the ground. Pipsqueak stared in shock as the two twi’leks stoof over their comatose overseer.
Her face screwing with rage, Lunae Minx gave the prone Kee a solid kick to the side.
“Schutta!” she yelled, kicking her hated supervisor a second and third time “Schutta! Schutta!This is for Sel, you murdering frakker!”
“Lunae! That’s enough!” Ayy grabbed her by the shoulder, taking Tas Kee’s knives, fobs and other utensils “We don’t wanna’ kill her. You said it yourself.”
The lilac twi’lek took a step back, breathing heavily.
She shook her head and sighed.
“Okay...” she said quietly “C’mon.”
“Wh-wh-what are you doing?” Pipsqueak found his voice at last.
“Something we’ve been waiting to do for years.” Lunae said, scowling at the unconscious Tas Kee “We’re getting out of here. Thought you’d approve.”
“Y-you’re not going to...kill her, are you?”
The twi’leks glanced at him.
“It...It wouldn’t be right...to kill her.”
Pipsqueak gulped. Though, in the short time he’d known her, Tas Kee had been unpleasant to know at best. But he didn’t want her to die.
He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to die.
“No, it’s okay.” Ayy said, walking over to him gently “We’re just gonna’ leave her in the alley, take the key to this place off her so she can’t get you, take off in her van and get off this lousy planet.”
“Uh, okay...wait...” he relayed her words back in his head, tugging at the cuff around his neck “You mean you’re...leaving me here?”
Ayy and Lunae looked at each other and noticed very similar looks in their faces.
The lilac twi’lek’s eyes narrowed and spoke in a stern tone.
“Ayy...”
“C’mon Lunae, we can’t just leave him here!” Ayy pleaded.
“Ayy, we’ve been planning this for months!” Lunae was speaking through gritted teeth.
“He’s just a kid!”
“Exactly!”
“But Lunae-”
“Ayy! Listen to me! We are not taking him with us!” Lunae was close to yelling.
Pip stared at the two. It was more than a friendly relationship these two had, Lunae was acting like some stern mother and Ayy was acting like the sentimental daughter.
The only time he and his mother ever came close to arguing in this way was when she’d disapproved of him spending time with Dinky. All the tension from either side was real.
And as he realised he was the centre of their argument, he felt a pit in his stomach and his words came in a strangulated tone.
“I-it’s okay...” he managed to say “Y-you don’t have to take me with you...”
“But, Pip...” He didn’t quite know if this was the first time Ayy was calling him by name “We just leave you in the underworld like this.”
“Rae’ll come get me.” Pip said, brightening up at the thought.
“Right!” That at least brought a smile to Lunae’s face “Remember, Ayy? Rae Sloane’s on Hat Lo’s trail. She’s already got Saam, he’s bound to talk if he hasn’t already. They’ll find this place, pick up Pip, by which point, we’ll be long gone. They won’t follow us where we’re going and we’re hardly worth the price of the chase anyway. Does that make you feel better?”
Ayy looked at her with a morose expression, looked to Pipsqueak then back to Lunae.
“Can I say goodbye to him?”
Lunae gave an exasperated sigh.
“Fine.” She picked up the unconscious Tas Kee “But I’m leaving in two minutes, with or without you.”
And with that, she made her way out, carrying the limp weequay with her.
Ayy Vida knelt down beside Pip and ruffled his scruffy chocolate-brown mane.
“You’re gonna’ be okay?” she mumbled.
“Um...well, if you could undo this cuff, that would be nice.” Pipsqueak gestured to the makeshift collar latched to the shelf.
With an awkward nod, Ayy undid the cuffs, taking them with her while Pip gratefully stretched his neck.
“Thanks, Miss.” He gave her a grateful smile.
Ayy Vida stared at the brave, bright little colt. He’d only turned up yesterday but it somehow felt like she’d known him for years.
It hurt to know she was saying goodbye.
In a sweeping motion, the twi’lek gave Pipsqueak a warm hug.
“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Pip.” she sounded close to crying “You don’t deserve any of this.”
“Neither do you.” the colt said quietly.
“No, I knew what I was doing...or I should have known anyway. You just wanted to help me.”
“Do you...still need help?”
“Yeah. But I’ll get it my own way.” She gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead. Pip’s face screwed up with bashfulness.
Lunae's voice came from up the stairs.
“Ayy! C’mon!”
The tropical-coloured twi’lek shook her head and got to her feet.
“Goodbye, Pip. Good luck.”
“You too.”
And with a light patter of footsteps, she was gone. The clatter of shoes on stairs grew fainter and fainter.
He then paused.
‘Now what?’ he thought.
He confessed, he hadn’t really thought this through. He was surprised that, in his haste to make sure Ayy Vida and Lunae Minx were okay, he’d almost completely neglected to make sure he was in a safe position.
He was alone, in this large, foul-smelling room (Which was really starting to get to him now) with no idea how long it would take for anyone to find him, if indeed they would.
How long could he last?
There was no food around, at least none he fancied looking for in this place, and we wouldn’t chance touching that filthy sink no matter how thirsty he became.
He started wondering if this was actually a very good idea after all.
‘Helping others isn’t about why. It’s about why not.’
That sweet voice, calm, bright and ever so gentle.
Pip’s eyes widened as he stared into space.
“Dinky?” he murmured.
There was nothing. But her words never left him, he’d promised that since he first heard her.
‘If you keep on helping others, things will look up for you as it did for them. It’s always worth it it some way. So keep the best you can for others and the best will come for you.’
Dinky Doo. Wise beyond her years.
How he missed her.
There was a spatter of moisture at his forehoof.
Looking down, there was a small, growing puddle on the hard, dirty floor right below his muzzle.
This, the Dusk Trooper concluded, was problematic.
He stood in the centre of the Sign of the Tri-Forked Tongue.
In the middle of a sea of corpses.
Someone had come into one of the most well-influenced, well-resourced and well-known criminal havens in Coruscant and unleashed hell.
He knew it wasn’t the Empire.
Or the Black Sun.
But what other rival gang had this much power or ferocity.
The Hutts? The Pykes? A resistance group?
Berec?
He ventured deeper into the den. More unfortunate sights met his eyes.
VIP rooms spattered with blood, corpses of rich crooks and their escorts strewn across beds and settees where they’d believed themselves safe to relax.
Smashed vaults, devoid of treasures, bodies of guards and accountants deposited within.
At the end of the tunnel was Hat Lo’s private trove.
The door had been opened cleanly.
The only thing inside was Seib Nodd.
Or what remained of her.
Her sordid story had come to a messy end. The woman been sliced in two, lengthwise from the top. Sizzling, black streaks across her body suggested she’d been tortured with an electro-whip, likely for the codes.
The Dusk Trooper was nonplussed.
A mixture of cunning efficiency and brutal savagery. What manner of organisation was capable?
A sinister drone playing at his nerves, he stepped outside of the vault and looked a moment at the keypad.
Pressing six buttons, he closed the door.
He stared at the outside of the door.
A cryptic symbol had been emblazoned upon it. A calling card.
Meant for him.
The Dusk Trooper’s teeth gritted behind his helmet.
‘Big mistake, old friend...Big, bloody mistake.’
*
The tall, green spires of Muunilinst made Feanor Rondel feel queasy.
The shuttle landed at the landing bay of the Banking Clan Main Vault Fortress. A collection of gaunt, gaudy Muuns awaited them.
One of them wore the colours of the Empire; Gahg Graemon, the Minister of Imperial Finance. One of the few aliens among the Imperial Inner Circle, sticking close to others like Amedda for safety.
Rondel despised him as he did all Muuns and indeed most aliens. He considered it a crime that one tied to one of the most prominent bastions of the Separatist corruption that had started the Clone Wars was allowed to sit at the helm of the New Order. But he was confident that Graemon wasn’t a threat.
Talented at his job he may have been, he was no San Hill. He lacked the tenacity to be treacherous.
That didn’t earn him any respect from Rondel however.
Disembarking, Rondel saluted beside Taubrey Terradoc and their entourage. The Muuns bowed, a curious sight from such thin creatures, appearing as though they bended their bodies into a complete right-angle.
“Esteemed officers.” Graemon greeted them “We received your wish to voice concerns among the Banking Clan’s foremost assembly. How may we be of service?”
Rondel raised an eyebrow with derision.
“Did we not make ourselves clear in our message?”
Graemon held up a hand effetely.
“I apologise but the Intergalactic Banking Clan are not permitted to hear or make requests via hologram.”
Terradoc scowled.
“You’ll do as the Empire command now. Or there won’t be any Banking Clan!”
That seemed to amuse the Muuns.
“First Lieutenant, with all due respect, banks cannot simply be removed, any more than the credits they hold.”
“Just show us what we need to see.” Feanor Rondel showed a hologram for a moment “I have here the warrant.”
“So you do.” Graemon nodded, his tall head bowing slowly and motioned his spindly fingers to lead them inside “Come along then, gentlemen."
Let inside the vaults, heady amber lights above them, Rondel cradled a blaster, looking to take some frustration out on the first banker that stepped out of line.
His father had been a banker, one of many on Humbarine who were put out of business by the ‘intergalactic’ banking firms, often run by Muuns along with Sullustans, Ishi Tib, Xexto and others. It was this that had contributed to a great deal of anti-alien sentiment on Humbarine and many other planets like it even before the war that had nearly destroyed the planet's civilisation. And it was very much reflected in Captain Feanor Rondel.
Gahg Graemon held up a hand as they stood before a vault with a great many blocked-off doors and passages.
“This vault was built and named after a very prominent but rather...controversial figure of our organisation.” Graemon explained “Often, those he had dealings with had, shall we say, irregular ulterior motives.”
“The name of this figure?”
“Hego Damask...You’ve probably never heard of him.” He snapped his spiderleg-like fingers at two sour-faced Muuns in dark clothing “Card! Plain! Make yourselves useful.”
The two scowled at him but complied, trudging for the vault marked for Gume Saam.
“And they are?” Rondel asked.
“Nix Card and Mak Plain. Confirmed by Imperial Intelligence to have consorted with senators now regarded as enemies of the state.”
“So, you put them to work as drudges?”
“Well, it was either that or we feared we’d all go the same way as poor old ex-Chairman San Hill.”
“Now, we’ve been over this.” Terradoc snapped as Nix Card and Mak Plain feebly attempted to wrestle open the vault “Master Skywalker, acting on the orders of our esteemed Chancellor had gone to Mustafar to apprehend the leaders of the assorted Separatist organisations and bring them safely to Coruscant for trial. It was the Jedi Kenobi who attacked and murdered San Hill along with-”
Brkoom!
The marble floor was ripped from underneath their feet as Rondel, Terradoc, Graemon, four bankers and six stormtroopers were thrown across the corridor. A collosal explosion had torn Gume Saam’s vault apart and reduced Nix Card and Mak Plain to charred, matchstick-thin carcasses. One of them, it was impossible to tell which, had landed close to Gahg Graemon who gave a high-pitched scream, scrambling away frantically as service droids hurried to help them to their feet and extinguish the fires.
Rondel caught his breath, mopped his brow, swallowed his pride and turned to his First Lieutenant.
“Get Sloane on the comms.”
*
“Really?” Sloane hid a grin at the sound of her obnoxious captain’s frantic panicking “Goodness. It sounds like Senator Saam took a ‘If I can’t have it no-one can’ approach to his finances.”
“No, you stupid bint! Someone else rigged the vault!” Rondel shouted back, trying to heard over the emergency alarms and fire-droids.
“What vault was it precisely?” Rax butted in.
“Uh...The Hego Damask Vault.” the captain shook his head in frustration “They’ve found nothing on the security recordings! No-one’s been confirmed entering or leaving the vault since Saam disappeared. There’s no way anyone got in or out to do this and yet they did! Find out how!”
“...how exactly?”
“That’s your problem now!” Rondel snapped “So either find someone lower than you to lump it on or do your bloody job!” And with that the hologram shrunk and switched off.
He was in a worse mood than usual. He must have assumed that checking finances would be an easy job.
Rae rolled her eyes and turned to see Gallius Rax, unsurprisingly smiling.
“Alright. What do you know that I don’t?”
“Well, that’s a question with many answers.”
“About the vaults! I know how to read that cocky smile.”
Gallius Rax sighed, tilted his head to the left and right and spoke.
“Hego Damask II. Magister of the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Believed to have been the bearer of the moniker ‘Plagueis’, a Sith practitioner who trained, and was later murdered, by his unnamed apprentice. Said apprentice being the most likely mentor of the known enemies of the Republic and the Jedi Order, the Dathomirian Zabrak known only as Maul and the Serennoan Count and Confederacy Leader, Bradar Dooku.”
“Fascinating...” Rae wondered what it meant “And?”
Gallius shrugged.
“Just thought it was interesting. So, we were looking for the warehouse your moist little friend pointed us to?”
“She has a name.”
“I lost interest in that part.” He shrugged again.
“Come on.” Rae was grumbling under her breath. The sooner she was done with this, the better.
They didn’t need to look hard to find preserved gorg on Scampac Street. One could smell it from a mile off. The Koorivar Tailors could be found by the head-scarves with openings at the top for their distinctive cranial horns. Between them was a deep but narrow alleyway that had seen better days, though however long ago was uncertain.
Walking in, hoping Gallius Rax didn’t look too conspicuous, they went further and further down until they came to a trash-littered dead-end, a metal-grate door to the side of them with a switch that looked barely functional.
Rae paused, examining the tatters on the ground.
“Someone’s been here.” She brushed her hand over the crumpled paper and foils “Someone’s fallen flat around here...and some of these scraps have booster burns. Probably from a van or a truck.”
“Indeed. And once you’re finished with your phenomenal impression of a scurrier, shall we indulge our curiosity further within?” Rax gestured to the door.
“Don’t patronise me.” Rae gave him what must have been her thirty-eighth scowl that day as he got to his feet and examined the door switch, cracking open the wire frame and drawing a few lock-picking appliances she’d kept from her police days and held onto. As she leafed through the wiring and switches, she noticed the lock mechanism was actually very advanced, at least five years younger than the switch itself. Someone had been upgrading the locking mechanisms at least twice without changing how it looked at all.
If that didn’t scream ‘Shady Poodoo Inside’, she didn’t know what did.
Before she could pull it apart, Gallius waved a fob in front of her face. The door switch gave a drone and the grate slowly rose.
Rae blinked.
“How did you...”
Gallius gave a childish grin, showing off the fob as if it were an expensive toy.
“ISB gem right here. Opens every door in the Core Worlds”
Rae examined it. Her eyes widened with alarm.
“This is Yularen’s!”
“I know” Gallius shrugged nonchalantly “I pickpocket him when he bores me. You can keep this one if you like. I’ve got plenty.”
“Rax...” Rae said flatly “You scare me.”
“I know.” he replied with a smile, gesturing to the open door “Though not as much as this place, I can tell.”
“You know then?” The lieutenant supposed “You know what this place is.”
“I don’t need to be me to know, in this case.” He genuinely looked excited “This is the lost sanctuary of your old nemesis, Gabo the Wicked. Where he ‘worked his magic’ on twenty-four innocent young girls.”
“It could have been thirty if I’d let him have his way the same way most of the unit did.” Rae growled bitterly.
“Eight still haven’t turned up. This place may tell a pretty tale.” Gallius replied “It still hasn’t been too long since he was dead, has it?”
“Third day of the Empire.” Rae said “It’ll always be a special day for me.”
She remembered it well. Straight after the speech to all officers by Captain Lorth Needa, Rae Sloane went straight to one of the dodgy clubs she knew Gabo frequented. She'd fetched a few guards and hauled him out. She then convinced a few girls who knew enough about what the filthy creature did in his spare time to convince a court. Gabo spat threats all the while, expecting to walk just like the last four times and go back to turning young girls into horror-shows on the street by the next day.
She couldn’t decide what she’d found sweeter.
The look on his face when the judge had pronounced him guilty as charged...
The look on his face when he found he was sentenced to firing squad...
Or the look on his face as he watched her and twelve others press their triggers...
Gabo the Wicked had died as he lived, in tears, blood and filth.
She was dreading what she might find inside the hideout they never found.
Gallius meanwhile, had not a hint of fear on his pale, schoolboy face.
“Shall we?”
*
Pip’s ears twitched as a familiar voice sounded gently close by.
“Good morning, my little lumkin. Coming down for breakfast?”
‘Lumkin’. He’d been called that as early as he could remember but he’d only recently learned what it actually meant. He’d asked Patch the librarian on a visit and it turned out it meant ‘child of light’, after the Old Equestrian word ‘lum’ meaning a star that shines at day. The word was now tossed around various communities.
But there was only one pony he knew who always called him that.
“Mummy?”
Blinking, he rose from his pillow as his mother, Nancy, came in with a smile, sipping a mug of morning tea and bringing in a cup of orange juice, putting it on the little desk in his bedroom where he made his drawings.
The smell of margarine melting on freshly-baked bread and jam of berries and cherries wafted upstairs.
“I know it’s the start of the holidays but there’s no need to sleep all day.” she chuckled “You’ll want to eat quickly. Your friends outside have come all this way just to see you.” His mother opened the curtains, letting in the golden light of early summer in Trottingham. Pip brushed the sleep out of his eyes and mane and glanced out the window. Under the chestnut trees outside their home that were already heavy with swelling conkers, stood two fillies.
Tootsie Flute was waving to him with her giddy little smile.
And beside her...
Dinky Doo beamed as brightly as the sun. Her flax-gold mane dancing in the summer breeze, her cheeks going rosy as he smiled back.
He couldn’t believe his luck.
Waking up to such a beautiful morning, her friends coming all the way over to see him at home. He’d always wanted to know what they thought of Trottingham.
For once, everything seemed perfect.
...
‘Oh’
His face fell.
“What’s wrong, love?” His mother asked, with her sympathetic smile.
Pipsqueak looked up at her, barely hiding tears in his eyes.
“This is a dream, isn’t it.”
Everything suddenly lost its movement. Things went still, all except the muzzle of Nancy.
The gentle face of his mother sunk into itself. His entire bedroom was sucked into a silent hole. All light and noise and warmth disappeared in an instant.
The cold, hard floor and the stink of the warehouse interior rushed back to meet him so fast, it could have been grounds for assault. The smell was nearly choking him. He’d been afraid of falling asleep for fear of suffocating.
The place had succeeded in thoroughly frightening him in the first hour he’d spent here. And while he wasn’t cuffed anymore, he didn’t fancy exploring any more of this place. There was no telling what he might find, and not in a good way.
He’d just huddled, trying not to notice how chilly and thirsty he was.
He looked at the way out again for what may have been the fourth time.
He felt like chancing it. But every time he reminded himself he wasn’t in Equestria and anything could go wrong here in ways he couldn’t imagine.
As if to prove that thought, he heard the grate give a screech and crunch as it opened up.
He backed into the shelf, searching for anywhere he could hide but his thoughts weren’t quick enough.
Steps slammed down the stairs and a figure spun round, a blaster in her hands.
“ISB! Hands in the air...or...hooves?”
“Rae!” Pipsqueak exclaimed, feeling his heart slamming against the inside of his chest as Rae Sloane stood in the doorway, staring at the little colt she’d believed vanished.
“Pip!” She put away her blaster and rushed over to him, picking him up and rubbing the back of his neck “Stars above! What are you doing here?!”
“I was in the box when it got stolen?!”
“You’re kidding! Did you see who did it?”
“Yes! I know their names too!”
“Great! That’s great!” Rae was too shocked to fully go over everything she’d thought about “Okay, we need to get down to the garrison and get this all down!”
“Ah, young Pipsqueak. How are we this morning?” Gallius strolled in. Rae found it irritating that he greeted him as if he’d only seen him yesterday.
Then she remembered that was pretty much the case.
He gazed around and sniffed loudly, coughing slightly with a closed-mouth.
“Ah...putrefaction. Unmistakably. We’ll want to have a crew dig up the place later. Might find one of the missing eight.”
“Missing what?” Pipsqueak’s ears pricked.
“Nothing, Pip. Don’t worry about it.” Rae gave him an awkward smile, turning to the shelves.
She found the box and retrieved it, checking the contents.
“Did the thieves say who wanted this?”
“More than that!” Pip exclaimed “I saw Hat Lo!”
That got their attention. Rae and Gallius craned down and listened intently.
“Do tell.” Gallius said.
“Well, Hat Lo didn’t like me. He was working with this Saam fellow. There was an inspector who was working with him. Pot-belly, face like a fish.”
“Tan Divo.” They both said at once.
“He wanted what was in the box. It’s stuff about the police officers. They mentioned Salima. And Yularen, I think.”
Rae stared at the box.
“Blackmail?” she exclaimed “This explains why Lo’s been getting away with everything for so long. That pop-eyed git, Divo’s, been covering for him!”
“Can I take a little look?” Gallius said cheekily, craning his head over the box.
“Not on your life.” Rae snapped it shut “Besides, if you’re as clever as you think you are, none of this will be new to you.”
She paused a moment.
“Hold on, that doesn’t make sense. Why would this box be full of blackmail material and be given into our hands? And the only way they’d be able to sneak into our safehouse and snatch it is if this whole thing was planned!”
“Someone’s playing poor old Moff Kaine.” Rax tutted in faux-pity.
“Or he’s playing us.” Rae growled “We need to get to the garrison. There’re people I can trust there. We can explain everything.”
“What is this place?” Pip tugged at her sleeve “Please, I need to know.”
Rae gave a grim look and spoke softly.
“This is where a...very awful criminal worked. Well, not so much worked. He...tortured people, young women. I’m afraid that’s all I feel right telling you, Pip, it’s for your own good. He’s not a danger anymore, I made sure of that.”
“But...what’s the smell?”
“Uh...mostly the paint. But...a lot of it’s from what he did. Trust me Pip, you don’t want to know.”
“She’s mostly right, honestly. You don’t want to know.” Gallius said, giving a grin “Unless you’re like me.” He sniffed at the air again “There’s just one odour I can’t quite put my finger on. What is it...Ryll? No, Balo Mushroom? Ah, Ixetal!”
“Death Stick...”
Gallius noticed that Rae and Pip were looking at the doorway.
He turned around to the same angle.
“...Ah...”
Two figures stood in the doorway. Armed and, from the looks of it, dangerous.
One was a muscular, dark-skinned human, tattooed, shaved-head and thin-bearded. He was dressed in off-world garb, likely from Hutt Space. His nose was crooked, likely broken more than once, and there was a faint scar across the right-side of his lips. His eyes were small and yellow, a sign of spice use, and both of them were fixed on the three menacingly. He was cradling a stun baton with prongs and studs that suggested they were meant for far more than just stunning.
He was smoking a death stick.
The other was a young female, probably the first and only to walk into the room with a smile on her face. She was a Zeltron with long ebony hair that hung down in curls right down to below her elbows. Her eyes and cheeks were shaded a dark indigo and her lips were painted midnight-blue. She was dressed in somewhat skimpy clothing, not suitable for grunt-work Rae had always thought, teal and lilac with braces around her wrists and ankles and a leather belt over her shoulder to her hip to provide some small amount of armour. She had a small vibroblade she was twirling round in her hand.
Gallius Rax glanced at the bronze-coloured tank with a black nozzle the man was carrying and the false-gold coated firebombs at his belt.
He gave an awkward look.
“Is this what the journalists are wearing nowadays? Or are you here to get rid of the evidence?”
The Zeltron gave them a sardonic smirk.
“You really ought to keep your noses out of other people’s business.” she said slowly “It’s against the rules.”
“Just as well we’re the ones who make them.” Rae said sternly, placing Pip on top of the shelves out of harm’s way, and drew a police baton. The Imperial issue were double-ended, held in two hands or one, and its wielders trained in the academy in how to use them properly.
Gallius Rax had a spark-crop, a small electro-whip that worked more like a birch or a cane. Delivered a greater shock but flimsier as a sidearm. Rae imagined it suited him.
Firing a blaster could cause a lethal accident for all of them. With what may well have been flammable liquids about and who knew what on the shelves, it was better to settle things in close-quarters.
“Right chaps, shall we dance a while?” Rax chuckled “How about you, Miss Sloane? Would you like some strong hands round your neck or do you still prefer the woman’s touch?”
As Rae cast him an irritated look, the newcomers smiled.
“Just one minute, ladies.” the man held up one finger then poked his head round the doorway, calling out.
“Oh Thracca?”
There was a pause.
Then Rae, Gallius and Pip grew aware of slow, heavy thuds down the stairs.
Footsteps.
A mountain walked in, garbed in the gear of an Outlander thug with bands of bones and teeth slung around this and that.
The thugs smiled as Thracca introduced himself.
A fully-grown Wookiee, slate-furred, pitted with pale, hairless scars, one eye replaced by a bronze cap with a skull engraved into it. His shaggy hands and feet were capped by bands of solid iron. Slowly, growling softly all the while, he spread his arms out before him and, as quick as the snap of an anooba, slammed his fists against his chestplate, baring his fangs and snarling.
“Grrrrraaaauuuuunnnfff!”
Pip stared at the beast with boggle-eyed horror. Rae and Gallius glanced at the Wookiee, then each other, then the Wookiee again.
Gallius Rax gave an uncomfortable smile.
“Do you want that one, Miss Sloane, or should I try my luck?”
“Whatever you think would be wise, Mr Rax...” She said flatly.
Rax nodded and turned to face the colt, shrugging apologetically.
“Pip, my lad, the big fellow’s all yours.”
*
Ardus Kaine checked his hair in the mirror.
People always kept saying he was growing it like Tarkin. Just to impress him.
It was a lie. He was growing it like his distant uncle, Angus Kaine. The Sentinel of Sartinaynian as he was known, while he’d only been a mere captain in the Planetary Armed Forces, he died valiantly fighting the Zygerrian Slaver Fleet, protecting who knew how many from a life and death in chains.
It was his bravery that had convinced him that a soldier’s life was for him, not a career spent fussing over figures, trade tariffs and lawsuits. His father hadn’t been too appreciative but Ardus was intent on showing him, even four long years after his death.
He wasn’t a sycophant. Tarkin had no need of those. Some other Grand Moffs and figureheads required damp-haired little lickspittles nibbling at their coat-tails night and day but the Hammer of Eriadu was made of sterner stuff.
‘He wasn’t a sycophant’, he reminded himself again. ‘He would get by in his own way’.
But a childhood spent examining financial figures and practicing court speeches had gained him little respect amongst the military elite and their children had been worse.
He did not have pleasant memories of the academy.
At a social gathering, Ardus had once chanced upon both Grand General Cassius Tagge and High Admiral Conan Antonio Motti and asked them both how to rise up the ranks.
Tagge had stated plainly that the Empire admired loyalty, dedication, intuition, wit, no small amount of cunning and a certain degree of charm. Not too difficult to pick up if one learned from the best.
While Motti had taken him aside and said something quite different.
“See, young Ardus, the only real advice an ‘up-and-comer’ needs in Imperial High Command is this; Find the biggest, most powerful, most goddamn dreaded son-of-a-mastiff in your Oversector...and weld your lips to their balls.”
He wasn’t too fond of that man. Despite how grandly they held themselves, everyone knew the Motti’s were common as muck. Though Motti wasn’t a talentless individual by any means, by far his greatest achievement was marrying his harridan of a sister to Wilhuff Tarkin, for all the good it had done either of them.
The Kaines were different. Or would be different once Ardus had given a name worth speaking of.
His uniform was a slightly different colour to the standard set. Once one was a Moff or a similar standing, one could do things to stand out. It often paid to do so, provided one knew how to keep out of trouble.
His garb was a dull teal, not too far from the standard grey but distinct enough. A small strap of bronze decorated his left shoulder. Some would say it was a bit overblown for what was simply a celebration before he disembarked. But it was customary for someone of his rank.
Actually, strictly speaking, it wasn’t. He would have to have been a Grand Admiral at the very least to request his own salutary parade before disembarking for war. These things had to be arranged by a higher authority.
And everyone around knew the only higher authority Kaine was close to.
The officer’s cheek gave a twitch in frustration.
Wilhuff was doing it on purpose. He knew Ardus wasn’t a sycophant but he’d make everyone thought he was in order to put a leash on him. Not out of spite or arrogance; Tarkin didn’t act out pettiness, Ardus had found; but mostly for security’s sake in the worst-case scenario. People were more likely to report Ardus, or any other officer, going off on his own if they never thought he had it in him. And Wilhuff was making them think that.
He wasn’t the first either.
He had to admit, it was clever. But it didn’t make it any less degrading.
“Ardus? It’s not like you to keep us waiting.”
He smiled as an officer strode up the corridor. His uniform was slightly maroon with a collar studded with amber stones. He was taller than Ardus by at least a full head and built like a gundark (Without the second pair of arms of course). His skin was dark and slightly weathered and his eyes were chestnut-brown and keen as a knife. Ironic that Ardus had been worrying about his hair while this man had none. On his head anyway. His beard was an impressive one. Thick, coal-black, sloping right round his chin to the thin strips before his ears. He had a few scars from the battles he’d seen, not enough to determine each one though.
“Belisarius.” Ardus gave him a friendly nod, hands behind his back in bashfulness “I always thought you were the patient type.”
Belisarius Randd-Geist was also someone Tarkin had high hopes for. The Grand Moff had often partnered the two on important missions. Perhaps he felt they complimented each other. They were polar opposites in more than just appearance. While Ardus was quick but calculating, quick-witted, pin-pointing weak spots and never afraid to tell someone when they needed to get their act together, Belisarius was slow but steady, straightforward, always defending vital points and holding the line and held those under his command in great respect which was very much returned in kind. Both had been groomed by the Grand Moff to guard him and his interests with utmost dedication.
“Devian will be glad to see the back of me, I suppose.” Ardus chuckled.
“Actually, he’s not at the parade.” Belisarius said “Isard’s man, Brothic is serving as his eyes but that Ugnaught-faced loon, Enix Devian’s nowhere to be seen.”
“Hopefully he’s sitting in the corner after Ysanne had to give him a spanking.”
Belisarius raised his eyebrow.
“Does she do that?”
Ardus gave him a look. It wasn’t that Belisarius was unfamiliar with sarcasm but he seemed to regard nothing as a joke or even insincere. Generally, you were rarely expected to in Imperial Command.
He simply shrugged.
“It would explain his attitude.” Ardus muttered as the doors to the shuttle bay opened.
“If you find any Namana trees, the leaves make great tea.”
“Ardy!”
A young woman in a silver and lilac dress rushed forward. Ardus Kaine didn’t smile much as a rule, never had, but this was enough to bring a beam to his face.
“Hello, Yimi. This is a nice surprise.”
She flew into his chest. She’d been crying.
“Please don’t go into battle. Please stay at the headquarters and keep safe...for me?”
Sighing, Ardus stroked his fiancé’s hair and patted her back.
To his memory, the Bescanean beauty, Yimi Dekeet was one of the most beautiful things that had ever happened to him. She was lithe and delicate, almost unworldly. Slender and small with large indigo eyes framed by pale lashes; soft, pale, porcelain skin, near translucent. Her lips and eyelids were coloured finely, not too vibrantly, with a light blossom pink.
He’d grown up with Yimi when they were both sent to the Bastion College of Law and she was the only thing that ever would make him look forward to taking time at home during his Academy years. He and she had both hid their tears when her father announced her marriage to the repugnant Marquis Hynerian Torpin of Reynon. Though rich and pretty, the whole Oversector knew of his depravities.
During what they’d thought to be the last time they’d ever see each other again, Ardus had given Yimi a secret transmitter to call for his help if her husband ever tried anything.
But fortune had decided to play a funny trick. Not a week into marriage, Marquis Hynerian Torpin had been killed in his brand-new pleasure space-cruiser he’d been testing by the invading IBC battle-fleet of Overseer Juhm. Yimi Dekeet and many others in the sector had been captured and held on Gwori either for ransom or for chains. In what was his first real battle, Ardus Kaine had commanded a ship and taken part in the relief effort. The rescue romance became a favourite among Holonet readers though what he remembered most was the gaggle of aliens queing up to shake his hands or kiss his cheeks for his bravery.
Aliens. Thanking him.
Deep down, he’d never really thought they were all bad.
“Yimi.” he said gently “I’ll be back safe before you know it.”
“But...you’re going to meet Berec!” she looked at him pleadingly “He’s a monster! He...he cuts off heads!”
“He won’t be getting mine any time soon. I promise you that.”
“Please don’t joke about this!” Yimi sniffed, trying to hide her tears. Most of the crowd pretended not to look. Ardus knew for a fact that somewhere, Tarkin was watching and wondering how this could benefit him.
“Please...don’t leave me alone.”
“Yimi, I promise.” he looked into her eyes calmly and gently “Nothing will stop me coming back home safe. I have good men beside me and the best defences the Empire can provide. I’ll be back, that is a promise, a solemn vow.”
Looking after Yimi had been something of a difficult road in itself. She’d always been somewhat frail, ate little and had been sickly for most of her life, the scars her father and ex-husband left doing little to help matters. Her hands shook when stressed, often meaning she couldn’t relax in her hobbies of harp-playing or weaving.
But Ardus wouldn’t give up on her. He wasn’t some hopeless romantic but Yimi meant a lot to him.
She was the only woman who knew how to make him laugh.
Kissing her on the forehead, the dainty girl reaching to kiss him on the nose, he waved the crowds goodbye and stepped aboard the Reaper.
“Bakura then.” he beckoned to the crew as the hum of the engines grew gradually louder.
He dreaded to imagine what Batch and Tigellinus had done with the fleet so far.
If half the stories about them were true, Berec would be the least of their dangers.
He took one last look out the rear window as the officers, along with Yimi, waved him goodbye.
He'd come far. He had to remind himself. And if all went well, he'd go further.
Just as long as Rae Sloane could be counted on as much as he'd been told.
Gallius Rax threw his crimson cloak at Thracca and held his crop behind his back. The Wookie growled in frustration as he wrestled the fabric out of his face.
The Zeltron tossed her knife from hand to hand and grinned, speaking sultrily.
“I will cut you open, schutta, and I will enjoy every moment. I wonder if you-”
Crnk!
The Zeltron was pretty. On a good day, she’d hate to spoil that. But a knife in her hand and a loose tongue was more than enough reason for Rae to land a swift punch on her nose. The girl squealed in pain and shock, grabbing her face and staring at the Lieutenant.
Rae Sloane wasted no time. Landing a kick between the Zeltron’s legs then tugging the back of her opponent’s hair to knock her face and the hands that covered it into her rising knee, she followed up by grabbing her by the collar and belt and hauling her off the ground.
“Less chatter! More splatter!”
With full force, she flung her adversary straight at the filth-spattered toilets. There was a smash and a scream she turned away from as Thracca loomed over her.
The other henchman made to draw his baton.
“Nope.”
Lightning-fast, Rax slapped the man’s hand with his crop. Drawing back with a flinch, staring at the agent with disbelief, the henchman reached for his baton again.
“Nope.” Rax smacked the hand with his crop again and again “Nope. Nope. Nope.”
“Frak this!” The henchman landed a punch into Gallius’s face. Falling against the shelf, he shook his head, more irritated by his messed-up hair than his injury.
Pip, meanwhile, clambered over the shelves and made himself useful throwing things. He narrowly avoided a blow from Thracca and noticed the Zeltron, far less clean and a lot angrier, lunging at Rae.
“Look out!”
The lieutenant grabbed the knife-hand as it came forward and wrested it into the side of the shelf. The girl dropped her weapon and made to scratch at Rae’s eyes, failing to pull more than her hair before she was thrown again, through the shelves.
“Mr Rax!” Pip called out “Watch your left!”
“What?” Gallius turned back to him as his opponent drew his baton and caught him by the shoulder, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall.
“No! My left!”
The ISB Agent shot Pipsqueak a resentful glare.
“You’re real bloody help, aren’t you!”
“Yes, actually”
Something round, light but somewhat spiky bounced straight into the henchman’s face. Grabbing his eye in pain with a growl, he released Rax who began thoroughly clouting him with the crop before a punch to the gut disorientated him.
Grabbed by the collar again, it became a frantic tug-of-war.
Thracca meanwhile tried to wrestle control of Rae’s staff, pulling it back and then shoving forward in an instant, slamming against Rae’s forehead. Dazed, the lieutenant could do nothing as Thracca wrapped his thick, hairy fingers round her neck, raising her high into the air as she kicked hectically.
“Oh goodness!” Pipsqueak whimpered, frantically looking for a way to help either party. As if that weren’t bad enough, the red woman was getting up and noticed him perched atop the shelves between the two brawls.
In the midst of his panic, a thought struck.
“Hey, lady! You look prettier after that shower over there! And smell better!” he jeered atop the shelf, hopping on his little hooves and sticking out his tongue.
With a growl, her eyes twitching ferally, she made a grab for him. The foal jumped onto the next shelf as the Zeltron reached further.
With a horrid creak, the shelves toppled. One after the other, like giant, dirty dominos, the thin black shelves went down.
Leaping over them, catching his balance, Pip yelled at the Wookie holding his guardian.
“Oi! Teddy Bear!”
Thracca had just enough time to turn, his hands still clutched tight around Rae’s throat, giving a dog-like whimper.
“Picnic’s Over! Time for bed!”
The enormous Wookie disappeared under the avalanche.
Taking the advantage, Gallius kicked out at his foe, pushing himself back against the shelf which fell into the Zeltron, pinning her unconscious underneath.
As Pip jumped forward, he rolled, landed in Gallius’s lap, picked up the nearest weapon he could find and jammed it into the henchman’s knee.
There was a buzzing sound as the man jolted wildly a moment before Rae rushed over and socked him thoroughly across the jaw.
The interlopers were out for the count. The day was won.
All three of them breathed a sigh of relief. Gallius Rax picked up the foal, stood up and plonked him back on the fallen shelves.
“Did you actually just come up with that yourself?” he said, distinct esteem in his voice.
“What, the plan?”
“The one-liner." Rax chuckled "'Teddy-Bear. Picnic's over. Time for bed'? Not bad at all.”
“Well...both, actually.” the little pinto shuffled his hooves bashfully. Rae ruffled his mane fondly.
“You’re one in a million, kid...But you might want to put that down.”
Pip glanced at the weapon he’d used to shock the enemy henchman. It looked like a long-handled shiny black rubber hammer but very hard, quite knobbly and was vibrating for some reason.
“...what is it?” Pip asked, befuddled.
“Kid.” Rae gently took it off him and threw it in the jumble “You don’t want to know.”
Reaching over, she retrieved the box, largely undamaged, and put it under her shoulder.
“Pip, fancy travelling in this again?” Gallius waved his hands at it.
“Well, alright...” Pip mumbled “As long as you keep the top open. And...if it’s not too much trouble, can we stop for something to eat and drink? I’m really thirsty. And I missed breakfast.”
“Well, I suppose.” Rae gave a shrug. “We’re not that far from the garrison and we have our stuff back.”
“Plus if Lo’s thugs are on our trail, they’ll be looking for people in a rush.”
“I don’t think these are Lo’s. They would have guarded the place if they were, not broken in after us.” Rae massaged her neck and noticed something that had fallen off of Thracca. A small pendant on a string that had landed around her arm.
The pendant was wooden, rectangular and inscribed with an odd symbol.
She looked it over.
“Mean anything to you, Rax?”
The ISB Agent raised one eyebrow.
“Hm...New to me, sad to say. Some kind of tribal glyph?”
Pip eyed it.
“It...looks like some kind of shapes test...but orange.”
It was three-pronged southwards, the centre prong split down the middle and the two on either side facing out diagonally and curling like talons with a small plate underneath at each corner.
“Bane might know.” Sloane supposed.
Gallius Rax gave her an unimpressed glance.
“Whether he knows and whether he’s willing to say are two mutually exclusive elements, Miss Sloane.”
Making their way outside, bright, colourless lights shone in front of them. Thin, ungainly droids stepped forward.
“Attention!” one of them warbled “You are trespassing on a designated crime scene. Please accompany your neighbourhood police droids to the underlevel holding cells.”
Rae rolled her eyes.
“We’ll save you a trip. We’re officers of the Imperial Garrison.” she explained “We’re on investigations. We need to see the Grand Commandant.”
The police droid paused a moment.
“No trespassing is permitted on designated crime scenes. Please accompany your neighbourhood police droids to the underlevel holding cells.”
“No, no, we’re not trespassing! We’re investigating!”
“No investigating is permitted on designated crime scenes.”
“What?!”
“Please accompany your neigh-”
The droid’s head suddenly snapped back, fizzling with blue and yellow electricity. In another instant, the other police droids did the same, falling to the ground like thin, broken trees.
Rae and Pip stared at Gallius Rax, a smoking blaster in his hand.
“Boring conversation anyway.” he muttered.
“What are you doing?!" Rae exclaimed "Those were police droids!”
“Tan Divo’s police droids!” Gallius barked “The one working with Lo! Remember?!”
“Right, right, I...” Rae’s eyes suddenly snapped open, face a picture of terror.
“Suui! I left droids like them at her safehouse!”
*
Suui Do couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a proper shower.
In Nautolans, that was a serious issue. Dehydration would leave them sluggish, disorientated, highly suggestible. This often allowed slavers or exploiters to more easily control them.
Turning off the water, she reached in her wardrobe.
Rae would be there some point in the afternoon.
Suui had been allowed to keep most of her things from her time working in the industry. Checking a small mirror, she picked out a set of lingerie and tested them.
‘Yes’ she thought ‘Rae will like these’.
She heard the door give a swish as it opened.
Hopping on her feet, she scampered into the living room.
“Rae!” she giggled “I found a nice suit. You’ll want to...”
She stopped. Her sheer black eyes widened with horror. She took a step back.
Standing in the doorway was not the beautiful defender who served as the guardian angel of so many young Coruscanti girls. Instead, there was a Leffingite, squat, hunched and grinning.
Mumpfasoom had a knife in his hand.
Suui felt her entire body shaking. Mumpfasoom must have liked that. He took a step forward, his grip on his knife tightening.
“No...Not you...” Suui whimpered.
Mumpfasoom gave a giggle, his four eyes cold and hungry.
“Rae will be here soon!” Suui held up her hands “She got Gabo and she’ll get you!”
The Leffingite licked the air and lumbered forward. With a scream, Suui ran into the bedroom and armed herself with a lamp. She turned around too late. With a lurch, Mumpfasoom grabbed her and pinned her to the ground. Trying to kick him away to no avail, she watched in horror as the knife rose.
“Rae!” she wailed “Help me! Please! Somebody!”
“Mumpfasoom.”
A calm but commanding voice overtook Suui’s screams and her attacker’s giggles. The Leffingite turned his head to see a man in a long cloak and a Mandalorian helmet pointing two blasters at him.
The Dusk Trooper’s voice was low and emotionless.
“Let her go and leave immediately and I’ll let you live.”
Mumpfasoom gave a growl, his beaky mouth cracking in frustration.
The helmed figure stepped forward, his blasters nearly resting against the thug’s back.
“Your employer has been betrayed. Criminals far worse than him have manipulated all of us. You should head back to him and gain some semblance of safety. It really would be wiser.”
With a grunt, Mumpfasoom demonstrated the exception he took to that suggestion, throwing a backwards punch that caught the Dusk Trooper across the face. The helmet came loose and the trooper fell into the corner of the room.
Mumpfasoom pounced at him with a roar.
The noise was drowned out, however, as the scream of blaster fire echoed across the safehouse.
A hail of plasma from the Trooper’s guns caught the Leffingite squarely in the eyes. He fell to his knees silently, his face reduced to a charred mess, before crumpling to the ground.
The Butcher of Almak would shed no more blood.
The shaking Suui Do got to her feet, helping the Dusk Trooper up.
“Th-thank you...”
“None needed. I am with Lieutenant Sloane. Complications arose which prevented her arrival. As such I acted in her stead.”
“I know. Thank you. Thank you, I...” Picking up the helmet and holding it toward her rescuer, she nearly dropped it.
Where she’d expected to see the face of the average clone trooper, instead she saw someone very different.
“You’re...Oh my stars, you’re...”
“Madam, I must insist that you do not finish that sentence.” Just as emotionlessly, the Dusk Trooper placed his helmet back upon his head “I can assure you, my intentions are benign and Rae Sloane is safe in my company.”
He spoke sternly, putting away his blasters, holding his hands on them meaningfully.
“But if you divulge this information to her or any other...I will have to kill you.”
There was a pause.
“Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. I promise you nothing but absolute safety as long as you keep what you’ve seen strictly to yourself.”
He picked up the body of Mumpfasoom, something that required more than average strength, and said one last thing before leaving.
“The lingerie looks rather nice. But just so you know, I heard Rae prefers red.”
*
“Okay...Okay, thank you. Thank you so much...” Rae found her breath coming back as she spoke into her commlink “Nice work, Dusk...You mind if I call you Dusk? Yeah, great. Yeah, put her over, just for a quick word.”
Pip listened, he knew Rax was doing the same, as Rae spoke sweeter through the comms.
“Okay, Suui, that’s great. Sorry for letting this happen. Who do they have coming? Oicunn Jr? Yeah, he’s decent. Averen, he’s a bit of a tosser but he’s harmless. Don’t worry. Yeah, I’ll come visit this evening. Promise...Yeah, red’s great, baby. See ya.” She kissed the air and turned to sit down.
The cantina was just a few steps away from the garrison. The bartender and most of the staff were humans but there were a few aliens among the clientele, though they either owned property and businesses or they worked with the force in some way. Rae sat down and dug into her barbecued nerf and tato wrap.
“Are you actually going to eat that?” Rax said with a raised eyebrow.
Rae raised her own.
“No, I’m going to wear it as a swimsuit.” she retorted sarcastically.
“You are what you eat.” The agent muttered as he pulled out a small box. Opening it, he began dining on what must have been a home-made (Wherever his home was) salad. He even had his own small shaker of salt, pepper and spices.
Of course, she doubted he was genuinely a health enthusiast. She just knew he didn’t trust anyone else making him food.
Pip meanwhile slurped at a smoothie in between munches of crispy tanga dumplings in a peppy brown sauce on a bed of sliced greens and peppers.
Rae took the opportunity to buy Pip a frosty milkshake before leaving for the garrison. She felt it was the least she owed him for what he’d been through and for how he helped in the fight.
Carrying him over to the garrison, she finally felt safe and sound.
Tan Divo was nowhere to be seen. Though there was no telling if he’d got there before they had.
“I’ll, ah...wait by the entrance.” Rax said “There’s been a bit of bad blood between me and certain members of Coruscant’s finest. And I’ve a few calls to make.”
“Don’t let us keep you.” It had been the nicest thing Rae had heard from Rax all day.
Honor Salima was perched over at her desk with the grace and posture of an Aiwha. A trim, tanned, steel-eyed woman with side-shaved hair that was slate-black and stiff. She gave off the impression of a no-nonsense senior officer who let nothing fall out of place and stood for no amount of insubordination.
But of course, that impression was considered fashionable. Sloane and Salima had worked together in many fiascos and she wasn’t afraid to dodge a few regulations to get the best result. And in the Empire, the result was what mattered.
She was in her element.
Two other officers were with her, a young man and woman. The man was fairly unremarkable but Rae knew him well.
Ross Yularen, the Senior Secretary’s second son. A dutiful but quiet boy, he was growing a moustache like his father, his chestnut-brown hair still a long way to go before greyness. He'd been in the next grade down from Rae at the academy and they'd both had their first mission together in a riot control operation.
The girl was his little sister, Beorna. Long, curly brown hair, fierce feline eyes and a slight build, she made up for in will what she lacked in size. A headstrong young madam, while she’d follow orders properly, she was often one to make a bit of a scene and this came with both benefits and problems to the garrison. Beorna was familiar to Rae as well. She’d trained her in her early years and regarded her as something of a little sister.
“Divo’s dumb droids need to be scrapped! They’re everywhere we go with the same old excuse! Wait for the investigation squad! Which one!” Beorna was yelling in her shrill, stubborn tone “Some of them have been hanging around the same spot for weeks!”
“I have explained the problem to Divo and his associates. He is due to see us this evening.” Salima said plainly “You can give him all the grief you like then.”
“Maybe more than grief.” Rae butted in.
“Sloane.” Salima gave a smile, getting up from her desk and giving her a hug.
“Rae!” Beorna exclaimed and joined the hug.
Pip found himself wedged underneath the three.
Now, he was certain, his mother really wouldn’t approve.
“Hello, Rae. Glad you see you.” Ross Yularen seemed the most modest in the room.
“Hey Ross. How’s your mum?”
“Better. Thanks for asking.” he shuffled nervously “Uncle Jan’s another matter but dad’s still getting him to understand.”
“Well, well, who said you could start without me?”
A jovial voice sounded as an older man swaggered in in the gear of a district commissar. A chisel-jawed, blue-eyed, bright-smiled officer with a head of curly ginger hair with impressive sideburns and a small beard held up his hands as if to announce himself.
“Lieutenant Rae Sloane!” he laughed “Still shagging your way across Coruscant, eh?”
“Crass as always, Alix Balam.” Sloane chuckled, prising free of the hug and slapping her hand against his.
“Um...hello everyone.” Pip murmured, holding up his empty milkshake cup “Does anyone have a bin?”
There was a pause. Beorna Yularen bent down and gave an adoring smile.
“Aw! Who’s this little guy?!” she cooed.
“Squad mascot.” Sloane said “His name’s Pipsqueak. You got my message, right?”
“Yeah, sit down.” Honor said. Behind them, Parisian entered, saluted, and took a seat between the Yularens, old academy friends.
“We’ve got Saam ready to be questioned and I’ve secured Bane a suitable price for his service. Hope Amedda’s feeling generous this afternoon.” He looked at Rae’s bruises.
“Lieutenant, what did I miss?”
“Don’t ask. Sit down.”
Beorna reached out and ruffled Parisian’s long blonde hair cheekily as she always had when they were younger.
“Right. To business.” Salima stretched her fingers “What did you find?”
Rae let Pip have the spotlight as he explained all he’d been witness to that morning, impressing himself by how much had indeed happened in the space of it.
Salima needed a moment to check figures and notify fellow officers. Beorna Yularen took the opportunity to give Pipsqueak a bit of petting. The little colt blushed fiercely as she ruffled his fur and squeezed his cheeks, giggling all the while. Beside them, Alix Balam lounged back in his chair and chuckled.
“So, young Pipsqueak, are you one of the stragglers old Miss Sloane has a soft-spot for? Or perhaps the product of a particularly adventurous tryst of hers?” he winked “Just for future reference, if she says she has to work a night-shift at a safehouse, it means she’s gone off to bonk someone.”
“Alix! Shut up!” Rae exclaimed.
“Oh wait, sorry. Silly me...That’s the Grand Commandant here who says that.”
“Button it, Commissar!” Honor Salima snapped “Sorry about him, Pipsqueak. Long ago, someone once told Alix Balam he was amusing and, unfortunately for us all, he believed them.”
Those within the room gave a collective chuckle, Balam included.
“So Divo’s working with Lo?” Salima said gravely “That explains how his police droids have been so non-compliant.”
“Let’s duff him up once he gets back.” Beorna punched the palm of her hand with a menacing grin as Ross passed him back to Rae “I call his teeth!”
“Hold just a sec.” Rae held up a hand “I’ve got a plan for him, if all goes well.”
“So, you said Tas Kee was the one who opened the warehouse. Before these twi’lek girls got the drop on her?”
“That’s right.”
“We’ve been looking to get Kee for a while. You mentioned Sel Maa?” Salima said bitterly as Pip nodded.
“Sel Maa...‘Head In The Womp Rat Nest’ case?” Balam added.
“The very same. Nasty business. What about the girls?”
“I’ll have a talk with Bazatta later.” Rae said “If anyone knows where they’ll be going, it’s her.”
“Dirty old bird knows the working girls better than you do, Rae.” Balan jested.
“Am I the only one here who’s into men?!” Beorna said, exasperated. As her brother opened his mouth, he held up a finger.
“Don’t you start.”
There was another round of laughter.
“We’re all cheeky tossers here, Pip.” Balam hooted “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“Don’t look now. Divo’s back.” Salima whispered as the hobbling little inspector approached, a smile stretching his piscine mouth.
“Miss Salima.” he said with a sardonic syrupiness “You’re looking well.”
“Inspector Divo.” Honor Salima rose from her desk “We’ve just come across some unpleasant news.”
“I’m sure. But before we spoil the mood, I just have to ask...” he gave her a poisonous look.
“How’s Glira?”
There was a long pause.
Pipsqueak had mentioned he was going to blackmail them but he’d pretty much omitted what he’d use.
Salima was frozen still. Her face was flat. She was blinking fast.
“What do you mean?”
“You know Glira, don’t you?” Divo asked, pressing hard “I just want to know if she’s in any...difficulty.”
It was then that Rae played her card.
“Why?!” she stood up, a frightened look on her face. Pip nearly fell off the side of the chair in her haste “What’s happened to Glira?!”
Tan Divo gave her an unpleasant look.
“How’s it any of your business?”
“I-I-I need to know.”
“But how’s it your business?” Divo asked again.
“How is it your business, Sloane?” Salima asked, fixing her a curious look.
“I...well...Glira and me were...are...” She made a small gesture close to her waist.
The officers around her looked away awkwardly.
“...Oh, you didn’t.” Salima growled.
“Look, it wasn’t like that.” Sloane held up her hands defensively “It was back when we were on leave. I...we...We never meant for it to happen. It was meant to-”
“Stars sakes, Rae! She’s barely of age!” Balam massaged his temples.
“I know! That’s what I told her but she was the one who-”
“Not another word.” The Grand Commandant pointed at Sloane threateningly “We’ll be having a good long chat later.”
“Sorry to break up this little lament but may I have a little of Miss Sloane’s time?” Tan Divo piped up.
Salima’s lips twisted in anger.
“Go on then. The rest of you, don’t move a muscle.”
Pipsqueak huddled against Rae Sloane’s empty chair. Rae Sloane and Tan Divo walked out the office and down a corridor.
“Um...excuse me?” he murmured “I’m...I’m a bit confused.”
“Join the club.” Parisian Froul muttered.
“Not to worry, Pip.” Ross Yularen replied “Let’s just say Lieutenant Sloane’s doing a bit of fishing.”
“Look, Divo. I’ll do anything. Anything I can do. Just don’t tell the guard about Glira. She didn’t mean it. She just...”
“Ah-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba...” Divo wagged a finger “You needn’t worry. I have no intention of telling anyone about anyone...As long as you and I can cooperate.”
Rae took a deep breath.
“What do you need?”
“I need Gume Saam released from custody. I need Honor Salima making way for me in the way of rank and position. And most of all...” he cricked his neck “I need the foal.”
There was a pause.
“The foal...as in...”
“Pipsqueak, you’re calling him.”
Rae blinked.
“Why?”
“You’re not the one asking questions, ma’am.” Divo gave her a smirk “Bring them to the old hanger of the former Haugg Nerf Industries factory. This evening. Not this afternoon, not this night, this evening.”
Rae hung her head.
“Fine.”
“Good girl.” He turned his back, reaching down to slap her on the backside, and chuckled “Don’t be late.”
Rae ground her teeth behind her mouth.
He was going to pay for that one.
Walking back into the office of Honor Salima, she grinned and held up her hands.
“Hook...Line...Sinker!”
The officers applauded.
“Always said you threw a decent angle.” Balam chuckled.
“Where?” Salima asked, a gleam of anticipation in her eyes.
“Haugg’s old factory.”
“Typical.” Ross sighed “Divo said the place was still a crime scene. Blocked off the whole place. None of us really want to involve ourselves with what he does. He never did anything of worth in his career. Turns out...” He gave a meaningful shrug.
“Well, nicely done, Rae. Thanks for the cover.” Salima patted her on the shoulder with a grateful smile “Though if you tried anything with Glira, I’ll gut you like a gorg.”
“No worries, Honor. I haven’t touched her. She’d bite me.” Rae chuckled, picking up Pip “Besides, she’s not my type.”
“She likes experience.” Balam sniggered.
“Though, you might want to keep a closer eye on your niece if you’re worried about who she frolics with, so to speak.”
Salima started.
“Who?”
“You remember the Getelles family? Came around on inspection?”
“What? The son? Tol Getelles?! He’s gay!”
“So’s his stepmother!”
The room burst out laughing again, louder than ever.
“I know I’d be if I was stuck with a foul old berk like Heffing Getelles!” Balam chortled “Especially if he’s old enough to be her dad!”
“Oh, what am I gonna’ do with her.” Salima shook her head “Right. I want us ready to hit the place as the sun goes down. We can nail Divo, Lo, Kee, every last stinking one. It’s good to know Mumpfasoom’s no longer an issue but if we can take down the whole pack of them in a night...”
“It’ll be high honours for the whole bunch of us.” Balam finished “Amedda and Hax will probably have us on a billboard.”
“Well, I was going to say that stopping Lo and his associates butchering anyone they like will make the streets more safe.”
“I was getting to that.”
“Right.” Rae got up, Pip in her arms “I’d better make sure we’re all equipped for the evening’s get-together. Ta-ta.”
She left the office alongside Parisian Froul and Pipsqueak and found Cad Bane slouching against the wall in the corridor leading to the cells, twirling his blasters impatiently.
“You know, if I don’t get to shoot somethin’ soon, it ain’t gonna’ be pretty.” he growled.
“And letting you shoot something would?”
The Duro gave her a tired look.
“Comparatively.”
“Well, we could use a hand. We’ve found Lo’s hideout. Haugg Indrustries factory. Any help is welcome if you feel like satisfying a bit of bloodlust. We can pay.”
That brought the beginnings of a smile to his face.
“Well, I like to stay in shape. And the thought of putting a blaster in Lo and his cronies is a sweet one indeed. Just so long as you keep your end o’ the bargain.”
“All taken care of.” Rae held up his hands.
“My grandfather’s organised the payment transferral and he’ll even pay a small fee himself for your patience.”
“Well, he’s got bigger brains than you have.” Cad sniggered, turning to Rae and noticing her bruises “You look like you’ve seen better days though, darlin’.”
“I’ve still enough strength to make you learn not to call me darling.” Rae chuckled, retrieving the pendant “Though the ones that delivered them got a lot worse.”
“Wouldn’t doubt it for a minute, ma’am.”
“Recognise this?”
At the sight of the pendant’s logo, Cad Bane’s sheer red eyes grew wide. He dropped the toothpick he was chewing and examined it closely, tilting it to the sides.
He looked at the puzzled Rae, Parisian and Pipsqueak. The dreaded bounty hunter looked the closest they’d seen to frightened.
“Where’d you find this?”
“One of our attackers.”
He checked his left and right and spoke quieter but harsher.
“Look, if this is Lo you’re after, I’ll pitch in. But anything with this on? Forget it. Done deal. We never met.”
“We can pay.”
“Not enough for them, that’s a dead certain!” Bane snapped “Look, these guys are not someone you want to mess with. I don’t wanna’ mess with them and you’ve seen who I’ve messed with! These guys are ferocious. And professional.”
“The ones we found weren’t.”
“The next ones will be. That’s how they roll.”
“We didn’t think they were Lo’s.” Rae said gravely “So...who are they.”
“I'm not saying.”
“You’re scared of them?” Parisian asked, slight mockery in his tone.
“Yeah! An’ ya got ya head up your ass if you think you're not!” The Duro snarled “Look, they’re new. But they’re fast. And if anyone talks about them, they know and it ain’t pretty by the end. It never is.”
“Okay, look.” Rae held up a hand “I know that it never pays off to tell a bounty hunter something he doesn’t want to do. But if you can’t tell us...can you at least tell us who can?”
Cad Bane rolled his eyes and whispered.
“Ask Thrawn.”
“Thrawn?” Pipsqueak piped up “You mean he knows who sent them?”
Nancy trudged up the steps and stopped at the closed door with the little pirate flag.
She couldn’t bear to open the door.
Seeing Pipsqueak’s bed, all his little toys and books and other knick-knacks.
And everything else that reminded her of how far away he was.
And how uncertain she was that he could ever get back.
The muscles in her neck felt tight as she looked away and trudged back down the stairs.
She shivered, clutching the corners of her shawl.
Was it really so cold?
Or did it just feel that way?
She’d had one glass of wine and was wondering how long it would take before she needed another. It was cheap stuff.
She didn’t drink unless as a means to ease stress and even then, it was in very careful moderation.
She’d seen what drink did to ponies.
And so had her son.
A knock on the door made her jolt.
She came down the stairs slower than she did normally, more careful.
Her hoof was trying not to shake as she opened the door.
A mare was standing in the doorway. A stout, weathered mare with a cobalt-blue coat and a dark-auburn bob-cut. Her perpetually tired-looking face gave Nancy a comforting smile.
Nancy gave a sigh of relief.
“Blue.”
The two hugged. Nancy was taken back to her foalhood.
Somehow, even at her darkest moments, Blue Murder had always been there for her.
“I came round to see how you were...well...how you were coping.” Blue said bashfully as she was let in.
“Well...as well as can be expected.” Nancy sighed.
“Come on, let’s get you some tea, eh?”
“I’m not sure it’ll help.”
“None of that.” Blue put on a voice of faux-sternness “We're Trottingham ponies. Besides, tea’s always nicer when somepony else makes it for you.” She put the kettle on and set both Nancy and herself a mug of tea. She didn’t take sugar but she remembered Nancy did.
Blue shook her head and gave a sigh out of Nancy’s view and hearing. She often wondered why, in this world of friendship, love and harmony, did so many bad things happen to a good mare like Nancy.
She’d made mistakes, certainly, but who hadn’t? And who wouldn’t in the situation she’d been in all those years ago?
A mother who’d killed herself. A father who forgot who he was, and who she was.
And one hardly needed to add what her husband had been.
There was the sound of distant door slamming, nowhere in the house.
Nancy peered out the window and murmured.
“Ooh dear, I think next door are at it again.”
Blue Murder rolled her eyes, passing Nancy a mug of steaming tea, as they watched out the window to the ‘Student House’ next door to theirs in which a dull moment never seemed to pass.
A thin, greasy, orange-coated young male unicorn with braided mane and tail stormed out of a house with a ratty expression, yelling across the street.
“Right on! Right on! This is just typical!” he was screaming, waving a piece of paper in the air “Absolutely typical of the elitist Celestine Junta! You think you can dupe us? Bribe us? Threaten us? Ha! It won’t work! You, silly sissy slags! Do you hear?! It won’t?!”
Beside him, a short burgundy pegasus stallion with a black pomade, wearing a trench-coat and dark-glasses, was leaning on the porch as a gloomy, dark-teal, long-maned donkey carried out a roll of tarpaulin.
“What’s up, Flick?!” the red stallion asked.
“You tell me. Everything’s just bringing me down today.” the donkey said morosely, gesturing with the tarpaulin “Flick, where do you want the protest barrier?”
“Where do I want the protest barrier?! Ask a silly question, Eel!” The unicorn, Flick, snapped.
“Oh alright, um...Why do unicorns have their horns on their heads and not coming out between their-“
“Shut up, Eel! Shut up!” Flick clipped Eel the donkey round the head with his hoof and pointed to the fence where a second sheet of tarpaulin was slung “Just put up the barrier next to the other one! Now!”
“What do we need a barrier for, Flick?” The red pegasus queried.
“Just look at this, Psyke!” Flick waved the paper in his face “An eviction notice! We, the next generation of Trottingham, learners, thinkers, future world-builders, are oppressed by the totalitarian monarchy! And why, Psyke? Ask me why?”
Psycke raised his brow behind his shades.
“Well, I think I’ve a fairly good idea.”
At this, Flick scoffed.
“Well, you don’t, Psyke. I have fairly good ideas, not you.”
“Your last one wasn’t very good.” Eel muttered dourly.
At this, Flick rounded on him, snapping sourly
“Oh?! Oh?! Is that it, now, Eel?! You’re going to be all patronising now, are we? And how wasn’t it very good?”
Eel shrugged.
“Well, they’ve got dogs at the scrapyard now so all I could get for the protest barrier was a bit of tarpaulin somepony thrown out.”
“Don’t make such a fuss, Eel!” Flick sighed “It’s not about the materials, it’s about the effort! And the cause! And our cause is just, Eel! Eh, Psyke?! We know why they want us out, don’t we!”
“Well, I imagine it’s ‘cause Div keeps throwing bricks through the corner shop windows.” Psyke replied flatly
“Ha! That’s what they want the public to think, Psyke!” Flick retorted “Just to paint them in the right!”
“Well, if we are evicted, could we move somewhere closer to a doctor. Look at these dog bites, heavy, man!”
“Stop being such a girl’s blouse, Eel! Now, watch as I make a stand!”
The greasy student then leaned over the fence and began yelling to anypony who would listen, seemingly addressing the Princess but whether she would hear was far from certain.
“Here, you fat, old, royal tart! Are you listening?! Look at me! I’m the voice of dissent and I’m saying you can bugger off! D’you hear?!”
Psycke gave a cocky grin and spoke more so he could hear himself than anypony else.
“I tell ya’, if the Princess does come along, let me work the old charm. I’ll get her to see things my way, and I’m not talking a first-row seat of some smashing hind legs.”
Flick and Eel ignored him. The sullen donkey kept on feebly upholstering the tarpaulin while the student kept on hollering down the street
“Look at us, eh, eh? You old cake-shoveller! Look at us, doesn’t this get on your nads, eh? Upsetting the establishment?!”
Without warning, a bright yellow cart tore up the road and crashed straight into the ‘protest barrier’, throwing Flick and Eel back into the yard. On the porch, Psycke gave little reaction.
The door to the cart swung open and slammed shut almost in a single movement. A towering blue earth pony stallion with wild, spiky bright-orange mane and punk studs in his forehead lumbered out and idly kicked loose a single part of the barrier that his cart had missed.
Neither of the two were seriously injured. Eel meekly shuffled to his hooves and slunk out of range. Flick, meanwhile sprung up and raged at the fourth member of the household.
“Deviant! You utter flank-bag!” he screamed “What do you think you’re doing?!”
“I’m upsetting the establishment, Flick, like you said! Brilliant!” The punk, Deviant, replied, in a voice that few across the street or even the town did not hear.
“Not our establishment, you stupid, stupid, stupid bastard!” Flick roared, jumping impotently in the air in fury
“Oh. Well, you could have been more specific, Flick!”
“Fine! Go ahead! Bend over to your alicorn overlords!” The young stallion set about putting the pieces back up, his momentary self-righteousness overtaking his wish to demand Eel do the same “There is nothing the fascists can destroy that the forces of liberty cannot rebuild!”
Deviant gave his chin a rub.
“Hm...Allow me to test the verity of that statement!”
Flick seemingly allowed it and was swiftly kicked hard in the head by the mad stallion. Clambering groggily to his hooves, Flick swung a punch, missed and lolled against the fence with a disdainful look.
“You may mock...” he spluttered “But the revolution will not be civilised! Do you hear?!”
“Oh shame, we’d get better plumbing that way.” Eel whined, shaking his head “Oh wow! I tell ya, man, I’ve really lost sight of the plot, right?”
Forgetting his argument, Flick gave a snort and butted in with a wry grin.
“Hey, you could make a really good joke about that, losing sight of the plot! ‘Snerk!’”
Instead of the laughter he was hoping for, Flick found his collar grabbed by an irate Deviant yelling in his face.
“Shut up or I’ll kill ya!”
Blue and Nancy gave a chortle at the mad antics next door.
“They really are all bonkers aren’t they.” Nancy said breathlessly “I’m surprised it’s taken the council this long to kick them out.”
“They’ll still be there next year, you mark my words. Nothing seems to get rid of them.” Blue chortled, then caught sight of Nancy’s returning sullenness “Come on now, what’s wrong?”
“Just had to think of Pip again.” the young wash-mare sighed “He used to sit at the window and laugh at what that lot got up to. It was always something new and it always had him rolling with laughter...”
She looked up, her eyes beginning to brim with tears.
“You know, I never had to worry about him picking up bad words from them...He knew what words were bad. He didn’t know what they meant but it didn’t matter. He never wanted to say them...Not when his father used to say them all the time.”
“Now don’t start thinking about him, love. You know it puts you in the gloom.”
“There isn’t much place else for me...” The gaunt mare shook her head “What do I do, Blue?”
“Well, after you’ve drunk your tea, you make plans to visit Ponyville and make an apology to those two fillies Pip likes.”
“Ah...you heard about that, eh?” Nancy lowered her head and Blue nodded.
“Nancy, I know you’re in a state, any mare would be, but that’s no excuse for going off on one with seven-year olds.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Nancy shook her head “I don’t know what came over me, I...I don’t have anything against those kids. Every day I tell myself that but...”
“Look, you’re worried. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“I just...I don’t trust myself anymore.” Nancy stumbled and held her head before the front window over the sink, looking like she was trying to make herself vomit.
“Nancy, stop.” Blue held her by the shoulder “There was nothing you could do. You’ve been a decent mother, okay?”
“Have I, though?” Nancy asked frantically “Every time something like this happens, I just can’t think of anything else other than the seven years that bastard I was once stupid enough to love made life Tartarus for my baby boy!”
The weathered blue mare nodded but gave her a reassuring half-smile.
“Well, for a colt who spent seven years in Tartarus, he’s remarkably chirpy.” She replied “Somepony must have been looking out for him.”
With trembling lips and streaming eyes, Nancy hugged her oldest, dearest friend, quietly crying into her shoulder. Blue Murder patted her head gently, letting her get it all out of her system.
Two mares, younger than life had left them, trying to cope with what it had done to them.
As it always had been.
*
Lined-up in single file, the Coruscant Police stood to attention, rigid as cortosis staves.
Honor Salima marched down the line, stopping at Rae Sloane, Parisian Froul and Cad Bane, little Pipsqueak tucked into the box they’d found him in, now empty of blackmail material.
Salima paused at the Duro who gave her an innocent grin.
“Any funny business from you, bounty hunter, any hint of it...”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll-face.”
“Grand Commandant!” she barked.
“Apologies.” Bane gave a shrug.
“Just stay out of trouble, Caddy.” Rae quipped. The other men and women in the line chuckled as the Duro raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Nobody ever calls me ‘Caddy’ but my ma.”
“I know. I figure it might make you better-behaved.”
More laughter. The Duro was trying to not let it show. The side of his lip twisted in ironic mirth.
“Ma’am, I like you but if you push too many of my buttons, I’ll start pushin’ yours.”
“It’s not my buttons you should be worried about. Just stay out of trouble and I won’t tell ma.”
Parisian was biting his lip hard, standing closest to the Duro and fearing what would happen if he burst out laughing.
Salima stamped a foot and drew her squad’s attention to the Hauff Nerf Industries Factory, standing so cold, dark and lifeless it looked for all the world like a corpse among Coruscant’s smoking industrial works. The sky above was a dark ochre, late evening. The din of the work was settling as all over the cityscape, droids began taking over the nightshift.
She spoke.
“Alright meatheads, listen up because it’s only coming once. Rae goes in with Pip, Divo takes her as far into the den as they’ll allow. She makes sure they don’t go anywhere by any means necessary. Once she makes some noise in one those offices...” she pointed to the floors above the hanger “We hit the place. If it’s carrying a gun, shoot the frakker. Divo; try to take alive. Lo and Kee; fair game. We have scum in our cells who’ll talk once this is over. Everyone got their blasters?”l
There was a clacking sound as all present drew firearms.
“Lovely sound, that.” Salima chuckled as Rae stepped forward. The Grand Commandant cracked her a wry smile.
“Go work your magic, sweetie.” Honor’s hand swung up and clapped Rae’s backside. The Lieutenant gave an unimpressed sigh.
“That’s the second time that’s happened today.”
“Put a Narglatch on it, honey. Bite ‘em back!” Salima chortled.
Rolling her eyes, Rae strode in, keeping Pip steady in the box.
“So...” Pip mumbled “Were you and her...”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older, Pip.”
Divo was waiting at the hanger door. He was leaning his shoulder against it in a way he was trying to make sook suave but his fish-face, pot-belly and bandy legs removed all possibility of that. Rae made sure to wear a mask of fear and vulnerability. Pip stayed quiet, his eyes wide and ears pricked, ready to move on Rae’s first word.
“You look positively tantalising tonight, Miss Sloane.” Divo began in his slimy tone.
Rae blinked, her face emotionless.
“I’m a lieutenant.”
“Well, for now.” Divo smirked as a female weequay approached, looking somewhat bedraggled, nursing the side of her neck “Oh, do you know Miss Tas Kee?”
“Know of her.” Rae gave her a glance that she tried to look pensive.
‘You’re first, hag.’ she said to herself ‘I’m taking you off the streets and putting you in whatever corner of hell can stand you. That’s what I do for a living and I’m damn good at it.’
“You’re meeting my boss.” the weequay growled “No clever moves.”
“Right...” Rae said softly “Lead the way.”
A small door beside the massive hanger opened for them.
Into the heart of the beast’s carcass, the two led Rae Sloane into the complex. What she saw gave her quite a bit of unease.
Instead of slaughtered nerfs, fresh or carbonite-frozen, the rotating hook systems were carrying something very different.
Weapons. Firearms. Large ones. Loaded off and on to cargo freighters by dozens of thick-set folk.
She counted at least twelve Blastmill Rotary Cannons and even a couple of Cip-Quads.
It dawned on her that Salima and her squad could be running straight into a death-trap.
This was all about to wrong in a great many ways.
There was a horrid clanking sound as one of Lo’s thugs, a slack-jawed Crolute in dark glasses, struggled getting a cannon off its hook.
“Oi!” Tas Kee thundered, pointing at him fiercely “You break that and I’ll test to see if still works on your fat arse! You hear me?!”
“Y-yes, Miss Kee.” he burbled with dread.
Rae worked things around in her head.
They had the weapons but there was no guarantee they knew how to use them. Things may not have been as dire as they seemed. But, as per usual, she was banking high hopes on matters she was not in control of.
Getting control of them however was not entirely out of the question.
Up a still-functioning elevator, Rae was flanked by Kee and Divo. Pip made sure to stay as still and silent as possible.
Rae had told him Lo wanted him specifically.
But to what end? Hat Lo had barely stopped himself from killing him last time he saw him.
Was that what this was in aid of? Did Hat Lo really want him dead that much?
Or was there something else?
The door to an office opened, a boxy, grey chamber that looked more like a trash compactor than anything else.
Hat Lo squatted in a chair, his feet barely touching the ground.
He began speaking before Rae had even sat down.
“You’re gonna’ tell me who’s been killing my associates, first and foremost.” His voice was without humour and Rae noticed his hands were shaking.
“I’m...afraid Mumpfasoom was killed by one of my men.”
Hat gave a long sniff.
“Well, you’d better hope he’s a light sleeper.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him sleep.”
“Well, I’ll give him his first. A long one.”
Rae shuffled in her seat, keeping two feet squarely on the ground, ready to leap into action at first opportunity.
“The Leffingite called Mumpfasoom was killed in the midst of attempting to take the life of a witness to one of our investigations.”
“Lady, the only life that should concern you right now is your own.” Lo growled “What about Seib Nodd?”
“I’m afraid we don’t know who killed her.”
“I’ll take over on that then. The next thing I want is Gume Saam released from custody and transferred to mine.”
“Gume Saam’s solicitor is on his way to the garrison as we speak.”
She missed out the part where Balan was under no obligation to let him do his job. And if it was Saam’s regular lawyer, what Balan would do to him didn’t bear thinking about.
“Third.” Lo continued “I want amnesty and a safe route off Coruscant. I want compensation for my losses, full access to the Baath Brothers assets and finances and high-security escort from here to Cantonica.”
“And...what if, hypothetically, we can’t arrange that?”
“Then what you and Glira get up to will be greeting the ears of everyone in the Empire, from his high and mightiness right down to the frakking mouse droids!”
“...right...”
“Fourth. I want the word put out on two associates of mine, gone walkabout. Ayy Vida and Lunae Minxx. Imperial hunters are to bring them in then give them straight to me.”
“Alright...Anything else?”
“Yeah. The foal. Meet those five requirements and news of what Glira’s been doing never reaches anyone’s notice again.”
“...I see.” Rae went for the problem bugging only her “And why do you want Pip?”
“I don’t. My contacts do.”
“Why?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Mr Lo, I will be doing what you asked regardless of why. I just want to know.” Rae gave him a pleading look.
Rae knew Lo’s sort. Divo’s too and Kee. They were the sort of people who liked power. It wasn’t just about feeling it. They had to know they had it. To be certain of it. To feel safe in it. Because deep down, they were rather weak people who only felt strong in the presence of someone weaker. She’d spent half her life surrounded by their sort.
She knew how to play them.
Pip’s voice piped up suddenly. Rae’s heart jolted.
“But you said you’d keep me safe.” he gave a whine.
Rae glanced down. Little Pipsqueak was staring up at her with wide, sad eyes. A heartbroken expression was set on his face. A little too well.
She caught sight of it. A tiny wink. He covered it the moment he screwed his eyes close to shut. as if ready to cry. But she saw it.
‘Brilliant, kid, brilliant.’ she thought ‘He knows. I’d bet anything he’s played the same game before.’
“Well,” she forced herself to say the most ruthless thing possible before looking away “Plans change. Welcome to the galaxy, kid.”
The little pinto hung his head, his bottom lip trembling.
His voice came out quiet and low.
“I knew it’d be like this...”
“Well, look on the bright side, kid.” Hat Lo chuckled “At least yer’ learnin’ early. But to answer your question as far as I am divulged, my contacts are interested in him...and in the other people interested in him. Namely a certain aspiring young admiral known for his devious ways, unflappable attitude and skin as blue as Mas Amedda’s balls.”
“Thrawn?”
“Right genius, this one.” Tas Kee sniggered.
“General rule. Anything Thrawn is interested in is worth anyone’s interest.” Tan Divo added.
Rae pursed her lips. She wasn’t far wrong.
“Is this contact Toora?”
“No. And that’s all I’m obliged to tell you.” Lo said plainly “Now would you mind making the calls.”
“Right...right...I...Do you mind if I have the light on, my head feels weird.”
Rae got to her feet unsteadily, one hand on her temples. Tripping herself up, she bumped into Tas Kee and fell against the open switch box.
Salima’s eyes flickered just the rooms she was watching keenly did the same.
She clicked her blaster.
“Go time.”
Cad Bane chuckled.
“They always attack at sundown.” he muttered to Parisian who gave him a quizzical look.
“Who?”
“Nexu.” The Duro pointed to Salima’s back who turned a moment to give him a glare.
“Shut it.”
Rae found herself grabbed by the collar by the weequay who must have been looking for any excuse to take her anger out on someone.
“What’s your game?! You playing at something?! I’ll have your teeth out one by one!”
“Miss Kee, please. You’ve no need to worry.” Divo held up his hands “By now, Miss Sloane knows exactly how this is going to work, doesn’t she.”
Rae made herself gulp.
“Yes...sir.” She fumbled at her uniform “Er...I didn’t bring a commlink. I didn’t want to be traced. I need to use yours.”
Hat Lo gave a sigh.
“You can use the one at the gate. Kee.”
“Right, boss.” Tas Kee grabbed Rae by the shoulder and bluntly hauled her out of the office onto a stairway platform overlooking the hanger. Rae continued to stumble, one hand pawing at the walls.
“Please...Miss Kee...If I do this, my career is down the toilet...” she whined.
“Not my concern or Mr Lo’s.”
“But this gonna’...I’m gonna’...I’m gonna’...” On and on she stammered and rambled right at the walls made way for the conveyor belts.
They were now carrying EMP Launchers.
“I’m gonna...”
She felt her hand brush the handle. It closed.
“I’m gonna...FRAK YOU SIDEWAYS!”
Ducking down, hauling Kee forward by the hand, she grabbed EMP launcher, swinging it round with full force and clattered the weequay right round the face. Tas Kee was flung off the railing with a screech, landing hard on a high pile of boxes.
Rae chuckled. To think she’d made such a fuss when others had damaged the goods.
As Divo and Lo saw just how much she’d been holding back, they scrambled back inside the office frantically. Turning round, every thug who saw the blaster in her hands throwing themselves to cover, she pointed at the box switch for the hanger doors down below and charged the shot.
Striding forth in her long-coat, her squad moving in, still cloaked in darkness, Honor Salima held up a hand to around four of Lo’s henchman watching the doors.
“Excuse me, sirs. Sorry to ruin your evening but there’ve been noise complaints. We’d like to speak to your employers.”
The leader of the thugs, a bald, pale, thick-skinned zabrak gave her a snarl.
“And just who the hell are you supposed to be?”
His answer was delivered by two blasters whipped out of the woman’s longcoat and pointed straight at his eyes as Grand Commandant Honor Salima gave her answer.
“THE LAW, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!”
*
Alix Balan browsed idly through the security holocrons at the main desk. Ross Yularen brought in a cup of caf for him and the Commissar and gave him a nod.
“Are you finished on that, sir?
“Why? You hoping to find what Sloane and Salima get up to in the lockers?”
“Oh, Mr Balan, you’re so terribly funny, look at me, I’m rolling on the floor in hysteria.” Ross replied in a deadpan tone, doing little to none of what he was claiming to do.
Balan chuckled but his tone turned serious soon after.
“Look, that dodgy berk, Rax, has gone off on his own and I want to find out where. I’m searching all the patrol drones and street cameras but I can’t find anything.”
“But he doesn’t even change to go out.”
“Spooky, isn’t it.” Balan shook his head “That smarmy twerp thinks he owns the place. Your dad’s dead when I find him for sending him over here, just so you know.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” Ross replied disinterested.
There was a whisk of a door opening and a man walked in. A sharply-dressed Sarrish, bright red, filletty-skinned, snaggle-toothed alien with a snide look plastered on his face.
“Do you work in this establishment, sir?” he asked in an imperious tone.
Alix Balan gave him a glance.
“No, I’m here to take out the bins. You think I wear this suit for a bet or something?” Balan snapped.
“Can we help you, sir?” Ross asked.
“I represent Mr Saam and his current interest in leaving your cells. As per the rules of lawful imprisonment or the lack thereof, you will comply.”
“Will we now?” Balan asked, unimpressed.
“You haven’t begun questioning, have you.” The Sarrish tutted “You’ll get that done now. Five minutes. Then my client leaves this place and it’ll be time for you to answer some questions.”
Ross was looking at the lawyer like he needed his head examined.
Balan was looking at the lawyer like he needed it removed.
“I’m afraid, sir, we cannot question Mr Saam until we have concluded our raid on...”
“No, no, no, that is not acceptable.” The lawyer interrupted “The questioning begins now and is concluded in five minutes. Anything else will immediately be considered grounds for unlawful arrest.”
Ross stepped forward while Balan turned back to the holocrons a moment.
“Are you not aware that we are uncovering an underground criminal network that your client is connected to.”
“I’m aware that that’s your accusation.”
“Your client openly paid an entire room of armed criminals to kill Imperial investigators.”
“He is not obliged on comment on that accusation and neither am I. As we will discuss...”
“Now I recognise you.” Balan butted in, a slightly unsettling grin on his face as he switched off the holocron “Didn’t you represent Kar’sunn Nepto twelve years ago for his GBH charge?”
“What? Oh...yes, yes I did.” The lawyer drew himself up with a smirk as he answered.
“Excellent.” Balan was grinning ear to ear, leaning against the side of his seat. Pressing a button, he rolled the seat sideways, out from under the desk.
And revealed he was holding a blaster.
Not moving anything but his trigger-finger, Balan reduced the lawyer’s knee to fragments. Ross Yularen jumped back as the lawyer fell on his back, screaming in agony.
Alix Balan got to his feet, smoking blaster in hand.
“That was for Yarsa Ardan! Member of my first team, medical staff, four-days on the job when Nepto left her crippled and maimed in an alley! She took her own life three days after seeing you and your client walk out of the courtroom laughing in her face...She’d want me to give you that.” he breathed through clenched teeth “You’re under arrest for intentionally abetting a known criminal! Take him to a cell! I’ll get to work on him when I’m done with his new client!”
“This...This...This is outrageous!” The lawyer managed to scream cohesively “This is unlawful arrest! Your badge is out in the trash for this, you-”
“Furthermore, we have DNA evidence that puts you on the scene for the incident involving the Chev girl and the known criminal, Panza Hondi, who you’d represented on a murder charge a year before. Did you just watch or take over afterwards? I suppose we’ll find out either way!”
“You have no pro-”
“Also, we have evidence placing you at various locations where serious crimes and the investigations thereof took place.”
“Of course there is, you maniac! I was called to represent my clients in-person, on-scene!”
“Aha, intrusion and violation of crime scenes then, eh?! You’re for it now! Lock him up!” Balam twirled his blaster in his hand as the frantic Sarrish was taken away by guards at the doorway. He sighed and turned to the nonplussed Ross Yularen with a giddy smile.
The door switch went up in sparks and the hanger doors slowly worked their way open. A brace of thermal grenades slid underneath the rising door.
Six crate of ammunition went up in flames, blowing apart any thugs unlucky enough to be standing close.
The flames cleared, as if to part, for the Coruscant Police.
Rae managed to be heard over the din.
“Get to cover! All of you! They’ve got heavy stuff in here!”
As if to answer her question, a rocket from a launcher on the landing shot forth and blasted the inside of the hanger door, barely missing Salima.
“Noted.” she called back with an uneasy glance as she and her men ducked or crouched behind any debris they found.
Rae let loose another pulse at wherever the rocket had come from, looked up and groaned.
Another stairway system was lowering down and Lo’s men were teeming upon it, all taking down some of the nastiest-looking weapons their side of the Core Worlds.
There was a whirring sound as they lowered. Then it suddenly cut off.
All at once, with a shuddering metallic growl, the conveyor belts carrying the weapons snapped clean of their cargo, hook, line and bunker-busters tumbling to the ground, atop many of the men trying to use them. There was an explosion here and there as the weapons went off.
Rae Sloane stared befuddled at the sight.
Then a little pinto head poked out of the window in the office they’d been standing in.
“Sorry! Was that button supposed to that?”
Rae couldn’t help herself bursting out laughing as the guard moved in.
More doors opened on either side of the hanger and more of Lo’s boys lumbered forth into the fray. With his trusty jet-boots, Cad Bane propelled himself up atop the ammo boxes, drew his blasters and readily began clearing house.
“I can’t believe I’m gettin’ frakkin’ paid for this!” he cackled wildly “Line right up, ya’ shmucks, come fill my pockets!”
Honor Salima and Beorna Yularen nodded to each other and struck out, Honor with her twin-blasters and Beorna with her flechette launcher. Within moments, the hanger was clear and the guard were spreading out. Refilling her blasters,
Salima looked up at Rae and yelled.
“Sloane! Get Divo! Quick!”
“Right!” Rae nodded, turned back to the office and stopped in her tracks.
Tas Kee was standing in front of her with a demented expression set in her leathery face.
Snapping like a dog, she drew her daggers and spun them in rapid circles in both hands. It went all for a full minute before she held them out before her foe.
Rae blinked.
Then held up her charging blaster.
When the blast had subsided, all that remained of Tas Kee was a pair of blackened high-boots, smoking like factory funnels.
“Moron.” Sloane muttered as she made her way back into the office.
“Pip, did you see where they went?”
“Outside!” Pip pointed to the rear exit. Rae blasted the lock open and pulled the door aside.
Hat Lo and Tan Divo were scrambling towards a landing-pad where an expensive speeder was parked. Lo managed to crawl inside and, before Divo could do the same, the speeder took off before rising, bumping against the edge of the pad on its way into the street.
With a feeble shriek of dismay, Divo turned and got in an elevator connected to the pad.
Rae ground her teeth in frustration. The two had separated and if either escaped, there was no telling what secrets would live on in them to one day threaten her or the Empire.
“Lieutenant!”
With a muffled call and the sound of boosters, the Dusk Trooper appeared in the sky on his jet boosters.
“I’ll deal with Lo. Get Divo. Quickly.”
“Right.”
Rae rushed inside, throwing away the EMP Blaster for speed.
The battle in the factory was nearing its conclusion. The corpses of Lo’s criminal empire littered the place. Yet the firing on either side went on regardless.
Cad Bane stood atop them all, held his blasters up in front of his face and sniffed deeply.
“I am gonna’ drink ‘til I go blind tonight then wake up three days later with a dozen expensive ladies!”
Rae scanned the area.
There he was, doing an odd combination of sprinting and waddling feebly. He was on the lowest floor, avoiding the guard, heading for the hanger doors.
Rae cursed. She was three floors above, without a blaster and everyone else was occupied.
Above her the arm of the massive conveyor produce-line shook slightly.
Something jumped down from it, down to the conveyor belt above.
Rae blinked, dumbfounded.
Pipsqueak was racing down the conveyor system, teeth bared and four little hooves going like turbine engines as he leapt off the last one, right above the fleeing Tan Divo, with a high-pitched war-cry.
“YAAAH! PIRATE ATTACK!”
The next instant, Tan Divo was struggling on the ground helplessly as the little colt kicked with all hooves at his face, biting his ears and pulling out strands what little remained of his hair. The cowardly, treacherous inspector screamed for anyone who’d hear.
“Get him off! Get him off! He’s got rabies! Somebody, get him off me!”
This was more than anyone could stand. Doubling up, Rae Sloane broke down, howling with laughter, followed swiftly by Parisian Froul, Honor Salima, Beorna Yularen and even Cad Bane.
Little Pipsqueak stood up on the barely-conscious Tan Divo’s chest and grinned proudly.
“Did I do good, Rae?”
Clambering down onto the hanger floor, Lieutenant Rae Sloane craned down and picked up the little colt in a warm hug.
“You did great, Pip, you did great!”
*
Hat Lo had managed to jump free of the speeder before it crashed, planting itself into the lounge area and now stood stuck in place, smoking amidst confused screams and wailing alarms. The apartment complex would likely have something serious to say to that but he didn’t plan on staying long.
The Dusk Trooper was on his heels, trailing through the air between the soaring traffic.
Rushing through the corridors, knocking over bystanders and service droids, he flung himself into the elevator and frantically shut the door.
Checking the number on the key-fob once more, Hat Lo looked out the elevator window.
Then paled as he saw the Dusk Trooper following the elevator upwards, rising motionlessly, arms folded like a disapproving schoolteacher. As the elevator slowed and stopped, the Dusk Trooper somersaulted in mid-air, drew back and flew forward, kicking forward with both feet.
Hat Lo practically hurled himself forward out of the elevator and down the corridor as the sound of smashing glass and thundering boots sounded behind him.
Winding corridors seemed his best bet to escape his pursuer.
Down the maze, he finally came to the door required.
Saam’s apartment. Not only was it wired with high security but it contained everything he needed to get his way out of Coruscant. The information on everyone of note in the sector, the means to dupe, threaten or bribe everyone in the Core Worlds. Just as his contact had promised.
Slamming the key fob against the lock, dreading to check if the trooper was still behind him, he pounced inside.
To find a young Imperial Officer lying casually on the king-size bed opposite the door, holocron in one hand and blaster in the other.
“Do you mind?” Gallius Rax asked nonchalantly, raising the blaster without looking at the intruder “Trying to read here.”
The Dusk Trooper paused as Hat Lo flew out of the room as quickly as he’d flown in, lying on his back with a smoking hole through his head.
The self-titled King of Coruscant’s reign had come to an abrupt end.
The trooper sighed, approached the door at a steady pace and checked inside.
Gallius Rax gave him a cheeky wave, fingers waggling girlishly as he grinned.
“You made it. Congratulations.” He hopped off the bed playfully and skipped forward with his hands behind his back “I found the documents. High Command will get them soon, no worries.”
“How exactly did you know he was coming here?” the trooper asked, voice dripping with disdainful suspicion “And how did you get in without the key in the first place?”
Gallius giggled, giving him a look of faux-sympathy.
“Oh bless.”
Craning down, he smiled over the body of Hat Lo and removed a cigarra box from his jacket pocket and chuckled.
“Long live the king.” he said mockingly “At least it was majestic. You, on the other hand, are looking just as silly as ever.”
He spun round and sat down on an armchair in Saam’s suite, opening the senator’s drinks cabinet and pouring himself one.
“Thirsty?”
“No thank you.”
Gallius gave him a cocky smile.
“You don’t need to worry. I know what face I’ll find under that helmet. You must genuinely think you’ve got everyone fooled, you sad, old clown. How do you expect to rule the Empire with that sort of poor deduction?”
“My ambitions are my own business.”
“Wrooooooong.” Rax said in a sing-song voice “You’re not going to just scowl and walk away, are you? You’re not like the lovely Miss Sloane, you don’t let blind hopes optimistically called ideals get in the way of good old-fashioned ambition.” he grinned with gleaming teeth “You’re like me.”
“A smug, little parasite with ideas far above his station and whole worlds worth above his capabilities. I hardly think so.”
Gallius’s smile tugged and an eyebrow rose but he said nothing. He simply turned away and browsed the holocron in his hand. The door shut behind him.
His chrome-coloured eyes glinted at the possibilities.
‘What to do? What to do? What to do?’ he sang to himself.
The blackmail material? Passé.
The bomb threats? Crude.
There! He found it. The good stuff.
Encoded files from anonymous senders. Leaning back in the chair, lighting a cigarra, Gallius Rax set about idly decoding the holocron, tides of ideas swirling round his sinister, ever-active mind.
“Knowledge is for the strong...and this knowledge is only for me.”
Pipsqueak was still dozing in the mid-morning hours. He’d been allowed to have Rae Sloane’s bed. He’d asked why she wasn’t at the Storm’s homestead but Parisian had said it was classified. She knew Rae had headed off to the safehouse where a friend of hers, Suui Do, was staying. But she’d gotten in Honor Salima’s speeder alongside a bright magenta twi’lek and a pair of Mirialan sisters. Accompanying them was a speeder carrying Rae’s mechanic friends.
It did seem a large number of people for one house.
Maybe they were going to watch a movie together.
Forren Storm checked on Pip and brought him a Jawa Juice. Whatever a ‘Jawa’ was, the juice was delicious. When he asked if the juice came from the Jawa itself, Forren answered “Hell, I hope not.”
He hadn’t asked what I meant by that.
Pip made his way to the breakfast table and found Parisian looking just as over-rested as he did.
Rae Sloane however, entered looking in the peak of freshness. When Pip made to ask her about her evening, Parisian shushed him, shaking his head.
Gallius Rax was nowhere to be seen.
“So...” Pip asked at last “What’s on for today?”
“Well, I’ve gotta’ see about those two twi’leks who picked you up, Pip. I’m meeting someone in the city who might know. Afterward, the Hellfire arrives on Coruscant so we depart for the warfront from there.”
“I see...” Pip was quiet a moment “So we’re really off to war then?”
“Afraid so. Don’t worry, kid.” Once he was finished, Rae scooped up the little colt and placed him in a redesigned little carrier, slung over one shoulder so that Pip hung beside her hip. There was enough room to tuck his forehooves out and Rae said that if he wanted to get out and walk, all he had to do was ask.
The Dusk Trooper was electing to stay with the ship. So Rae, Parisian and Pipsqueak bid farewell to the Storms, promised to put in a good word for Forren, accepted the packed lunch Pendra had made for them and head off for the mid-street markets.
Pip wrinkled his nose at the strength of the place but Rae seemed comfortable.
Parisian gave his officer a look.
“Are you trying to tell me something, sir?”
“No, I told you our client’s here.”
“Well, if you’re planning on recommending me something, I already use deodorant, sir.”
Rae raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not working.
A curtain at the end of the store flew open and a creature flew out.
Pip’s eyes boggled at the sight. This alien was certainly a sight to be seen.
It was a pot-bellied, web-footed creature with a snout shaped like a small trunk and a mouth full of tusks like a tiny elephant. Its leathery skin was bright yellow with deep-violet leopard-like rings across its back and down its limbs. It was carried by a pair of skinny, pointed wings flapping rapidly on either side of its grace, somehow making the bizarre creature seem graceful in the air.
Even in spite of its bright colour, the creature was flamboyant to the extreme wearing thick make-up and lipstick, long eyelashes, a curly pink wig with golden bows and accessories and a great glittery crimson tutu bedecked in jewels and a feathery blue muff around its shoulders. At the sight of the visitors, it gave a giddy cry of glee with a voice letting Pip know the alien was a female though low and a little croaky, rather similar to Sweetie Belle’s mother.
“My goodness!” she chortled “As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Sergeant Rae Sloane!”
“It’s Lieutenant now.” Parisian pointed out.
“Oh but of course,.” the alien clapped her clawed hands and beamed “A lovely girl, spectacular...but tardy.” She tutted and tapped Rae’s nose with one finger “Where’s my favourite pair of rosy-cheeks been all this time?”
“Forgive me, Bazatta, I’ve neglected you. One thing led to another.” Rae said, smiling sheepishly with a slight blush.
“Aw, it’s forgiven. You know I can’t stay mad at you. Now give your old Baz a hug.” She flew gently into Rae’s arms and the two hugged with immense smiles. Pip watched as the alien actually kissed Rae Sloane on the lips, how that worked with a trunk and tusks was a mystery to him. Drawing away at last, she gave Parisian a look over.
“Well now. And who’s this handsome fella’?”
“My corporal. I’m showing him the ropes.”
Baz gave her an interested look.
“Just figuratively?”
“Yes.”
“Eh, shame. He’s got a nice ass. You take good care of it now.” Baz chuckled, ignoring Parisian’s awkward grimace and casting her eye to the little colt in the carrier.
“And who’s this little pookums?” she cooed.
“Um, my name’s Pipsqueak, miss.” Pipsqueak said, slight unnerve in his voice.
“It’s okay, Baz. He’s never seen a Toydarian before. He’s a straggler. I’m working on getting him home. He’s with me for now.”
“Aw, always the way with you, ain’t it.” She bent down and gave the little colt a nuzzle with her trunk “Don’t you worry about nothing, sweetie. Rae takes good care of her own, ain’t that right. Here.” She reached over under the counter and pulled out a small netted back of what looked like little brightly-coloured gemstones. She bit open the bag and handed it to him.
“Help yourself.”
“Oh, um...no, no, really, I don’t really need any...jewels.”
Bazatta gave a chortle.
“No, no, honey, they’re candy.”
“Oh. Right. Thank you very much.” Pipsqueak tried a purple one. They were hard-shelled but full of a fruity gel that was very sweet and a little sour but nice.
“Freshens up your breath too.” Bazatta added.
“Well, you might want to Parisian a bag then. He could use it.” Rae muttered.
“No, really, I...” Parisian was thrown a bag himself. Sulking discreetly he pocketed it and explained.
“We’re on investigations.”
“Ah, always something with you, ain’t it, Rae.” Bazatta chuckled, sitting down in a hovering seat “What can I do you for?”
“We’re trying to identify a couple of twi’lek girls who we believe have...worked Coruscant’s streets from time to time.”
“Oh yeah.” Bazatta chuckled again “You’re talking to the right bird. Many of them shopped here as early as before the Clone Wars. And at the time, you see,” She winked with a cheeky grin “I had quite an appetite for their trade as they did for mine. Developed a profound and practical interest in such ladies. But to remember their names...” She gestured idly with her hand “Not so easy.”
“Well, these ones are apparently quite unique. Twi’leks.”
“Very nice.”
Rae nudged Pip who described them. Bazatta nodded with interest.
“Yellow and red ripples? Skin-dye probably. You don’t get that cheap. And that purple-spotted shoulder pattern? Very rare. Rings a bell, I’m sure of it...” She chewed her claw a moment then snapped her fingers “I remember now!”
She reached behind the counter again and retrieved a holocron. Pressing it, it showed a variety of holographic still-pictures. She skimmed them.
“Nope...nope...Ooh, you probably shouldn’t see that one...Heh, there’s a funny story about that one I’ll tell you one day...Here we go. Ladies Night at the Outlander Club. Went lovely ‘til some Jedi had to crash the party. Are these the suckers?”
The picture was of Bazatta smiling and posing for the picture. On either side of her were the two twi’leks who’d brought him to Hat Lo and who he’d seen go off on their own.
“That’s them.” he answered “No doubt about it.”
Bazatta seemed downcast, sighing heavily. “Don’t tell me they’re in trouble again.”
“Well, that may be so but we’re pretty sure they’re just in with the wrong crowd.”
“They always are.” Bazatta threw up her hands “I mean they’re lovely girls, treat to talk to. But eh...they can never seem to find themselves in safe hands.”
“What can you tell me about them?”
“Well, there’s Lunae Minx. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Trouble is she’s had a rough time of it so...she’s not one to make friends easily. The night life was a goddamn plughole for her. She met bad people then tried to find safety with worse people...” Bazatta shook her head “It takes its toll, this place. I was one of the lucky ones.”
“Yeah, me too. So what about the other one? Vida?”
“Ayy Vida, yeah. Gorgeous girl, cute as a button, but er...not much in the way of brains, you understand. They ain’t hurt, are they?”
“Well, their former employer, Hat Lo, was brought down last night.”
Bazatta scowled.
“Good job too! Him and that sick-minded old schutta, Tas Kee! Couldn’t have happened soon enough.” She slammed a hand on the counter and shook her head sullenly, sniffing loudly through her trunk “Sel Maa shouldn’t have had to die like that. She was always good to me.”
“Yeah, I remember...” Rae shook her head and patted Bazatta’s shoulder “Well, we’re trying to make sure they’re kept out of any more trouble. Trust me, I can keep them safe, I’ve done it before.” She gave her a sincere look “Have you got any leads?”
Bazatta shook her head sullenly.
“I haven’t seen ‘em in years. Not since the war ended. But...they did mention they’d picked up work elsewhere. Around Ryloth.”
“Ryloth?” “No, around Ryloth. Specifically. Which gave me reason to believe the work wasn’t exactly on the level, so to speak.”
Rae sucked her teeth.
“Okay. They couldn’t have gotten far. They’ll probably be on the Corellian Run convoy. Identity checks are more thorough nowadays. I’ll put their names and faces out to have them brought in but don’t worry. I’ll make sure they’re brought in alive and unharmed. The Hellfire’s making dock with Coruscant this afternoon. We’re the first people they’ll send them to. It’s my investigation, I’ll be called them to ask them what I need, conclude the questioning, I’ll send them to you and we’ll keep in touch. Any problems, let me know.”
Bazatta turned and, with a heartened smile, hugged Rae Sloane again.
“You’re too good for this galaxy, Rae. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Well, I’m too good for Coruscant for certain.”
“Sorry...I’m a little confused.” Parisian piped up “Are we arresting them or not?”
“Sweetie, let me explain.” Bazatta fussed “Back when Miss Sloane was still ‘Sergeant’, she worked the Vice Raids after the Sector Governance whatsit. They went after the crime lords by investigating their working girls. But the...usual methods just meant the crime lords either locked their girls up or killed ‘em to cover their tracks. Rae Sloane did things differently, discreetly, worked with the victims not against them, got them out of the sick world they’d found themselves in. I helped in getting them back on their feet, finding them honest work and kinder, safer company.”
“Baz was wonderful. Suui’s going to be fine with her.” Rae patted her Toydarian friend’s shoulder “We should be good to go. Thanks so much, Baz” Rae kissed the Toydarian on the cheek.
“Don’t be a stranger now.” Bazatta waved them goodbye as the door closed behind them.
Parisian edged over to Lieutenant Sloane and murmured.
“What about the...”
“We know who to ask about that. Besides, if Cad Bane’s scared of who owns it, I don’t want to put her in that kind of danger.”
“Do you think Thrawn is just going to tell us?”
“Not unless I’m...persuasive.”
Parisian sighed fearfully, rather regretting his grandfather’s choice in commanding officers.
They found Cad Bane leaning by the Lupercal, a suitcase full of credits hanging from his hand. At their arrival, he tipped his wide-brimmed hat and swaggered past them.
“Well now, Lieutenant, this has been a highly beneficial venture for both of us but I’m afraid this is where we part ways.” He coolly patted her shoulder “If you need me, I’ll be in the Rominaria District under a pile of beautiful women.”
Rae smirked.
“Sounds like me every other night.”
That made the Duro laugh.
“Well, you’re welcome to join us, ma’am.”
“Alas, it may have to wait ‘til another night.”
“I’ll save a space for ya’.”
He winked and turned his back, walking with a merry spring in his step though that may have just been the jet-boots.
Rae was still smiling as she muttered.
“Git.”
They bundled themselves into the Lupercal, Pipsqueak sitting on Rae’s lap as the Dusk Trooper swivelled quietly round to face them.
“The Hellfire has docked. We may see them at the main shipyard and enter their hanger bay. Moff Froul is expecting us. Admiral Thrawn is there also, waiting to hear the results of our mission and Ardus Kaine will be speaking to us via hologram.”
“Right. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
“Sir,” Parisian piped up “Are you aware that the...act of engaging in the services of private escort women could be taken us unprofessional as an officer?”
“You’re not my mum, corporal.” Rae snarked “And besides, it is completely professional. I don’t sleep with working girls, I make friends with working girls and I sleep with my friends.”
“Sirs, I really must insist you do not speak of these matters in the company of a small child.” the Dusk Trooper butted in.
“Relax, Dusk. It’s not like he knows what we’re talking about.”
Pip looked up with a slightly dour expression.
“You’re talking about prostitutes, aren’t you.”
There was quiet. Rae blinked. Parisian scratched his head awkwardly. The Dusk Trooper covered his visor with his hand and shook his head.
Rae found her voice.
“How...do you...”
“My dad.”
At that, Parisian and the Dusk Trooper shared a glance at each other.
“You mean...your father went out and...”
“Yeah, all the time.” Pipsqueak’s voice was flat and quiet, looking down at his forehooves “Sometimes he’d even bring them home.”
“And...what did your mum have to say about that?”
Pipsqueak shrugged.
“Almost nothing.”
“Almost?”
“Well, she yelled at him the second time it happened...”
“And what happened then?”
“She had to go to hospital.”
“...Why?” Rae gulped, fearing the answer.
Pip gave a small shudder and stared into space.
“She hit her head on the kitchen sink.”
Rae swallowed uncomfortably and lifted the Lupercal off the landing platform.
She’d never had a good relationship with her father but this was something else. Her mother had always said that the reason her husband, ex-husband now, and her daughter fought so much was that they were too much alike, forthright, wilful, stubborn and suspicious. Rae remembered her father as just that, a proud but reserved man who was quick to anger and became quicker as Rae got older. But he was never violent and right up until four months after his divorce, he barely spoke to another woman. In some ways, despite not liking him much, deep-down Rae had always respected him.
But this was different. Very different.
She was treading uncertain waters.
“Come on then. Let’s get back to the ship.” she said flatly.
What more could she say?
*
Lunae Minx was having a hard time pretending to read the holonet news.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t read, it was that she couldn’t focus. Her mind was a thunderstorm.
Tas Kee’s wallet had brought them a cabin for two. Ayy had gone out, promising to get them some way to hide from the routine security checks which had only gotten harsher since the founding of the Empire.
Besides, there wasn’t much in the Holonet News to take anyone’s interest nowadays. With the Empire censoring everything, one wouldn’t find much aside from ‘Everything’s fine. Work as usual. Have a nice day. What massacres? You’re imagining things. Silly old populace. There, there, we still love you.’ Apart from a few notes on Seboca’s sexual harassment scandal and the cover-up the old Holovid moguls had designed for it, there was little to nothing of note. The door opened. Ayy Vida walked in with a grin.
“I got us a way to avoid the identity checks!” she giggled “I managed to...convinceone of the staff to lend me a key fob to the utility room. They almost never check there. They usually only hover over the door with a scanner for any explosive materials.”
“Yeah, because there’s barely room for one person.”
“Look, it was the best I could do.”
“And I’m not sure I want to know how you convinced him.”
“For your information, it was a droid I managed to hot-wire.” Ayy Vida snapped.
“I’m kidding...mostly” Lunae gave a half-smile “Thanks for the help. When you shocked Kee, it was pretty impressive.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t have gotten far without you.” Ayy sat back and did her best to relax.
Then all at once, they lurched forward in their seats as the convoy suddenly halted just out of orbit of Coruscant, lowering itself to avoid the oncoming space-traffic.
The two twi’leks looked around anxiously as the intercom beeped alive and droned.
“Attention Passengers. We are sorry to inform you that due to a small fault in the engines, the ship has had to stop for the safety of those aboard. It is unlikely this will take longer than thirty minutes to fix but we apologise for any inconvenience this may cause. The refreshments cart will be making its way down the ship in three minutes. If you want the news or some light music. Please press the buttons to the side of your seats. Thank you for your patience.”
“Argh, come on!” Lunae massaged her temples frustratedly.
“Don’t look at me, I just made the droid think I was staff, I wasn’t fooling around with the engines.”
“Of course I don’t think that, Ayy. Don’t you see?” the purple twi’lek stood and glanced nervously out the window “It has to be someone. Someone who doesn’t want us to leave.”
Ayy thought a moment and found she’d rather not consider it.
“Look, maybe it really is just a fault. Those can happen. Or maybe it’s someone else they’re looking for. Or maybe-”
They stopped as they suddenly felt a coarse hand land on their shoulders. Both twi’leks gave a short, scared gasp as they peered at the hands. They were large, grey, gnarled and taloned, the wrists bristling with thin white hairs that appeared more like feathers.
The door opened and through a faint reflection in the window, Ayy Vida saw a man enter and sit down. His face and upper body were obscured completely by a dark, swampy-coloured cloak from which the tell-tale locks of silver-white hair could be seen.
He sat in a relaxed, confident manner with one leg over the other and one elbow over the seat. His voice, however, was low, cold and cruel.
“The convoy will continue on its journey...when I allow it to...” he said flatly “And you will leave my service...when I allow you to.”
“...We’ve fulfilled our contract.” Lunae murmured shakily, more terrified now than she’d ever felt with Hat Lo “We left the information for you in the safehouse, as you said. Wh-what happened afterwards wasn’t our fault.”
She felt the hand on her shoulder tense but the sitting man just sighed.
“Your job was to acquire the object the Empire found most interesting.”
There was a pause as the twi’leks glanced at each other quizzically.
“Y-you mean the pony?” Ayy Vida asked.
“Oh I’m terribly sorry, was that not the most peculiar thing they had in their possession?” there was sarcasm in the man’s voice then malice “You’ve fulfilled nothing!”
Ice-cold tremors ran up and down the twi’leks’ spines.
“The people I’ve hired will be picking you up later to take you to your destination. They’ll cause a scene. It’s about all their good for. If you’re remotely smart, you’ll use the opportunity.”
He got to his feet and spoke in a harsh, resentful tone before turning to leave.
“Get me that creature, whatever it is, before Thrawn can use it. If you don’t, this entire convoy will be blown to space-dust...and you’ll wish you were on it when it does.”
*
Rae Sloane cricked her back far after walking off the Lupercal. The floors of the Hellfire hanger bay felt steady and familiar under her boots.
It would be another hour until the ship left the docks. More than enough time to get the chaos of last night’s events sorted out.
One way or another.
Parisian and Pipsqueak gathered themselves on the hanger, getting used to the ground not vibrating under their feet or hooves. The Dusk Trooper simply nodded them farewell and headed for the armoury.
Rae couldn’t imagine wearing that armour all day was enviable.
On her way to the command chamber, she found Parjai resting against the wall with one hand, his head lowered against it. He was muttering and groaning, the way he normally did.
“Soldier?” Rae gently laid a hand on his shoulder. The clone’s head jerked as he gave a cry of terror under the helmet.
“The Anooba! I can feel its teeth!”
“Parjai?!”
The clone gripped the side of his helmet for a moment and finally straightened up.
“Sorry, sir.” he murmured “Won’t happen again.”
Rae nodded but had a nasty feeling Parjai was wrong.
Some time ago, around the time Order 66 had been carried out, something had just snapped in Parjai. He forgot what his brothers had called him and his memories came out in short bursts. None of the medical droids knew what was wrong with him and not that many officers wanted to waste time on an otherwise-expendable clone.
But Rae wanted to help somehow, whatever that cost.
He was under her command and that meant she went to hell and back to keep them alive and ready to fight on.
Passing by Captain Feanor Rondel and First Lieutenant Taubrey Terradoc, ignoring the nasty looks they gave her, she found the first-class guest quarters and pressed a bell-switch, awaiting the command to enter.
*
Mitth’raw’nuruodo was deep in thought.
Eli Vanto was playing a small water organ on the desk to the side of his. The ambient tunes cleared his mind.
He’d seen what lied in wait for him.
His mind was a battle. A spiralling wave of oncoming swords in a labyrinth he’d set out to design.
Trapped in his own impregnable deceptions.
The clash of sabres rang through the dome. From above in elevated seats, discerning eyes watched the duel. The training sabre, silver-coloured felt peculiar in his hand. It shook with each clash met against the opponent’s blade yet never lost its manoeuvrability. He’d been given a light but long-handled model and in days was wielding it as if he’d been born with it.
Yet against his opponent he was faltering.
There was no shame in it though.
The man he faced was a middle-aged man with a short but swept-back hair, high cheekbones and a furrowed brow above steely, discerning eyes half-lidded in intrigue. His russet cloak was fastened by a pair of linked silver brooches over his plain slate tunic and his sabre-hilt was curved for maximum precision. The sabre was swung not like a stick in the hand but a fist, swiping and thrusting in and out, back and forth in the time one took to blink. Spinning and weaving like some graceful dusky butterfly, the master swordsman saw through Thrawn’s every move.
It had been some time he’d felt overpowered.
He saw an opening. As his opponent stood sideways, Thrawn half-thrust half-slashed round to attack him in the back.
He felt tension grip the centre of spine as his foe spun his blade behind him, blocking his strike and spinning round, catching Thrawn across the hands that held his blade and then into his shoulder.
Stinging volts of electricity coursed up Thrawn’s limbs. Falling backwards, losing the sabre, he landed on his back and closed his eyes as the blue sabre shot forward, going straight for his neck.
There was silence.
One of the crowd gave a slow but sincere clap.
Opening his eyes, Thrawn looked up at his opponent, giving him a courteous smile.
“I believe that would be a killing blow, young Thrawn.” he said, his voice deep, booming and refined as he held out a hand to help him to his feet.
“Alas so. My people have lost a unique member of their kind.” Thrawn replied with a chuckle as a grim-faced Pau’an in silver and gold robes collected their training sabres.
“Nonetheless,” a voice similar to his opponents but lighter and more shrewd sounded behind them as Wilhuff Tarkin emerged, still clapping steadily “That was quite the impressive lightshow, wouldn’t you agree, old friend?”
“Quite so, Wilhuff.” the swordsman said with a smile, looking at the Chiss with something resembling esteem “In a non-Jedi, such finesse in both the sword and the mind are hard to come by, or so we’ve led to believe. And a man who can utilise both in unity to such effect is quite invaluable.”
Thrawn bowed his head with a hand over his chest.
“Your praise fills me with pride. It is an honour to test blades with a man of your calibre...Dooku.”
The enigmatic Count of Serenno gave a smile as the other onlookers, the highest-ranking and most influential members of the Republic, or what it would become, observed the scene.
“Tarkin...” the grim, croaky face came from Armand Isard “You cannot think to have this...individual privy to the Republic’s most crucial endeavours.”
“Not unless I can think of few more beneficial to them, Isard.” Tarkin answered plainly.
“We take a great risk here, ladies and gentlemen.” Kinman Doriana said austerely, his cane sounding on the floor in a grim drum-beat “But if it pays off, one of the greatest threats, not only to the Republic but all of Galactic order will be shunted.”
“If not...we never met this creature.” Sly Moore murmured “And on his shoulders shall any calamity be thrust upon.”
“Entirely understood.” Thrawn replied flatly as the crowd departed, all major power-players, all forgotten in the crowds yet invincible in their positions...and nearly each one as full of their own ambitions as they were full of distrust for their colleagues.
The sort of people one could count on for being far too occupied fighting each other than they were finding out more about him. As long as he was careful.
Apart perhaps from Doriana, the only one not to fall into this formula, at least not in the same way, was his sparring master, Dooku.
“You are troubled.” he said as the room was cleared “A Jedi knows these things...”
“And how many Jedi act upon that knowledge?” Thrawn answered.
That made Dooku laugh.
“You do interest me, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. Whether or not our paths ever cross again, I believe we can expect most fascinating things from you...in time.”
“For a while, Master Dooku, after your friend Tarkin told me you’d agreed to test my skill with the blade, I exercised the possibility you’d come to avenge the Jedi lost on Outbound Flight.”
“Hphf! Jorus C’Baoth’s loss was a greater benefit to the Order than they realise.” the man said, disdainfully “Not even Masters Ransisis or Difusal are as pompous and narrow-minded as that old maniac. Frankly, I was tempted to send you a letter of thanks.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was told the Jedi are a brotherhood as close as family, one and all.”
“What you hear about the Jedi is rarely what you can expect to find.” Dooku shook his head “I must be going. Now it is the workings of my own mind that require my attention. But before I leave...” He made certain the Pau’an guard was not watching as he removed a small, thin ivory-coloured box with a grey crystal embedded in the middle and handed it to Thrawn.
Pressing the crystal opened it to reveal a lightsaber hilt, ancient, forged from bronze and hardwood, curved like Dooku’s.
“The blade of Chon Actrion.” Dooku explained “Something of a role model of mine. He was murdered by the Pirate Queen Q’anah some twenty-five years ago. Wilhuff and I saw her removed from the galaxy but the blade is...something else entirely.”
“So Chon Actrion was a Jedi Master?” Thrawn asked.
Dooku smiled before answering.
“Yes and no.”
“Not a Sith?”
“No. You see, he realised there was more to find in the force than ‘good or evil’. He realised keeping the balance is more than just a dragonsnake biting its own tail. He became something so much more than Jedi or Sith. He saw past the despondency that the Republic wallow in and the Jedi fuel. He became one who took the incentive and made the planets turn once more. I hope one day to uncover the truths that guided him. Perhaps then, I will see things for more than brief flashes of pale light in the cosmos.”
He held up his hands, offering him the blade and turned, his cloak giving him the impression of gliding out of the room as he spoke prophetically.
“Like him, Mitth’raw’nuruodo...you may become more than simply Jedi or Sith...Perhaps you already are.”
The bell on his door rang and Admiral Thrawn’s scarlet eyes opened.
“Would you please get the door. Eli?”
*
Rae Sloane entered carrying Pipsqueak in her arms. Parisian Froul followed behind.
Admiral Thrawn stood, pressed a button on the desk and brought up the holographic image of Ardus Kaine. The man looked dishevelled.
“Thank the stars. I was sick to madness of Batch and Tigellinus ranting about how the other’s buggered up the campaign already.”
“Language, Kaine.” Thrawn butted in “There’s a child present.”
Kaine rolled his eyes then ran a hand over his hair, making it look slightly less Tarkin-ish.
“Please tell me there’s some good news.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
The door opened and Grand Moff Therbon walked in. She gave Sloane an intrigued smile but her goggles masked her emotions, if indeed she had those. She towered over Kaine and even stood at least a head above Thrawn.
Rae Sloane didn’t mind admitting that, ruthless mass-murdering war-hound she might have been, Suadela Therbon looked damn good in that suit.
“Speak.” Therbon said plainly.
Rae related the story, allowing Pip and Parisian to fill in the blanks when it came to what the colt had seen during his kidnapping and who Parisian had spoken to.
The three senior officers were quiet for a while.
Then Kaine spoke.
“Well, it seems as though you’ve done a great deal more than was expected, Lieutenant, and we commend you for it.”
“One thing puzzles me, sir, if I may inquire...”
Kaine gave Thrawn a look. The Chiss nodded.
“Ask within reason.”
“The documents the Dusk Trooper was tasked with delivering. Now, obviously not letting them fall into the wrong hands was crucial but...what I’m confused about is why they were even there at all. Information about officers of the Empire, in solid form, passed around Coruscant in a box anyone could just up and steal? And then there’s that business with Pip’s collar. A tracker. On an item of clothing he was given at the Eriadu Banquet. I didn’t expect to get any answers out of Gallius Rax but...I can’t help but wonder...”
“Your concerns have merit and they do you well here in the Empire but I assure you, Lieutenant, we have it in hand.”
“No you don’t.”
All eyes looked to Pipsqueak who was looking up at the officers with a face that showed little more than mild peevishness.
“You had no clue. No promise that you’d get that information back. It could have gone wrong in loads of ways. And who were the men coming to steal it if they weren’t Hat L-”
“I’m sure you have many questions but I believe the best thing for you is well-earned respite.” Ardus interrupted, a slight tightness at the side of his lips “Lieutenant Rae Sloane, High Command will see you well-rewarded for your attainment. If you have anything specific you’d wish for, name it and, within reason, it shall be yours.”
Rae sat down, her face locked in a grim smirk.
“That is a very generous gesture, your Excellencies. And there is something I would quite like from you, if you’ll grant it.”
“Of course.”
The young woman took a deep breath, leaned forward in her chair and took the plunge.
“It’s not a huge ask, really, but what I’d really like from all three of you is for you to cut the crap!”
There was a moment’s pause. Ardus Kaine’s mouth hung open. Admiral Thrawn’s scarlet eyes were wide. The side of Therbon’s lips twisted in indignation. Eli Vanto stared boggle-eyed and between them, Pipsqueak and Parisian Froul looked as though they were ready, and very willing, to be swallowed up by the ground.
Ardus Kaine found his voice.
“I’m sorry?!”
“So you should be!” Rae Sloane was not put off. Her face was showing clear signs of fury “You put confidential information in the middle of a danger-zone, knowing criminal elements would be after it! You’ve put the livelihoods of Honor Salima, Wulff Yularen and who knows who else in mortal peril, officers crucial to the security of the Empire! Under normal circumstances, I would be obligated to report all three of you to High Command before you could even tug your collars in terror!”
“I’d just like it made clear that my commanding officers’ opinions on this matter are not necessarily my own.”
“Shut up, corporal!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now listen-”
“No, you listen!” Rae was on fire, pointing an accusing finger as the astounded Moff Kaine “It is only fortunate that Pipsqueak was present to ensure the documents stayed with him! Every action that waylaid enemy elements acquiring this information was by his hand...or hoof. But you know, I don’t think that’s an issue, because I reckon the whole thing was a set-up, a lure. You want someone to raise their head above the waters. And if any enemy revealing themselves is so important for you to put so many of the Empire’s key personnel at risk, I want to know who it is pretty damn quick because now, thanks to your good selves, we’re on their list!”
“Lieutenant, please calm yourself.” Thrawn put up a hand “There was never any risk, our operatives were carefully placed but for security reasons, you could not know of the full-”
“No.” Rae interrupted Thrawn who lowered his hand in a way that looked almost she’d hurt his feelings “Let’s get one thing very clear. You want me to do something dangerous, I’ll do it. Fly through an asteroid field? Bench-press a sandcrawler? Go bareback with a Hutt?! Fine! I’ll do it! But not until I know why the bloody hell you want me to! Do you understand?! I do not go into battle blind under any circumstances! If you withhold relevant information from me, I cannot perform to the best of my capabilities! Which means the potential you see in me, which I do still very much appreciate, will be wasted! So before you ask me to do anything else...sirs...you will tell me where this comes from!”
And with a flurry of her hand, she retrieved the strange pendant from her suit-pocket and slammed it on the desk.
Thrawn peered at it while Ardus Kaine spoke through gritted teeth.
“You realise that you are beyond the limits of insubordination, Miss Sloane! And speaking of such matters compromises Imperial security!”
“So does putting it in a bloody box!” Rae retorted “If compromising security was as important as all that, you’d have killed all four of us the moment we landed in the Hellfire, if not sooner! My insubordination is the least of your worries! So for the last time, who does this belong to and what do they have to do with you?!”
“That is enough!” Kaine snapped, turning to Therbon who edged her hand toward her blaster “In fact, that’s morethan enough! Lieutenant, you-”
He stopped as Thrawn held up a hand while the other picked up the pendant and slowly examined it, seemingly fearing what he’d see. As he held it to his face, his scarlet eyes closed in grim resignation. He showed it Therbon who gave a long inhale through her nostrils in apprehension. Then he rested it on a screen connected to the holoprojector so that Ardus Kaine would see it. The Moff’s face fell bleakly and he quietly groaned.
“That’s not...” Eli Vanto murmured “...is it?”
“I fear so.” Thrawn said gravely, turning at last to Rae Sloane.
“Lieutenant, your summary of the situation, though brusque, is accurate. As such, provided you conduct yourself, we will explain to you the events that lead us to requiring such discretion in regards to your objective.”
“Thank you. That's all I really wanted.” Rae Sloane sat back down, put her hands together and ignored Parisian Froul collapsing unconscious on the floor.
“Until we say otherwise, this information does not leave this room.” Therbon began.
“Understood.”
Thrawn sat down, massaging his temples. Ardus gave him a look.
“Should we really be telling her this?”
“I hardly see the point in keeping it a secret. She’s seen the insignia. He’ll come for us soon. She needs to be ready.” The Chiss looked up and spoke frankly.
“Around six years before the foundations of the Empire, I was part of a secret project that several senior members of the Republic were organising between them outside of the eye of both the Senate and the Jedi, establishing an education and training foundation called the Academy of Elite Military Arts, or AEMA, on the planet Lehon close to the Unknown Regions. At the time I was a Chiss Ascendancy Officer serving as an unofficial diplomat but I had been in contact with Kinman Doriana and the then-Chancellor Palpatine, who were concerned about the growing influence of the Jedi. Our goal was to train a group of alumni who would become the first explorers of the Unknown Regions and the Far Outside.”
“Finest minds the galaxy could find.” Therbon said.
“Priority was to curb the influence the Jedi had on the Republic military, ensuring the Unknown Regions would be explored by neutral parties who would not bring the battle between Jedi and Sith to my homeland and the worlds around it. We hoped to usher in an age where conflicts would be judged on reason and strategy, not superficial forecast based on semi-nebulous philosophies.”
“I mean, what sensible people treat war with such...insincerity?” Ardus Kaine asked, shaking his head at the past.
“Therbon and Kaine were indirectly connected, acting for their commanding officers at the time.” Thrawn explained “Unfortunately, the project was compromised.”
“By who?” Pip asked, struggling to keep up with the explanation.
“A student.” Rae supposed.
“Precisely. A brilliant but unscrupulous young man transferred from the Carida Military Academy. I took an interest in his capabilities but I fear it was my hope to utilise his potential that distracted me from the fact that he was already utilising it himself...in a very negative manner.” He shook his head “He hacked into the entire system, diverted funds, equipment and information to his private holdings, fled the establishment after sabotaging the mainframe and informed the representatives of those we were hiding the project from. AEMA was compromised, our assets were up in flames, he left the second-highest-performing student, Amilyn Holdo, with a crippling injury that debilitated her mentally...”
“Gone in a bit bizarre last we checked her.” Eli Vanto butted in “Prone to paranoia and life-threatening behaviour. Personally, I reckon he got close to her. Then he stabbed her in the back.”
“Yes, thank you, Vanto.” Thrawn interjected “And finally, to conclude the sorry state of affairs, Jedi Masters Coleman Trebor, Tarados Gon and Joclad Danva arrived beside Senators Garm Bel Iblis and Lexi Dio to declare the project at an end and its key members charged with deception and conspiracy to commit violent acquisition of power...” He sighed “I volunteered to take full responsibility. I was an outsider in all of this and I had been meaning to break from my own tired and narrow-minded organisation for some time. I was summarily deported from the Republic and brought to my home to face several serious charges. I concluded the fiasco sentenced to exile on a swampy, temperate hell, brought low at my most vulnerable and with a valuable means to Galactic unity up in cinders before my eyes...I believe I’m safe in saying it was the low-point of my career.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So who was this student? And what did he do afterwards?”
“Last I heard he had set up a criminal syndicate operating in the Outer Rim. It was our suspicion that he had started aiding the Separatist Holdouts, no doubt brought into contact with them in the wake of the chaos, and those suspicions have now been confirmed. His name...” Thrawn spoke darkly, the closest Rae had ever heard him sound genuinely murderous.
“His name...was Tyber Zann.”
*
“This was not what we had agreed, Berec!”
The eyes on Mon Mothma were wide and blazing. The Chandrilan Senator stood in her long sheer-white robes and silver diadem like an ivory pillar, bearing down at the dusky mountain that was Favon Berec.
The bearded, scar-faced man’s arms were folded and his voice was quiet and condescending.
“It was not. Nonetheless, we did what we could and we got what we needed.”
“You put an innocent woman to torture and death! A woman who was my friend!” Mothma shrieked.
“She would have betrayed us!”
“You don’t know that!”
Berec’s good-eye twitched as he took a step forward, staring the young woman in the face.
“I know more about betrayal than you ever could, Mothma! And a great deal more about war!” he snarled “If the traitor Riyo Chuchi had come to us sooner, say...when you first contacted her, then that would have been your business. Unfortunately, she didn’t. And that was my business. And I’ll thank you to leave me to it.”
“Berec, don’t you understand?” The sonorous but conscientious voice of Malé-Dee spoke up “Should we walk down this path, the tears from the eyes of innocents shed in this time will run ever more red. We must remain apart from our foes to bring about a better age.”
“Not to mention, of course...” the snide voice of Malé-Dee’s aide, Nower Jebel, cut in “The very serious possibility of escalation of this conflict. If we make our issue with them actively violent, well...we haven’t the means to assume position as a warring faction.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” Berec growled “A problem easily fixed by granting me leave to act as an active combatant.”
“We are far less likely to grant that privilege now, having seen what you do with it!” the fiery Terr Taneel spoke up.
“Is that right.” Berec gave a scoff “Very soon, you’ll have no choice. War is in the air. Very soon, the Empire will strike back and when that happens...” He drew himself up and yelled to all those present “...You will want a man of action leading you, not a chattering flock of schoolgirls and old men endlessly prattling over the civil liberties of idle hands and useless mouths!”
And with that, he stormed off, ignoring the harsh looks the remaining members of the Delegation of 2000 cast him.
“We have made a mistake trusting that man.” Mothma said gravely.
“Senators, do you not realise he may have a point?” The sharp, austere figure of Elenwen Juben walked into view “Surely now, with the Empire growing ever more bloodthirsty, is it not time for us to take the initiative?”
“We are not the Empire!” Mothma retorted “We do not see formal protest as an excuse to take lives!”
“And has that way of thinking not cost us enough by now?” One of Juben’s aides spoke up and walked forward, a young woman, barely old enough to have come out of university, wearing a tight-fitting beige command uniform. Her skin was pale, her face flat and spotless, her bright-orange hair neatly combed to shoulder-length and her feline eyes wide and wild under eyebrows so thin they could have been drawn on by a red quill.
“Personally, I think it’s time to take the fight to them and show the galaxy that there’s a right way and a wrong way and choosing the latter costs them dearly.”
At this, Juben’s other aide, another young woman wearing authentic Alderaanian armour of lavender and indigo and her face hidden by a helmet with breathing apparatus, spoke caustically.
“Bail Organa would never have consented to this. It goes against everything Alderaan holds dear.” Juben and her red-haired associate cast her a dismissive eye.
“When I want your opinion, Div’Rah, I’ll ask for it. And by then, I’ll have lost my mind.” Elenwen sneered before turning back to the Delegation.
“What Commodore Timberly Abra has said must have some merit. Bail Organa made the decision to combat the Empire non-violently and...well...that was the last anyone heard of him, was it not? In his absence, I move to support Favon Berec in aggressive negotiations.”
Mon Mothma shook her head.
“Out of the question, for reasons I should not to explain.
There was a pause and then with a dismissive shake of her cape, Elenwen Juben and Timberly Abra departed with their noses in the air. As Div’Rah moved to follow them, she noticed Mon Mothma’s nod and returned it in kind.
There were far more detrimental factors at work than the still very far-away Empire.
*
“Incredible.” Parisian said breathlessly as the Hellfire approached the crown of the Imperial Outer Rim Fleet “There’s no other word, incredible.”
A massive vessel, at least twice as large as any Star Destroyer, glinted in the blackness of space. Immense and overwhelming yet somehow sleek and elegant. Like a great aiwha.
“The Vengeance-class Dreadnought Fantasia?” Rae Sloane said with wonder “Quite a sight. They’ve really put their all into this, that’s for sure.”
“It’s not perfect.” Glandon Froul chuckled on the bridge “But it’ll do for now.”
He pressed the button on the communicator and spoke.
“This is Moff Glandon Froul of the Hellfire requesting permission to connect with the fleet.”
“Copy, your Excellency.” the deep, oily voice of Terrinald Screed spoke through the comms “Permission granted. You are obliged to send a command ship to headquarters for summary debriefing.”
“Righto, old sport.” Glandon replied and summoned his officers.
Pipsqueak, Rae Sloane, Parisian Froul and Patchwork Platoon were brought over to the ship in a carrier shuttle. Rae Sloane stood by the doorway, facing the squad observingly.
At last, Sergeant Culic Denwarren gave his Lieutenant a look and asked wryly.
“So, ma’am...You want to tell us how last night went for you?”
“Depends.” Sloane answered flatly “Do you want to remain anywhere at the moment besides inside of this ship?”
“Er...no.”
“Then there’s your answer.” Rae turned to peer out the window while Culic Denwarren gave Parisian Froul a quizzical look. The young corporal glanced at his CO then held up six fingers with a cheeky grin.
Around, the platoon muffled giggles or gasps. As Sloane looked over her shoulder with a stern eye, the platoon snapped to attention in their seats without a hair out of place.
All the while, Pipsqueak just wondered what in the name of Luna they were talking about.
The carrier landed and the immense hanger bay of the Dreadnought greeted them.
As Pipsqueak, Rae and Parisian made to take in the sight, they were stunned by a sudden cacophony of loud voices as a special forces carrier loaded up with its occupants.
Rae gave them a look and groaned.
“Stars above! Not those maniacs!”
“Why, who are they?” Pipsqueak asked as a group of seven stormtroopers, each in their own unique garb and gear, prepped themselves for the upcoming mission with some good old-fashioned yelling, pounding the ceiling of the ship with their fists with every word.
“Who are we?!”
“SCAR SQUAD!”
“What does that stand for?!”
“SEVEN CRAZY ARSE-REAPERS!”
“Where are we going?!”
“FRAK KNOWS WHERE?!”
“Who are we killing?!”
“FRAKKED IF WE CARE!”
“Why are we doing it?!”
“CAUSE NO-ONE ELSE WILL!”
“AROO! AROO! AROO!”
Rae and Parisian shook their heads at the spectacle.
“There is such a thing as too eager.” Parisian muttered.
“If they keep up like that, there won’t be much of a ship to take them to ‘Frak knows where’.”
“Just wait ‘til you see them in the field. They’re quite something.” They found Shayla Paige-Tarkin standing before them with an eager smile “Glad you’re back. Uncle Will’s very pleased with your work.”
“Uncle Will?” Parisian whispered dumbfoundedly.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Rae shushed him “Is Director Yularen also here?”
“Yeah, he’s already been talking with Thrawn. We’re in Sector Nu. Follow me.”
The two followed the young Imperial Senator, taking the elevator up several stairs, passing by training floors, armouries and finally reaching a lounge area for higher-ranking officers.
If the place hadn’t been decorated by Thrawn himself, Rae would be surprised. The hall was full of art replicas and holographic models. Classical music played through speakers.
Natasi Daala met them with a smile.
“Welcome aboard the Fantasia!” she laughed.
“Hi, Nat.” Rae hugged her then spoke in a darker tone “Crodd’s not here, is he?”
“Afraid so. Hanging around Pestage. He’s not with any retinue. Just him and one of his lieutenants. Labryn Thurg. Big, bald man with blue lips. You’ll know him when you see him. He hasn’t given us any trouble so far but...he’s been asking about Pip.”
Rae gave Pipsqueak a worried look.
“Don’t worry. Wilhuff’s putting the matter on the shelf for now. Your work in Coruscant’s scored well with the Grand Moffs. I think you’re alright for now.” she assured her before ruffling Pip’s mane. She caught the eye of Shayla who was giving her a look that could curdle milk.
Awkwardly, Natasi cleared her throat and smiled.
“Senator.”
“Did my uncle send for something, captain?”
“Er...probably.” Daala nodded and left, giving Rae an apologetic shrug.
The Lieutenant straightened her collar bashfully.
“You and Daala...don’t get along?”
“Gosh, no, what on earth would make you think that I had any problem with the head of my family having it off with some low-rate strumpet who’s nearly half his age?”
“A better question, niece of mine, would be how exactly it was your business?”
The four jumped as Wilhuff Tarkin appeared behind them, wearing his usual courteous face and faultless poise.
Shayla looked down slightly sulkily and muttered.
“...sorry.”
“Give her some time. You two might benefit from a mutual bond. You have more in common than you think.”
“Really?” Shayla sounded sarcastic.
“Yes. Complete nuisances, the pair of you.” Wilhuff Tarkin shook his head before turning to Rae Sloane with the characteristic ‘Tarkin-Smile’.
“Sterling work on Coruscant, Lieutenant Sloane. I’m certain there are many who will breathe a sigh of relief knowing Hat Lo’s sort have been reduced in number. Though certain concerns have been brought up regarding your liaisons with certain underworld elements.”
“Sir, I assure you, my relationships with women of an old profession are purely for matters of local intel.”
There was a pause.
“I was referring to the bounty hunter, Cad Bane.” Tarkin said sternly “What’s this about women of an old profession?” “Oh, nothing, sir. Nothing.” Rae straightened up “Moff Froul organised payments from one party to the other and the truce we’ve made with the Black Sun will only make things more convenient.”
“True enough. In future, however, you will consult High Command wherever necessary.”
“Wherever necessary, sir. Understood.” She and Tarkin disagreed on what constituted as ‘necessary’ but that wasn’t something he needed to know just yet.
“Now then...” Tarkin and Shayla stood eye to eye with Rae, Parisian and Pipsqueak, both in the same rigid stance with one arm propped up by the other with a hand over their chin in an evaluating manner.
Rae couldn’t help but smile at the likeness.
“Your methods, though somewhat unorthodox, have found success. Not a great deal longer than an hour ago, we were informed by Judicial Forces that two young female twi’leks matching the description of the two you were searching for were detained on the Corellian Run Convoy and are being brought here as soon as possible. You will be able to question them in Sector Xi connected to the upper levels. Please your suspicions are not waylaid by sentiment.”
“I have it on good authority, sir. The two women aren’t connected to our foe. They may well know something that can help us but to do so I will give them protection of the Empire. I don’t think fear tactics will work for them. They’re more scared of their boss than they are of us.”
Tarkin’s face was flat while he weighed her words.
“To do would require utter conviction that they have no connection with harmful forces. If that is indeed your theory then it would not be out of the question for them to remain under our guard, unharmed, for the duration of-”
He was interrupted suddenly by the ornate doors flying open and a booming, bombastic but distinctly female voice filling the room uncomfortably.
“WIIIIIILHUUUUUUUFF!”
To Rae Sloane’s astonishment, both Tarkins paled in horror as the Grand Moff pressed two fingers against his brow and moaned, his face pulled tight with discomfort, the most amount of emotion she’d ever seen him show.
“Oh hell.”
Shayla, meanwhile, groaned audibly.
“Fraaaaaaaak...”
Rae and Pipsqueak stared as a towering mass of flesh, held together with black sequinned dress, navy-blue feather boas and excessive jewellery and topped with a monstrosity of a hat with all manner of plumes and furry-tufts hanging off it, lumbered towards them like an oncoming asteroid. It was a woman, human, middle-aged and large, which was about the extent of the kind things one could say about her. Her face was powdered to near-ashen. Her hair was bundled up high like some enormous grey snake. And her features were the kind that could only have been laid upon her by the underside of a spade with some considerable force. Whisking some strange feathered stick around her as she thundered towards them, she reminded Pip of some kind of navy-blue turkey in the later-stage of rabies.
“Shayla!” she squawked, her eyes like a pair of smoking keyholes “Stop slouching! You’re a Quintad Lady!”
Shayla, who had been standing as straight and poised as her uncle, rolled her eyes discreetly.
Rae stood perplexed at the sight and uttered blankly.
“Who, or should I say, what is that?!”
Tarkin looked up and cast her a dismal look that seemed almost apologetic.
“That...would be my wife.”
Rae and Pipsqueak’s eyes boggled at his answer as Wilhuff and Shayla spun round with sickly smiles and buffeted the hellish storm that was Lady Thalassa Tarkin.
“Thalassa, ahem, dearest.” Wilhuff began “Is...is something troubling you?!”
“It’s a calamity, Huffy, dear! A calamity!”
“Huffy?!” Parisian gaped out the Tarkin family’s hearing.
“I preferred ‘Uncle Will’.” Rae muttered.
“And...what exactly is the nature of this ‘calamity’, treasure?”
“I have turned the first-class bedchamber over top to bottom and I simply cannot find the slightest drop of Essence of Cavryion! The refinement of the perfumes supplied to me stop at Nlorna of all ghastly things and your...” she gestured disdainfully to the Mon Calamari stewards struggling to follow up behind her “...Sea-Monkeys are just as useless as ever! They haven’t the brains between them to fill a scurrier’s skull!”
“Auntie, Ackbar and Raddus try their best.” Shayla piped up indignantly.
“Shayla! What have I told you at least a hundred times!” Thalassa snapped, her black-painted lips tight as a knot “Young ladies like you should be seen not heard!”
Shayla sulked.
“Yes, auntie...” Out the side of her lips, she added “...whilst ladies your age are better off not being seen but are constantly heard!”
Tarkin cleared his throat to mask Shayla’s stealthy insult.
“Darling Thalassa...You are aware, I take it...that we in an Imperial Dreadnought on the borders of the Outer Rim?”
Thalassa Tarkin sniffed loudly and drew herself up in a haughty fashion.
“Huffy, dear! There are other members of the Quintad who would not make such excuses!”
Tarkin cleared his throat again, louder and hoarser.
“How right you are, darling.” he said through clenched teeth ‘And there are other members of the Quintad who would not have such wives!’
“Well, I’m certain I can make some arrangements. Let me speak to my secretary” He looked about “Captain Daala?”
The young woman who’d been trying to hide herself throughout the debacle stood up and saluted.
“Excellency?”
“Would you be kind enough to order in a shipment of Essence of Cavryion for the Officer’s Quarters? Look for trade in the Tion Cluster. They should supply them. Transfer the bill to my estate.”
“At once, sir.” Spinning on her heels, she marched off to her office outside of Tarkin’s.
“I really think that secretary of yours is far below standard, Huffy.” Thalassa fussed “Any number of your nephews could suffice, it would be good for them to find work under you, their parents do worry for them you know.”
“Yes, dear, as you’ve told me many times.” Wilhuff said tiredly, missing out the part where, in his opinion, his nephews could barely find their own rectums without a map “I really must be getting back to my duties. Unless perhaps you’d like to make the acquaintance of another young aspirant who perhaps my nephews could learn well under. Lieutenant?”
Rae Sloane snapped to attention, passed Pipsqueak to Parisian and saluted.
“Lieutenant Rae Sloane, your ladyship” She said smiling.
Thalassa Tarkin eyed the woman in a bizarre way in a manner that could only be replicated if she had observed a womp rat doing its business in a particularly precious part of her garden.
Sloane held out her hand to shake.
“It’s an honour.”
“I hardly think so.” Thalassa tossed her feathery collar and turned her back on the Lieutenant, calling back to her husband.
“Do hurry, darling. You really must spend more time in the lounge with me. You really are working too hard.”
And with that, she departed the way she came in much the same manner.
Wilhuff Tarkin and Shayla Paige-Tarkin gave a weighty sigh as the doors slammed shut.
“The trick to enjoying your work,” the Grand Moff growled “...is having a private life that’s a great deal worse.”
“I never thought a man like him would have a wife.” Pip whispered to Parisian.
“You’d think not. But it seems, in fact, he has quite a lot of wife.” Parisian giggled.
One look from Tarkin, the man he presented himself normally, shut them up. With his wife gone, he spoke as sternly and slyly as he often did.
“We may attend to the gathered intel on the bridge. Director Yularen and Admiral Thrawn are waiting.”
Culture was everywhere. Most prominently, Human High Culture.
It puzzled him, in truth, to have little real opinion on the matter.
Even in the Republic, humanocentricism had been prevalent, especially after the rise of the alien-led Separatist movements. And the Republic had always, obliviously or otherwise, revered their founders who were often human.
In Thrawn’s eyes, the only things that were unacceptable in an empire is that which was detrimental to their efficiency.
How detrimental humanocentricism would be had yet to be seen.
And it would depend on how far he would let it go.
Catching sight of Grand Admiral-Moff Octavian Grant, he strode forward, getting ready, as was his pastime, to make friends and influence people.
The Tapani prodigy was admiring a small hovering model replica of an ornate battleship behind a glass case in a way that looked nostalgic. As he saw Thrawn approaching, his eyes rolled and he swallowed as if tasting something bitter.
“Oh, it’s you.” he said dismissively “Is there something you want?”
“Nothing too important, sir.” Thrawn began, his voice calm and courteous “But I couldn’t help but inquire...is this the proper design of the Assault Frigate Dragonglass? The same one the distinguished Odysseus S. Grant flew through Pelagon, destroying every frigate House Pelagia sent against it, leading the Imperial Reconquista of the province?”
That did it. At the sound of Thrawn’s words, Octavian Grant’s face brightened.
‘Step 1. Praise but do not flatter. Invite camaraderie but do not beg for it. Approach as a friend not as a lackey.’
"You’ve heard of my father?” Octavian asked.
“I read his holocrons in my academy years.” Thrawn answered “The surprise attack he accomplished against Mazi Zhetor and his Ithorian reinforcements during that eclipse in Chapter 21 is a particular favourite.” He gave the model another look “So is this the exact model?”
The Tapani noble gave a bashful chuckle.
“Well...technically no. You see, when my father presented his victorious fleet to the Emperor after the Pelagian Uprising was put down, he’d had repairs made to these wings here...” he pointed them out “You see, as they are now, they’re plain metal but, if you recall your books, they were damaged on South Pelagon...”
‘Step 2. Know what it is you speak of but ask for confirmation.’
“Against Count Tinzen Paddox’s Polypheme, correct? Though I could be mistaken.”
“No, no, you are quite correct. The Polypheme, what with the Pelagian’s mania for honour and tradition, attacked with large manual cannons without sensors or automatic targeting. It was their way to have the commanders launch the killing shot. So what my father did was turn his ship sideways and allow the vast crystal array on the outer wings to effectively blind the Polypheme’s gunners.” he guffawed “Brainless oafs. But of course the smaller turrets then shot at the crystals but by the time the gunners could see properly, the Imperial fleet had cornered them and blasted the scoundrels into the depths. But after that, the outer wings were cracked and dull and had to be re-fastened with standard materials.”
He sighed “Sad, really. I remember seeing them when I went aboard its test run. I was just a boy then. They were so beautiful. I used to stand on the quarterdeck and watch the wings turn all sorts of colours in the sun.”
‘Step 3. Exercise indulgence not as a luxury but a curiosity.’
“It does sound quite majestic.” Thrawn murmured “Perhaps once this war concludes, you may have the opportunity to make them as much a marvel as they once were.”
“Ah well...” Grant shrugged bashfully “You know what they say about replicas.”
“They were an element of the glorious days of old, Grand Admiral. What is the Empire if not those days come again?”
Octavian Grant gave the Chiss a look unlike any he’d given him before. More than just gratitude or impression but as close it came to actual rapport.
“Do you know, Thrawn, if I may call you that, I believe you might well have a point. I’ll speak with the Tallann Master-Shipwrights when I can. See if it’s possible. You know...I had my doubts about you, Admiral, but...” He placed a hand on his shoulder “You seem a decent chap. I should be off now. Teshik wants to discuss the strategies for the coming battles.”
“Of course, sir. Give him my regards. It has been a great honour to learn from you.” Thrawn said sincerely as the Grand Admiral departed at last.
‘Step 4. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’
“His Excellency Tarkin has arrived.” An attendant sounded at the door.
Thrawn smiled, felt the wheels turning in the cosmos, and turned.
Though in similar garb, Admiral Thrawn and Director Yularen could not have looked less similar other than the smile they gave Rae Sloane as she entered.
“Welcome, Lieutenant, to the gem of Cerulean Spear Command.” Thrawn said grandly “The Dreadnought Fantasia.”
“The face of the future.” Tarkin added.
“If so, I’m not sure it’s one I want to be part of.” Yularen finished brusquely “I’ve never liked ostentation at the best of times. And everywhere I look around the craft, I see dangerous extravagance.”
“Well, Delian Mors did have some amount of say in the design of the piece. Last I saw, she was with her attendants in the pool area.”
Yularen rolled his eyes.
“Come now, Yularen. Let us attend to the matter at hand.” Tarkin interjected, placing a hand on the holoprojector in the middle of the room.
Yularen found a set of images. Criminal ID Images.
“We’ve found the three individuals who found you in the warehouse.” Yularen explained “The Human’s Docor Danstan from Axxila. The Zeltron is Drazala Nuwaan and the Wookiee goes by the name of Thracca. We have information that they are part of a criminal gang from Nar Shaddaa known as the ‘Maldovar Boyz’.”
“That’s ‘Boys’ with a ‘z’, in case you weren’t already tired of today.” Thrawn said dismally.
“They are led by a young man named Radds ‘Goldenboy’ Burl.” Yularen pressed a few buttons to bring up his picture.
A smug, scruffy-looking, blonde-haired boy barely older than Shayla smirked at them. He wore a metal head-band with a Huttese claw sign emblazoned on the right of it. Aside from that, he was an unremarkable creature.
“They’re small-time, particularly when you consider the sort of people you find on Nar Shaddaa, but they are wanted criminals with a history of violent behaviour. In fact they’re first serious crime was beating four off-duty stormtroopers to death. Danstan there used a knife.”
“Coruscant Police haven’t seen them since you reported the attack. It’s likely they are operating galactically, faster than we can properly track.”
“Cad Bane reckoned they’d come after us personally.”
“Then they’d be bigger fools than we could ever anticipate.” Tarkin said dismissively.
“Nonetheless, the fact we could not anticipate it is worth considering.” Thrawn added.
The Grand Moff rolled his eyes.
“Regardless, we shall keep you informed of events but...I’m afraid Grand Moff Crodd has called upon the Inquisition to seek out these particulars.”
Rae winced at the thought.
“Will they be involved in my questioning of Ayy Vida and Lunae Minx?”
“No. At least not immediately.” Yularen answered “On the subject, the ship carrying them here docked about two minutes ago. They’re waiting for you in Sector Xi.”
“Right.” Rae Sloane saluted “Sirs. I will return with beneficial news. And I aim to acquire it painlessly.”
“Best of luck, Lieutenant.” Tarkin may have been sarcastic. It was difficult to tell “But just remember, we punish the criminals, not indulge them. This is no longer the Republic.”
Rae Sloane made her way warily to Sector Xi, a very un-decorative part of the Fantasia.
She found Natasi Daala talking through a commlink, no doubt having lost her patience ordering Essence of Cavryion.
“Where you going?” she asked.
“I’m gonna’ go to a dark room and scare somebody.” Rae said plainly “You wanna’ come with?”
“Oh hell, yes!” Natasi grinned.
“Look, they haven’t really done anything wrong.” Pipsqueak butted in.
“It’s okay, Pip. We’re joking.” Natasi ruffled his mane “We’ll just be asking questions. They haven’t done anything to warrant much more.” She ran a hand though her own hair “Anything to break up the monotony, really.”
As they turned the corner, there came a series of odd squeaks and Pip jumped as a group of small, black box-shaped droids on tiny wheels hurtled in, circling around the little colt.
Rae chuckled.
“Don’t worry, Pip. They’re Mouse Droids. Messengers and floor polishers. They won’t hurt you.”
One Mouse Droid with its implements at the top coloured white and magenta stopped in front of Pip and did a series of shunts and spins that seemed almost playful. Pipsqueak giggled at its antics, jumping at it and chasing it round in circles as it tried to catch its tail. Falling down, the colt laughed merrily and the droid gave a little squeal that sounded like amusement.
“I think that one likes you.” Natasi chuckled.
“Humans, Twi’leks, Droids, what girl can’t he charm?” Parisian sighed.
Pipsqueak nuzzled the little droid with his muzzle and smiled.
“I’ll call you Minnie.” He chirruped “Minnie the Mouse Droid. We’re two of the same. We don’t let being small bring us down.”
Rae couldn’t help but feel touched by the sight.
“Okay, Pip. Best let ‘Minnie’ go about her business. Come on.” And with that they walked on, ‘Minnie’ giving a cooing squeak that sounded like a goodbye.
They found the interrogation room of Sector Xi to be a modest affair. The two Twi’leks were sitting next to each other in thin, tight positions on a large, low cube that made for a chair for those being interrogated.
Around them were stormtroopers of varying uniforms, all helmeted. Their leader saluted and spoke.
“We received your orders, Lieutenant. They were caught on a convoy out of Coruscant on the Corellian Run. Thankfully, it came out of flight due to an engine failure and we were able to board it quickly. They put up no resistance.”
“Good work. Corporal Froul?” Rae turned to Parisian “Could you take these men and women to the armoury and show them the soldier’s lounge?”
“Righto, sir.” the young corporal saluted.
“Four of us will remain here. Security measures.” their officer said, holding up his hand “Admiral Thrawn told us that whoever they’re working for can’t be underestimated.”
“Very well.” Rae snapped her fingers and Parisian led ten men out of the room down to the lower decks.
Ayy Vida gave Pip a small smile but did little to hide her anxiety.
Rae Sloane stood with her arms folded and spoke plainly.
“Right, I am Lieutenant Rae Sloane. This is Captain Natasi Daala. I’d rather not shout. You are not currently under arrest, merely under judicial concern. I advise you to remain that way. I am here to ask some questions about your employers. You are here to answer them. We do not currently believe you are involved in what may be criminal behaviour but I suggest you do not start now. Refusing to answer truthfully, or at all, will get you arrested. This process will not take long, only as long as it needs to be. Please do not make it longer. The less cooperative you are, the more of a bitch I will be to you. If you exhaust my patience, which is not as hard as it sounds, you will be entertaining far less agreeable interrogators. Have we got that clear?”
The two twi’leks kept their heads down.
“Yes’m...” Ayy Vida murmured.
“Good.” Rae sat down on a chair facing them “First off, does Tyber Zann operate off of Ryloth?”
There was a pause.
Lunae Minx raised her eyebrow.
“...huh?” she asked.
“Tyber Zann. Your employer.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do not lie to us.” Natasi Daala craned her neck in a manner she must have learned from Tarkin “We’ll know if you do and you won’t like what it gets you.”
Pipsqueak stood up and spoke.
“Ayy, Lunae, Hat Lo and Tas Kee are gone. And we know about whoever this Tyber Zann is. Thrawn can stop him. You don’t need to be scared of him anymore. But please, I don’t want you to get hurt.” he looked up at them pleadingly “Rae can get this done without anyone being sent to prison. She knows people who can help you. But we need to work together. Please?”
The two twi’leks stared at him.
Ayy Vida’s eyes looked doubtful.
Behind them, the captain of the stormtroopers cleared his throat and spoke.
“Captain Daala?”
The woman looked up.
“Speaking?”
“There’s something you should know...” he gestured to come closer.
Sighing, Natasi Daala marched over and leaned forward.
“What have you got to tell me?”
“Just wanted to tell you...” he whispered, pausing a moment.
“You’re gonna’ look pretty hot when you get that suit off.”
Natasi looked up.
“I beg your pardon?!”
Thunk!
With a high-pitched grunt of pain, Natasi Daala jerked and fell limply to the ground, knocked senseless by a blaster-butt to the back of the head.
Rae and Pipsqueak gasped.
“What the hell are you doing?!” she bellowed as the stormtrooper removed his helm.
A familiar face she’d only seen in recently in a hologram stared back at her, smiling cockily.
“Hey babe.” Radds ‘Goldenboy’ Burl sniggered.
The hand that made to draw her blaster found itself grabbed. A stocky stormtrooper removed his helmet to reveal a pale, flabby Klatooinian with an ugly, toothy grin. Another stormtrooper at Rae’s side removed her helmet to reveal the Zeltron, Drazala Nuwaan, looking craftier and meaner than ever.
Rae’s heart hammered against the inside of her chest as two words escaped her.
“Pip! Run!”
A stun baton jabbed into the side of her hip sent her arching back in pain, convulsing with electric agony before slumping to the floor.
The colt, too confused to think properly, made for the door.
‘Get help!’ his thoughts were screaming ‘Get help quick!’
It so happened that the stormtrooper captain had deposited his equipment at the side of the door and before Pip could reach it, something had leapt out the bag.
A strange alien, about Pip’s height, with mottled green skin, a swollen, puffy chin and two eyes on stalks, carrying in two hands a small shock-stick.
“Heh-Hah!” he snarled “Goin’ somewhere, small-fry?! Not on my watch, not happenin’, no siree!”
Before Pip could quite process what was going on before him, he felt the prongs of the stick punched into him and he jolted, eyes boggling and forehooves twitching as a rail of volts shook through him, sending him falling unconscious in a smoking, twitching pile of fur, the Zilkin holding the shock-stick doing a lively, cackling jig over his unconscious body.
Parisian Froul made his way silently to the armoury.
At last, the rows of guns and munitions greeted them.
“Here we are, ladies and gentlemen, make yourselves at home.”
A man in heavy trooper armour, odd for occasion but Parisian supposed convoy searches might necessitate heavy carrying, turned to him.
The corporal noticed locks of slate-grey hair escaping out the corners of his helmet.
“Sir.” he cleared his throat “You do know hair of such length is against Stormtrooper Corps regulations. You might want to see the regimental barber while you’re here or you might get put on...”
He stopped as the heavy trooper removed his helmet.
The snarling, one-eyed face of a grey Wookiee was leering at him menacingly.
“Oh...” Parisian Froul said flatly as the creature’s fist came down upon him.
“Whoo! Badass! This is gonna’ make us Chunet stars overnight!” Radds and his crew whooped as one before their leader pressed his commlink.
“Okay. Boss dude? We’re in. This Dread did ‘Nought’ see that coming...huh?”
There was silence on the other end of the comms.
“Cause, like, Dreadnought...‘nought’ see that co-”
“I get it. It just wasn’t funny.” the reply came, brusque and growly “Just follow the plan. Our benefactor has supplied your door overrides. Isolate the Imperial high commanders. Lock down the armoury. Ensure no-one can get in or out.”
The speaker’s eyes gleamed as his infiltrator pod cut through the weaker underside of the Fantasia’s bridge, just between it and the main deck, avoiding the turret’s gaze with it’s small size and scan-proof lining. He entered the tertiary exhaust vents beside his larger, more acrobatic friend.
“Before long, provided you can do what you’re told, the leadership of the Fantasia will be removed before the Empire even knows what’s going on...”
He gave a deep breath, vigour coursing through him like lightning.
“And I...will have...Thrawn.”
The spotless blue fingertips lifted themselves off the water organ as its player sat back in his chair and looked up in focus.
Eli Vanto took his feet off the desk and eyed his Admiral.
“Sir?”
The scarlet eyes of Mitth’raw’nuruodo were wide and resolute as he gasped, as if in trepidation.
“...mph...not tonight ,Will...I have a headache...”
“...what?”
The eyes of Captain Natasi Daala opened without grace or comfort. She coughed, tasting blood, strands of her fiery-red hair over her face.
She grew conscious of the scenario.
She was tied up and nearly naked, left only in her underwear. Behind her, tied to her in fact, was Rae Sloane in a similar position, still unconscious. They were seated on the jet-black block that made up a chair in the interrogation room and, next to them, Pipsqueak was awake, lying on his side, his four little hooves strung together like the corners of a sack as he struggled feebly.
Natasi took a good long assessment of the situation then looked up with murder in her eyes.
“Alright...just who’s responsible for this?”
“Hey, Dollface.”
She looked up, eyes blazing.
“Who’s a ‘Dollface’ and how many bones does she have to break for you to take it back?!”
“Don’t try to struggle, honey. You’ll give yourself wrinkles.” The sultry Zeltron, Drazala Nuwaan, trailed a hand over Natasi’s back with a leer.
“You’ve no possible idea how much crap you’re in right now!” the young redhead snarled “Rough estimation?! Up to the eyebrows! Do you know how many members of Imperial High Command I have the ear of?!”
“Babe, we all know you have something on one of ‘em but it ain’t his ear!” Radds snorted, grabbing the front of his trousers “But don’t worry. Once this is over, I might show you what a real man’s like.”
“You’re welcome to try, murglack, if you want a window where your groin used to be!” With her bared teeth and blazing green eyes, Natasi Daala looked for all the world like some ferocious tigress.
“Ooh-hoo-hoo, little kitty want some rough pettin’, yuh?” the pasty, rotund Klatooinian guffawed lecherously.
“You’re crazy if you think is going to end well for you!” Captain Daala growled “On this floor sector alone is no less than six of the highest ranking members of the Empire!”
“Yeah, that’s kinda’ the idea, sweetie.” Drazala Nuwaan said with a smirk “Also on this floor sector is a power grid which this room serves as a bypass to the mainframe.”
“To hook up your favourite torture toys.” Goldenboy added, holding up a small device and pacing idly over to the control desk “So if I plug this in juuuuuust right...”
He did so, connecting the device with the console. There was a humming as the lights went off and on. Natasi and Pipsqueak stared around the room.
“What are you doing?!”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Drazala cooed.
“Simple, Dollface.” Radds chuckled “From here, we can decide who on this floor gets power without anyone being the wiser. Lights, locks, communications. It’s all ours now. Officially, Sector Xi is our bitch!”
“An’ Thracca shoulda’ taken ‘dat armoury by now. Dat’ lil’ blonde boy’s gonna’ be hobblin’ ‘cross the ship on stumps!” the Klatooinian snorted “Then Snirk’s gonna’ take his pretty lil’ uniform and go hunting in the woman’s baths at the end of dis’ ‘ere Sector Xi.”
“I reckon he’ll enjoy that.” Drazala said, rolling her eyes.
Natasi stared, weighing the severity of the scene.
“Lady, we know we are. Why else would we be hired?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Oh, sweet ginger thinks she’s funny.” Drazala gave Natasi’s hair a tug, her hungry sapphiric eyes staring into Natasi’s furious emeralds.
Radds pressed a button on the control desk and spoke.
“Okay, roll call.”
The Zeltron groaned.
“Really?”
“It’s more professional. C’mon.” Radds insisted “This is your command. Radds Burl, Goldenboy of Maldovar, taking roll-call.”
“Drazala Nuwaan.” The Zeltron said with a sigh.
“Magro ‘Stinkyboy’ Slim” the Klatooinian grunted.
One by one, Rae, Natasi and Pip heard the names of this band of rogues.
“Edmin Ferglyn!”
“Droov F’mek!”
“Ornar Xapp!”
“Swaldo Pottle!”
“Yutane!”
“Urr-Yompa!”
“Belwana!”
“Brezna the Beast!”
“Sh’Zago!”
“Giszla Dosst!”
“Gorvy ‘Go-Long’ Lomberd!”
“Munce Hughbrick”
“Bar’Jin Bast!”
“Docor Danstan!”
“Snirk McNoyd!”
“Grraaaaoooofff!” The sound came from the Wookiee, Thracca.
And at this, the Zilkin jumped up and bellowed at the top of his voice, spinning his stun-baton.
“An’ all you butt-breezing belly-itchers sure as Shadda-Bi-Boran know who I am! Cap’n Snertling Haph-Pinter of the Ol’ Patitite-Punchers 13th Regiment, NBSS, STFD and UGH, certifiedy! Yessir!” he gave an elaborate salute which few paid any real attention to.
“Yeah, great.” Radds announced “And together we are...”
Drazala noticeably sighed before answering with the others.
“The Maldovar Boyz!”
“Boys with a ‘Z’!” Radds finished making some crude, street-gesture “So, all you bros knows the drill. Go in there, lasers popping, vibs chopping, any oldie in a fancy suit goes down hard. And make sure it’s caught on the holos. And we need at least three headshots and a no-scope.”
“Oooooh my god...” Natasi groaned, scarcely believing there were people like this in the galaxy, let alone that they’d run afoul of them.
Radds grinned.
“We’re gonna’ put this all over the Outer Rim by tomorrow! Hutt Network’ll pay big wupi-upi for this! We’ll be livin’ it up, big-time!” He whooped, largely ignored by his fellows.
Pipsqueak was struggling with his own bonds, wriggling like a fish, trying to crane his neck over to bite at the cords around his hooves.
The Zilkin calling himself Snertling Haph-Pinter hopped up onto the seating and cast the colt a menacing glare, raising the crackling stun baton like a spear.
“What’s this little Gullipud puddle-glugger think he’s doin’ over here, huh?! Lookin’ at me? You eyeballin’ me, boy! You doin’ sniggerin’ at me, boy?!”
Pipsqueak stared uneasily at the chattering alien standing over him.
“What?”
The Zilkin’s eyes bounced on their stalks as he raised his stun-baton meaningfully.
“You dumb or somethin’, boy?!”
Pipsqueak looked from the Zilkin to the stun baton, one to the other. Sweat beaded down the side of his face as he mumbled.
“Um...yes?”
“Wrong answer, maggot!” Sternling barked as he jammed the stun baton into Pipsqueak’s side.
The little colt screamed as electricity coursed across his body, his limbs twitching rapidly as he struggled to break free. Again and again, the Zilkin prodded the baton at Pipsqueak’s side and shoulders, one actually hitting his muzzle.
Struggling against her bonds, Natasi Daala gave a cry of rage at the sight of the colt’s pain.
“Get off him!” she shrieked “Leave him alone, you spineless dung-worm!”
Snertling Haph-Pinter gave a sneer.
“Gneh! Plug yer’ lips, ya damn schutta-nadga! I ain’t never took no orders from no hu-woman an’ I sure as Shanpan ain’t starting now!”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘I have never taken any orders from a human woman’?” Pip found himself asking, met by another clout with the stun baton across his brow, narrowly missing his eye. He cried out in pain and huddled, curling himself up to shield his face from the harder strikes, sniffling quietly.
Natasi Daala pulled herself forward, looking honestly ready to snap at Snertling Haph-Pinter with her teeth.
“You’re dead...” she growled “You’re gonna’ be a stain on the goddamn floor when this is over!” She was answered by the Zilkin dismissively clouting her thigh with the baton. She twitched in pain with a muffled growl but remained as hard-eyed and furious as ever.
“Hey, Snerts!” Radds called “You’re supposed to be at the communications box. Next to the...” he checked the minimap on the panels “Rooms E and D, whatever those are. It’s opposite the dispenser shaft.”
“Say what?! C’mon! I'm needed where the action is!”
“That kind of action ain’t for things lower than my calves! Beat it!” Drazala kicked the air near Snertling and, for all his talk of never taking orders from a woman, he didn’t seem to need much convincing to silently comply, throwing down his stun baton and shuffling out the room muttering obscenities.
Light hit the stinging eyes of Rae Sloane, as if slamming into the back of them, adding to her headache.
The jerk Natasi had given her when she’d moved to defend Pipsqueak had at last brought her out of comatose.
She managed to mumble.
“Ugh! I had that dream again! Where me and high command are tap-dancing!”
“Okay, glad you’ve been busy...” a morose female voice sounded behind her.
“Nat? Is that you?”
“No dearie, I’m an Angel of Iego come to give treats to all the good girls.”
“We can do without the sass, Nat. What the hell’s going on?”
“Well, how to put this...You’ve noticed, I take it, our distinctly constricting bonds and our recent detachment from the fully-dressed circles?”
“Seriously, Nat.”
“Rae.” Pipsqueak piped up, stuck on his side, barely able to glance up at her and smarting from his injuries.
“Pip.” Rae exclaimed “They got you too?”
“Sorry.” the little colt wore a shameful pout.
“No, it’s not your fault, kid.” the lieutenant said “I just wanna’ make sure you’re okay.”
“He’s fine, Rae. Focus. We need to get out of here!” Natasi barked, practically ignored by her captors “They’ve got the sector on their own lockdown. The officers on this floor are at their mercy!”
Rae groaned.
“That’s not the worst of it. Even if the crew get back this floor, if they find us like this...we can kiss our careers and our asses goodbye...And Pestage’ll probably find a way to use this to discredit all women in the Imperial workplace.”
“Not my highest priority but certainly one to keep in mind.” Natasi agreed “So we need to get out of this ourselves.”
“Okay, first...” Rae tried to tone the atmosphere down somewhat “It’s pretty clear these kids are in over their heads and there’s still a lot about Zann we don’t know. So let’s try to sort this out...reasonably.”
“Are you serious?!” Natasi snapped “They’re planning to kill our commanders.”
“Reasonably.”
“They knocked us both out and tied us up!”
“Reasonably.”
“They stripped us to our goddamn underwear!”
“Reasonably.”
“One of ‘em used the shock-baton on Pip.”
Rae paused, weighing the words, noticing the singed fur and bruises on the little colt beside her.
Her voice came just as quiet and straightforward as before but the words were very different.
“...They will all die here.”
*
Actually being able to stand to his full height felt like a luxury to the intruder.
With the right equipment, bypassing the floors leading to his destination and any defences between, had been a simple matter.
Overriding the sensors was also fairly simple. With the resources at his disposal.
Even in spite of the fools he’d hired. His curses upon them and Toora for not going to anyone more professional, i.e. more expensive, without her permission rung in his head.
He hated the fact he had to work with such an irrational and self-interested individual but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Toora would get what was coming to her in time.
First though...
He turned to his friend who whistled.
Zann nodded and gave his order.
“You use the emergency stairs. The lift here’s been shut off. That’ll take you to the dumping grounds. Work your way up and bring me Tarkin’s head.”
“While Thrawn’s is yours, of course.” came a low, growly reply.
“Naturally.” Zann said dismissively to his accomplice “Any emergency transmissions, you go and handle it. Getting down and back again won’t be much trouble for you, of course.”
He loaded his blaster.
“I have been waiting for this moment for twenty years and nothing...” he hissed “Nothing will get in the way.”
He heard his accomplice’s heavy but soft footsteps turn as they passed the corner.
He was alone.
And right outside the office of his old nemesis.
He breathed deep and pressed a button on his wrist-guard.
The door opened silently bare inches before him. All it took was a step and he was inside, the door closed a bare inch behind him.
Nothing stood in his way.
He found himself at the top of wide stairs leading down into the room.
The office of Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo was placed on what one might call a secondary bridge. As a flagship, it had many control booths, leisure halls and observation decks.
Thrawn had sectioned off one of them for his own personal place of meditation, it seemed.
There he was, standing stately, looking upon the expanse of space, the gradual coming and going of the fleet members...
The movement of the stars.
The correlation of the moons.
The ways poets would describe it.
And all the other useless things he’d taught him.
His old teacher had his back to Zann.
Fatal mistake as ever.
He drew his blaster with a grin.
The noise made Thrawn turn.
Zann’s voice killed all remaining tranquillity.
“Remember me?!”
Thrawn’s crimson eyes widened, stunned, looking up at his old student grinning at him from the top of the stairs.
Tyber Zann’s blaster rose.
“Of course you do...”
With a screech of gunfire, a stream of plasma-fire flew through the air, into Thrawn’s chest and out the other end. The Chiss’s scream was stolen from his throat as he fell backwards and slumped limply to the ground.
Tyber Zann’s piercing chrome-coloured eyes lit up with zeal mixed with some amount of surprise.
He’d just...gone down.
Then again. However smart he liked to think he was, Thrawn had never confessed to being bulletproof.
He just lay there twitching.
Tentatively, each step like the swig of a strong drink, intoxicating him, Tyber Zann approached.
He stood over the man he’d once called ‘Sir’, primed another bullet and finally, after twenty years, was the one giving orders.
“Get up.” he growled “You’ll look me in the eye when I...”
He stopped.
The image of the prone Thrawn wasn’t just twitching. It was flickering. Dissipating.
He went bright blue, not just in his skin but all over.
Zann stepped back, confused.
Behind him, a Sienar Endymion-Series Imagecaster under the desk switched off.
Thrawn disappeared.
“Wh...” Zann mumbled, the concentrated elation, brewing for over twenty years, snatched from him, ashes in his mouth “Wha...”
Click!
He felt something small and hard poke through his hair and jab the side of his head.
The barrel of a blaster.
It’s wielder, having seemingly materialised out of nowhere, stood primly with one hand behind his back and a look registering nothing more than tired contempt on his blue-skinned face.
“It’s called a hologram.” Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo said plainly “This is called a trap...And I am calling youdead.”
*
Maximilian Veers gave the models in his office one last look.
Reflection came as easy to his mind as it did to the glass domes that protected the mementoes of his early war years.
He’d served in the Republic Militia for over twenty years now. And every bold step forward made him feel younger.
Bare hours ago, he’d gotten the news from Yularen and Teshik.
His pleas to High Command had been answered.
The Armoured Corps. Fully reinstated and operational. Machines of war that had been gathering dust in armouries at the whim of over-sceptical senators and obstructive bureaucrats were now fully revitalised and ready for action.
Heavy walkers, attack pods, juggernauts, artillery transports, repulsortanks, missile platforms, turbolasers, ion tanks, walking cannons and more.
The march of thunder would, once more, be heard across the galaxy.
And Veers would lead the vanguard.
As a General.
He had learned, early on in his military career, what insufficient armour did to an army and its campaign.
Culdroon’s horrors still burned in his mind and that was only recently.
The first time he’d seen military setback of such scale was the Evacuation of Rhen Var.
He’d lost a good many friends from his academy years in that battle. To say nothing of how it looked for the clones.
Bred out of some Kaminoan facility to plug the gaps in Republic defence with their own corpses.
He drew a glass of brandy and toasted a good riddance to the Senate and its total disdain and disregard for the war it knew nothing about.
It was a fine thing for them to speak of potential loss of life when the loss happening as they spoke was already greater than they could comprehend. But that didn’t bother them.
People were a resource to them in the end. Why else would they word it that way.
‘Waste’ of life.
They’d known nothing. They’d wanted to know nothing. Yet they judged and judged and judged.
Veers shook his head and thought of something more pleasant.
He drew his holoprojector out of his desk and sent a request for transmission.
It was picked up almost immediately and the image of a young boy, about six, with curly ginger hair and a wide smile, gesturing wildly behind him.
“Mum! Mum! Dad’s calling!” he was close to yelling with excitement.
“In a moment, darling.” A quiet, slightly tired voice that always managed to be sweet to Maximilian’s ears sounded as a woman in her late thirties, thin and frail but smiling brightly, her dark-ginger hair long and braided over her shoulder.
She carried a baby, a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked little thing just beginning growing a head of blonde hair.
“Hello Max.” the woman cooed.
“Hello Urmeth.” the sight of them elated him considerably as he spoke to his wife “How are things back home?”
“Mostly quiet but considering the years we’ve had before, that’s a plus.”
“I’ve told all the boys at school that you’re the reason there’s no more bombings in the streets or raids on the shipyards!” the boy piped up. It made Veers chuckle.
“Now, Zevulon, you know I’m not the only man defending Denon.”
“I know.” Zevulon replied cheekily “It’s just that you’re better than all of them.”
Veers laughed again.
“You’re a good boy, Zev. Urmeth...” his tone grew concerned “Any news from the doctors?”
Urmeth Veers spoke in a gentle, reassuring manner.
“Yes, Max, there was. They tell me it’s all very curable and I’ll be fine in a few days with the right medication. It was a bit more serious when they checked but that’s down to stress. I’ll be alright now.”
“I’m helping mum with Tassy whenever she needs it.” Zev added.
“That’s my boy! Good to hear it, darling” Veers replied contentedly, giving an adoring look to his baby daughter “And how’s little Tasserine today? Going to give daddy a smile?”
Little Tasserine Veers gave the holographic image of her father a look and managed a line of baby-talk, taking her hands out the blanket she was being carried in and waved them merrily at her father.
Maximilian laughed in delight at his daughter, already growing so fast.
“She’s beautiful.” he sighed “Take care now. If all goes well, I’ll see you at Anaxes after the-”
There was a thump on the other side of the door. Then another and another.
“Frak’s sake, Ornar! We’ve got the key! Stop banging the door.”
“I don’t bang doors, Droov, I break doors. I bang your mom!”
“Will you guys shut up and open the frakking door already?! Geez!”
Veers listened to the noise and turned to his family who now wore looks of concern.
“Max? What’s happening? Who’s out there.”
“Don’t worry, treasures. I won’t be long.” he gave them an assured nod and pressed the button on the holoprojector.
“I love you all.”
The door swung open and Maximilian Veers found himself looking at four young crooks. Two young men, a female Iktochi and a large male Dowutin.
One of the men, a lanky, sunken-eyed fellow with a single, spiky stripe of hair and more piercings than teeth, held the door.
The other, a pudgy, pallid individual with a double chin and folded neck prickly with unkempt stubble held up a gun that Veers could tell from a glance he’d never used until now and gave an order.
“Alright, get your frakking hands in the air, ya’ scrump!” he ordered in a foul-mouthed yet flat-toned voice.
Veers gave the group a glance and raised one eyebrow.
“He’s not taking you seriously.” the Iktochi girl said flatly.
The fat man fumbled with his blaster and tried to sound moderately scarier.
“Hey, scrump! I’m gonna’ frakkin’ blast your ass with this big frakkin’ gun and then I’m gonna’ frak your wife’s scrump! So you get up and prepare to frakkin’ die, got it?!”
Veers stood.
And took a deep breath.
*
“Well, this is a right bugger.”
“A more formal term for the situation might be appropriate, old friend.” Tarkin said frankly as he and two friends observed the sad state of Sector Xi’s camera footage from the sensors deck in Sector Theta. Flat static which they’d had to mute to stop their ears bleeding from the sudden deafening screech the malfunction had produced.
“The Dreadnought Fantasia is equipped with the most state-of-the-art security and surveillance systems available to the Core Worlds.” Hurst Romodi said in his usual discerning tone, wearing a scowl of suspicion “It sees everything, oversees everyone, checks everywhere...This is not a glitch.”
“So we should hope, Tarkin, for your sake.”
The sly, weasely voice of the Grand Vizier sounded behind them.
Tarkin, Romodi and Bannidge Holt all groaned together as they turned to see Sate Pestage, Croesus Crodd and Rear Admiral Labryn Thurg standing in the doorway, all wearing surreptitious smirks.
“This would not reflect well on your record, now would it...” Thurg said in a slow, syrupy tone that sounded almost short of breath. In fact, Labryn Thurg’s overall disposition struck any observer as being one who worked himself to breaking point to look calm. With bulging red veins all over his neck and bald scalp, and lips and eyelids that had gone blue by some means or another and total absence of eyebrows or lashes, there was something not quite right about him. Likely the reason Crodd kept him close; to unnerve others.
Behind them entered a concerned-looking Eli Vanto.
“Pardon me, Excellencies, but are the elevators meant to be locked out?”
“Damn it all!” Romodi cursed “Can we contact Screed?”
“No. He’s down in Sector Xi, I’m afraid.” Tarkin said “I have a...moderate knowledge of computer implementation.”
“Ah...I always wondered how he won that court case.” Crodd interjected.
Tarkin ignored him and busied himself with the control panel.
Holt shook his head.
“Sod this for a game of stormtroopers!” he barked “I’m going down there myself!”
“The elevators are locked down. Didn’t you hear him, Holt?” Thurg said tiredly.
“Admiral Holt.” The intimidating old fellow fixed Thurg with a withering glance “And I heard perfectly. My point still stands. What other entrances are there to the elevator system?”
“None. The doors have locked by remote.”
“I didn’t say doors. I said entrances.”
Romodi, Vanto and Tarkin looked to each other with concern while Pestage, Crodd and Thurg cast unimpressed sneers Holt’s way.
“Well...” Vanto pondered “There’s the ventilation systems.”
“Excellent.” Romodi interjected “We can send a probe droid. Maybe even...”
“Bollocks to that!” Holt barked “Never send a droid to do a human’s work!” He unbuttoned his jacket and threw it over Vanto’s shoulder before striding out the room.
“Bannidge, have you finally gone bonkers?” Romodi spluttered “You won’t find the elevator on this floor, only the shaft. The elevator, currently, is locked on the top floor. Getting from here to Sector Xi is an eighty-five foot drop and much further if you slip!”
“Haven’t you forgotten, Hurst?” Bannidge cracked a gnarled grin as he jabbed as his own chest with a thumb “Inner Rim Academy Spelunking Champion, five-years running!”
“Sir, with respect, you must desist. You won’t be able to drag spelunking equipment through the vents.” Eli interjected.
“Equipment?! Pah! Do I look like a bloody school-boy to you, Captain?! Where’s the damn hanger bay?!” Bannidge roared at the young officer then turned and strode out in usual brusque manner, barging by Sate Pestage and nearly knocking the withered old man down like a bowling pin.
“Well...” Romodi gave a dry chuckle and whispered to Tarkin “This should be worth watching...”
Standing in a cloaking, black coverall over her unique burgundy uniform, Captain First-Class Tessela Corvae made some adjustments to her TX-130 Saber-class fighter tank.
Most wouldn’t think it proper to have an Imperial officer working on her own vehicle but Corvae had very specific standards when it came to vehicles she used. She hated droids working on her own vehicle only slightly less than she did other people working on them.
Such horrors she’d find after people had been in her tank. The need to stock and restock the munitions, the whole thing smelling of cleaning fluid, the flares not being where they should be, the interface not opening where it should, the distance between the seat and the loudspeaker being changed, the number of mints in the cubby-hole being lessened without her leave.
It was worth taking that crash-course in engineering to avoid the calamities.
She worked silently, only the humming of work-droids protecting the room from total silence.
Dabbing the cloth into the mechanical lubricant, her thick gloves protecting her spotless hands from mess, she made sure to get the right finish, combining maximum velocity with clean reflective appearance for maximum elegance in performance.
There was a bet going round the officers for whether her tanks or Captain Freja Covell and his attack pod squadron were the first to meet the battle zone.
Her tanks. Not her fathers. Hers. Her father hadn’t taken to battle for some twenty-years since he came down with Kanju’s disease.
Yet some officers, Thurg just that morning, felt it necessary to suggest it was him that allowed her to lead her own force, as if a doting parent’s treat.
She never shied away from a challenge. It was how she’d got as far as she had.
The doors swung open, jerking her out of her concentration.
Cursing silently, she turned to see the full-figure of Admiral Bannidge Holt standing in the hanger doorway, glaring at her determinedly.
“Captain Corvae!” he barked “Have you got any grease?”
Corvae glanced at him, then the bucket of lubricant.
“Yes...yes, I do.”
And with that, Bannidge Holt reached his enormous hands over his collar and tore open his shirt in one go.
“Then grease me up, woman!”
Corvae blinked.
“...Okie-Dokie.”
*
“So...” Natasi mumbled as the two women struggled in vain at their bonds “You have a plan?”
“Well...you’re one with a reputation for deception. You hang around Tarkin after all.”
“What, so therefore I’ve got a set of all-purpose escape utensils hidden up my knickers?”
“Have you?”
Natasi paused awkwardly.
“...would it help?” she found herself asking.
“Well, can you reach them?”
The red-haired officer wrestled with her bound wrists.
“No. My hands are tied too far apart.”
“Okay...um...my hands are slightly lower down, maybe if I...”
“Absolutely not!” Natasi interrupted “I am not having a lower-ranking officer fooling about in my underclothing!”
“Right...” Rae muttered sarcastically “Whereas higher-ranking officers-”
“Sloane, you shut your mouth!” the woman behind her hissed.
“...Fine...What about Pip?”
“Star’s sake, Rae. He’s not old enough to see that kind of thing!”
“No, you dumb-ass! I meant he might be able to undo the cords or something.”
Natasi gave it some thought.
The cords were tightened fibercord, quarter-inch thick.
And dumb as Drazala Nuwaan seemed, she clearly knew quite a bit about tying people up. What that said about her probably spoke for itself.
“I don’t know. Pip, what do you think?”
“Showwy. Cahng taww. Mom mfff’sh fll...”
An unintelligible mumble from the colt caused both women to glance down.
The little colt was gnawing hard at the cords at their wrists, biting with all his might.
“Nice one, Pipsqueak.” Rae said with praise.
“Third rope down. That’s the knot-end. The rest should come loose.” Natasi advised, glancing at the three thugs at the control booth.
They seemed occupied. Radds was fumbling at the control booth with one hand occupied with his earpiece.
“No, no, use the fob...Whaddya’ mean it’s not working? Fine. Blast the door with your gun then...Whaddya’ mean it’s not working?! Is your blaster even frakking’ loaded! We left the ammo on the ship, remember?! Okay, okay, I’m trying to get you on the cameras. How the hell do you work this?!”
“No, no, you’ve got the wrong setting.” Drazala fussed “Power here. Then sensor. Then camera number.”
“No, wait...Damn it, no! I didn’t want the interactive map!”
“You know, you could download a lot of real-time pornocrons off this thing.” Magro Slim interjected.
“Slim! Not now!”
“Just sayin’.”
“How much?” Drazala asked with interest.
“Guys! I need to focus here! Ugh, why is so much smart-tech so frakking dumb?!”
“You know, I’m almost starting to pity this sorry lot.” Natasi muttered.
“Just remember they took our clothes and used a stun-baton on Pip.” Rae replied as between them, there came a dull snap.
Part of the fibercord had come loose, curling at the pale, gnawed edges.
With a mumble of discomfort, Pip winced and stretched his jaw.
“Ow...that stuff’s tough.”
“Nice one, Pip.” Natasi whispered “I’ll handle the rest of it. Turn your eyes.”
“I’ll distract them.” Rae said “Play along...”
“Ooh, this might come in handy.” Pipsqueak managed to nudge the stun-baton between Rae and Natasi “That mean little walking frog-thing left it here.”
“Oh yes, Pip.” Rae’s eyes gleamed “It’ll come in handy indeed.”
Radds was fumbling again with the communicator.
“Well, then use the barrel to beat them to death! It’s big enough! Just stop calling me, I’m working! Goddamn it, this is meant to be the big pay-off!”
Rae gave a series of gasps of exasperation as she obviously and audibly struggled with the bonds.
As Radds turned to her, she gave him an odd look. Half-closed eyes and pouting lips.
What was it? Invitation?
“What’s wrong, sweet-cheeks?” Radds asked “Never been tied up before?”
“Well...” Rae sighed “Not against my will.” She sucked her teeth and tossed her hair, seemingly a different person “Ugh! How could this happen? It’ll be so embarrassing when all the other officers find out about this...”
“Well, you know, babe, we’re always hiring.” Radds cracked a smirk he must have thought looked gallant.
Rae gave one of her own and then placed her heels up on the corners of the box, raising her hips higher.
She just prayed Pipsqueak didn’t know enough about humanoid anatomy to know what it implied.
“I tell ya...Goldenboy...” she murmured sultrily “If I had to be tied up in a locked room, alone, with anyone...I’m glad it was you...”
“Oh really?” Radds’ attention was completely taken up and the other two looked just as dumbfounded.
Rae took a deep breath and chanced her luck, sliding the secret weapon from between her and Natasi and under her raised hips. Stars forbid how it must have looked. Never before had she been so happy the security cameras were down.
But needs must.
“Yeah...Cause only you...are that...damn...STUPID!”
The sound of the shock-baton thrusting into his groin was swiftly joined by his scream. Radds Burl convulsed wildly with a stupid look on his face and an even stupider sound escaping his throat.
Before the wretched boy could gather his senses, Rae linked arms with Natasi who threw herself forwards, propelling Rae Sloane up over her shoulders. The hardy lieutenant kicked out with both feet at Radds’ face (For if she had ever seen a face that needed a good kicking, it was his) sending him flying into his cohorts.
Rae rolled to the end of the room, holding out her hands to cup for her friend.
Natasi stepped forward and was vaulted back, lucky that the control room was rather high, and somersaulted back to drop-kick the oncoming Magro Slim. Ducking Drazala’s knife, she back-kicked the Zeltron and tore off Pipsqueak’s bonds which she’d managed to clip in Rae’s distraction.
The two formidable females stood before the three nonplussed would-be hijackers, payback chiefly at the front of their minds. They nodded to each other with eager grins.
Vaulting over the seat, Natasi roundhouse-kicked the staggering Radds while Rae ducked and dived the lumbering Klatooinian’s punches, kicked the back of his leg then drove her knee up into the underside of his trousers. With a high-pitched gurgle, Magro Slim froze in pain while the Lieutenant grabbed the back of his collar and hurled him to the floor.
Drazala came round with her knife again. Rae grabbed the wrist of the hand and the two women wrestled with the weapon.
There was the sound of something crunching.
All at once, the Zeltron gave a yelp of pain and dropped the knife. Hopping frantically, she appeared to be shaking herself all over. Craning her neck, Rae saw why.
Pipsqueak, in a moment of either quick-thinking or animal instinct, had bounded up and dealt Drazala Nuwaan an impressive bite on the backside. He landed on four hooves, a large patch of shiny fabric from the back of Drazala’s hot-pants clutched between his teeth, shaking his head, looking for all the world like some angry puppy defending its owner as best it could.
Fighting the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, Rae moved to help the little colt but found the angry Klatooinian in her way. The two slugged at each other while Pipsqueak scuttled under the desk. Gulping, he realised his plan of attack might not have been so well thought-out.
“Get outta’ there, you little bastard! You’re dead!”
The Zeltron was snarling as she crawled down, reaching out to grab at him while the other reached for a spare knife. Pipsqueak felt a hand tug at his tail and drag him forward. Reaching out for anything, his forehooves found themselves clutching onto a bucket of some sort, half-filled with some sort of thick, blue liquid. Lubricant for the repair-utensils and mouse-droids.
Instinctively, he drew the bucket round and thrust it forward with all four hooves.
Drazala gave a cry of dismay that quickly became muffled as, with a low squelch, her head was enveloped by the grease-bucket. As she grabbed frantically at the air, Pipsqueak sought to escape her grasp by kicking at the bucket-top rapidly with his back-hooves. The Zeltron was trapped and fighting furiously to remove the thing stuck on her head.
As Rae slammed her fists against Magro’s temples, she took advantage of his discombobulation to check on the foal.
Grabbing the back of Drazala’s torn hot-pants, she hauled the Zeltron out from under the desk and slung her across the floor, the blue grease from the bucket causing her to slide across it, knocking over Radds Burl in the process.
Turning back to the Klatooinian, Rae Sloane, jumped on the seat and locked her legs around his torso, her fists slamming into his flabby, canine face over and over until he began keeling over like a falling tree, kicking back right before he hit the floor to quicken his landing, knocking him out cold.
Radds, stumbling groggily, threw a punch with the stun-baton which Natasi caught and drove her knee into his stomach. As he doubled up, she threw him over one knee, drew the stun baton, switched it to full voltage, and clouted him with it across the rump with what could only be described as ferocity as she bellowed each each clout to the sound of his squeals of agony.
“NEVER! EVER! EVER! CALL! ME! DOLLFACE!”
And with that, she threw away the baton and grabbed him by the back of his collar and belt. Rae meanwhile, weaved her way round Drazala Nuwaan, still struggling to pull the bucket from off her head and held her in a similar position.
“Welcome to the frakkin’ Fantasia!” she yelled as the two women threw their foe’s heads against each other. Radds and Drazala met each other in the middle with a satisfying ‘crunk!’ and fell atop the prone Magro Slim in one idiotic heap.
The victors cheered as one. Pipsqueak made his way out and hopped about on all four hooves merrily while Rae and Natasi punched the air.
“Nice one, everybody!” Natasi whooped “This was fun. We should do this again.”
“Yeah, we make a pretty good team.” Rae held out her hands “Hug?”
Natasi raised an eyebrow.
“As long as you don’t grab a handful.”
“Oh shut up, you.” The two women hugged.
“It was nice working with you.” Natasi chuckled “Now, we should get our clothes back on. You’re really quite cold...”
There came a whistle behind Pipsqueak.
The little colt noticed a familiar little mouse droid in the vents under the desk he’d taken cover in.
He looked to the two women tentatively.
“Rae! I’ve got an idea!” he piped up “The doors are still locked and I need to see if Parisian’s okay. I remember where the armoury is and Minnie might be able to help.”
Before Rae could voice her opinion, Natasi tossed Pip the stun baton.
“Go get ‘em, Pip. Knock ‘em dead!”
“Wait, what?”
“Thanks, Nat!” Pipsqueak took the stun baton in his teeth and began navigating the vents behind Minnie the Mouse Droid.
Rae turned to Natasi exasperatedly.
“What are you thinking?! He’s just a kid!”
“Rae, he’s smart. If you don’t let him sort things out himself, he’s never going to grow up.” Natasi said with a shrug “Besides the door’s locked. If anyone can get out, it's him.”
“Then help me get back into the mainframe.”
“Fine. I mean if you really want to let High Command see what you wear to bed.”
Rae paused and cast Natasi a grim look.
“Does everyone you know simultaneously want to hug you and strangle you?”
“No. Just everyone who I prove wrong.” she smiled “Clothes first. Mainframe later. And don’t worry about Pip. I know the look of a kid with a plan.”
*
“Hey!” Docor Danstan yelled for about the sixth time as the officer in the communications room refused to look up from his work, his headphones blotting out all sounds in the background as he tapped concernedly at the comms mainframe.
Terrinald Screed was busying himself trying to regain control over the sector frame. Wasn’t the most harrowing experience he’d ever been part of. And with a bit of smooth Bith jatz, playing through his headphones, he was in the zone, as it were.
He was jerked out of it at last as Docor jabbed the side of his shaven head with the barrel of his blaster impatiently. He switched off his music at the headphones and turned to the newcomer with a patient expression.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Motherfrakker, I’ve been standing her trying to get your attention with this huge frakking blaster for five goddamn minutes!” the hijacker yelled.
“Have you, now? Apologies. I was trying to recalibrate the communications. I think someone might be trying to hack it.”
Docor blinked.
“That’s us! We’re the ones hacking it, you frakking idiot!”
“Ah.” Screed simply nodded, seemingly seeing nothing out of the ordinary “That would make sense. So this is a hostage situation?”
“No this is a ‘two rounds of plasma right up your frakking ass’ situation!” Docor Danstan primed his blaster, his face completely lost of patience.
“Ah.” Screed said again, placing his hands behind his back and sighing “Well...that’s a pity.”
“Right...” the Maldovar Boy’s lips twisted in a leer “So...any last requests, old man?”
“Yes actually.” Screed pulled off a glove.
A metal finger pointed right at Docor’s torso as the officer gave his request.
“Stand up straight.”
The fingertip shot out of its socket and jabbed into the nonplussed thug.
It was attached to two thin fibercords linking back to the hand.
All at once, Docor Danstan did exactly as requested, arching back convulsing as electricity coursed through him. He dropped the blaster on the floor and jittered wildly on tip-toes.
The fingertip shot back as Screed balled up a metal fist and slugged Danstan across the jaw, sending him out for the count.
Putting his glove back on, he shook his head and tutted.
“Never disturb me when I’m working.” he muttered as he switched his music back on and managed to relay signal from the other sectors. At least to his room.
So far so good.
*
“Well, well, well...” Grand Admiral-Moff Octavian Grant sighed in amusement “Apologies, Teshik, old chum, but you may have to do without me for the early part of this campaign...”
Three Grand Moffs had stood in the leisure hall observing the oncoming reinforcement fleet around the Dreadnought.
All had begun to busy themselves with their own antics. Suadela Therbon was either meditating or sleeping, under that visor it wasn’t certain; Osvald Teshik was taking in the sight of a small replica of the Subjugator-class Heavy Cruiser in a glass case; and Octavian Grant had taken the opportunity to answer some calls.
“Crashing shame, I’m sure.” Teshik said slightly sarcastically from across the room “To whom do you owe your attention in earnest?”
“Home sweet home, if you must know.”
“I thought Tapani didn’t hide any rebel cells.” Grand Moff Therbon said suspiciously.
“It doesn’t. And I don’t intend to let it do so under any circumstances.” the Tapani prodigy said sternly, turning to get a better read of the message he’d received and communicate personally.
“Hello? It’s me.”
A soft, kindly voice of uncertain gender came from the other end.
“Dear nephew of mine...” Suzerain Loalo Ettagon, a woman Octavian had known all his life, although at times he’d been a man Octavian knew all his life. Whether the Suzerain changed the approach of his or her gender as a means to further the Order’s interests or simply as a calling was not something Grant felt he needed to pry into.
Male or female, Loalo Ettagon had always been one of the greatest assassins in Tapani and the worlds surrounding it. It was her, him at the time though her before that, that had taught him to defend himself at an early age. And to kill. And to get away with it.
Now Loalo Ettagon operated as the head of intelligence among the Mecrosa Order and that intelligence she would always share with Grant.
After all, he was family. Long had the Mecrosa Order operated alongside the noble House Mecetti. The Household financed the order and its cryptic ways while the Order ensured the household would never be overtaken by their rivals.
It was a good partnership that had gone on for centuries.
“Hello auntie.” Octavian said with some amount of affection “You’re quite certain this is the full list?”
“All direct connections to the sprouting weed that is the potential Tapani Rebellion. There is more, students, journalists, lawyers, criminal classes and so forth. Our novices can deal with them or your household’s own guard.”
“Or an Imperial garrison.” Grant suggested, looking over the list “And the Senator in their midst?”
“Gem Sirrom of Dahvil. The very same Senator Gem Sirron of Dahvil who is prepared to meet the Tapani Royal Council in two days time.”
“Sirrom’s just another of Mothma’s flunkeys. She hasn’t any real thoughts on this or that. Prove to her that Tapani won’t bend their way and she’ll be off like a shot. Besides, it’s not officially Tapani business what we do to a visiting Senator.” Grant supposed while skimming the list “What we do to those planning to stay however...that’s a different matter entirely.”
“You cannot imagine the things they had in store, young one.” Loalo crooned “On your birthday no less. That lovely parade your mother and sisters have spent so much time on is to be concussion-carpet-bombed and sprayed with rebel slang. Broadcasting slander over every station. Inviting pirates to our shipping grounds...They’ve proved highly hurtful creatures even without drawing weapons...In a way, I’m impressed.”
Grant raised his brow at the look of the plans the Mecrosa had intercepted.
“They seem interested in me...Maybe even obsessed.” he chuckled “All these publicity stunts and raids they have planned just to ruin my good name? I’d be flattered if the whole affair weren’t so...clumsy.”
The double-door swung open as six men and women in salvaged armour and blasters in their hands. One was a girl, around seventeen, with a mob of dirty blonde hair and sunken eyes practically mobbed by eye-shadow. One heard her long before they saw her.
“Get the frak down! Get on your frakking knees! You’re gonna’ frakking die, motherfrakkers! Frak you!”
The three Grand Moffs slowly got to their feet, their expressions those of mild confusion and no small amount of derision.
“I presume you want our attention in some way, young lady?” Teshik said flatly.
“No, scrump! I want to frakking kill you, motherfrakker!” the girl screamed.
Teshik placed his hands behind his back and gave her a measured glance.
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Have I offended you in some manner, young madam?”
“You shut the frak up, you scrump!” the girl yelled, looking ready to be the youngest person ever to burst multiple capillaries. She turned to the flat-faced Suadela Therbon, standing prim and flat-faced.
Brezna the Beast, as she called herself, hauled her massive blaster up to Suadela’s face. The Grand Moff gave no sign of unease. None of them did.
“You...” Brezna hissed “I’m gonna’ frakking put this gun right in your frakking scrump and frak you with it until you frakking die, you scrump!”
Therbon simply gave a sigh.
“We can do without the language, madam. It’s possible to get one’s point across without profanity.”
“Frak you, you frakking scrump-sucker!”
If they could see past her visor, they would have seen that Therbon cocked an eyebrow.
“If you abstain from ceasing it, at least vary your cursing.”
“Brez, cool it!” A stocky male Devoranian strode forward, spinning a blaster in one hand “You bros get out the camcorders! This is the 360 No-Scope comin’ up!”
“Frakking really?!” Brezna snapped.
“I concur, is this truly necessary?” Octavian Grand piped up.
Before Brezna could respond, the Devoranian, Sh’Zago, flexed his shoulders, as if failing to notice that the Theelin before her could see and hear all he was doing.
“Okay, guys! 360 No-Scope, Badda-Bi-”
Thwomp!
As Sh’Zago attempted a 360, he found himself instead doing a 720...then a 1440...in mid-air...before falling flat on his face. Suadela Therbon had dealt him an uppercut that was, to the opinion of those present, worth a lot more catching on camcorder than his original plan.
Brezna was the first to collect herself, for lack of a better phrase.
“You frakking scrump!” she lined her blaster as she continued yelling “Frak y-”
The second person in a row to get cut off mid-sentence, Suadela Therbon spun and delivered a ferocious back-kick straight in the lower face, flying back, clutching her face, Brezna the Beast gave the first sounds the three Grand Moffs had heard that weren’t vulgarities, screaming through her hands.
Therbon finally cracked a smile.
“Oh dear!” she chuckled “Right before the command meeting, I go and put my foot in something nasty!”
Teshik’s massive chest shook with laughter as the three shook of their half-cloaks over one shoulder and drew decorative batons of white, black and red.
‘Blackjacks’ as they were known colloquially.
“And here I was thinking my time on the Fantasia would be a dull affair!” he laughed.
“Shall we?” Octavian Grant said with a smile as the three appeared to crack their batons down the middle.
The blackjacks electrified and the three went about giving the Maldovar Boyz a lesson in courtesy.
At times like this, Osvald, Suadela and Octavian reminded themselves, they really did love their job.
*
Minnie the Mouse Droid paused at the grating at the end of the vent and a small light came on at its front. The grating slid up. Avoided the need to kick it down.
Pipsqueak, carrying the stun baton under one foreleg, wriggled out the vent and turned to the Mouse Droid.
“Okay, Minnie. We need to get to the armoury quick. But we could run into any of those...what did they call themselves? Boys? With a ‘z’, which I’m pretty sure Cheerilee told Snips and Snails isn’t the way to spell it...”
Minnie gave a series of whistling and shook.
The buttoned panel on her back raised and halved itself. The two halves extended outwards and made way for a flat layer with a gap under it for the halves to slide under and connect again. Probably a means to protect the buttons from damage if the situation called for it.
But Pip had another use for it.
Throwing one hind leg over the side of it and leaning forward, his foreleg still wrapped around the stun-baton, he readied himself.
From out of an open panel in the wall, a familiar creature jumped out, grumbling audibly.
“Gah! To Hok with this!” Snertling Haph-Pinter snapped, struggling to fully take apart the communications box outside the locked communications room “Who do these whizz-drunk, wet-wheezin’ nyork-heads think they’re dealin’ with, huh?! Don’t they feel the terror they should when they hear the name Cap’n Snertling Haph-Pint-agh!” he stopped, startled at the sight of Pipsqueak and Minnie staring at him from the end of the corridor.
The Zilkin took a step back, his eyes on stalks wide and terrified.
Pipsqueak gave a menacing grin.
Now, Pipsqueak had been raised properly and the doctrines of harmony and peace ran strong in Trottingham. He had always been taught, by his mother, Miss Cheerilee, Princess Luna and others, that violence was never the answer and that revenge was not a noble cause.
He acknowledged that, understood that, accepted that and was happy it was learned.
...
But just this once, while they weren’t around, he’d make an exception.
“Chaaaaarge!” he yelled as Minnie beeped a merry tone and surged forward at top speed.
With a scream, Snertling belted down the corridor with the mouse droid and the colt upon it on his heels.
Barely inches away, Pipsqueak jabbed the bullying Zilkin in the bottom with the stun baton again and again as Snertling Haph-Pinter babbled on in hysteria, his eyestalks fixed on the colt behind him.
“Gagh! You can’t do this to me, I’m a war veteran-Ow! Okay, clearly we got off on the wrong foot, we could still get along-Ouch! If you let me go I’ll give you one of my medals-Ow, damnit! Look, do you want money? I know people who have money-Agh-hoo! Curse these short legs!!!”
As Pipsqueak turned a corner, Snertling breathed a sigh of relief...
Swiftly interrupted by the wall before him he hadn’t chanced to turn his eyestalks to. Slamming straight into it, he slid down the wall like a sponge and fell unconscious on the floor.
Pipsqueak continued speeding down the corridor, heading for the armoury doors.
“Stop!” he called out as Minnie screeched to a halt.
The code-panel was right above him. Pipsqueak got up and had to stand on one hind-hoof to just about reach it, Minnie raising her top-panel a few inches to give him better reach.
The Mouse Droid gave a series of beeps, one after the other, like telegraphic code.
Pipsqueak managed to key in the buttons, having to turn off the stun baton to use as a stick.
With Rae, Natasi and Screed back in charge of the mainframe, there was no more trouble with the lock-down from outside in the corridor.
The door swung open and Parisian Froul, bound, gagged and stripped to his underwear, fell out and thumped to the floor, struggling at his bonds. Minnie lowered her top-panel, allowed Pip to clamber off and opened a side-panel from out of which came a set of small but powerful pliers which cut through the knot in his bonds.
Ripping off the gag, the corporal got to his feet.
“Pip!” he gasped “The man in my uniform, where was he headed, do you know?!”
The colt wracked his memory.
“Yes! He was heading to the mini-spa at the end of the corridor.”
Parisian paled.
“Moff Mors is there...and Shayla...I have to hurry. Can you take care of yourself for now?”
“Course.” Pipsqueak said happily, spinning the stun-baton in his forehoof.
“Right. No time to waste.” Parisian pushed his blonde hair out his eyes and sprinted down the corridor. Pip thought he would have looked a lot more heroic if he was wearing trousers but then he didn’t know much about how humans regarded things like that.
Just then, from behind him, there came an almighty crash.
Whether the door had opened or had broken was unclear but four of the Maldovar Boyz lay in a heap, struggling to their feet and groaning in pain.
General Maximilian Veers strode out his office before them, his face a picture of indignation and fury.
“I do not appreciate being interrupted while I’m speaking to my family!!!” he roared. The four who’d crossed him scrambled up and started running down the other corner towards the elevators, lugging their ungainly weaponry like trash-cans strapped to their arms.
“Run! He’s frakking crazy!” one of them screamed.
“Get back here, you milksops, I’m not done with you yet!” Veers bellowed, passing the little colt with a friendly nod as he took off.
Looking back into the armoury, Pipsqueak noticed a buzzing, blinking object that had laid discarded under one of the benches. Tentatively, he picked it up and pressed the button on it.
A voice came through, vaguely familiar.
“Hello? Corporal Froul? Can you reach your father from here? I need you to open all frequencies. The armoury doors have opened so you might be able to relay the signal short-range. Are you there?”
Pipsqueak had never been good with taking calls but this one was urgent.
“Um, no, this is Pipsqueak.”
“Oh, you’re that pony, aren't you.” the voice replied “Fine, you’ll do. This is Screed. Can you please hold down the button on this communicator, stand in the corridor and turn the button about a quarter?”
Pipsqueak did so, managing as best he could with small hooves.
The voice of Glandon Froul came through at last.
“Parisian?”
“No, he went off but he’s fine.” Pipsqueak replied “Is this on...whatever you called it?”
“Yes, I’m getting communication from the Sector Xi channels. I should be able to get the doors working again but the elevators are another matter. I need someone to go up and find the emergency manual override. It’s opposite the dumping grounds. I’ll be able to open the door for it but that’s about it. I’m not sure how many doors could stand in your way from there on.”
“We could get a probe droid running and send it up through the dispenser shaft.” Yularen suggested.
“Excellent plan. But we have none.”
“I could go!” Pipsqueak piped up “I just passed the dispenser shaft. Opposite the communications box, right? I’m small enough and if I could take this, you could direct me.”
There was a pause.
“Well, I suppose we’re out of options.” Screed replied “I don’t know if the signal’s going to last long up there but you should do fine. Quick now, there’s a good lad.”
“Righto.” Pip hopped back on Minnie as they ventured down the way they came.
He stopped.
Veers had halted just before the open doors of the absent elevator where the full strength of the remaining Maldovar Boyz, around ten, had reassembled, priming their blasters. They were trying hard to keep the three Grand Moffs locked up in their room, bearing the bruises of their Blackjacks.
The Devoranian stared at the General before him.
“Think I can still get a 360 No-”
“Shut your scrump mouth and just frakking shoot them!” Brezna shrieked.
“Don’t swear in front of the boy.” Veers said offhandedly, turning to the colt.
“You go, Pip. Quickly. I’ll hold them off.” he ordered.
Before Pip could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, there came a yell seemingly from above them.
“Tally-Bloody-Ho!”
Like a bundle of dominos, the Maldovar Boyz collided into each other as something flew out of the elevator shaft behind them.
Standing above them, a hulking mass of gnarled skin, knotted muscles and spiky silver-hair stood in shiny, black speedos and a giant grin.
Admiral Bannidge Holt raised one fist and bellowed.
“INSURGENTS BEWARE! I’M READY FOR BATTLE, ARMED TO THE TEETH AND HUNG LIKE A KYBUCK!”
“I want out! I want out! Get us outta’ here!” The Maldovar Boyz crawled about on the floor, all sense of order in their organisation lost as Holt and Veers busied themselves turfing them down the corridor.
“We’ve got this, Pipsqueak! Make us proud!” the General called back as the little colt soldiered on.
*
“Finally!” Yularen gasped as the doors of Moff Glandon Froul’s office finally opened. The two old veterans glanced about, Glandon fumbling with his commlink.
“Are you there, Screed? Yes, we’ve got the door opened...You can’t get the cameras online? Right, we’ll come down to lend assistance, just stay put and-”
He stopped as he and Yularen stared at his grandson, wearing only grey boxers and a zealous expression, sprinted down the corridor like a bolt, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“GET OUT OF THE WAY, I’M ON A MISSION!”
The two blinked as the bizarre sight was gone as quickly as he appeared.
Yularen cast his old friend a weary glance and shrugged.
“Ours not to reason why.”
Snirk McNoyd, not the name he was born with but one he took upon himself on Nar Shaddaa, primed his blaster and turned on his camcorder.
This was the part of the job he really enjoyed.
He showed his pinched, pale face to the camera with a sinister smirk.
“You’re watching live, uncut footage...Moff Delian Mors and Shayla Paige-Tarkin taken down...hard...”
With baited breath, sweat of eagerness and impatience beading down his brow, he opened the door.
It was a modest mini-spa. A pool and showers adjacent and two massage benches.
Delian Mors was resting on one of them in a towel. Her twi’leks wore their usual garb, splashing each other playfully in the pool. Shayla couldn’t be seen.
Still, Snirk thought, plenty of time to appreciate the surroundings.
Mors looked up at the newcomer, right as he drew up his gun.
“You give me back my uniform, you scruffy-looking nerf-herder!”
With a crash, Parisian Froul collided with Snirk McNoyd from behind. The two men fell straight in the pool with a mighty splash. Two of the twi’leks screamed.
Breaching the surface of the water, the furious Froul hauled the intruder up by the collar and laid punch after punch across his face, throwing him against the slabs.
As the bedraggled Snirk McNoyd, weighed down by the wet uniform, clambered out the pool, the corporal who’s clothes he’d stolen grabbed him again, slugged him viciously and yelled.
“And the cost of my dry-cleaning will be deducted from your financial account in due time, thank you!”
Shoving him by the scruff of his neck, Parisian laid the thug out cold as the back of Snirk’s head met the hard floor.
Catching his breath and taking in the surroundings, his ardour slowly left him.
“Well, well, well, Corporal.” There came a voice “Never knew you had it in you.”
Before him stood Shayla Paige-Tarkin in a bathing suit, crimson with streaks of electric blue.
Blush flooded Parisian’s face.
“M-m-m-my lady...” he mumbled.
“Yes?”
Parisian cleared his throat and saluted.
“I am most sincerely apologetic for the state of my undress, my lady.”
“Don’t be.” Shayla wasn’t blushing but there was a perculiar grin on her face, either through genuine interest or amusement at his discomfort, the latter sounded much more ‘Tarkin’.
“Um...complications arose. W-with your permission, I shall immediately dress and collect myself in a manner befitting an Imperial officer.”
“That’s nice...but I haven’t given you permission.”
Behind him, Delian Mors, who hadn’t moved a muscle since throughout the fiasco, gave a giggle.
Parisian shuffled bashfully.
“Please can I wear my clothes now, ma’am?”
Shayla tutted.
“If you must.”
“Thank you, my lady.” He clicked his heels and saluted to the other women.
“Good ladies of the Empire, as an officer of the Imperial Armed Forces, I must request your help in getting this man’s clothes off!”
Words he had never said before and hopefully never would again.
Grinning broadly, Delian Mors clicked her fingers.
“You heard him, my treasures! Up and at ‘em!”
*
“Just come with us to Screed’s office, Parisian, and let us never speak of this again.” Pipsqueak heard Glandon Froul on the commlink. He couldn’t help but giggle.
“Sorry, sir...I’m just afraid I’ll trail water down the corridor.” Parisian mumbled.
“Nothing better to wash the scum from it in my opinion.” Veers’ voice sounded.
The dispenser came to a stop as Pipsqueak hopped out.
Before him greeted a strange maze of black walls and red lights. The sight was heady to look at.
“Okay, Mr Screed.” he spoke through the commlink “I’m upstairs. Everything’s black and red, is that normal?”
“In these ships, yes. Sadly. I’m not a decorator. But anyway...” Screed spoke “Alright. Take the first right, then right, then the third left, then first right. At the end of it, you should find what looks like half a wheel in the wall with a lever.”
“Righto.”
Cantering down the byways, struggling to tell one route from another, he slowed as he approached.
The lever was there.
“Right. Now turn the lever fully down, then up half-way.”
Propping himself up with his forehooves against the wall, he reached the lever and did as he’d been bid.
“There we go.”
There came a voice from across the corridor. Flat but female.
“Manual Override in Sector Xi. Power administrated directly to sector control point and primary mainframe. All independent power regulators blocked.”
“Well done, Pipsqueak!” Rae’s voice came through the commlink.
“Happy to help, Rae.”
“Do you need any help up there?” Screed asked.
“No, no, thanks. I’m fine.” Pipsqueak said “No problems up here as far as I can-”
Clrng!
There came a sound from down the corridor. Pipsqueak’s ears twitched and face paled as he slowly turned, dreading what he’d find.
“Um...” he fumbled with the commlink “Could be a problem...Could be a big problem. Really quite a big, large, enormous, giant, really, really scary problem!”
A knife flew from the darkness.
Pip gave a scream as the commlink was cut from his grasp sending sparks flying as it fell perfectly in half.
Checking his hoof for a moment, he looked up.
Before him stood what appeared to be a giant humanoid bird-of-prey with bristly white fur and feathers and a massive beak like the end of a hammer. His leafy-green tunic showed off formidable muscles and his sunken blue eyes were fixed on him.
He spoke, his voice quiet but gravelly.
“You...”
He flexed his shoulders and threw out of his hands.
With a hiss of metal, two colossal blades appeared on his hands.
One side of his beak twisting up in a menacing grimace, he drew his blades along the walls as he paced forward.
“You’ve proved a nuisance...I dislike that...”
Pip edged back, feeling the wall against his hind-quarters.
He was trapped.
His breathing came rapid as he fell to desperation.
“Wait! Stop!” he found himself screaming “You-you-you don’t need to do this!”
“Incorrect...” he snarled “I need to remove any and all nuisances to me and my employer...”
“Your employer’s Zann, right? You don’t need to do what he says. What’s he offering you?” Pipsqueak babbled.
“Enough!” The bird creature clashed his blades impatiently “All you need do now is beg for your life. It won’t aid you but it may provide me some light amusement.”
“B-b-but you don’t need to!” Pip stammered “P-please just listen! Whatever you want, just please, there has to be-”
“Quiet!” he snarled, standing over him, the little colt frozen with terror, too hesitant to chance a last ditch attempt to run “Cease your inane questioning! This is not a cross-examination! For star’s sake! I did not expect an Imperial Inquisition!”
Something dropped down from the ceiling, by what means Pip knew not of.
There was an eerie sound, like a cross between ripping paper and a motor jump-starting.
The bird creature’s blades had stopped on their way down, blocked by a strange weapon with blades of glowing red.
A gaunt figure, almost thin enough to resemble a stick figurine, with a bald grey head with blood-red tattoos, a hooked nose, sunken cheeks and flat grey caps where his ears would have been, was standing between them.
With a grin of crooked teeth and an effete gesture from his free hand, he announced for all those present.
“Nobody expects the Imperial Inquisition!”
The man-bird snarled and drew his blades round. The two clashed.
Weaving his way around his foe, using the cramped space to his advantage as he pressed the weight of his feet against the wall, this Inquisitor glanced nonchalantly at the foal and spoke.
“Now would be a good time for you to run. I’ll handle things.”
“Thank you, sir.” Pipsqueak didn’t need telling twice. Fast as his hooves could carry him, he belted down the corridor, the sounds of the blade-fight ringing in his ears.
Finally reaching the dispenser, he clambered in, smacked his hoof upon the button and was carried down. He gave a weighty sigh as the floor dropped out of view and he slid down the wall.
He was forward to sleep after this.
*
Zann couldn’t imagine how long it they’d both been standing put, Thrawn with the blaster to his head.
He looked up, hatred burning in his eyes.
“You knew I was coming.”
“Obviously.” the Chiss said wearily “Tell me, how much did it cost to send your, what are they calling themselves...‘Maldovar Boyz’ here?”
Zann growled.
“Too much.”
“Clearly.” Thrawn shook his head.
“It wasn’t my choice...” the young man protested “Toora wouldn’t give me enough credits!”
“And if you’d stayed with us, you’d have enough for your own fleet.”
“It wouldn’t be my fleet!” Zann hissed “I’d be nothing! I’d be in your shadow!”
“Not if you’d been patient.” Thrawn sighed “I see you’ve allowed your impulses to rule you absent my tutelage.”
Zann gritted his teeth.
“Yeah...yeah, I have...Let me show you what they’ve taught me!”
In what must have been brilliance or madness, Zann headbutted the barrel of the blaster.
Before Thrawn’s finger could tighten on the trigger, it had clattered to the ground. He saw Zann reach for it.
Thrawn kicked it out the way and took a stance of Teras Kasi, standing before his wayward ex-student.
Tyber Zann roared as he threw himself forward. His fist and foot met the back of Thrawn’s arms. As he landed, he caught Thrawn’s fist in his hand but wasn’t quick enough to dodge his side-kick to his shoulder. Placing a foot atop Zann’s knee, he drove a flying-kick straight into his former student’s chin.
Zann fell back, struggling to his feet and expectorating a mouthful of blood.
Thrawn gave him a tired, disapproving look.
“Don’t spit on the floor.”
Snarling, Zann threw another punch.
Catching it, Thrawn measured the scenario.
‘His greatest strength; his instinct...
My greatest strength; my sense of strategy...
His greatest weakness. His rage...
My greatest weakness...
Ah...’
Dodging or blocking the swift series of punches and kicks, Thrawn edged back, up against the wall. With one hand, pinning his shoulder, the Chiss was struggling. The two even headbutted simultaneously, pressing their craniums against each other. Zann’s face was a picture of demented fury. Thrawn meanwhile, betrayed only mild contempt.
“What was I always telling you after class, Zann?” the Admiral managed to ask.
“Let me see? Always remember your limitations?!” Zann hissed “As if the rules that held you back did the same to me?!”
“No.”
A blue hand shot forward and grabbed hold of long silver locks.
“Get a haircut!”
Zann’s face was slammed against the wall again and again. As he knocked Thrawn loose with his elbow, he missed following up with a spin-kick as the Chiss ducked and drove both fists into Zann’s solar plexus. Doubling-up, the young man attempted a charge. Thrawn let himself fall back, pushing Zann’s weight off and over him with his boots and hurling across the room.
Tyber Zann hit the floor half-way up the stairs and rolled down the rest of the way. Landing by the blaster previously kicked away, he reached for it.
Like a landing aiwha, Thrawn ran up the stairs and launched himself from it. With as much graceful elegance as formidable force, he landed a flying kick directly upon Zann’s wrist.
The mercenary leader screamed as his arm was crushed beneath high Imperial boots, only his wrist-guard stopping the bone shattering entirely.
The blaster flew from his grasp, bounced off the wall and landed in Thrawn’s outstretched hand.
Thrawn brushed off his uniform with his free hand and drew up the blaster in front of Zann’s face.
“As ever with any of your rages, Zann...” he said disdainfully “A whole lot of kicking and screaming just to end right where you began...”
Zann sent him a look of loathing.
“This isn’t over...”
With his undamaged band, he reached behind his ear.
A visor came out before his eyes.
The other hand drew out something small and shiny.
And slammed it to the floor.
There was a dull ‘boom’ followed by a terrible ringing in Thrawn’s ears, accompanied by a blinding light. Closing his eyes and trying fight through the noise, he caught two punches his way but missed the third, falling to the floor, clutching his shoulder.
As the ringing subsided, there was the sound of boots up the stairs and the door opening and shutting.
Gathering himself, knowing Zann wasn’t one to hang around lost ground for long, Thrawn trudged over to his desk and turned the room’s surveillance and communications systems back online.
*
“There we go.” Romodi said as Tarkin saw the open feed button light up again for the Sector Xi cameras.
The first sight that greeted them was Rae Sloane and Natasi Daala standing primly in their uniforms, grinning with hands on hips, standing before the three thugs they now had bound and gagged in the interrogation room.
“Sector Xi is secured.” Natasi said to the cameras as the two threw their caps on.
“You’re welcome!” Rae chuckled.
“This is Screed. Yularen and the Frouls are with me.” Screed’s one-eyed face greeted them from the communications booth.
“Can we turn this music off?” Yularen said sulkily “I’ve never liked Bith music.”
“My room, my rules.” Screed replied flatly.
“This is Mors. Shayla’s here with us. Today’s been a rollick, hasn’t it just?!" Delian Mors whooped.
“Hello, uncle. I’m fine over here. We apprehended one of the blighters.”
That seemed to bring a genuine smile to Tarkin’s face.
“This is Holt. Veers is with me. The enemy are routed and fleeing down the sector. It’s my theory they must have used the private hanger to land their ship.”
“Makes sense.” Romodi said “The hanger belongs to Admiral Zsinj. He went out to check on the state of affairs in Kamino.”
“Thrawn to headquarters.” a familiar emotionless tone sounded “Found contact with the enemy commander. He escaped. It’s likely he’ll take the ship alone. He’s closest to the hanger. But he gained nothing. Achieved nothing.”
“That makes two of you.” Pestage sneered.
“You okay, sir?” Vanto piped up tentatively “We feared the worst.”
“I’m fine, Vanto. Your concern is appreciated. I shall rejoin you shortly where we may recuperate.”
Vanto sighed with relief while behind him, Crodd turned to Pestage, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek as if to suggest something about Thrawn’s relationship with his aide-de-camp.
“We have repelled the boarding party. The worst has subsided.” Tarkin said plainly “We’re sending a squad down for inspection and apprehension of all prisoners.”
“Cancel that order.”
Crodd spoke up as Thurg pushed his way to the controls and logged in some form of code.
“Sector Quarantine is now in effect.” Pestage said menacingly “All personnel are to place any and all unregistered persons in the corridors then barricade themselves in their current location. We are sending someone to properly cleanse Sector Xi of...unsavoury elements.”
“Someone you haven’t told us about, perchance, Grand Vizier?”
“I assure you, old friend.” Crodd said with a broad smile “She is...very keen.”
*
As Pipsqueak hopped out of the dispenser, he hoped to find Rae Sloane. Or Parisian Froul. Or even Minnie the Mouse Droid.
Instead, someone tripped over him. Him and two others landed in a heap.
A familiar face greeted him as a lilac twi’lek and her tropical-toned companion got to their feet.
Lunae Minx blinked at him and positively screamed in exasperation.
“What are you, some kind of disaster magnet?!”
“S-s-sorry, sorry.” Pipsqueak stammered “This is all a mistake, I promise.”
“You need to run, Pip, quick!” Ayy Vida interrupted him, a look of terror on her face.
Then the lights went out.
They came on again, all red, rows of them along the ceiling.
The rest was darkness.
Slowly, hearts thumping upon the insides of their chests, Lunae, Ayy and Pipsqueak turned to look down the very end of the corridor.
A figure in a trailing black cloak and cowl walked out.
The one Pipsqueak had seen watching him from the hanger before.
Steadily, its arms pulled themselves out of the cape, clawed, green hands reaching up for the sides of the hood.
It showed its face.
A female alien, pale-blue-green with round, black, unblinking eyes and, instead of hair, a mass of slippery tentacles trailing out the back of her head and around her shoulders.
The rest of her face looked, more or less, human.
But it was her mouth that was the most frightening.
She was wearing the most demented smile Pipsqueak had ever seen, pulled back to such an extent it appeared to be tearing at the muscles.
She was shaking.
And it was then Pipsqueak realised she was laughing.
“It’s her...” Ayy whimpered “Oh god, it’s her...”
“Run!” Lunae commanded. The two twi’leks needed no convincing. They took off.
Pipsqueak struggled to keep up. He lost them at the next corridor and found himself alone.
Trapped in a black and red expanse expanse with...whatever that thing was nowhere to be seen.
He heard her voice. High-pitched, almost childlike, but dripping with dread as she called out playfully, setting the fur on the back of his neck on edge.
“Run, Nuna...Run, Nuna...Run...Run...RUN!”
*
“Sirs, I must advise against this.”
It was not common words that came out of the Grand Inquisitor as he appeared on the holoprojector. The avian mercenary had fled into the outer workings of the dumping grounds and had, likely escaped. Now he was standing before Grand Moff Crodd and Grand Vizier Pestage with what could only be described as worry.
“Then it’s just as well you’re not an advisor.” Pestage sneered again “The choice has been made. She’s more than capable.”
“Ilitha is unreliable.” the Grand Inquisitor declared “Capricious, foolhardy...to put it bluntly, raving mad. There was a reason we would not take her as an Inquisitor.”
“I can imagine there was, though we won’t hear it from you.” Crodd guffawed “We’ve put her to good use. Pestage and Isard gained clearance from the Emperor. She takes on the role as...you might call her an Imperial Jester.”
“Jester?” Tarkin asked, dumbfounded.
“Yes, you know, a Mummer, a Pantaloon, a Fool.” Pestage sniggered “Well, all women are fools but she’s one of the few who actually seems to enjoy it.”
“Sirs, I implore you. The Inquisition runs on the capture and questioning of prisoners, something Ilitha was never able to accomplish successfully. She’s sadistic to an inconvenient degree.”
“For you, perhaps. But whatever we’ve done, she’s very willing to bring us prisoners. Perhaps you just need to rework your techniques.” Crodd said with a superior smirk “As of now the Sector Cleansing is under our jurisdiction. You’ve done enough for one day. Now if you excuse me...”
Leaving the frowning Tarkin, the scowling Romodi, the anxious Vanto and the facepalming Grand Inquisitor behind, Crodd closed the door behind him and pressed his commlink.
“Do what you like with the others but the two Twi’leks from Coruscant...you bring them in alive...and the foal.”
Four little hooves scraped frantically across the floor as Pipsqueak rushed through one corridor to the next, each one looking and feeling like they stretched on for miles.
No door seemed to open. Even if he could reach the panels for them, they were glaring red and flashing.
He feared to touch them. He had a feeling it would bring the thing following him closer to him somehow.
His hooves felt like marbles rolling in all directions on the flat, smooth floor that just kept stretching on.
Yet he sped on. What other option lay open to him?
The bright red lights disorientated him. There was a blaring alarm sounding from seemingly random parts of the corridor.
Everything was making him desperately want to curl up in a corner, shut his eyes and wait for it to end.
But he knew what that would lead to...
There was another sound.
Something between a cackle and a screech.
The thing slid out of the corridor, the tentacles in her hair writhing and creeping.
And that horrible smile.
And those eyes. Black, gleaming, lifeless things.
He wasn’t entirely certain if she actually saw him but he didn’t want to test that theory.
He belted back down as her deranged laughter echoed back at him.
“Scurry away, little Nuna! Chick-Chick-Chick!”
He’d lost sight of the Ayy and Lunae and he had no idea who else was in the corridors.
On and on he ran, no idea in his head about where he should be headed or what he could duck into.
Just to outrun the creature and hope it wore out before he did.
The sound of his hoof slipping on the floors was akin to a death knell. He stumbled and the creature heard as he did.
“Don’t know how to fly yet, little Nuna?!”
‘Please!’ he willed his legs to stay strong and fast ‘Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...’
There was a clang, a droning noise coming to a sudden stop and blank light blinded both of them a moment before Pip picked up his hooves again.
The monotonous voice sounded again.
‘All-Clear. Security has been stabilised. Quarantine is no longer in effect.’
At last. A way out.
If only he could reach a door handle.
As he felt the shadow of the chasing creature bearing down on him, making him feel colder just feeling up behind him, he gave a shriek as he felt himself taken off his hooves.
Then a familiar whistling greeted his ears as he saw the corridors whizzing behind him quicker than ever.
“Minnie!” he exclaimed as he noticed the Mouse Droid going like the clappers beneath his hinds, having scooped him up like a cow-plough and sped him to safety.
As they meet a junction in the corridors, the screams and curses of the Maldovar Boyz in retreat sounded as a messy-haired young woman with shaded eyes and a mouth she was covering in pain darted out of the right corridor. Catching sight of Pipsqueak, and the thing chasing him, she gave a muffled curse and doubled back, thundering boots sounding before her.
Minnie swerved left, nearly throwing Pipsqueak off, as they left their pursuer at the crossing.
Ilitha paused.
Two quarries escaped in opposite areas.
With an impatient hiss, she turned right.
The foal wasn’t going far, even without the quarantine.
And this way at least, she could work up an appetite.
*
Grand Moff Croesus Crodd stared with pop-eyed indignation at Voss Parck, Imperial Captain and Hunter-General, who’d waltzed into the main control chamber without so much as a by-ones-leave and tapped in the quarantine cancellation and was now standing before him and the Grand Vizier with a frank, unapologetic face.
Sate Pestage and Labryn Thurg wore similar expressions to Crodd.
At the desk, Wilhuff Tarkin and Hurst Romodi wore expressions of mild interest while Ensign Eli Vanto stood tentatively in the corner, hoping no-one would explode somehow.
“Are you ill, sir?” the captain finally broke the silence.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Crodd found his voice and used it profusely “Explain yourself! Immediately!”
“Alright, um...Voss Parck, twenty-eight years of age, Corulag-man. My cousin’s an ensign to Grand Moff Byluir and he’s rather a tosser. I owned a Tooka once, called Gantok. Not the brightest of Tookas but I loved him. They called me ‘Porky Parck’ in the academy but after I demolished a pirate port at Ank Ki’Shor, they started calling me ‘Voss the Boss’ which, as you can imagine, I much preferred. My first date-”
“Shut up!” Pestage shrieked “On whose authority do you dare to override the commands of an Imperial Grand Moff?!” Voss gave an awkward look and answered.
“The authority.”
There was a pause. Crodd and Pestage glanced at each other.
“As in...”
“The authoritative authority, you might say...”
“The...the S-Supreme C-C-Commander?” Pestage started stuttering “H-H-He’s here? When?!”
“About two minutes ago actually. Asked me to override the quarantine and gave me the codes. Didn’t want to waste my time, or more importantly, his. As a matter of fact, he wanted to have a talk with you, excellencies. He...didn’t look too pleased. Though I rarely see him with any other expression, to be fair.”
“I...wasn’t aware...” Pestage mumbled “We will of course, erm-”
“No.”
All eyes turned to the Grand Moff of Velcar who stood red-faced and lidded-eyed.
“The Imperial Security Bureau has given me command of the punitive measures upon the hijacking party and the investigation into their crimes. The Supreme Commander has been given no such equal command else I would have been informed. So...” his cold yellow eyes bore into Parck’s.
“If he wants to speak to me...he can damn well come and find me himself, not send his little ferrets scurrying around for him! Is that clear?”
And without waiting for an answer, he stormed off, followed swiftly by Pestage and Thurg.
Four men were silent for a while.
Hurst Romodi cut in.
“Fifty credits says Velcar’s looking for a new Grand Moff before the day’s done. Eh, Tarkin, old boy?”
Wilhuff raised an eyebrow and brushed his angular chin with one finger.
“It’s not like him to invite such attention from...such a man as the Supreme Commander.” he said, deep in thought “Whatever he’s risking he must feel will pay off one way or another...”
His commlink bleeped and he raised it to his ear.
“Yes?” He held in away from his ear a moment before talking in a tone of forced-adoration that did not sound natural on him.
“Yes, of course I hear you, darling, and what a pleasure it is to hear your...voice...again.” He massaged his temples “Yes, I know that, my dear. We have just had a quarantine and...what? Well...I...don’t quite know if the Dreadnought has a boudoir at all, let alone one specifically Tarisian-style but...yes, of course I’ll have a word with the...right, right, I’m sure Captain Daala can take care of you for the moment but...yes, of course, I’ll be with you shortly.”
He gave a sigh and took his leave, shooting a withering glance at Eli Vanto who looked ready to snigger.
*
The Once-Upon, a gleaming Manta-class assault Starfighter, landed deftly and sleekly upon a high spire on the heady, dusk-shrouded Obulette, its two wing-points just touching the landing pad floor as its head arched high towards the perpetual twilight of the star system.
The pilot descended from a set of lowering stairs from above, standing before the radiant spire palace and its ornate riverway.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling cool natural air hit it for the first time in almost a year, and took a grateful sigh.
Two attendants in shimmering green suits and emerald visors bowed as he approached the riverway. A small dark indigo pontoon speckled with silver was brought forth which they manned in the front and back. The Grand Admiral unbuttoned his collar and boarded the pontoon, the seat formed like a cradle, its spherical base held slightly below the water so as to be gently rocked by the water as one rested. Fragrant flowers formed a crown over the seat. The whole thing was perfect luxury, finest Tapani craftsmanship.
Worth coming home for in itself, Grand Admiral Grant had always found, as it took him inside the majestic Palatte Mecetti, covered by a gigantic shimmering glassy dome. Unlike Eriadu, the cover was purely cosmetic. It artificially made the clouds clear so all one saw in the sky were the stars upon an indigo sheet, swirling nebulae and cosmic orchestra adding splashes of colour here and there.
Passing over the white stone archway, he was greeted by the gardens, a flourishing meadow the river snaked through. Two young women were feeding furry russet fathier lambs, the younger of the two was tying colourful ribbons with bells gently around their thick fluffy necks.
As the boat passed, scattering a flock of pylat birds, Octavian waved at them.
The girls stood, their faces lighting up with glee as the younger one gave a joyous squeal.
“Tavi’s back! Tavi’s back!” They stood and rushed up the garden hill towards the courtyard. Passing under hanging plants heavy with rich orchids and ripe fruits, the pontoon came to a stop.
Leaving the spectacularly comfortable seat would often be difficult for some but Octavian never found it hard here. He leapt off the boat and strode up the marble steps as a flock of young women ran down them with giddy smiles and welcoming giggles.
He greeted them with open arms.
His sisters, sisters-in-law and female cousins. Ophilia, Orosia, Opimia, Ostoria, Otacilia, Ovidia, Orcidia, tall Evoirey Balis, Lestera Hejaran who wore black lipstick, slender Meimilia Gantrolo, the twins Terinia and Tarpeia Pheron, plump Jerusha Rutledge and crimson-haired Linky-Nightingale Tritum.
All of them rushed to him and fought for hugs as he chuckled.
A warm welcome was something he had missed.
Colour, music, cool, clean air and abundant cheer. All he’d known growing up.
And the dresses his family wore. All the colours of the wind, so vibrant, the silk so lush and graceful, the jewels twinkling.
It made him feel so inspired.
Down came his mother, Penelope Grant, nee Panos. Planting a kiss on his cheeks and forehead, her aging frame delicate to his touch, the elderly Tapani Matriarch wore a stately crown of silver, green and red.
And standing atop the palace stairs, under the mighty doorway, was his aunt.
He made his way up, converged with every step by the convivial flock.
“How has it been in space, Tavi?”
“How many battles have you won, Tavi?”
“Are there any nice men in your fleet, Tavi?”
“Who was the ugliest alien you fought, Tavi?”
“Did you get us anything, Tavi?”
“Darlings, please, I crave a moment of rest.” he said with his hands raised in apology “Your aunt and I must convene and ensure my time here is one I can spend productively as well as merrily.”
There were a few slight moans and pouts from those present. Penelope Grant gave him a knowing glance as he piped up a suggestion.
“I know. Tea on the terrace. Have the attendants bring up our choicest morsels and we’ll tell each other all that’s happened while I’ve been away.”
The suggestion was met with pleased reviews as the girls hopped in excitement and set about organising a tea party, promising him the treats he’d been partial too ever since he was young.
Sighing as his family bustled across the courtyard in their pretty dresses, he turned to greet the Grand Matron of the Mecrosa Order.
Loalo Ettagon, Suzerain of Nyssa, was tall, taller than Grant by at least a clear head, and slender. Her teal hair was kept above her shoulders, swept up in curly locks. Her lips were thin, painted and glittered violet. Her eyelids were glittered too in shades of purple and green. Her nose was dainty and angular, her cheekbones sharp and straight.
Her dress was in two layers, a thin black sheath was cut to cover the bright red and gold wraparound underneath.
Blood-red starstones hung from one ear.
Octavian Grant beheld the inspiring sight.
How lucky he was to have an aunt like her.
They hugged, tight and warm, Loalo’s soft, low voice making him feel young and cheery and safe as it always had.
“I only wish it could be longer...that I didn’t have to deal with this...farce these insurgents have put together on my home.”
“Of course, my dear. Let’s put an end to it quickly, together. Then we can all enjoy your time with us now. Come...”
She took his hand and they paced to his chambers.
“Was it terrible over there, darling? Where they had you working?”
“Ugh, where to start?” Grant gave a sigh of revulsion “The noise, the crowds, row after row of ugly, ugly stormtroopers! Who designed that god-awful visor?! What was their angle?! ‘Cower at our legions of furrowed-brows and hare-lips?” He shuddered “Bulky, clunky messes of men, the lot of them! If I ever have my way, I’ll streamline the garb. Give it more room to move...” he waved one hand in front before him in thought “Link the eyes and mouth like ebony tears, smiling in battle like a primal cat, both elegant and ferocious...and the prime fighting force...all in gorgeous crimson!”
“One day, darling, one day.” Loalo Ettagon gave a lilting laugh “You must be in a better mood if you’re feeling inspired.” Her eyebrow rose curiously “Now, darling...tell me about Thrawn. What has he said to you?”
Octavian Grant gave a sigh. It was pointless asking his aunt how she knew. After all, he was part of the reason her sources were faultless in the first place.
“He’s...more affable than I expected from...his type.” he mused “I think I was wrong about him. He’s certainly not trying to bring the Empire down.”
“So...what else would he be doing there?”
Octavian shrugged.
“It sounds strange but I think he genuinely feels like he’s doing good by working under us.”
“No-one in that position acts out of their own heart, sweet child. They can’t afford to. I should know.” Her aunt’s tone had become grimmer.
“But then why else would he be doing this? We’ve checked. We’ve sent the Mecrosa to look in on him again and again. We thought we had him on that Noghri project he was getting involved in but then he brings them into the Empire itself, under our command. There’s no sign that he’s planning anything.”
“That...is usually the first sign.”
“But why?”
Loalo Ettagon gave him a look.
“Creatures like him don’t need a reason. They are drawn to power like flies to rotting flesh...Not too unlike humans, to be honest...”
“Ironic.” Grant chuckled “If only my colleagues knew how ‘human’ Thrawn was, they might be a lot more accepting of him.”
Aunt and nephew shared a chuckle as Loalo Ettagon raised a hand.
“Never mind that now, we’ll discuss such murky things later...”
She opened the chamber doors and they stood in the chambers of the only son of Odysseus Sigismund Grant.
He stood in the centre of it and sighed, droids hovering out of the ceiling and removing his grab of admiralty, leaving him in black coveralls as he moved to put on something more comfortable.
Loalo paid it little mind. She’d dressed him ever since he was little.
“So...” he felt his breath coming easier without the wretched white collar “The Mecrosa’s tracked down this insurgency? All its members, all its activities...”
“All taken care of, my dear.” Suzerain Ettagon put a finger to her lips and hushed her only nephew, turning his gaze to the wardrobe “Forget it all for now. Come here...I brought you a little...treat.”
Tentatively, Octavian Grant paced over to his walk-in wardrobe, which his aunt opened with the secret code known only to the two of them, to behold its newest addition.
A buoyant cascade of luscious marine fabrics stood before them; bands around the wrists and waist hanging nets of tiny glittering gems; its neck and shoulders open and lined with a rippling lilac collar as light as air; the sleeves and the front of the collar decorated with braces of soothing elder flutterplume feathers.
Grant stared. His eyes felt moist.
“Oh aunty...” he murmured, his face steadily lighting up with wonder as he turned to his aunt.
His eyes looked almost Porg-like as he asked gently.
“Can I try it on?”
Loalo gave him a soothing smile as she signalled to the dresser droids.
“Of course you can, my little baby boy.”
Barely stopping himself hopping with delight, Octavian Grant was fitted with the magnificent attire. It fit like a glove and it felt right. Every muscle in his body felt massaged, every nagging pain felt eased, every knot felt unravelled.
He breathed as he felt himself glide across the room. Laughing jubilantly, he took his beaming aunt’s hands as they spun round and round and landed on his armchair, the one he’d always sat in as his aunt took care of his every worry.
Aunty Loalo had always been there for him, ever since his first days. It had been she who explained to him what he didn’t understand, coached him through his studies, passed his messages, got him out of trouble, got him things he wanted, kept his secrets and let him be himself.
And made sure his father wouldn’t know.
He wouldn’t have hated him, Octavian knew this, but he just wouldn’t have understood. Odysseus Sigismund Grant was a stern and orthodox man and his only son would have had to be as he was.
And after a while, it had hurt to be his father, to try so hard to be something he wasn’t and fear to be anything else.
But his aunt understood. She always understood.
Just as she had then, Loalo Ettagon gently stroked his brow and cooed.
“You are beautiful, my darling Octavian...You are...perfection.”
She kissed his forehead as the Grand Admiral lovingly caressed the silk of his glittering array.
“And together...we’ll fly the Emerald Banner for all to see...”
*
Minnie continued to scoot down the ship’s ways and bends, Pipsqueak just managing to avoid being thrown from her bonnet as she gave a frantic bleep, her buttons blinking magenta, and a large door before them opened. Voices could be heard behind it. They sounded familiar.
Pipsqueak felt himself surge forward once again and then was suddenly pulled off the droid as a wall of black cloth swamped him and he fell into darkness.
He crawled around blindly, calling out to whoever would hear him.
“Where am I? Who turned out the lights? Rae? Is anybody there? I can’t see a thing. Let me out! I want out!”
There then came the sound of a loud, high-pitched screech as the fabric cage flapped up and down and two high-heels Pipsqueak found next to him stamped frantically at the base of clammy, veiny and distinctly unshaven legs.
“WILHUUUUF!” the screeching thing sounded “HELP ME! IN THE NAME OF SESWENNA, PLEASE HELP ME! I’M BEING ACCOSTED BY A WOMP RAT! THERE’S AN INFESTATION ON THIS HORRID SHIP! AN INFESTATION I TELL YOU! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF ME!”
“Please, Madam Tarkin, if you just stay still a moment...” a young woman’s voice was heard and the dress was lifted up slightly by hand.
Thalassa Tarkin, wide-eyed and pale-faced, stared as the little scruffy-maned pinto colt tumbled out and shook his head.
“Oomph...Ugh, thank goodness. Thanks, Nat. Cor, it was horrible in there.” He rolled over in a daze and looked up at Mr and Mrs Tarkin.
“Oh. Hello.”
Thalassa’s eyes began to roll back as she gave a strangled wheeze. Wilhuff, knowing what that meant, put his hands behind his hand and stepped to the side.
With a mighty thump, the massive figure of Thalassa Tarkin crashed to the floor unconscious.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d said to warrant such a reaction.
Natasi Daala winced as she surveyed the spectacle. Wilhuff Tarkin meanwhile glanced at his comatose spouse and then gave Pipsqueak a look that was as close to a genuine smile as he’d ever seen on him.
“I’m starting to like you.” he said frankly, parting for him “I believe your droid friend’s found you a suitable room. Best hurry. Things are rather hectic at this particular juncture and I’d rather you were out of the way for all our sakes.”
Pipsqueak did as he was bid.
Wilhuff looked to his young secretary. Before she could speak, still puzzling over what to do with Thalassa, the Grand Moff raised one finger and tapped his commlink with his other hand.
“Hello, Screed?” he began in an earnest tone “Can you hear me? I need your assistance. I want a cadre of medical droids with a...very large stretcher on Corridor Nineteen, Sector Xi, as soon as possible.”
“As you say. Are you alright, sir?” The voice of Terrinald Screed came through.
“Yes, we’re fine but something of a dilemma has befallen us. My poor wife has been accosted by the hijackers...”
“...bloody hell. Is she hurt?”
“No, no noticeable injuries. In fact, I’d be more worried for the hijackers. But she’s unconscious in the corridor. Some sort of fit. She’s pale, sweaty, swollen, hysterical, I mean more than usual...Do you know, I worry one of the intruders may have been carrying some sort of contagion. You never know with these Hutt Space travellers.”
“It’s quite possible, sir. If she’s fainting, it might be better for you to remain with her and-”
“No, no, out of the question. There’s definitely something that me and Captain Daala should steer clear of. I don’t say this often but let’s let the droids handle this.”
“Well, I need to know what it could be before I set up the droids, sir. How serious does it look?”
The Grand Moff gave a half-hearted glance at the prone Thalassa Tarkin.
“Ooh, very serious, very serious indeed. I can see the changes already.”
“What sort of changes? I need specifics, Tarkin. I mean, is she turning into a Rakghoul or something?”
“...well, it’s hard to tell with her. Regardless, I think she might need quarantine.”
“I see. Well, there were rumours of a strain of Blue Shadow Virus in the slums of Nar Shadaa. If that’s the case, she’ll definitely need quarantine.”
“Ah yes, that sounds just right.” Tarkin said with a smile before correcting “I mean, you’re right. So, out of concern you understand, how long would that quarantine last?”
“About four weeks?”
The Grand Moff’s face lit up like a starburst.
“Sir?”
“Do you know, Screed, much as it pains me to be apart from my darling wife for so long...I think we should make it eight. Can’t risk a pandemic creeping across the Fantasia at a time like this. Not with so many of the Empire’s best and brightest coming and going.”
“Couldn’t agree more, sir. I’ll send the droids down right away and section off the corridor. You and Captain Daala should head off quick and take a good shower.”
“Oh, we will...I will, that is to say. Thank you, Screed. I promise I shall not forget this kindness.”
He switched off the commlink and turned his gleaming eyes to his glamorous secretary who’d started toying with her ginger ponytail in a playful manner and tilting her hips slightly from side to side.
The Grand Moff gave a command.
“My chambers. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir!”
*
Motley, dirty boots thundered fearfully on the shiny slate-grey floors of the Fantasia.
The Maldovar Boyz had played their cards wrong.
“Hurry, you stupid pudds! She’s coming!” Radds screamed as his cohorts frantically undid the bonds Rae Sloane and Natasi Daala had left him in along with Cap’n Snertling Haph-Pinter, Magro ‘Stinkyboy’ Slim and Drazala Nuwaan who still wore the lubricant bucket on her head.
“No, the third wire down! No, wait, second. No, second-up!”
“Not like that, let me do it!”
“Just cut the frakking things! Now!”
He didn’t see who did it but as soon as his wrists felt free, he leapt off the seat and made for the door.
They heard another door lift open before they reached the one they were facing.
Slowly, fearfully, all eyes turned to Imperial Jester Ilitha.
There she stood in the doorway, so warped and demented. Her body was wrapped in a gaunt, sheer black robe that made her appear somewhat scarecrow-like from the torso-down. Her tentacles were decorated with shiny dark-grey rings with spikes and prongs arranged in some cryptic fashion. If her face was pretty, it was marred by the big sick grin across her face. Her quiet little giggling was making her body twitch and rustle as if she was vibrating with maniacal glee.
As Radds took a step back, Ilitha’s right eye twitched and she took a step forward.
“Gah, to Byss with this! Let me at ‘em!” The smallest of the Maldovar Boyz showed either the greatest courage or stupidity as the Zilkin, Cap’n Snertling Haph-Pinter, jumped up and brandished a spare stun-baton at the Imperial Jester and snarled.
“Come at me, ya munge-fuddlin’, coddle-floppin’, snapper-whippin’ little doggone gill-gussie! I got six years on the hometown special forces, I’m fulla’ vim and vinegar, I got scrap an’ steam to spare an’ I’m spoilin’ for a fi...hey...Hey, whoa?! Wh-what are you doing?!”
The Zilkin’s round, stomping feet had left the floor and the miniscule body of Snertling Haph-Pinter was steadily climbing the room in mid-air, his four limbs frantically waving in the air.
“Get offa’ me! Get offa’ me ya Selmi scrump-seller! This is an injustice! This is the greatest injustice the noble Zilkin race has ever suffered an’ by Gromas you’ll pay for it! Do you hear me?! Put me down, I say! Put me down! That’s an order! Put! Me...er...wait...Wait!”
The Zilkin suddenly felt gravity harshly and violently return to his body and with a terrified screech, he fell the Zilkin equivalent of a fifty-five foot drop. The Maldovar Boyz stood and stared as, with a crunch, Cap’n Snertling Haph-Pinter met the ground flat on his face.
Ilitha gave another small giggle as she approached the ruined Zilkin.
His limbs were bent at irregular angles. His hands reached for nothing as he gave a small, gurgling groan.
“Help...me...”
The Nautolan’s cloak parted as a boot rose above the Zilkin and, as swiftly as he had, stamped into the floor.
The Maldovar Boyz winced as one as Snertling Haph-Pinter was crushed like a jogan-fruit. Ilitha’s foot ground the creature below her with savagery, drawing her heel over the floor once and twice.
All that was left of the late Cap’n Snertling Haph-Pinter and the legacy he often boasted of was a mess of green and yellow slime and two disjointed legs akimbo at the base of the splatter.
Ilitha’s leer twisted larger and longer as she gave a fishy hiss.
“Don’t talk. Just scream. And run.”
The Maldovar Boyz found themselves feeling unusually compliant.
Drazala Nuwaan, however, had heard nothing. Knocked over in the bruhaha, she found the mucilage bucket still stuck fast on her head. Muffled groans and grunts came from within as Ilitha watched.
With a giggle, she held out one hand.
An eerie sound, like a lonely breeze on barren soil, filled the room.
Drazala stopped struggling a moment, the bucket and the head within held still.
Then there was a low groan. Not from her but the bucket itself.
Her hands shook.
There was a crumpling sound and a stifled but audible scream as the bucket began to compress and rumble. The Zeltron’s hands pawed frantically at the crunching metal bucket that twisted and squashed as if toyed with by invisible hands.
At last, with a deranged titter, Ilitha gave her hand a short, sharp twist.
Scrambling like womp rats from a burning nest, the would-be hijackers fled, making for the sector hanger where they’d landed their carrack.
Then they noticed the pale, sunken Snirk McNoyd steadily rising off the ground. His legs started kicking at thin air as he reached out helplessly.
“Help! Help me! She’s gonna’ get me! Get her off me!”
The Iktochi, Yutane, stopped to grab at his hands. Pressing her heels against the floor before her, she found neither of them moving an inch.
Then, like a gust, both of them were pulled back. Yutane screamed at Snirk to let go of her own hands as the two were dragged along the corridor, screaming all the way back into the room they fled. There was the sound of a drawing lightsabre and the screams soon stopped.
“Stop! Stop, goddamn it! She’s just gonna’ keep chasing us!” Docor Danstan drew up his blaster furiously as they reached a turning “We need to fry the bitch! Right here! Right now! Come on, find a spot to shoot!”
“Screw you guys, we’re getting outta’ here!” Radds pushed past him the Maldovar Boyz split.
Together, he, Ornar Xapp, Belwana, Ur-Yompa, Gorvy ‘Go-Long’ Lomberd and Bar’Jin Bast took each side of the corridors, loaded their blasters and waited.
And waited.
There came the sound of footsteps.
Two pairs.
The Maldovar Boyz primed their sights as a woman walked out of the corridor.
Surprisingly, it was Drazala Nuwaan. The dented but perfectly fuctional bucket was still on her head but she didn’t seem to register.
Instead, she walked in a stilted, wooden fashion, her arms locked at her sides, shambling from one heel to another.
Docor stared with unease.
“D-Draz?”
As if on cue, the Zeltron’s hands flew to the bucket and gently removed it.
Along with the head inside it.
A mangled stump above her shoulders greeted them as the still-standing body shook morbidly, held out the bucket before them as if offering them a lucky dip and then topped to the ground, a swamp of blue and crimson gunk flying out the bucket and spreading across the floor.
“Holy frak!” Ornar Xapp wailed, pressing his back against the wall in terror.
“You sick bitch!” Docor yelled “Come out here and get yours right now!”
A bizarre voice replied.
“Whassa’ matter, boys? S’all taken care of.”
“Yup! We’ve all made up, see.”
The Maldovar Boyz stared, blood running cold as they saw Snirk McNoyd and Yutane stick their heads out of the corridor. Their faces however, were locked in a morbid silent scream.
Yet their jaws moved, never fully closing their mouths.
“Ilitha’s not gonna’ hurt ya!” Snirk seemed to say “She’s a reeeeaaaal nice gal once ya get to know her!”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Yutane appeared to reply “These Imperial chicks sure know how to have fun! Har-har-har-har-har!”
“Hur-hur-hur-hur-hur!”
“Aw, you guys say the sweetest things!”
An eerie, slightly childlike voice met their ears as Ilitha at last emerged, still wearing the sickening grin as she gestured with her index finger for her friends to follow.
The heads of Snirk McNoyd and Yutane flew and floated before her, bobbing and weaving like puppets.
Blasters shook in the Maldovar Boyz hands as they watched, too terrified to make the first move.
“You see, I’ve always been really good at making friends.” the Nautolan said in a faux-sweet tone before she put a hand to her mouth, casing Yuntane’s mouth to jam shut.
“Oops, did I say ‘friends’? I meant corpses. I get the two confused...One kind of leads to another in my experience.”
“Shut up!” A bright red plasma bolt shot through the corridor from Docor Danstan’s blaster barrel. It missed by a good few inches.
Ilitha’s smile was gone. Her sheer black eyes were wide and fixed on the people before her.
The heads of Yutane and Snirk toppled to the ground as she took a deep breath and spoke in a lower, harsher tone.
“Okay...do you have any idea...how frakking rude that was?!”
“Just stay back! Stay the frak back! I don’t care how many frakking light-swords ya’ got! We can still blast you! We’ve still got enough back here to take you down! Okay?!”
Breathing heavily, Docor stepped back in a crouch. The others did the same.
Ilitha’s right eye twitched as they all found their back heel.
She drew a hand out of her cloak and made a strange gesture.
She put her thumb and forefinger together as each one ignited with a long scarlet blade of blazing energy.
She gave a smirk and spoke.
“No...I don’t think you do.”
With one last ditch burst of fleeting courage, Docor Danstan gave a roar of fury as he opened fire. His comrades did the same, blasting round after round towards the deranged Imperial Jester.
Ilitha’s blades surged forward and spun in a mad dance, steadily drawing closer and closer with every whisk and wave.
As the blasts subsided and Docor fearfully acknowledged the empty magazine light on his blaster, he ran.
Two humans, a female Twi’lek, a Nikto and a Dowutin followed in hot pursuit.
None of them made it to the doors as, spreading her fingers, Ilitha sent the three lightsabres spinning forward.
Five heads hit the door, leaving their bodies far behind.
Radds ran. Ran like he’d never done before.
He’d got on the bad side of many people on Nar Shadaa. Street vendors, debt collectors, bar toughs, death-stick dealers, prostitutes and their pimps, even a gorg chef on one occasion.
They all paled to this. All he had ever known paled to this.
Behind him, screams echoed as Ilitha appeared to materialise from the sides and corners of the corridors, snatching them one by one.
At last, the doors of the sector hanger reached him and he jammed it open.
A slate-grey one-eyed Wookiee pulled him aside and smashed a furry fist into the door control.
Radds shook his head, gathered his breath and spoke.
“Where’s the ship?!”
Thracca gave a growl.
“Gone?! Whaddya’ mean gone?!” Radds screamed. He was met by more growling.
“Our...employer...stole our ship?! Wh-why?! Why would he...Okay, are there any other ships about?! Okay...okay...I think I can get one running...Gimme’ your gun.”
Obligingly, Thracca handed him his bowcaster. Behind him, three red lights jammed into the locked doors and, with a hellish crackle, steadily cut through.
The bowcaster was heavy in Radd’s hands but he managed to point it.
“Thanks.”
It fired and Thracca fell to one knee, his left leg perforated by a smoking hole. The Wookie gave a guttural wail of pain and thrashed at thin air as the boy he’d believed his friend took off down the hanger, going for the abandoned TIE Interceptor that had stopped for refuelling and repairs, still in reasonable flying condition.
Flailing, Thracca looked back as the doors threw themselves open and the deranged Nautolan emerged.
He bared his teeth, balled up a fist and threw a punch with one last roar.
One of the lightsabres whisked through the air.
The body of Thracca fell like a sodden carpet as Ilitha held the Wookiee’s head in her invisible grasp.
Gazing into its dead eyes and open jaws, she gave another giggle and held it up before her bouncing it in the air to flap its jaw as she imitated the Wookiee language.
“Grararooraroo! Whururoo! Brafroo!” Howling with laughter, she threw the head across the room and paced towards the TIE Interceptor and her last piece of prey within it.
“Come on! Come on! Come-on-come-on-come-on-come-on!”
Radds pleaded the Interceptor engine to prime as the ignition gave a mechanical choking sound and its thrusters refused to set. He pressed every button, twiddled every lever and eventually banged the control panel with his fist and cursed.
“JUST WORK, YOU STUPID FRAKKING PIECE OF PUDD! I DON’T WANNA’ FRAKKING DIE! FRAK’S SAKE! CAN NOTHING GO FRAKKING RIGHT FOR ME?! JUST-”
Thump!
He looked up with a jerk.
And stared.
Thracca’s head had landed against the screen.
There it was, pressed against the glass, sharp Wookiee teeth bared as if in ghostly rage.
Then it drew back and hit itself against it again.
Then another. This time a female Iktochi.
Then a human.
Then another human.
Then a Dowutin.
Then a Klatooninian.
And so it went on until all the severed heads of the young men and women Radds ‘Goldenboy’ Burrl had led to their deaths were slamming themselves against the glass. The Maldovar Boyz leader could only stare in shock, shaking all over as the dead things hit the ship. Over and over and over until at last they all drew back as one and, like a grisly, baleful fist, shot forward.
The glass shattered and Radds ‘Goldenboy’ Burrl gave the loudest and longest scream he’d ever uttered. Trapped in a corporeal nightmare, he could only scream as the heads bit him viciously, lifting him up by his ears, neck, wrists, thighs, ankles and hair. The young man wriggled like a fish on a hook as Ilitha paced forward, one hand raised, her fingers drumming the air like a demented piano-player.
The other hand rose and brought her three sabres up in the air, the hilts set at three points facing inwards, forming a bright red Y right below Radds. The hand that held them drew up one finger and spun it lazily as she gently lowered her first hand. Her powers drifted from one focus to another as the lightsabres spun, faster and faster and faster as Radds was lowered, screaming and writhing, into a make-shift white-hot shredder.
Finally letting one hand drop, the Goldenboy’s screams subsided as he and the severed heads that carried him were reduced to charred black scraps slowly tumbling over Ilitha who spun in a circle below, grinning and laughing and holding out her tongue.
Her insane cackling filled the sector hanger as up in Sector Nu, Hurst Romodi and Eli Vanto stared at the whole hellish spectacle through the camera feed.
“I...am not...cleaning that up...” Romodi managed to mutter.
Vanto blinked and swayed slightly, left and right, in a motion indicative of shock and nausea.
"Sweet...krayt-spitting...space-dust..." he mumbled queasily.
The old officer meanwhile pressed his fingers to his hairless temples and pleaded answers from his own thoughts.
“Dear stars above, Crodd...What is that thing and what the frak did you do to make it?!”
*
Tentatively, Minnie Mouse-Droid wiggled on her wheels to gesture Pipsqueak inside a small room with an open door then made for a small vent in the corner which opened and shut after her. Pipsqueak meanwhile leapt inside and ducked behind the side of the doorway.
As the door slammed shut a moment later, Pipsqueak pressed his back against it and slid down in a relieved slump, gasping for air.
Then his ear pricked.
There was noise coming from a pod in the middle of the room, a large cylinder made for some means or another, Pip couldn't think what.
Was that...giggling?
He crept over to it hesitantly and kept his ear open.
Voices could be heard. Familiar ones.
“Oh goodness...how did we get so wet?” A young woman cooed.
“I...would make a quip there but...” A young man was fumbling with his words.
“But it would be lacking in taste and appropriation and above all, very naughty. And you’re not a naughty boy are you, Pari...”
“Ah...no, ma’am.”
“No, you’re a good boy. And good boys get treats, don’t they...Now, what treats...lie in store for my good boy?”
“What indeed, my lady-”
Pipsqueak found his hoof pressing a button on the pod controls. The door slid open.
Lying in the pod was Parisian Froul in a rather damp uniform that smelled of swimming pools, half-buttoned from the top.
Next to him, almost on top of him, was Shayla Paige-Tarkin in what looked like a thin silver wash-gown.
Both of them had wet hair and wide eyes.
“Er...”
“Pipsqueak-Hi!’ Shayla said the two words so quick they may as well have been one as she bolted upright, accidentally planting an elbow in Parisian face. The ungainly corporal managed to find his feet as the two adjusted their garb with nervous smiles and flushed faces.
“Erm...” Pipsqueak blinked “I know it’s none of my business but...what were you two...”
“Er, I was injured.” Parisian said suddenly “And the Senator here felt it best to...er...”
“Give his injuries a close look.” Shayla finished “To...determine whether he should head to the medi-bay...at such a time.”
“Okay...” the colt mumbled “But wouldn’t you have taken off his shirt to have a look then?”
“Well, we didn’t want to rush thi-umph!” Parisian was shushed by another elbow, this time jabbing his ribs as Shayla shushed him.
“It’s okay.” Pipsqueak gave an insolent little grin “I won’t tell Mr Glandon. Or Mr Tarkin.”
“Thanks, Pip.” Shayla chuckled, noticing his stun baton “So, you went out to give them a walloping, eh? That’s what I like to see!”
“You know, tucked under your foreleg like that, you look almost like a Grand Moff yourself.” Parisian added, starting to laugh at the sight.
“Do I?” The colt checked himself “Hm...Yeah, I suppose so...Heh-heh.” Hopping on the spot and holding the baton under his foreleg imperiously, he screwed up his face to look as pompous as possible, stuck his muzzle in the air and bellowed in a posh but brusque military drawl.
“Atten-SHUN!” He marched in a circle, kicking his legs up and down “Left! Rrrrright! Left! Rrrrright! Companyyyyy...Halt!”
Shayla and Parisian couldn’t help but laugh at the spectacle as Pipsqueak snorted through one nostril, and eyed them with one eye as if he were wearing a monocle and moustache.
“Stand up strrraight, soldier!” He waved the stun baton and yelled at Parisian who, alongside Shayla, stood to attention obediently, trying hard to keep their grins closed.
“Reportin’ for duty, sir!” Shayla trilled with a salute.
“Jolly good show!” Pipsqueak pursed his lip “All quiet on the front, soldier, eh wot?! Nothing out of its prrrroper place?!”
“I don’t think so, sir! Not with Grand Moff Pipsqueak to take care of things, right, corporal?!”
“Right. I’d say whoever messed with you would have to be ma-hahahaha!” Parisian couldn’t hold back his laughter and doubled up with glee. Pipsqueak stood under him and fixed him with a glare.
“Any more funny business and I’ll have you in the guardroom for bally insurbidation, d’you hear! I’ve got me’ eye on you, sonny!” He jabbed his baton in the air “And the same goes for you too, missy! MEEEEEEHEHEHEH!” He gave a bizarre bray that set the three of them falling on the floor with mirth.
The door at last opened as the humourless Captain Feanor Rondel stood and surveyed the three rolling caperers. Pipsqueak found his hooves and his baton and readopted the pose again, giving the captain an arched eyebrow and another bellow.
“Yooouuuu need an ‘aircut, you ‘orrible little softy!”
His jibe was met by more laughter from Parisian and Shayla who were now busy trying to pick each other up, wiping tears of hysteria from their cheeks.
Feanor Rondel rolled his eyes with a grimace.
“Hilarious...The Grand Moff wants to see you. Just the foal.”
Pipsqueak hopped on his hooves and struck yet another pose.
“Tally-ho then! You heard the officer! Smoke me a kipper, I’ll be back for breakfast! Rrrriiiiiight-face! Forwaaaaard march!” And with that, he spun on his hooves and marched off with the already very-tired-looking Captain Rondel.
Sharing another chuckle, Parisian Froul and Shayla Paige-Tarkin turned to face each other, both beginning to smile in a way that suggested more than simple camaraderie.
Shayla took Parisian by the wrists and raised an eyebrow.
“Now...where were we?” Shayla cooed as Parisian found himself pressed against the wall as the young Senator nuzzled his bared neck.
She smelt of rojos and everlillies. He felt his hands rise steadily to her shoulders.
All he knew was that this was a much more glamorous job than he’d been led to believe. The Senator of Eriadu? The niece of the...
“Wait.” he stopped, worry on his features “Did Captain Rondel say...which Grand Moff?”
Shayla looked up with a concerned look before her grey eyes widened with grim realisation.
“Incredible...Never thought I’d ever see the day.”
The thin, grey-bearded Thelxion Paddox, former High Lord of House Pelagia, surveyed the plans before him and wondered if at last he may reassume his old title and the noble responsibilities behind it once again.
Having barely survived House Mecetti’s last assassination attempt that had claimed his wife and left his children missing in space, the key to his retribution looked as sweet as honey.
He stared up at the canny young forerunner of the Tapani Resistance, Andrey Volt. With his navy and bronze combat-pilot gear, his bright orange visor-goggles and spiky cyan hair, he looked a sight too outlandish to be a political pioneer and yet here it all was.
Thelxion was appearing to Andrey and his crew by hologram. His brother, Tinzen was present in the resistance headquarters however. Once an embittered drunk, crippled in the field and forgotten by most, he was now serving as one of the forerunners of the resistance, using a combination of his underground associates, former royal staff and defence-force colleagues to uncover nearly every secret that could be found on Pegalia and most of the states beyond.
Their sister, Tashiana Paddox also stood as a hologram while her husband, the defected Moff Larint Kalast stood among the crew in headquarters.
“It’s all here. Everything we need to completely overturn House Mecetti and their monopoly over the Sector.” Andrey explained bringing up the information and who had supplied it.
“Crown Prince Mimorias will bring proof of their forgery of the ancient royal signatures and testimonies, meaning the other Houses will no longer trust them. Their alliance with House Reena and Calipsa will collapse almost instantly.”
The pale young boy in rich garb and slicked white hair nodded and spoke.
“Hundreds of noble families who had safeguarded Tapani and the Republic for centuries have been wiped out at their hands. My parents preserved me for a reason. I hold the key to our enemies downfall. It’s yours now. Use it well.”
“Oh we will.” A tan girl with a bright blonde ponytail and a black-and-white striped jumpsuit under a gold jacket stood and gave Mimorias’s shoulder a tender rub “With what I’ve uncovered at the Bureaus, every member of Mecetti’s allies in all nine royal departments will have every instance of corruption and incompetence uncovered. Right before the public’s eyes.”
“Mivista ‘Mivi’ Adannu here has used her expertise in journalism to go deeper than her bosses wish.”
“Freelance is more fun.” The woman gave a grin.
“Which should also give away what he and his family did while they represented the Senate” a cadaverous Givin spoke, Daggibus Scoritoles, the former-Senator of Yahg’Dul, in hiding since Order 66 “How they broke their own sanctions and moved their own armies, whom they had the audacity to call a self-defence force, against their faraway rivals.”
“And broke many principles their people have long held dear and sowed corruption into the worlds they claimed to rule.” A thin, drab woman in a pale beige robe and a tribal headdress of twisting roots and ivy stamped a staff on the ground as she declared “Great and Ancient Alaphoe has spoken through us. The Coven will lay Mecetti’s vanities and idolatries to ash and rubble.”
“The natives of Alaphoe have lent us their unwavering service, bound in blood.” Andrey held up a scarred hand “Druidess Corji has helped us pin-point key weak-spots in the Mecetti monuments. It they fall all at once, on such a day as we have planned, it’ll be seen as an ill omen and a sign that the Mecetti’s time as undisputed rulers is at an end.”
“And then at last, their armies will be halted.” A bizarre creature with a hunch, chalk-white skin, long-pointed ears, goggle-eyes, a small trunk for a nose and a mouth of crooked teeth hobbled forward, two long spindly claws waving in front of the information “Odysseus S. Grant’s brutal slaughter of my people will be known throughout the galaxy. The veil he cast shall be torn asunder and Sefon will be free once more.”
“Vlul, the last Chief of the Sefoni, will be testament to House Mecetti’s war-crimes, before and after the Declaration of the New Order.” Tashiana explained “They have always possessed this mania for empire-building and trod heavily upon those who got in their way. The people of Tapani will see the hellish cost first hand along with the rest of the Galaxy.”
“That takes care of the royals, the ministry, foreign interests, clerical and military.” Andrei explained “Finally, to turn the public against him, we’ll be using the parade a few days from now to our advantage. Consider us the rainstorm.”
“We’ll give him a birthday he’ll never forget.” the hardy guerrilla, Carliam of Old Barong said eagerly, scars from the fires that torched his hometown still feeling fresh on his cheek “We’ve set up an ambush ready to seize the Mecetti Honour Guard troop at their changing rooms.”
“We’ll see to that, won’t we, bro?” A hulking Herglic spoke to his twin brother as Yaka and Taga, known in their smuggling circles as the Arkto-Cara Brothers, bumped fists.
“We dress in their uniforms throughout the parade then, when they reach city square, we play the footage on the holofeed across all of Procopia!”
“We’ll stash the real guard tied up in the parade floats. When Grant reveals the spoils of war, they’ll come tumbling out in his best corsets!” the tattooed wild-haired young woman once known as Grand Duchess Jilmi Maladori-Zel whooped “Then we bomb the parade with powder-paint and launch the net on him. Maybe shoot him with a defabricator dart. A lot of girls wonder what he wears under his uniform after all.”
Thelxion Paddox laughed heartily.
“I believe I’ll need to see that in person. The stuck-up silver-spoon-fed glory-hound will be crying like a baby.”
“But there is one last thing we are missing.” Tashiana Paddox spoke “House Mecetti still control the vast majority of Tapani’s wealth. If we chase them off the Sector, they may well leave us in a state of disrepair.”
“Already taken care of!” A grizzled but dashing-looking man in a weathered sepia longcoat with a spiky stripe of hair and a thick beard stood up with his hands out at his sides grandly.
The Paddox’s eyes widened. Tinzen stood and roared with laughter.
“Captain Calvyn Hune! You’re alive!”
“Can’t keep a bad joke down, as they say.” the Captain chuckled, once a henchman of House Calipsa, now a defector, a freelance bodyguard and a friend of the oppressed “And I’ve brought along some friends.”
A mighty alien lumbered in. Bright-red and speckled black, with a huge, jutting jaw filled with snaggle-teeth (A few fashioned from gold or gemstones) and three large eyes wedged under his furrowed brow. He wore the trappings of a pirate, dark and imposing, with a metal patch over his left eye.
“Damn, Calvyn! Ya’ been holdin’ out on me!” he snorted “Ya’ told me this was yer’ crew but they all look like they could buy and sell ya’ for the price a’ their haircuts!”
“Aw, you say the sweetest things.” Calvyn said sarcastically before turning to the Resistance members “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure, and I use the term loosely, to present Alonso Barkbone, Bane of the Colonies, Hero of the Poss’Nomin, Captain of the Herringbone and brother of Reginald the Scourge. With him and his trusty crew, read assorted scumbags, we have devised a plan to drain House Mecetti dry of its funds in one fell swoop.”
He brought up his own information, adding it from his holocron into the resistance database.
“We’ve been able to find a way into Palatte Mecetti, via the river-water system.”
“You’re kidding!” Mivi Annadu exclaimed “We’re actually gonna’ rob him blind, right from his own home? Raid his vault and everything?”
“No, no, his actual home has only a fraction of his accumulated riches.” Ex-Moff Kalast explained “To actually make Octavian Grant part willingly with the entirety of his wealth, we need to take from him something of much greater, sentimental worth.”
There was a pause.
“You’re not...are you?”
Calvyn Hune raised his hands with a grin.
“Quite simply, unless anyone objects, we abscond with the mother and sisters of our dear exalted Grant Admiral. We strike when they prepare to set off for the parade and sling ‘em in the Herringbone.”
“Fly them out to the Colonies border, send Grant the message, let ‘em cry in front of the holos for a bit and name the price, more than he can pay. We publicise everything through the feeds all across Tapani. If he doesn’t part with what he has, the good ladies Grant will find another buyer among the Hutt Clans.”
There was another pause.
Jilmi broke it slowly but loudly.
“Oh...my...gods...That’s awesome!”
The various members of the resistance laughed and whooped at the idea.
Tinzen raised a glass in enthusiasm.
“The final legacy of House Mecetti! Pounded at every end by horny slugs! They’ll write songs about it!”
“But what happens to Octavian himself if he doesn’t pay?” Tashiana Paddox asked.
“That’s the beauty of it.” Her husband answered with a smirk “The foundations of his wealth are built upon his old trust fund. Every noble family in Tapani has ties to him and most of them have members engaged to his sisters and other relatives. When they see him leaving the little trollops in the Hutt harems, they’ll withdraw every last investment then sue his perfectly-polished arse off before you can blink! Whichever path he chooses, he’ll have no money to speak of and nowhere to go home to...except the Empire of course.”
Thelxion nodded, working it all out.
"Who will most certainly kill him for losing them Tapani!”
“And with Tapani gone, they lose their only real hope to economically challenge Alderaan, Corellia and the other Alliance-aligned systems!” Andrey declared, holding his hand to every one of his companions one by one “With this stroke, comes more than just liberation, but a new dawn for all! And I feel I should say by now, that we could not have done this...without the Jedi.”
He beckoned to the corner where three figures in russet cloaks stood and approached.
They removed their hoods.
An elderly Quarren, a grizzled Sullustan and a female Tarisian human, olive-skinned and slender with her ruddy-coloured hair flowing in curls down her shoulders.
“Masters Sarn Vas, Whien Whulm and Mina Podia.” Andrey introduced them “It is they that brought us all here, allowing us to collect all this invaluable knowledge and unwavering strength that will allow us to beat the Empire. On Tapani and anywhere else that our fight takes us.”
Mina Podia gave a gentle nod and smile.
“We are gratified beyond words that we may aid the cause of justice.” she said “May the Force protect and guide us in our struggle.”
“Hear-hear, whatever the hell that means.” Tinzen brayed “We’re all in this now, whatever messes we end up in, we’ve got this far and we’ve further to go.” He turned to the hologram of Thelxion Paddox, putting aside the years they spent falling out with each other.
“What say you, brother? Are you in?”
Thelxion stared at the spectacle. A paradigmatic band of misfits, united as one, as mighty as the strongest storm.
Shaking his head in wonder and taking a deep sigh, a decades-long burden feeling lifted from his shoulders, he held out his hand to Andrey Volt who reached forward.
All present watched as the two figureheads came together, history being written.
Then there was a flash across the hologram. Thelxion seemed to blur.
Andrey Volt found himself reaching for nothing.
Thelxion Paddox stared at the stump that had once been his hand. His mouth opened and closed in silent horror.
He stared at the startled Resistance who were only beginning to realise what had just happened.
Hands appeared at his shoulders, dark and clawed. They grabbed him and pulled. In an instant, Thelxion Paddox was gone and the hologram was deactivated.
“Wh-what the hell?!” Andrey yelled as there was a scream beside him.
Tashiana Paddox was reaching at nothing as those same clawed hands clasped over her mouth and pulled her out of sight. Larint Kalast stood and stared, open-mouthed in terror.
“Tash!” he exclaimed “What’s happening! Andrey, what the hell is going on?!”
“I don’t know!” Andrey Volt looked around as the lights of the headquarters began to flash and dim, turning off and on irregularly.
There came a voice, seeming to resonate across the room, low yet feminine, cold yet amused.
“Poor things...So much planning, so much imagination and wonder...and yet, it never occurred to you just how this had happened to begin with? ‘Gosh, these Mecetti fellows certainly do break the rules a lot. Wouldn’t they need someone around to make sure they got away with it? Make sure there were no bones to dig up, no tales to tell, no sign of foul-play?’ Well, of course they would...And that’s where we come in.”
Shapes appeared in the dark. Tiny green lights shone in the shadows, darting here and there and inhuman speed.
A figure stood on the stairway leading up into their hidden armoury just below the Procopia slums. He or she was tall, slender, rigid, standing before them like a gleaming iron rod. Piercing eyes as cold as Hoth stared down at the Resistance.
“I am Suzerain Loalo Ettagon...We are the Mecrosa...All your men outside are dead...And you, my dears, have just taken your first steps into a world of pain!”
“Run!” Tinzen stumbled as he shouted “Don’t try to fight them! Just run! Just-argh!”
Andrey stared in shock as the shapes in the dark struck out, grabbing the crew members one by one.
No-one could reach for their weapons before they were seized.
No-one but the Jedi.
Mina Podia, Sarn Vals and Whien Whulm took three angles and readied for battle.
“Transcend the darkness!” The Quarren yelled.
“Defy the shadow!” The Sullustan bellowed.
“Call upon the force!” Mina Podia cried as they drew their lightsabres hence and pierced the darkness.
The outlines of enigmatic, armoured fiends blinked for a moment.
Then something was thrown to the ground.
Gas? Powder?
Mina Podia suddenly found herself clutching her temples. Andrey grabbed her shoulder and drew a blaster, trying to find a foe in the shade.
Vals and Whulm drew closer to each other as they too fell, discombobulated.
“What’s wrong?! Why can’t you use the force right now?!”
“I...I cannot...There is...an evil cloud upon us. This technique, these weapons...they are completely unfamiliar.”
“It helps to keep our ways a secret...to all but the dead.”
The tall woman stepped forward slowly, drawing what looked like two bracelets from behind her belt.
“Dear me...Jedi? The Environmental Protection Bureau are going to be so angry with us...killing endangered species!”
“Away, assassin!” Mina Podia surged forward and, azure sabre in hand, faced down the approaching Ettagon. “Even impaired as you find me, you are no match for a Jedi Master!”
The side Loalo Ettagon’s lips creased in amusement. Raising her hands, the bracelets in them clicked and crackled and revealed themselves as glowing-green, electric-charged hookswords.
The lightsaber came down.
It was met by the hooks wrapping round and holding the blade still.
As Ettagon drew them down, there was a burst of sparks and a scream as Mina Podia lost her sabre and part of her hand. Like a nexu, the Suzerain pounced and delivered a ferocious flying-kick to the downed Jedi Master who was sent crashing into the darkness. The shapes re-emerged and snatched her, vanishing from sight with their quarry.
Vals and Whulm rushed to challenge Ettagon. At left and right, they locked blades. The Suzerain’s blades fluttered and danced in her hands as the lightsabres swept at air.
In moments, the Jedi were disarmed and thrown off their feet. They were snatched before they hit the ground.
Andrey Volt stared, alone in the darkness, as the assassin leader marched forward.
He drew up his gun but, like Thelxion’s hand, found it’s barrel cut off in a single swoop as a powerful hand clutched at his throat.
“No...no...” He wrestled at the arm as hard as asteroid-rock, holding him in the air a moment as Loalo Ettagon stared into his eyes “H-h-how did you get in here?! Wh-who are you?!”
The woman tilted her head and answered.
“Of all your chief concerns at present...that is not one of them...” the sides of her jaw tightened in tranquil, expertly-measured fury.
“I am the single most proficient killer in the Colonies. There have been times when I killed so many in such a short length of time that we had to fake epidemics to cover up my work. I have drawn blood for House Mecetti since I was little and have safeguarded it from its foes since I came of age...And I just heard you plan to assault, kidnap and ruin my children...”
She drew his face close to hers, her voice a serpentine hiss flecked with venom as her free hand clutched somewhere at the back of his neck, sending him into unconsciousness as the words echoed in his head.
“Young man...abandon all hope of mercy.”
A bare fraction of light shone in the eyes of Andrey Volt.
His visor was gone and he could taste blood in his mouth.
He couldn’t move.
He glanced around and struggled to take in what little was revealed of his surroundings.
His clothes were gone. He standing upright, shackled by the heels. He was in some sort of stocks. He could see his hands to his left and right.
Something cut the skin under his armpit in a sheer metallic sliver that set him screaming.
More cuts struck at his elbow, his right middle-toe and under his left thigh.
And then he knew. He knew where he was, where the cuts were coming from and knew that he needed to stay quiet.
He had been placed in an Auditormentor, more commonly known outside Tapani as a ‘Box of Screams’.
An ancient instrument of imprisonment and torture designed by the Tritum Clan centuries ago.
It was complex in design, yet simple in practice.
It was a box, made of two layers of thin metal sheets, a narrow gap between the outer and inner layer. Inside this gap were a system of spindles which ran razor-sharp metal thread all across the box in a great cobweb of knives. Pushed against, they would not cut. But if someone was put in the box and held still, the thread would surround them, caressing every part of them.
But it would not cut.
Not until something close by made a noise.
The metal sheets vibrated to any sounded close enough to the box, causing the spindles to turn, drawing the thread across anything it touched.
Cutting. And cutting. And cutting.
The thread material was a rare and costly asteroidal metal that would draw only slight amounts of blood yet as they resonated with the rest of the box, struck as close to the prisoner’s bodily nerves as possible without severing them.
It was agony; pure, raw agony. To the point where prisoners would eventually, so desperate to escape, scream at the top of their lungs on and on, just so they would finally bleed out and die.
But one always ran out of strength long before they ran out of blood. They would be trapped, locked in a state between life and death in which only pain existed.
And that would be when they would tell the Mecrosa everything.
Struggling to keep himself from whimpering, desperately trying to turn his head to search for any of his crew, Andrey Volt prayed this was all a nightmare.
Then the voice returned.
“Look at you...Is there one thing you have done...that is good?”
Loalo Ettagon emerged, two Mecrosa Assassins at her side, garbed in armour that looked black but shone green, their faces obscured by a mask fashioned to resemble a fanged serpent’s skull with four glowing viridian eyes.
The Suzerain stood face to face with her prisoner, a flat frown across her powdered angular face.
“Did you think this was a game?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and putting on a mocking tone “‘I Will Go To Tapani and I Will Play The Bold Young Rebel With The Crowds’ Is that what you thought?”
Her gleaming grey eyes narrowed, her makeup making her appear skeletal in the shadow as her tone darkened more than the room itself.
“We are not a game, Andrey...We are real...”
She drew her hands up, her nails long and pointed like spearheads, painted chalk-white with a shiny green Mecetti Rune on each one.
“This chamber here? It is real.”
The tips of her nails tapped gently on the top of the box, just between Andrey’s neck and hands. Even slightly, the spindles turned to the motion and Andrey bit his lip hard, tears running down his cheeks as the thread cut here and there.
Loalo Ettagon craned her head forward and whispered, cold, clear and sharp as blades.
“I think your death...will be the first real thing...that has happened to you.”
And before Andrey could clearly process her words, she drew her nails hard across the box.
A metallic screech filled the room.
The spindles spun rapidly.
The threads ran fast.
Andrey Volt screamed.
And things suddenly became very real.
*
Pipsqueak trotted along beside the cantankerous Captain Feanor Rondel. Looking up with a smile, he spoke.
“Rae’s really nice.”
“Hrmm...” The captain mumbled, beginning to walk at a slightly brisker pace.
“I bet your soldiers must be doing really well with her in charge. And I bet you’re really proud to-”
“We’re here! Stop talking! Get inside!” Feanor Rondel squawked, causing the colt to jump slightly in shock, as they reached a door.
It wasn’t a door Pipsqueak remembered entering before but then he still hadn’t seen a whole lot of the massive Dreadnought.
Giving the irate Captain an awkward glance, Pipsqueak shuffled on his hooves as he waited for the door to open.
“I was just trying to be friendly...”
Rondel rolled his eyes and booted in the code to open the door. As he turned away, he gave Pipsqueak’s hind quarters a kick.
It wasn’t hard but it hurt and Pipsqueak tumbled into a dark room with faint red lights. Getting to his hooves and shaking his head, he pouted in the captain’s direction but the door had already closed.
He could barely see his forehooves on the ground. He screwed his eyes and tried to make out anyone in the darkness.
“Hello?” he called out “Mr Tarkin? Mr Yularen? A-are you there?”
The bright red lights seemed to hit him in the face. As he stumbled back, he found his hooves leave the ground.
A huge hand had grabbed the scruff at the back of his neck and he was hoisted into the air with a cry of alarm. Thrown into a hard, jet-black chair, he caught a glimpse of the people who were in the room with him.
“Y-y-you’re not Mr Tarkin!”
“Nor have I ever been mistaken for him.” The stocky, ruddy-faced man in black and red garb said with a cruel chuckle.
Grand Moff Croesus Crodd and Imperial Vizier Sate Pestage, both with sadistic smiles spread across their gnarled, ugly faces.
Pipsqueak found himself shaking in horror, the full measure of his situation dawning on him as manacles locked his hooves to the seat.
They were fitted to keep a grown man’s wrists pinned to the arms of the seats while his own arms were locked by the main brace across the chest.
Pipsqueak found his forehooves stretched uncomfortably and kicked his back hooves feebly in fear.
“Wh-wh-what do you want?!”
“That’s a bit of a loaded question.”
Pipsqueak gave a gulp.
“L-l-look, M-mr-Grand Moff...Crodd...um...” he mumbled “I-I-I don’t really know what I’ve done to make you angry but...er...”
“No need to get too frantic.” Crodd’s smile was as becoming more frightening than the rest of him. “We’re not doing this to hurt you. We just want to run a few tests...” he pressed a few buttons on a pad next to the seat which Pipsqueak did not like the look of.
“...To determine whether you’re a ‘good’ pony...or a ‘bad’ pony.”
Pipsqueak blinked and muttered aside.
“I don't think it matters at this point but you could have just asked my mum.”
“Oh, I see we think ourselves quite amusing, young man.” the gaunt, crimson-clad Sate Pestage gave a menacing grin, showing off appalling teeth “You are forthright for one so small...but then so are a lot of people we kill. It rarely does them any good and you, you intolerable little miscreant, shall be no different. This I assure you.”
“Look, it’s not my fault! You haven’t even told me what you want!” Pipsqueak sounded more peeved than anything else “Honestly, I’m getting tired of this! I’m not from here and I don’t know how I got here so why does everyone I meet think I’m flipping hiding something?! If I knew anything, I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure!”
He lowered his head a moment, his tone becoming gloomy, snuffling slightly.
“I’d be at home...with mummy...and then in Ponyville with Tungsten...and Ms. Cheerilee...and the Crusaders...and Dinky...” His voice began to crack as he remembered the world he felt he’d spent so long away from.
“Especially Dinky...”
“...right.” Croesus Crodd’s face was not a picture of sympathy “Well...forgive me for not wishing to know anything about your ‘Dinky’...or why you bring it up...”
“What?” Pipsqueak gave a quizzical glance “No, Dinky’s a filly. Another pony like me.”
“Good grief. Dinky. Pipsqueak. Do all parents hate their children where you come from?!”
“Never mind that.” Pestage sneered “Young man, I’m disinclined to believe you crossed a galactic barrier, if indeed that was how you came to be here, and have no knowledge of it.”
“No, I know how it happened, I just didn’t mean to.”
The Grand Vizier blinked.
“So you can travel in this manner?”
“No, Mr Pestage. I was sent here in somepony else’s manner.”
“What?” The old man was losing patience “Whose?”
“Well...that depends.”
Pestage blinked again.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, you need to promise me that if I tell you anything about them, you’re not going to hurt them.”
The thin, colourless lips of the Grand Vizier creased in irritation and Croesus Cross gave his dark, yellow eyes a roll.
“Do you...Do you not understand where you are at this moment?!” Sate Pestage snapped “Do you imagine that we cannot simply wring the information out of you through the careful infliction of agony if you defy us?”
Pipsqueak paused, weighed his words, then answered with a cheeky smile.
“Yes. Of course, sir...But I also remember something very important in Ogres and Oubliettes Book 4: The Leviathan’s Tears.”
“Wha...” Sate Pestage looked to Crodd as if asking if he understood any of it better than he did as Pipsqueak explained, remembering the very wise lines from one of his favourite books.
“When a pony’s tortured, he won’t tell his captors the truth. He’ll just tell them what they want to hear. If one uses violence to force an answer out of their prisoner, one can’t necessarily determine if that answer is the one they actually seek, merely the one their prisoner knows will postpone or even end their suffering. So by torturing me, or even threatening to torture me...you guarantee the possibility that I’ll just lie.”
There was a long pause.
Sate Pestage’s face had once possessed some degree of false compassion.
That was gone now. He was eying the grinning Pipsqueak particularly disdainfully, taking a deep inhalation through his vulturine nose before replying.
“You’re a wordy little bastard, aren’t you.”
“I’m just good at remembering my favourite lines.”
“I’m very swiftly growing tired of this charade. Perhaps you’ve not considered, my little friend, that I shall simply harm you on principle and that, by delivering me the truth and nothing else, you’ll earn some small degree of mercy.”
Pipsqueak’s smile faded but his voice didn’t waver.
“...I don’t think you’ll show me any degree of mercy no matter what I tell you.”
“That doesn’t seem likely, no. But wouldn’t you say it’s worth pursuing given the alternative?” Pestage’s macabre grin was guarding an enraged snarl from the back of his throat.
“Look, I’m telling you right now, I don’t know how I came here. I got dragged through a magical door or something back home and then I ended up on whatever-you-call-it...Oompah or Umbreon or something.”
“Yes, yes, but you see, young one, the part that shouts out at me there is ‘magic door’. I want to know more about this. How do your kind utilise these?”
“I don’t know.”
“...yes, you do know. And I’d suggest you tell me.”
“Why would I know anything? I don’t even know what it’s actually called.”
“Give me strength...” Sate Pestage massaged his temples “Listen! A child your age does not know how a blaster works. He may not even know it’s called a blaster! But his parents tell him not to touch it. Therefore, he doesn’t! That, in itself is knowledge! You cannot convince me that you, a member of a race that utilises this school of spontaneous galactic transportation, does not know any feasible measure of it!”
“But I didn’t utilise it at all! That’s what I’m saying!” Pipsqueak sounded more frustrated than scared “It must have been Discord.”
“Who?”
“Oh, um...he’s like a sort of...mismatch of this-and-that.”
Sate Pestage pressed a finger over his creasing brow and spoke through gritted teeth.
“You’re not getting through.”
“Well, he’s sort of a...god, I guess.”
“Right. So you have physical gods on your respective plane. Yet you cannot tell us anything to breach any waters regarding this field!”
“Well, Discord’s a god, yeah, but nopony really knows what he’s doing.”
There was another pause.
“THAT! MAKES! NO! SENSE!” The Grand Vizier’s face was going as purple and wrinkled as a prune “You have these powers given to you by a bloody deity! There is no logical reason why any member of your species, regardless of their age and upbringing, is uneducated in such a field that would cause such monumental chaos if used incorrectly! So either your kind make themselves wilfully ignorant of the very careful workings of something that could potentially cause total dimensional collapse upon themselves OR your kind guard these secrets as any creature would in such a situation. And this whole tedious exercise is your defence mechanism. And it will not succeed, I promise you. And it shall only get more painful for you the more you persist.”
“But it’s not my magic. I can’t even use magic, I’m...”
“The fact that magic, if that is indeed what it is, exists where you come from means, by simple logic, that you have some degree of knowledge of it.” The Grand Vizier interrupted “And this particular magic, the one that indeed affects us here and now, is the knowledge that I wish you to share. The idea of your kind not telling their own children of the dangers of the powers they apparently cannot keep in check is simply too stupid even for alien species. Aliens, in my experience, always seem to treasure their young. It’s often how we break them. So therefore, I am left with no other possibility. You are hiding something from us. And it needs to stop.” He leaned forward and bared his horrible teeth with an impatient grimace “Right...Now.”
Pipsqueak paused, weighing the words again.
“So wait...you’re sure that I’m hiding some sort of fact from you, about the magic that brought me here...based on what you think is the most likely scenario.”
“Naturally. Logic dictates that the simplest solution is the most probable.”
The little colt blinked and spoke slowly, as if he were a teacher educating a clueless student.
“So...let me get this straight...You find the idea that I, a small child, has some of sort of secret knowledge hidden in my brain...put there by gods...about some kind of space-travelling magic...that no-one has been able to master...to be simpler than the idea that I just don’t know anything and that I’m here by accident?”
There was yet another pause as Sate Pestage stared at the young colt. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he stammered for a rebuttal.
“Wha...Ye....Bu....No...The...SHUT UP!” Ironically, in the torture room he’d set up specially for Pipsqueak, he was the one screaming “The whole point is if you don’t tell us anything, we will hurt you! And hurt you! And hurt you! So do you want to tell us anything at all or are you going to Keep! Being! Difficult?!”
“Wait...okay...” Pipsqueak nodded, his voice sounded more unnerved than it had been “I can tell something...something you won't have known...something no-one's ever told you...”
“Yes?” Pestage’s grin returned like a mould and he leaned forward, inches from Pipqueak’s ear. “Speak?! What had no-one ever told me?”
Pipsqueak craned his little neck forward and answered.
“...Your breath smells worse than my Great Aunt Grottie!”
Sate Pestage practically flew backwards in shock, staring with his sunken eyes at the fearless little colt who blew a raspberry at the Grand Vizier.
Grand Moff Croesus Cross raised an eyebrow and murmured in a tone that only betrayed intrigue.
“...Well...can't say anyone's ever told you that.”
Sate Pestage looked ready to burst a blood vessel as he shook with rage, his horrid teeth grinding against each other, one eye twitching manically.
The Grand Moff stood up and placed a hand on his ally’s chest, turning to Pipsqueak.
“I have to say, you’ve proven your mettle, young Pipsqueak. I am earnestly impressed. But I’m afraid that’s often the first mistake many, many of our enemies make...as well as their last.”
“You don’t frighten me, Crodd!” Pipsqueak put on the toughest voice he could.
He felt a chill at the back of his shoulder.
Something was trailing over it. Something slimy, slippery, slug-like.
No...more like a...squid.
He felt his blood run cold as he felt another similar chilling sensation across the back of his neck, then another and another and another.
Croesus Crodd gave a wicked smirk as he retorted in a level tone.
“It would seem not. But perhaps if I left you in the hands of someone who does frighten you. Someone you’ve only barely managed to escape before. Someone...like...”
“Me.”
The little colt drew back in the chair he was strapped to, his face contorting with horror as Ilitha emerged, clambering over the chair like a spider. The manic grin was stretching across her face and her sheer black eyes stared into Pipsqueak so deeply, he felt her gaze practically pass through him.
They were worse than Thrawn’s. His were simply evaluating. Hers were looking at him and helping her come up with ways she could hurt him.
Dextrously, she gripped the arms of the chair and spoke in an eerie sigh, Pipsqueak feeling her cold moist breath on his muzzle.
“You’re mine now, little nuna...All...Mine...”
*
The water organ strummed listlessly under Thrawn’s fingertips.
Music was not on his mind. The Chiss was troubled.
It did not go unnoticed by Ensign Eli Vanto.
“You alright, pal?” he said, getting up and resting his hands on the Admiral’s shoulders.
“I am...uneasy...”
“Can’t think why. You certainly showed that smug sonovabitch, Zann, what-for.”
“Not entirely. He’s escaped and that can only entail more chaos to follow.”
“You must want him dead real bad then?”
“Honestly...I wouldn’t mind him alive provided I could keep him observed.”
Eli Vanto’s hands were beginning to gently massage the back of Thrawn’s neck. The Chiss sighed and rested his forehead in his hands, his elbows on the table.
“Forgive me, my friend...I’m not at my best.”
“You need some time alone?” Vanto gave his commanding officer’s back a gentle pat “How’s about I fetch us some tea?”
Thrawn half-smiled.
“Tea would be pleasant.”
“Be right back.” Vanto gave his friend a thumbs-up with a smile and departed the room momentarily.
As silence reigned in Thrawn’s study, he pressed his knuckles to his temples as the unwanted memories came flooding back, forcible and roiling like a storm at the door.
“Breathe...breathe...” the Chiss held the spluttering student by the shoulders as the dusky-haired, broad-faced boy found oxygen again. His face and hair dirtied with soot and nursing a burn on his right arm which Thrawn had applied a bacta patch to, the student looked up at the man who’d pulled him out of the blaze that had once been AEMA.
“Thank you...sir...”
“You are lucky. Luckier still that I am overlooking your foolishness.” Thrawn’s tone became stern “What is your name?”
The boy looked sheepish.
“Niriz, sir...Dagon Niriz...I’m not a straight-S student or anything.”
“Irrelevent.”
“Look, sir...I went in to find Karyn...Karyn Faro. We have to help her.”
“Miss Faro is already in the medical bay. She left the building before you did and told me to find you. This is why it is important to inform your tutors of danger before taking matters into your own hands. Do you suppose school fire drills are simple ceremony.
“I’m very sorry, sir...” The boy bowed his head and coughed some more.
Thrawn stood and nodded.
“Report to the medibay and see to those burns. Your friends are waiting.”
Dagon Niriz found his feet and departed and Thrawn turned to the dilemma his colleagues were facing.
“I’m sorry, sir. My crew have done all we can.” the gaunt, weathered and somewhat-fatherly looking maintenance officer was close to yelling as the fire crews worked their way into the ablaze academy.
“There has to be something! Anything! We can’t let it all frazzle out!” Ardus Kaine was at his least calm, his usually Tarkin-esque hair a mess under his nervous hands as he gave the officer a growl “Haven’t you got into the lower levels by now?”
“Sir, it’s an inferno down there. We can send in droids but even they’ll take at least three hours to get anywhere.”
“Bugger the droids! Use everyone!”
“Sir, the elevators are compromised and the stairs have collapsed! I’m not putting my men through that kind of danger!”
“They’ll be in worse danger if we can’t salvage anything!”
“Mr Kaine, I should inform you that we have a union and they will not ignore deaths in the workplace.”
“Listen, you miserable scarecrow-of-a-man, we-”
“Enough!” Thrawn bellowed over the din, turning to his colleague.
“Kaine, what’s lost is lost. Our much more severe worry is what may have been stolen.” He then turned to the maintenance officer and spoke as courteously as the situation demanded.
“Mr Erso, my own associates can help combatting the blaze. You have my word that your crew will not suffer danger. The floors below have a corridor system that is fully protected. The fires are strong but you should not encounter falling debris. Here.”
He gave him a holoprojector.
“Use this. Contact me if there is any danger. Therbon. Hammerly. Show him the emergency corridor to the lower levels.”
“As you wish. Everyone follow me. Don’t touch anything we don’t tell you to touch if you don’t want to lose limbs.” Therbon yelled as she and the Teaching-Assistant Rovaena Hammerly, a giant of a woman with a broad-chin, spiky blonde hair and piercing teal eyes, led the firefighters down into the AEMA underlevels, Hammerly hoisting up a burning chunk of structure in the way and tossing it aside in one hand.
‘Right...right...salvage...’
Thrawn half-paced half-stumbled through the smouldering grounds, looking for any sign of foul play while his mind fought itself furiously.
Confusion felt almost entirely unfamiliar to Thrawn.
Everything before now had worked in a completely orderly cycle. A maze of vast and intricate but perfectly correlated workings.
Now everything was a winding mess. Overgrown. Mud. Thorns. Tar. Fire.
He tensed himself, trying to shake the nonsense out of his head.
How did this happen?
Were the droids malfunctioning? No. Therbon checked. Therbon knew droids.
Were they under attack? No. Kaine oversaw the security network. Kaine knew networks.
The sudden explosion, selective and precise, could not have been natural or accidental and it would have had to come from within.
But who had anything to gain from AEMA’s total collapse?
‘Damn it all!’
None of it made sense, that was what he was finding so terrible.
He shook his head, his hair starting to hang loose over his furrowed azure brow.
He stepped on something and nearly slipped.
Something wet.
And red.
He stared, his crimson eyes turning to the floral gardens.
The Kibo flowerbed had been disturbed. A body had fallen upon them and was now half-buried under the pale, purple petals.
Thrawn rushed to it and pushed back the flowers, grabbing hold of the body’s shoulders and raising it to his eyes.
A young female human greeted his eyes. One he’d had particularly high hopes for.
Thrawn felt the muscles in his chest constrict like strings pulled taut.
“Ami...”
Amilyn Holdo, high-performer from Gatalenta, now lay in Thrawn’s arms, her head lolled back morbidly, her blue-grey eyes wide and dulled.
As Thrawn cradled her, he pulled back his hand. It felt wet, sticky. He looked at it now stained red.
Amilyn’s pretty pink bob-cut was frayed and matted by a thick mesh of blood and dirt.
As Thrawn looked closer, he saw crimson trails pouring out her ears and the corners of her eyes.
“Ami...Medic!” he yelled over the blaze “Get a medic! Now!”
“Thrawn?” Ardus Kaine approached, cantering in and crouching to stare at the spectacle “Dear stars above! It’s Miss Holdo! What the hell happened?!”
“I don’t know, she was lying in the flowerbed, she’s been struck at the back of the-”
“Thnn...”
There came a mumble and the body of Amilyn Holdo twitched and jolted in Thrawn’s arms, small mumbles and murmurs coming from her mouth as blood started to trickle from her nose.
Thrawn held her tight as Kaine summoned the emergency medivac.
“Holdo...Ami...Stay awake, understand? Don’t close your eyes. Whatever you do, do not close your eyes.” Thrawn’s blood-stained hand clasped Holdo’s. He felt her hand move, tightening around his own.
Good. She was conscious. Some response still remained.
But she hadn’t long. Her skull was definitely fractured.
“Holdo...can you hear me?”
“Thnn...Em-m...Znn...Zn...”
“What?”
“Zzznnnnnn...” Amilyn Holdo’s lips had creased to the left as she gasped through clenched teeth.
Then she coughed. Blood escaped her mouth. Her eyes were tilting back in her head.
“No! No, no, no, stay stable, Holdo! Stay with me!” Thrawn clutched her hand as he searched desperately for the medivac.
“Thrawn?” Kaine’s voice was lowered and worried.
The Chiss looked to see a band of figures, several of them in distinct robes that, to them, was akin to an executioner’s hood.
They had been discovered.
Ardus Kaine stood still and looked to Thrawn as if asking if a blaster was needed.
Thrawn, meanwhile, still busied himself stopped Holdo from going into shock.
One of the robed figures, a towering Vurk, stepped forward and spoke, his voice low and booming.
“Founders of AEMA. I am Jedi Master Coleman Trebor. Your establishment has been found to have siphoned Republic credits meant for the war effort for a project not documented by official civil records and has also been gathering resources and intel without referral or authorisation from assisting bodies of government.”
“Yes, but you see-” Ardus Kaine began but one look from the Vurk silenced him.
“It is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest for deception and conspiracy to commit illegal seizure of power. Have you anything to say?”
“Sirs! This girl requires a medic!” Thrawn barked.
“You, sir, have no authority to demand any civilian service at this time. Officially, as a non-Republic citizen, you shall not even have the right to an attorney. You will accept questioning under the Republic Security Bureau and answer us-”
“Did you not hear me?! This girl has suffered a mortal injury!”
“Interrupt me again and you shall be treated as an uncooperative suspect.”
“Master Trebor...if you please.” Another of the robed figures stepped forward. This one was a human. A man approaching middle-age with shoulder-length auburn hair and a gentle beard. Beside him was a young man, likely in his late teens, in similar colours but instead of a robe, he wore a dark tunic. His chin was broad and his hair was spiky, one strand tied into a small braid at his shoulder.
The apprentice observed the scene and spoke.
“Master, the alien’s right. This girl needs help.”
“I have to agree, my young Padawan. Master Trebor, we can’t let her die. Please allow us to heal her.”
The Vurk raised a scaly eyebrow as his mouth creased in distaste.
“Master Kenobi, she is a suspect in a crime that may be considered treason.”
“Well, she won’t be anything else if she dies.” the man named ‘Kenobi’ answered.
“The Council will not approve of this, Master Kenobi.” A Klatooinian in Jedi robes added gruffly “The force is not some treat to be showered upon the desperate like spare credits.”
“Master Gon, the council must understand that-”
“SIRS!”
All eyes turned to the Chiss who was kneeling with the pink-haired girl’s head in his lap, staring furiously at the Jedi with bright scarlet eyes.
His voice came out calmly than his expression.
“You have caught me and I deny nothing. I take full responsibility for this event and I shall subject myself to any questioning process you may deliver...but if you refuse to help this woman...I will kill something!”
Tentatively, Kenobi and his Padawan stepped forward.
“You don’t need to worry. We’ll take care of her. Anakin, hold her up by the shoulders and make sure her head is level.”
“Yes, master.” The boy, Anakin, replied and took the Chiss’s place. Thrawn stood, his breath returning in a wracked way, watching the scene intently.
Master and Padawan held Amilyn Holdo steady as the elder Jedi held his hand over the other and focussed. His hair seemed to breeze back as if a gentle breeze was emanating from his hands. His bright blue eyes seemed to gleam slightly as the Kibo flowers blew back a moment.
Kenobi’s hands moved apart slowly.
There was a gasp.
Young Amilyn Holdo fought for air, tears running down her cheeks that were, thankfully, clear.
The power of the force.
This was perhaps the first time Thrawn had seen it used for good.
“Th-Tha-Thra-Thrawn!” Holdo managed to say.
The Chiss crouched and held her hand again.
“I’m here, Holdo. It’s fine now.”
“Zann!” she choked, pressing the hand she held to her forehead in dismay as her body wracked with sobs “It was Zann!”
Thrawn was quiet. Grim recollection flowed through him. And knowledge that felt hard and cold and heavy as it reached his mind.
Betrayed.
With a sigh, he stood.
“You should be alright now, Amilyn...Forgive me. I have made a severe lapse in judgement...and brought the consequences upon those who trusted me. In one who calls himself a teacher, there is no greater crime.”
“But...sir...” Amilyn stumbled as she was picked up. Kenobi turned to his fellow Jedi.
“Master Danva? Could you help Anakin take this girl to the medical bays?”
“Certainly.” A pale man with a kindly expression and a Budunki-style ponytail took Kenobi’s place in assisting his Padawan with carrying Holdo to the medibay.
“Sir...Mr Nuruodo...” the girl mumbled “Don’t...don’t go...”
“It’s alright, Amilyn.” The Chiss said flatly “I will ensure you are looked after.”
He then turned to the flat-faced Jedi and set his expression into one betraying nothing more than mild disapproval.
“Very well...Do what you will.”
Weeks later, Holdo was standing and talking but the girl he’d known was gone.
Once she was able to unravel a complete astro-naval formation in moments, pinpointing the exact point that would chain together a blow to shatter an enemy force thrice the number of her own forces.
Now, she had been staring at the holographic naval simulator table for three minutes, her hand shaking over her pieces as Thrawn waited, a patient look hiding concern as he sat before her in his cell.
Behind Holdo, the young Padawan Anakin Skywalker wore a similar expression. Thrawn couldn’t tell what held his attention more, Holdo or himself.
The Chiss tested the waters.
“Holdo?”
The Gatalentan rose her head suddenly, eyes wide with unease.
He knew the moment it happened that he shouldn’t have pushed her. Now, she was even more anxious.
She’d never done well under anxiety, this he’d noticed. Calm and composed, she was at deft and sharp as a scythe but taken out of her element and she tended to lapse in judgement. Acted too quickly or not quick enough, sacrificed too much for unnecessary gain, became too focussed on completion that she took too many risks.
Now, her element had been misplaced, locked away and hidden from her. Her attack had broken her shell, exposing her to her assembled apprehensions.
He could see it in her eyes.
At last, she moved her hand to push one of her flagships back and the fighters around it to the sides, likely preparing a primary cannon.
Thrawn’s own hand began to hover.
Was she ready for this?
He supposed it would benefit to see where she was going wrong. And she’d never liked him going easy on her.
He pressed one of the ‘Tactics’ buttons and two stored flagships and accompanying craft appeared in the left corner of Holdo’s side of the board.
Holdo’s eyes were wide but Thrawn couldn’t quite determine whether this came as a complete surprise to her or not.
She was used to this kind of tactic but did she remember how to combat it?
Her hand was shaking even harder before it darted back.
She turned the flagship to her right from the ambush to the side as a reserve, charging up a long-range cannon.
Thrawn gave a sigh and moved the ships to his left forward. On Holdo’s flank which she’d left unguarded, his starfighters and frigates drew forward and two of her flagships went down, including the one that had been charging a cannon last turn.
Holdo stopped and stared. Her mouth opened and closed.
“Wh...how...How did you...But...I saw that, but...”
It was as if something had just clicked in her head and suddenly she had no recollection of just how they’d got there.
“Holdo, you took your eye off the field itself. Your focus was too narrow, do you see?”
“But...I thought that was how you’re meant to-”
“Yes, pulling your troops around to cover the flank would have worked fine if I was on the defensive. But I wasn’t.”
“Yes but...you didn’t tell me you weren’t on the defensive...”
“Why would I?”
“I...don’t...know...” she mumbled, beads of sweat running down the side of her face “I-I-I’m sorry, sir, I-I-I can do this, I-I promise, I-I-I th-think I left something outside the classroom. W-w-we can come back to it after break, I just-”
“Holdo, we’re not in the classroom.”
“...No...I...”
She stopped. Steadily, like a machine running out of power, she slowed down and sat completely still, her eyes wide, her mouth open, her hands clasped in front of her.
Thrawn’s face creased with concern.
“Holdo?”
The Padawan moved to assist but the Chiss held up a hand.
“Don’t...I don’t think that would be wise?”
“Is she okay?”
“...no...” Tentatively, Thrawn took one of Holdo’s limp, shaking hands and spoke.
“Holdo? Can you hear me?” he asked “...Amilyn?”
“Agh!” The girl jerked back to her senses with a small cry of alarm. She stared a moment, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
“Amilyn, would you like to start again?” Thrawn asked.
“I...I don’t know, I...I thought I...” Amilyn Holdo’s shaking hands seemed to paw at the side of her face as she began to weep, rocking back and forth in a fit “I used to know! Why can’t I get it right! I always used to get it right! Wh-wh-what’s happened?! I-I-I-Oh damn it! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She doubled up on her seat as Thrawn stood and gently patted her back.
“I’m sorry...” she whimpered “I’m sorry...”
“It’s fine. You have time to improve, Holdo. You still did quite well under the circumstances.”
“But...before I...I could have...”
She’d never actually managed to defeat him in the simulations but she’d definitely come close. She’d even destroyed his primary flagship a couple of times.
Only two others had ever managed that even once.
And Zann...Thrawn thought it best not to mention him.
Now, it seemed, she was a long way away from that level.
“Holdo. We’ve both suffered a setback. It’s natural, practically inevitable for minds like ours. We work through them, always. To achieve greater heights.”
“But...if I was still...as good as before.” she sniffled “I...We...could have done so much by now.”
“Amilyn Holdo...” Thrawn gave a gentle smile “If it’s any consolation, things would not have been that fast even if AEMA was still standing. Success rarely arrives when expected.”
Holdo looked up, nodding quietly. She climbed unsteadily to her feet.
“I...I should go...” she murmured “Do you...You will come back, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Thrawn answered, placing a hand gently on her shoulder “In time.”
Amilyn Holdo nodded again, taking a handkerchief the Padawan Skywalker offered her and departed.
The Jedi made to follow her but stopped at the doorway.
Thrawn found him a curious fellow. Headstrong and inconsistent but not stupid. Not by any means.
Anakin Skywalker, Thrawn seemed to recall that was his name, looked at the prisoner with sincerity.
“You know...” he said “If it’s any consolation...I think you did the right thing. This whole academy thing you were making. Finest minds in the galaxy, working together, outside of all the...regulations...I’d probably do the same if I was in your position.”
“My position is not enviable, Master Jedi. But thank you all the same.” Thrawn nodded “It was far too great a risk, to be sure. Keeping it all so secret felt...exhausting after a time. And with how it all transpired, I’ve little to be proud of at this stage.”
Anakin shrugged.
“You saw inefficiency in the system and you worked against it. I’d be proud of that no matter how it ended...” He glanced down the doorway then added.
“We need more men like you in the galaxy.”
That made Thrawn smile.
“Master Skywalker, perhaps we’re not so different after all.” He gave him a friendly nod of camaraderie “Perhaps you’d make a fine teacher yourself.”
“Heh...” Skywalker chuckled “Better not let my master hear that or neither of us’ll ever hear the end of it.” He heard footsteps approaching and gave another shrug.
“I should go. Padm-er...Senator Amidala requested Miss Holdo was well-looked after...It’s been nice meeting you.”
“You too, Master Skywalker...I hope to see you again when all this is over.”
As the Jedi departed, a squad of Senate Commandoes in their gleaming indigo armour strode in.
The Captain, Argyus, Thrawn believed he’d heard him called, was not fond of him. Removing his helmet to show off his curled blonde hair that looked somewhat fox-like in those twin peaks, he spoke in his imperious tone.
“Alright. Get him up. He’s darkened these walls long enough.”
“Ah. Is it time for my trial then, Captain?” Thrawn asked as two guard hauled him to his feet.
“Past time, alien.” Argyus answered with a sneer “We’ve received word from your Ascendency or whatever you call it. Seems they’re no happier with you than we are. You’re being sent home with a note and they can deal with you however they like for all I care. But you’d better not come back.”
The memories felt cold as a corpse. Pushing them out of his body felt like burning away infected wounds.
As Eli Vanto entered with two cups of steaming tea, Thrawn pushed himself up from his desk and gave a grateful smile.
Reluctantly, he remembered the same words he gave to Kaine.
“You’re a Tarkin. I don’t get to call you an ass.”
“...fair enough.”
Parisian Froul and Shayla Paige-Tarkin stood shamefully before the irate Lieutenant.
Rae Sloane has just been informed of the Corporal and the Senator’s fears and shared them almost immediately.
“We don’t actually know Crodd has him.”
“I’m not inclined to take the risk!” Rae barked “Where’s Captain Rondel?”
“He’s not going to tell us anything.”
“So who else knows? Who else would know?”
“Where would they be taking him?”
Shayla piped up.
“The Emergency Interrogation Room.”
“Don’t you mean Emergency Medical Room?” Parisian asked.
“That’s...not how we run things, Pari.” The senator said flatly “If anyone’s in a state of emergency, first thing we want to know is why. Therefore it helps to have a place where we can find out, quickly and efficiently, what the trouble is.”
“With instruments of torture?”
“If necessary.” Shayla gave a shrug “The presence of them in the room, we find, is very effective in convincing the subject to get to the point as it were.”
“Rrrrright...” Rae said slowly, reminding herself that behind the playful smile, bright eyes and friendly atmosphere, Shayla was indeed a Tarkin through and through “So where’s this room and what might they be doing to Pipsqueak in there?”
“This way. And let’s not think about the second part.”
The three sped down the corridors. Shayla in her slender dress seemed somehow faster than the two in officer’s garb. Swerving round, they caught sight of a door darker in colour to the rest of the corridor. Rae practically grabbed the doorframe and frantically jabbed at the comms button on the door control panel.
A small metallic voice sounded, familiar and decidedly unwelcome to Rae’s ear.
“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’re expecting any visitors. Please leave.”
“Grand Moff Crodd?”
There came a small chuckling sound from behind the very breath of the speaker.
“Is that you, Lieutenant Sloane? To what to I owe this pleasure?”
“Is Pipsqueak in there?!”
“I believe that should be ‘Is Pipsqueak in there, your excellency.’ for a start.” The sneery voice of Sate Pestage replied through the speaker.
“Sir, please release him into his allotted custody.”
“Let me think...No.”
Rae gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice level.
Sobbing and raging over the comms was exactly what they wanted from her.
“Grand Moff Tarkin has declared him a civilian.”
“A civilian that spent prolonged time in the company of hijacking fugitives. Under Imperial law, that puts him under suspicion.” Pestage replied surreptitiously.
“Sirs, I implore you-”
“Implore away. Please.” Crodd’s voice was disturbingly calm “It changes nothing. We will conduct ourselves as protocol would demand, Lieutenant. As, I trust, will you.”
The comms box gave a fizzing snarl as it blocked off transmissions from outside.
Rae took a step back, her chest rising and falling faster and stronger, raising one hand in front of her and realising it was shaking.
“...frak...” she murmured, slowly rising in volume as she repeated herself “Frak. Frak. Frak. Frak! Frak! FRAK! FRAAAAK!”
Her fist slammed against the corridor and in her rage, she couldn’t tell if her arm or the wall was trembling.
Her teeth ground against each other as she could feel a misty-sensation about her hot, furrowed brow.
“I need to get in there! And I need to get Pipsqueak out of there!”
“I...well...what exactly do you want me to say, sir?” Parisian fumbled with his words “I...you don’t argue with a Grand Moff.”
Rae snapped her fingers in revelation.
“No-one except another Grand Moff!” She pointed to Shayla “Where’s your uncle?”
“I-in his chambers. But Rae, I don’t think that’s going to work.” the young Senator said anxiously “I mean, Uncle Will could get in and out of there alive but I can’t promise he’d be able to rescue Pipsqueak. And with Pestage at Crodd’s shoulder, I...I really don’t think it’ll make any difference. A Grand Moff can’t override the authority of another Grand Moff.”
Rae clutched her temples, shut her eyes tight and opened them wide again.
“No...but there’s someone who can!”
There was a pause.
Parisian paled.
“You’re not...suggesting...”
“He just got here. Screed told me on the comms.”
“But sir, he’s not going to want to-”
“He owes me a favour.”
Before Parisian could inquire further, Shayla piped up.
“But if he’s in his own chambers, you’ll never be able to get in without permission and even then-”
“That’s what your uncle can take care of!”
“Look, I keep myself in his good books, easier for me for most, but even I can’t just waltz in and ask to see the Supreme Commander!”
“No. But I can.”
“Rae, are you mad?!”
“Quite possibly. No matter which way you look at it, there’s only one person on this ship that can save Pipsqueak right now and I need to see him before Crodd, Pestage or whoever else they have can do anything more to that little colt!”
“Lieutenant...” Parisian mumbled, shaking like a leaf as he croaked out the words
“...You could die.”
Rae blinked and slowly nodded, her voice flat and deadpan.
“Yeah...yeah, I could, couldn’t I.”
She seemed to stand still for a full twenty seconds, flat-faced and contemplative.
Then turned down the corridor towards Tarkin’s chamber without another word.
Parisian Froul watched his commanding-officer depart, quite possibly for the most dangerous mission she’d yet seen.
He wondered what his father would say about it.
If Rae did die, who’d oversee his field training?
Who would he want?
Who’d want him?
His train of thought was cut off as Shayla raised a hand in the air and seemed to sniff.
Taking a step back and placing her hand in a pocket at her hip, she waved a fob at a maintenance cupboard and spun round imperiously as the door opened.
Parisian Froul and Shayla Paige-Tarkin found themselves staring at a duo of frightened-looking female Twi’leks.
“Now...” Shayla barked, sounding more Tarkin than ever “Perhaps either of you can tell me just what I’m supposed to do with you!”
*
Voss Parck hated this part of the job.
To keep him occupied while the higher-ups cleaned up the mess, he’d been sent to Sector Epsilon, the training floor, to oversee marksmanship exercises.
He wondered if ‘exercise’ was the right word. That would, it itself, imply something was being achieved or improved.
He could see no sign of that from where he was standing, watching the recruits manage varying levels of failure in the attempt to shoot standing holographic targets.
It was an ongoing problem with the Imperial Armed Forces.
‘Men’ were needed more than ‘Soldiers’.
The capabilities of the Stormtrooper divisions varied drastically. The troops actually being sent into the frontier, remnants of the Grand Army of the Republic and the more recent Galactic Marines such as the ones Rae Sloane commanded, were the cream of the crop. Their officers would regularly search the military academies for high-performing graduates and enlist them on the spot, completing their training in camp and readying them for the field.
But the standing garrisons, troops drafted for planetary defence, had to make do with the scrapings.
Adding to the problem was the tendency for the various leading families in the Core Worlds to draft an army of their own as well as take any fairly-adept stormtrooper on as their private defence force.
Voss Parck shook his head as he glumly jotted down the performance ratings.
This particular group were to be sent to Sermeria, a thankfully relatively peaceful planet. Parck knew that if Ister Paddie of the Imperial Council ever discovered how few times his planet’s new garrison had ever hit the target, let alone any of its vital points, he’d never sleep well again.
Beside him, Captain Feanor Rondel leaned against the wall with a sulky expression.
He’d been talking for some time now.
“There’s no real future in it, is there, the corps! Not now, anyway! I mean look at us!”
“Useless...” Parck muttered as he scrawled “Absolutely useless...”
“Exactly! And really, when you take all the problems apart, it all comes down to this bias towards women!” he snorted, speaking louder “Yes, some of us dare say it! Some of us, hard-working, dedicated, born-soldiers, we never get looked at twice! Just fodder for the ones in charge. The stuff that isn’t eye-candy!”
“This is just...this is sad. Truly, utterly sad.”
“You said it! I mean, look at me! I barely get noticed! I sent an admission form for a place in General Staff a month ago and I still haven’t been seen to and I bet Therbon’s got something to do with it! She has it in for me! Mors too!”
“Maybe they’d do better if I actually told them to miss...”
“I thought with Bana bloody Breemu finally gotten rid of, things would be different but there is nothing, nothing at all some nasty bint hasn’t gotten her claws into! I have never been called forward once since the Battle of Coruscant and even then, that whore Salima made sure I was out of the picture! I was out there in the streets of Coruscant making sure things were kept in order while she was away having a damn grease-orgy with those she-mechanics she’s so fond of!”
“I’m starting to see why we keep building giant lasers on everything. Even these idiots couldn’t miss a damn planet...not for lack of trying...”
“I have four years of good conduct to my name! Four miserable years! Have I got a ceremony for it? Fat chance! Meanwhile, Sloane, who hasn’t two brain-cells to keep each other company, is flavour of the frakking month! They’ll be making her a Moff one of these days, stars help us all! But honestly, what’s she done that a man like me hasn’t? She’s been promoted by pure chance! Right place, right time, nothing genuine! And as for Daala, who the hell does that little ginger jailbait think she is?! Swanking about the fleet, acting like no-one knows she worked her way up the ranks on her knees! That’s how women like her get ahead, they’ve convinced high command that the rank system is a free-for-all-frak-factory and to hell with the rest of us who want to actually prove ourselves in battle!”
“I wouldn’t be so worried if they were any good in melee but no...”
“Right! That’s exactly what I say! And if any of us actually steps us and says what a bloody disgrace it all is, they all mope and shriek and say ‘Ooh, you just object to a woman doing a man’s job’! Well yes, I do and I think it’s about time someone made that count for something! You know what, I bet Mothma’s got something to do with it. Think about it, she was all over these bloody stupid ‘inclusion policies’ back when she was a Senator, turning the field armies into a living joke! And the Kaminoans must have loved that! Those long-necked freaks didn’t have to deal with feminine-annexation in the armies they were pumping out! Sly Moore! She’s behind it all, poisoning the Emperor’s mind! It all adds up. Senate, military, civil affairs, it all comes down to her, playing both sides just to see the Empire emancipated for all to see!” He kicked the air “One day I’m going to find the connection! Then we’ll see some proper changes! After all the prisons I’ve been sent to manage, I can think of a few fine fellows serving time in them who’d love to get to know Rae Sloane. See how she likes that particular ‘inclusion’!”
“I mean, I knew things were bad but this...”
“I know. You think I’m joking but really, something needs to be done. We need to act. Or it’ll be too late! I mean, I’m being sent to Kamino soon, and either I come back with no-one having noticed, or Sloane accompanies me and she returns a conquering hero! It-it-it’s got to stop! They are bad for the Empire, it’s plain to see! One of us has to stand up to them and put them in their place, the way Palpatine should have done three years ago!”
“Right.” Voss Parck put away the register he’d been marking down and turned to the door “I suppose someone needs to show the Grand Moffs they’d better hope Sermeria doesn’t get any usually violent loiterers anytime soon.”
Feanor Rondel blinked nonplussed.
“Sorry, weren’t you listening?” he snapped.
Parck turned with a frank expression and tone.
“Yes.”
“Well?
“Well what?”
“I mean...Aren’t you concerned?!”
Parck took a deep breath, reflected on Rondel’s words and answered.
“Well...I’m concerned that your mother may have beaten you as a child.” He turned and walked to the door, ignoring the thoroughly flabbergasted Captain Rondel.
“But frankly, it sounds like she still does.”
*
Pipsqueak felt his courage begin to degrade.
It was as if someone had thrown a hard pellet through a window. The smash itself hadn’t destroyed it but bits and pieces were fragmented and falling off in the aftermath.
That was how his nerves felt.
“Uh...” he mumbled “Look, um...I’ve already said I don’t know anything.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you have.” Ilitha’s speech was pretty casual. She wasn’t prim and austere like Pestage nor gruff and rustic like Crodd. Relatively, she sounded quite normal, her way of speaking not too unlike most ponies he’d met.
But something about it was just...wrong. Something behind it all suggested this was a woman who rarely ever got to know someone without hurting horribly.
And worse, it felt like she very much was to get to know Pipsqueak.
“But here’s the thing...You haven’t given us any reason why we should believe you.”
Pipsqueak sought a response.
“Wh-wh-what’ll make you believe me? I-I-I can’t tell you what I don’t know...”
“No, you can’t, can you.” Ilitha said flatly.
Pipsqueak sat completely still in the chair as the Nautolan’s four, clawed, slippery fingers hovered over his ears.
“But sometimes we know more than we know we know...”
“Huh?”
“Something we missed, something we saw but didn’t know what it meant, what it led to, what it measured.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My point, little pony, is that what you know doesn’t interest me so much as what you saw.”
“Well...maybe but...I can’t show you what I saw.”
The Nautolan laughed quietly as Pipsqueak felt the hard, wet, slightly-sticky fingertips of his captor press against the sides of his head.
“Wrong.” she whispered.
Then something shifted inside his skull.
Pipsqueak’s jaw locked together as he wheezed suddenly through gritted teeth, the back of his head slamming against the seat, his limbs shaking and jolting in their cuffs. His belly seemed to compress as air was forced in and out of him without his control or consent. His mane stood completely on end as his eyes widened to the size of a full-grown stallion’s hooves. He felt them tugging forward, trying to squeeze out of his sockets. The soft parts of joints felt as though they were being stretched like gum. He was certain the tops of his teeth were cracking.
He felt certain, then and there that her fingers were digging under his face. Under his eyes. Straight into his skull.
He tasted dust.
His vision was blurring and blackening.
But he heard everything.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Pipsqueak.” Ilitha’s voice sounded calmer and more dangerous than ever, the smile stretched wider than physical possibility dictated “I’m going to get inside you. Deep inside. And then, if we’re both lucky, I’ll find what I need. First though...”
His eyes went black without closing. He felt himself feel smaller and smaller, sinking into an abyss that was forming around him slower than he could fall.
“We need to crrrrrrrrrrack...you...open...”
He found his breath again. His hooves felt weak and his buckling hinds refused to pick him up at once.
He was home.
But not as how remembered it last time he was here.
And yet he remembered it being like this once.
Everything was dark. The lights were out, broken, glass was all over the floor. Everything was gathering dust and cobwebs. There were dark stains all over the floor and walls. The wallpaper was feeling and the windows were smashed. Parts of the wall were cracked, almost as they they’d been actively kicked by a...
Pipsqueak felt his blood run cold.
...a stallion’s hoof.
Thump!
Something pounded on a door somewhere. Something big, hard, angry.
Thump! Thump!
This time it was at the door to the room Pipsqueak was in. He scrambled to his hooves and stared at the door as something from the other end kicked at it.
In that instance, Pipsqueak forgot all about Ilitha. And Crodd. And Pestage. And Rae. And Tarkin. And the Maldovar Boyz. And Thrawn. And the Fantasia. And Ayy Vida and Lunae Minx. And everything else.
All he knew was this.
All he remembered was this.
And there, in that dark, empty room, he heard the voice that had always heralded a world of fear and pain.
“COLT!!!”
A stallion’s voice, possessed of a lower-class Trottingham accent, slurred, groaning but so terribly loud and sudden.
“OPEN THIS DOOR!!!”
Pipsqueak started shaking, backing away over stumbling hooves, feeling his breath come in and out twice a second.
The door behind him was open slightly. Rushing to it, he threw it open with the full side of his body.
As the long, dark corridor seemed to stare into him just as much as he stared into it, he heard (And felt) the hinges of the door behind him give way as it burst open, falling flat on the ground.
His eyes felt like they’d had sand ground over them.
He wanted to cry, sob his heart out, but no tears came and he was too desperate for air to waste it crying.
His body was shaking all over, his fur felt dry and lifeless.
Ilitha was standing over him, stretched out on the base of the seat.
Her eyes had rolled back almost behind her lids as her hands left Pipsqueak’s temples and were caressing her own face.
She was licking the fingertips that had dug into Pipsqueak’s mind.
“Such...sweet...pain...” she murmured ecstatically.
Crodd and Pestage were giving unimpressed looks. Nothing about them seemed shaken.
“What manner of madness was that, may I inquire?” The Grand Vizier sneered.
“A most advanced school of Sith-craft.” Ilitha answered “An obscure and esoteric cousin of the traditional mind manipulation technique. It is known as the Eye of the Dark Side.” She gave a giggle as Pipsqueak felt her tentacles slap against his face and neck.
“What an...interesting father you had, little nuna.”
The colt began to break, whimpering audibly, shutting his eyes tight wishing for the nightmare to end.”
“What’s his father got to do with anything?”
“The Eye of the Dark Side is the pinnacle of interrogation performance. It allows its user to tap into the subject’s mind, seeing all that they have seen and knowing all that they know and more.” She grinned her hideous grin again “But to unlock the mind, one must break through a proverbial barrier, in this sense, find the most deeply repressed memory, the situation in their life they felt most vulnerable and afraid, and have them live it out as many times as it takes for them to utterly open up their lives to you. Think of it as breaking through a floodgate. Apply enough force in the right area...and they are yours.”
"Speaking of floodgates..." Pestage edged back with distaste "He's not going to have an...accident, is he?"
"No. Grand Vizier. While I get into his mind, the bodily functions are practically shut off. It's why you need to let them up for air after a while."
“How long does this take?”
“Well...” she chuckled “That all depends on you, doesn’t it, little one.”
The colt dared to look up with his stinging, bloodshot eyes.
“...please...” he murmured.
“You need to grant the subjects pause to come up for air, you see. In some cases, this has taken days...but it always works.”
She leaned forward.
“I don’t think we’re going to have that problem with you, are we, little Pipsqueak.”
“...I...” he gasped, between sobs “...please...”
“Ready now? Good.”
“No! Not again, please! Don’t take me back to him, ple-”
His begging was cut off as the fingers came back, digging deeper.
*
“So you see, honoured royals, the outline of our proposition.”
Senator Gem Sirrom stood in a trailing maroon cape before the Tapani Royal Council of Procopia who were busy gazing ponderously at the holographic charts and prints the Senator and her associates had planned for them.
There was a silence in the mighty house of government that betrayed little sway one way or the other.
“Miss Sirrom.” One of them, the stocky, moustachioed Colonel-Ducal Heron Strobestock of House Barnaba, said at last “These are...well...your planning is quite impressive...but I fear there is simply too much you fail to take into consideration. Tapani needs its armies.”
Sirrom raised an eyebrow and replied.
“You mean House Mecetti needs its armies?”
“The military affairs of Tapani are a council matter. It just so happens that House Mecetti has demonstrated the most proficiency in it.” Lady Nastascha of House Cadriaan said plainly “It’s all perfectly logical, we all agreed to it.”
“How willingly? And was there not one who argued against it? One who contributed just as much military power, if not more so, and better still knew how to keep it in check and use it for good?”
“Ma’am the business with House Pelagia was...a complicated issue.”
“They did break the law.” Lord Barleos of House Melantha added.
“And what right did House Mecetti have in judging them? In condemning them?” the senator shook her head “What they did, would you call that justice? Or convenience?”
An uneasiness hung over the court. Few had forgotten the aftermath of such an event.
“Madam, House Pelagia weren’t blameless in the affair.” the sagely, soft-spoken Lord Weston Warsheld of House Calipsa said calmly “They were just as capable of cruelty and greed as their rival, if not more so, many of the other houses can testify. It was not a massacre of innocent parties, it was a clan war that House Mecetti happened to win.”
“I would ask if those are your words coming out of your mouth, my lord, or Grant’s.”
Gem Sirrom’s words cast another gloom as the Lords looked uneasily from one to the other.
“My good lady, Octavian Grant is not the official master of House Mecetti, merely its heir.” the balding Baron Quinn Sheffield of House Reena pointed out.
Sirrom hid a scowl. It was well-known Sheffield was among those responsible for giving Grant and his mother the loophole to leave the Grand Admiral free to come and go to Tapani whenever he pleased without fear of reprisal.
“Yet he commands it nonetheless. Is that what you consider in-keeping with the royal customs and conduct of Tapani?”
“The complications of ruling a Royal House...”
“Should not be his, as the information I have brought you proves!”
“I caution.” Warsheld spoke firmer than usual but Sirrom noticed hints of fear in his eyes.
The pet vornstr of Lord Muntique, Warsheld’s kinsman, growled slightly but Muntique calmed it with a ruffle behind the ears. He spoke, possessed of a much blunter tone than his lordly uncle.
“You don’t know Octavian Grant like we do, my lady. He may not look like much but he’s deadly. Utterly deadly. On the surface he might well look like some puffed-up, flamboyant nancy-boy but...when he actually enters battle, it’s like he becomes a new person.”
“His tactical prowess and attention to detail can ensure his fleet switch from an impenetrable floating powerhouse for the whole galaxy to witness to an invisible warhost spread over the sectors with no-one noticing.” Sheffield spoke with a tone indicating some amount of admiration.
“The fact he was top of his class in the academy is not mere fluff you find on other admirals. He’s patient, ruthless and commands absolute obedience from his fleet...” Nastascha finished “If the Royal Houses were to depose him, not only would we upset the Empire in a way we would be fortunate to escape unharmed but we would create a power vacuum across Tapani and its reaches.”
“Which would be avoided if you would join our Delegation.”
“Join your fight, you mean?” Strobestock asked with a hint of sarcasm.
“You wish to live without House Mecetti and its power-games? We provide you a way. As part of the Delegation, you shall share in the bounty and protection of the civilised systems.”
“As if to say we are not civilised?” Barleos sniped.
“Not at all, your grace, but surely you cannot ignore the problems Tapani faces. You have stood apart from galactic affairs for the better part of an era ever since the Great Sith War. Now Grant is attempting to drag you his way. We offer a way out.”
“By dragging us your way?”
“If you consider our proposition uncomfortable, read over the facts again.” she pointed to the holographic images “Unlike the Empire, we are honest and humble. We outline every difficulty or damage you may face and take responsibility for it. But what does the Empire offer that we cannot?”
“Security for one.”
Sirrom gave a curt exhale, tossing the single curl in her tied-up hair.
“In this intel, we bring news of how many ‘threats’ House Mecetti have claimed to have destroyed to be either exaggerated or outright faked. When House Mecetti, nay the Empire, cannot fabricate their enemies, they actively create them. They will lead Tapani into war.”
“And have a greater chance of winning it with their aid, surely?”
“What would be the point when among the Delegation, you needn’t fear war?” The Senator explained “And with the right course of action, such as the one we’ve outlined in our proposition, Grant will have no say in the matter.”
“It would take more than the word of the council to topple Grant from his perch, there are millions across Tapani who call him ‘hero’.”
“My lords, I say this in confidence.” Sirrom gave a smile “Very soon, circumstances will change that.”
Strobestock stood, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.
“So there is resistance activity in Tapani! You swore it would not be so!”
“Sire, this particular group only made indirect contact with us recently. They are not our agents, merely concerned citizens of Tapani who wish to live without the boot of the Empire on their throats.”
She looked to the lords, betraying no contempt for them.
“Change is coming to Tapani. Loud and fast. Will you be a part of it?”
The lords were quiet.
Deep down, Gem Sirrom couldn’t stand the collection of preening, arrogant, overindulgent high-born before her and neither would the Delegation. It was their intention to grant louder voice to the common people of Tapani and slowly but surely weather away at the royal influence until they remembered they ruled for the people’s benefit rather than their own.
Get rid of Grant and they’d have no-one to hide behind when the masses pounded on their doors.
They needed Tapani. They didn’t need its lords.
She spread out her arms.
“So, my lords, what shall it be?”
The Royal Council looked to each other.
Warsheld finally stood, a tentative look on his face.
“If what you say is true, madam...then we-”
“My lords! One has entered in grace and esteem!” A herald spoke in a voice that ran through the room.
Sirrom spun round to face the door and beheld the visitor. Her face immediately creased with disdain. She folded her arms and stood firm.
He couldn’t harm her, she reminded herself. He couldn’t disrupt what was about to happen.
“Enter Octavian Auguste Grant, son of Odysseus Sigismund Grant and Penelope Anjoulia Panos, grandson of Laertes of the Green Flame, and Scion of the venerable House Mecetti. Grand Moff of the Tapani Oversector, Grand Admiral of the Galactic Empire, Commander-in-Chief of the 20th Army Emerald Banner Command, Captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Oriflamme, Protector of the Colonies, Lord of Obulette, Castellan of Procopia, Conqueror of Pelagon, Hammer of Obelia, Arbiter of Bethal, Beloved of Lastelle, Bombast of the Leozi, Conciliator of Nella and Grella, Bane of Sefon, Defender of the Grand Procopian Shipping Lane, Honorary Captain-General of the Tapani Home Defence Fleet Honour Guard, Gonfalonier of Tallaan, Knight-Commander of the Order of the Wyvern of House Mecetti, 1st Class of the Order of the Nightsinger Aflame of House Reena, Prime Stockholder of Tampson Consolidated Inc., Master of Laws and Bachelor of Fine Arts at the Eminent College of Procopia and...Adeptus-Evidente of the Mecrosa Order.”
The Herald bowed and retook his place in the corner of the chamber.
Sirrom rolled her eyes and muttered.
“There’s more for anyone who hasn’t died of old age.”
Long lists, lofty titles, pretention and aggrandisement, pomp and circumstance.
Typical Imperial practice.
The lords stood and bowed as Grand Admiral Octavian Grant paced elegantly over to the Royal Council.
“My gracious lords.” he spun his hand and bowed in turn “I cannot apologise enough for my tardiness. Circumstances that were as necessary as they were arduous delayed my arrival.”
“Quite understood.” Warsheld said plainly “And...does the absence of House Mecetti’s official representative on the Royal Council continue?”
“Sadly. Lady Gantrolo yet remains on my estate. The scars her depraved Pelagian husband left upon her still sting.”
“We shall pray for her recovery.” Nastascha added.
Behind Grant came several figures.
A tall, slender, angular woman with short teal hair and a dark dress took a spot behind Octavian Grant. And behind her were a set of indistinct individuals in robes of bottle-green and indigo with veils that obscured their faces.
Sirrom was now less certain of things running smoothly. If these were who she thought they were...
Technically, an Adeptus-Evidente was the only rank and title the Mecrosa used that allowed one to say they were a member in public. One would have to be virtually untouchable socially and politically to be named as such.
But was he actually bringing the Mecrosa here?
Rule of Tapani. If you were important, rich and gathered in a group, Mecrosa meant nothing good.
They were carrying something in on a floating push-platform. Lots of fairly decent-sized metal boxes stamped with the seal of House Mecetti.
Something was off about this, Sirrom didn’t have to be a Jedi to know.
Octavian Grant spoke.
“I’ve been informed of the state of things. Apparently, Miss Sirrom, delighted by the way, you claim that it is in Tapani’s interests to disband the Planetary-Defence Corps and reject the prospect of an Imperial garrison.”
Sirrom gave a quiet clear of her throat and spoke flatly and firmly.
“That is correct.”
Grant’s smile was unwavering.
“Well...forgive me for sounding foolish but I would ask what we are meant to do if ever we are attacked?”
“In the event of any threat to planetary security, one would look to those close to them.”
Grant blinked.
“Yes, I um...” He was putting on a show of false awkwardness and unawareness “I rather thought that was why we support the Empire.”
“No, Mr Grant. It’s why you support the empire.”
The lords turned to her with widened eyes.
Sirrom had played this game before and she remembered what Mothma had taught her. The first and largest hurdle in disassembling the empire.
Make the people no longer afraid of them.
Grant, it seemed, had not lost his composure.
“Senator Sirrom, I generally do not let my opinions and needs override those of Tapani. The support I offer the Empire is equal to that it offers us. Threats must be dealt with quickly and efficiently.”
“Really? And what happens when you become that threat?”
That made Grant laugh. Not evilly but sincerely. As if he had genuinely heard a very good joke.
“What an extraordinary idea, my dear lady! I’ll have to ponder over that this evening with a nice glass of wine.”
“I’m being serious.” Gem Sirrom raised an eyebrow “You are not this council, Grant, and you do not speak in their stead. Lately however, you have far overreached yourself both in authority and in conduct. I have observed your methods in overseeing the Tapani government, Grant. Whenever your right to preside over the council, effectively as an Imperial-puppet-dictator in all but name, is questioned then you bring up the possibility of threats to the sector. Yet none come. None have made news. So I will ask you a question, Octavian Grant, and I expect it answered immediately and honestly.”
Grant heard Loalo Ettagon gave a curt sniff, hiding fury, but neither of them broke from their composed demeanours.
He spoke.
“Ask.”
“When was the last time Tapani saw a serious threat to its people and how swiftly was it seen to?”
At this, Grant pulled out an ornate-looking pocket-watch, checked its measures, and answered with a grin.
“To the first, dear lady, three hours ago. And to the second, dear lady...three hours ago.”
The lords looked to each other again, befuddled.
Gem Sirrom blinked and continued her query, hoping to dig beneath the façade of confidence Grant was putting on.
“I would ask for proof of such a claim.”
Grant chuckled again, this time a bit more sinisterly, raising his hands close to one another effetely.
“My dear Miss Sirrom, nothing could be simpler.”
He clapped.
And the Mecrosa opened the boxes.
There was a chorus of gasps, shrieks and splutters as out of the boxes, all opening by remote simultaneously at the front, tumbled around thirty severed heads.
Humans, aliens, males, females, large and small, old and young.
Senator Gem Sirrom stared at the sight of Andrey Volt’s blank dead eyes and mouth so wide in a silent scream there were signs of tearing at the edges of his blood-drenched lips.
Her ardour broke.
Grant had bought corpses into a house of government. And these particular heads were ones she’d been talking to as early as this morning.
The lords stood, not so much in shock as as in submission, as if it were a gesture of conceding defeat, many of them recognising the heads of the Paddox triplets and those of other royalty.
“I...would ask...whom...” Warsheld managed to say.
“And I would be happy to answer.” Grant stepped forward, his nimble steps avoiding the heads as if he were dancing around them.
“A group of assorted ne’er-do-wells, dissolutes, fugitives and otherwise people of unsavoury repute and ill-intention. My dear aunt is presently sending the holographic plans they had prepared to the council mainframe. There is no other word to describe it but terrorism.”
The holoprojector on the ceiling reactivated and showed off the plans the late Tapani Resistance had planned.
“They would strike at the parade at Obulette. See the fine details for yourselves, my lords. Bombs set off, blasters fired, networks hacked, funds stolen, guards attacked and impersonated, respectable members of the community abducted and held against their will...and worse. Tell me, my lords, in sincerity, do we allow such things on Tapani?”
It was Sheffield who found his voice.
“No, your grace.”
“Should we though, do you think?”
“No, your grace.”
“No...I thought not.” his tone sounded evaluating, as if he himself were the man least certain of the point he himself was presently making “And I suppose we should be very grateful that my dear aunt’s venerable associates were able to trace this threat, in record time mind you, and rooted it out before any innocents could be hurt. For let it not be ignored that this resistance fully intended to have as many members of the populace involved in their schemes, whether they liked it or not. Such is their way. A ‘Join or Die’ approach. Most unseemly, I find. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course, your grace.” Barleos answered.
“Hm...but then, I worry for your own provinces. House Mecetti’s own protectors were able to act fast but, and this is not to say you are incapable of protecting yourselves, but supposing any other terrorist cell regards this as an action warranting retribution and decide to point their malice at my firm friends in the Royal Council...” He sighed, folding one arm over the other and placing a free hand below his chin “I would spend many a sleepless night...If only we shared the proper military presence...united...stable...as loyal to Tapani...as Tapani was loyal to them.”
“You...speak of setting up an Imperial garrison on Tapani, your eminence?” Nastascha supposed with a heavy murmur.
Grant snapped his fingers.
“Now there’s an idea! Obviously, I was a bit uncertain. It is after all a very complicated matter but, faced with the alternative, perhaps you’d find the idea more...appealing. We would need a large one, set up a post on Procopia, though we’d use the Tallaan shipyards most of the time. Your families would, of course, be well compensated.”
“It...seems that would be wise at this stage...” Strobestock said with a cough “Provided this garrison would acknowledge that the authority of the Royal Houses does count for much in Tapani.”
“Oh without question, my lord. Respect and protection for all communities under the Empire is our number one priority.”
“Fine...and...how soon would it take for you to establish the garrison?”
“Oh, I already have. I know, I know. Naughty Tavi.” He slapped his own wrist “But you see while there still was the presence of an active terrorist group, one who had displayed an aptitude at hacking and espionage, I felt it necessary to keep the matter as disclosed as possible until we could be certain that nothing in the making would go awry. Please accept my apologies if I have acted out of order.”
“No, no, your eminence, it is...quite clear you acted in our best interests.” Muntique mumbled, holding his pet vornstr from the appetising feast before it “Obviously...things could have gotten very much out of hand...”
“I’m glad you understand.”
“We will, of course, continue to do our duties to Tapani as we will to the Empire.” Warsheld said, adjusting his collar.
At this, Grant gave a smile.
“Your graces, I am certain that his Imperial Majesty appreciates your willingness as much as I do but I believe that your work-load shall be substantially lessened. Four hours ago, Imperial High Command enacted immediate total economic centralisation of Tapani’s State Affairs Departments. Effective immediately, the Ministry of Planetary Defence; the Department of Taxation, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs; the Ministry of Education; the Ministry of Culture; the Department of Transport; the Department of Information; the Sectoral Broadcasting Agency and the Ministries of Public, Social and State Security are transferred with all branches, sub-departments and connections presiding...to my jurisdiction. The House Ministry of Inquiry is to be re-established and other ministries promoting Imperial recruitment, crisis informatics and information distribution in regards to the Empire and its works are in establishment as we speak.” His face brightened “On the plus-side, you all get paid vacation. You may arrange booking with the Secretariat.”
“You um...you are most efficient, your eminence...” Strobestock burbled, finding his feet “And clearly very influential with this Empire.”
“I just try to make sure everyone rests easy, knowing that this will be an alliance that will bring Tapani peace and prosperity like never before. I will of course be happy to hear counsel and constructive criticism if ever you should feel it necessary.” He bowed again with both hands open “Fast-tracked as I am, I still have plenty of growing up to do and I hope to learn from the wisdom of my elders in the grand adventure of politics.”
He signalled to the Mecrosa who began picking up the heads and redepositing them into their boxes as well as trailing snaky, furry mop-like implements over the floor to clean up any blood.
Grant clapped his hands and grinned jovially as the Mecrosa took away the boxes and departed.
“Now, if that’s all for today, my mother is throwing a little return party for me at Palatte Mecetti this evening and you’re all invited. I hope you like Tallaani food. My dear sister Orcidia makes a simply scrumptious Baranda Marinade.” He kissed the air “You’ve never tasted anything like it, washed down with the finest wines and spirits in the Colonies. We hope to see you there. Eat, drink, dance and sing to your heart’s content, I certainly will.”
“Too kind, your eminence, too kind. We shall...enjoy such an occasion, I’m sure.”
“Yes...I’m sure too. Farewell, dear friends. Have a lovely afternoon.”
Gem Sirrom stared as the lords shuffled out the side-doors without a word.
It wasn’t just the severed heads they tried to avoid looking at.
Not a one of them had even glanced at her since the Mecrosa had appeared. It was as if she was no longer in the chamber.
They were absolving their responsibility. And why wouldn’t they. It had been the resistance who’d invited her, not they. And the resistance were now in Mecetti-stamped boxes.
It dawned on her that she was now alone in the royal chambers with a mass-murdering Imperial Grand Admiral.
Standing before her.
Smiling.
Octavian Grant approached in quiet, cat-like steps, his hands behind his back.
Gem Sirrom’s body felt frozen with fear, completely still and yet her insides felt like their twisting and pulling each other horribly. Like a hard gourd left out in the open and just starting to crumple.
He held out a hand, twiddling the fingers boyishly.
“The plans please, Miss Sirrom.”
Gem Sirrom stood there for what felt like an hour.
They were alone.
Weren’t they?
This was Tapani, his land. The Mecrosa oversaw what the Empire couldn’t.
A dozen possibilities played out in her head for what might happen if she refused.
With a hand that felt like it was shaking even though it wasn’t, she handed him the holocron of the plans she’d brought forth to the Royal Court of Tapani.
Loopholes in the system, alternative means of security, providing what the Empire could not.
All the things Grant had missed he now had in his hands.
Sirrom managed to speak.
“...we have copies...”
That didn’t seem to surprise Grant.
“Wise. Though it didn’t do that lot much good.”
“...so they didn’t talk?”
“Oh they talked. Quite a lot, in fact. But I prefer to have these things in writing, don’t you?”
They were barely three inches apart. Sirrom could feel his breath.
He was wearing perfume. She could smell it. Fresh dew, cut grass, forest moss, celonslay and sweetroot.
It was the kind of perfume that kept those who smelled it awake, whether they wanted to be or not.
He deposited the plans into his shirt pocket but he didn’t move back.
That smile was more frightening that the veils of the Mecrosa. In fact it was very possible a smile like that was what one would find beneath the veil.
He spoke. Slowly, contemplatively, as if it was only slightly worth the effort.
“You know...I’m still trying to find a way you could have thought this would end well for you but...I simply can’t.”
He paced forward, making her step back. Other than that, nothing about his posture or expression changed.
“I imagine it felt good. I see it in your eyes. You like to imagine you’re some kind of undercover dynamo, working in secret with a galaxy-spanning network to unravel the workings of this megalomaniacal dominion taking apart the things you find most precious...”
The way he was looking at her, one might have thought he was looking at an adorably simple little tooka.
But his voice grew darker.
“Funny...All I see is a parasite, angry at life, crying in a corner and hoping someone will cry along with them, just so they know they aren’t alone. You see...you say whatever you please. You know you’ll find someone who agrees with you. More parasites. You don’t need to know who they are or how they can help you because you aren’t looking for help. You just want to pretend. Pretend that somehow what you’re doing is not only productive but outright heroic. After all, sharp words can cut just as deeply as if they were blades.”
He chuckled as he held up one hand in front of her cheek. Sirrom gave a small gasp as she felt her back touch the council table. She had nowhere to run and was now staring at the hand raised before her face.
He wasn’t touching her. Just hovering. As if miming.
“Not yours though. A blade, you see, has a direction, a motive, it will cut and draw, leaving a mark.” He drew one finger across the air as if drawing an invisible scar over her “Yours are like needles, in and out, over before we even know it’s there. Not damaging but...not pleasant...in any way.” He pinched the air tightly “It’s not a lasting pain but...it’s irritating.”
His hand just hovered and nearly met the beads of sweat running down Sirrom’s face.
“But I have always found it...so funny...how someone who takes such issue with how we deal with irritations...would so swiftly, clearly and obviously risk becoming an irritation themselves. I am genuinely curious what you thought was going to happen!”
He was openly laughing now at the situation he must have thought seemed so trivial.
“And now I see it...I really should have expected it. You didn’t think at all. You were too busy imagining everything was out to get you. You’re just the angry voice in the shadows, cursing and shrieking at things you know nothing about. You’ll say anything because you feel so strong there where no-one can see how small you are. You cast a mighty shadow. But put in the light...you stand here...helpless...waiting...for my reaction...And I can scarcely contemplate how much you regret putting me in such a position...to warrant my reaction.”
The hand moved forward.
And quickly but ever so softly tapped the top of Sirrom’s right ear.
But there and then, the first movement after so much harrowing trepidation it was like a forcefield had shattered.
The Senator gave a shriek and fell to one knee, one arm reaching out to grab the table as the other clasped the side of her face. Gem Sirrom gasped for air, her eyes wide and staring blankly in front of her.
Octavian Grant just stood and watched with a soft smile that looked almost pitying.
After a moment had passed, he daintily reached down and picked the Senator up by the shoulders, steadying her as if he were a kindly matron, and straightening the collar of her dress.
It was a nice dress, he found. He’d have to look into Dahvinian fabrics.
Tossing his hair in a carefree manner, the boyish grin still etched on his features, he reached forward to give her shoulder a mellow pat which she barely felt.
Beside her, he leaned his neck forward and whispered, still wearing the eminent smile and carefree expression, his voice as sharp and cold as a deep-space asteroid shower, the words appearing to echo in Sirrom’s stinging ear as he passed on his message to her friends in the Delegation.
“Get out of my home, you rebel scum.”
*
Rae Sloane found the door to the Grand Moff’s chambers quickly.
One only had to look for the Mon Calamari before it.
The Mon Calamari was an elderly fellow, his scales a mottled ochre.
His name was familiar to him.
“Ackbar!” she caught her breath “I need to speak with Tarkin. Right now.”
“I’m...sorry, Lieutenant. I do not believe that would be acceptable at this moment. I can take a message if you wish.”
“I’m sorry, this is something I need to tell him right now.”
“Ma’am, I...I’m sorry. I cannot disobey his wishes.”
“You’re his butler, Ackbar. Not his bodyguard.”
“Nonetheless, he would find it most irritating.”
“Look...you can say I threatened you. If you gives you any grief, talk to Shayla. I promise...” he patted him on the shoulder “I’ll take responsibility.”
The alien blinked with wide, piscine eyes.
“Very well, ma’am -ahem- sir.”
“Just call me Rae.” she said with a smile as she made her way to the door.
She could have sworn it had grown larger while she’d taken her eye off it.
Taking a deep breath and swearing that if she ever got out of this then she’d know there was nothing the wars to come could do to her, she pressed the doorbell on the chamber door-control.
There was the sounds of commotion behind the door.
She’d interrupted Tarkin in the middle of something.
She cricked her neck and seemed to forget what madness had possessed to do this.
Angry Tarkin.
The notion, in itself, was a byword for a grim, grisly and unenviable death.
She fought the wish to break and flee as the door slid open.
Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin was standing before her in a gown as grey as her blaster (It felt wrong to call it a ‘dressing-gown’. When Tarkin was wearing it, the word sounded too nice and cosy to apply).
Fighting the wish to see if, according to the mess-hall rumours, he actually did wear fluffy pink-slippers behind closed doors, she stood to attention as the Hammer of Eriadu fixed her with a glare.
Some people had such an iron expression that so many saw that the slightest tug of the lips of raise of the brow could signify safety or certain death for the one observing it.
Wilhuff Tarkin was a master of this form of psychological warfare. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips were thin and his brow was just ever-so-slightly furrowed.
And yet it was as sharp and menacing as a knife at her throat.
He spoke at last.
“Lieutenant.” If he was tired, his voice gave no indication but he emphasised every other word just to drag out the harrowing conversation “I trust you are able to justify your intrusion with matters of profound importance.”
Rae remembered Pipsqueak. And played her hand.
“Grand Moff Crodd has taken custody of the foal, Pipsqueak.”
Wilhuff’s expression did not change.
“Unfortunate...And?”
“Sir, I ask, with due sense of decorum and reverence, to overturn his authority and return Pipsqueak to my care.”
Wilhuff Tarkin blinked. Not out of shock, it was a levelled blink, as if to quietly ask himself if Rae Sloane was still standing before him.
“I believe you shall find that impossible for...a wide variety of reasons.”
“Sir, Pipsqueak is a neutral civilian.”
“But he was in the presence of enemies of the Empire.”
“He was captured, sir. And for hardly longer than an hour.”
“No, Lieutenant. If you are an Imperial citizen or serviceman, you are captured. If you are designated a neutral party, being in the presence of enemies of the state is grounds for questioning under standard protocol.”
“Sir, I am certain that Crodd and Grand Vizier Pestage plan to torture him.”
“As am I. But the matter is not mine to resolve. A Grand Moff may only overturn another’s authority with the approval of a higher authority and I would presume that Grand Vizier Sate Pestage is the aforementioned higher authority which, in this instance, will not favour my own.”
“Yes, sir, I am aware. That is why I ask for your permission to...speak to the Supreme Commander.”
This time, Wilhuff Tarkin did look shocked. His expression still barely changed but the look in his eyes was there.
“You...wish to speak...to the Supreme Commander?”
“That is correct, sir. You hold the access control key to his private chamber on this ship so-”
“Yes, I am well aware of that, Lieutenant.” he interrupted “But first I would endeavour to ask a number of questions.”
Rae tensed. Pipsqueak was still waiting for her and she didn’t want to think about what Crodd, Pestage or that crazy Nautolan were doing behind that door.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you recently been drinking, Lieutenant?”
“Sir?”
“Specifically alcohol, if that was not clear.”
“I don’t understa-”
“Answer the question.”
“...no, sir.”
“Indeed. Have you recently been smoking on one or multiple death-sticks?”
“No, sir.” Rae didn’t like the direction these questions were following.
“And have you recently been engaging in the usage of any narcotic spices?”
“No, sir.”
“Fine. In that case, I would like you to immediately arrange an appointment with the ships’ psycho-analyser droids for I fear your mental corpus is not currently seamless.”
“But, sir...”
“It is out of my hands, Lieutenant, for reasons I should not have to explain. I did, if you remember, warn you that the foal was your responsibility and I wanted no nonsense from him. Alas, this was not to be the case and while I am perfectly aware that circumstances were not in your control, that doesn’t change the fact that-”
“Oh Willy? Are you coming back soon? Your muse is missing her font of...Oh!”
At that moment, a young lady possessed of long fiery auburn hair, wet from bathing, and hungry cat-like eyes strode into view behind Tarkin.
Rae imagined that Thrawn would have found the moment similar to the classic paintings.
Not because of its serene atmosphere or dynamic poise or whimsical background but because the subject in question wasn’t wearing any clothes.
Upon noticing the presence of someone at the door, Captain Natasi Daala gave a squeal and pulled up a nearby towel to cover herself, blushing furiously and giving a slight giggle.
“Hey. Nat.” Rae said cheerfully.
“Hi, Rae.”
Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!
The lips of Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin grew white, thinning themselves as far as they’d go, as the old man furiously snapped his fingers over and over in front of his flustered mistress who tentatively ducked back into the en-suite bathroom, leaving the Grand Moff to turn back to visitor who now stood before him with a face she was strenuously trying to keep as flat as possible.
He spoke before she could get the chance.
“Her shower is broken.” she said bluntly “Her room is closest to my own. I have allowed her usage of my washing and/or bathing facilities for the time-being. It is all completely professional if that was not already clear.”
“Perfectly clear, sir.” Rae replied in a civil tone “May I ask, sir, in the wake of recent events, how fares your lady wife?”
“How the hell should I know?!” Wilhuff Tarkin replied in a much more abrupt tone, showing definite signs of impatience.
There was a pause and for a moment, Rae Sloane felt sure that she’d gone too far.
When Wilhuff Tarkin reached for a compartment at the side of the door, she knew that he would either give her what she wanted or a blaster bolt to the face.
Thankfully what he held up before her was a key fob, marked in shiny red code.
“Take this and leave at once. We shall not speak of what has occurred here, am I quite understood? Anything the Supreme Commander feels right in doing to you is not my concern. If you still remain alive on this ship tomorrow, I shall continue observing your performance as an officer and trust...that your conduct continues to be meticulous. That will be all.”
“Thank you, s-”
“That Will Be All, Lieutenant!”
Without another word, Rae Sloane gave a salute that took around half-a-second, turned and sped down the corridor to the Supreme Commander’s chamber.
The door slid shut and Wilhuff Tarkin placed a hand against it in exhaustion before fixing his mistress with a disapproving glare.
“A fine dratted mess you could have placed both of us in, Miss Daala.” he barked.
Natasi Daala was poised, cat-like, on the bed.
“Sorry, Willy...”
“And would you kindly not call me that?”
She tossed her hair.
“Are you angry with me?”
He looked uncertain. The creases in his brow started to ease.
“...somewhat.”
Her eyes gleamed as she smirked
“Do I need to be punished?”
The side of Wilhuff Tarkin’s lips creased slightly upwards.
“Well...it seems that may well be necessary. If you please...”
Taking a position, Natasi Daala gave an eager giggle as the Grand Moff opened a draw behind his desk.
Rae Sloane was still contemplating whether what she’d seen was sexy, disgusting or a bizarre combination of the two.
Natasi Daala was exceptionally hot, she’d always thought so.
But Tarkin? A man who, for as long as anyone cared to remember, closely resembled a freshly mummified corpse?
The coupling of such a thing?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Only one thing bore thinking about to Rae Sloane’s mind.
She had what she needed from Tarkin.
And despite how it sounded, that was the easy part.
She found the door she was looking for. Large, wide and etched with the Imperial Seal.
Feeling her breath catch itself in her chest, she held up the key card.
Even its' beep sounded like a death knell.
The room was jet-black, ceiling to floor.
And in the centre was an enormous hexagonal dais.
She’d heard it called a ‘Qabbrat’ once but she wasn’t certain if that was the right word or what it meant in any case.
There was a hiss and billow of vapour as it began to open.
Rae felt her limbs turning to gel as the dais parted in two-pieces like a three-dimensional jigsaw puzzle and a seat in the centre spun round.
And a voice, deep and booming as a nebulous tempest.
“Lieutenant Rae Sloane...”
The woman saluted on the spot.
“Supreme Commander Lord Vader, sir.”
The obsidian-coloured terror known as Vader sat imperiously in his chair, that skull-like mask and helm pointed directly at her, empty orbs that resembled eyes boring into her heart.
“I had asked not to be disturbed under any circumstances..."
“Forgive me, sir.”
“Explain the reason for your presence, lieutenant. Immediately.”
Rae knew that at that moment, she would have preferred to be back before Tarkin, before Crodd, on the crags of Umbara or the underworld of Coruscant. Anything.
Here was a sea she had never swam before, full of monsters.
“Sir, on Ganthel, during the Borm-Thad Chapel Crisis, you told me in my first day of unofficial active service in the field of Imperial pacification that...you owed me a debt.”
There was a weighty pause.
Rae felt certain that any moment, she’d feel invisible fingers taking hold of her throat.
“I did.” The voice came again “To what purpose do you see fit to remind me?”
“Sir, if it is...convenient...and you find it does not impede standard protocol...I would like to call it debt...now.”
There was another pause.
Rae wondered if she’d die somehow of some unforeseen occurance before Vader gave her answer.
Quite frankly she thought she’d prefer it.
Slowly, like a leviathan breaching the depths, Vader stood, a dark titan before the young Lieutenant.
She knew she had to give no sign of fear. Or something would pounce.
“You’d think three schmucks who’d spent a thousand years in this place would tidy up once in a while.”
The God of Chaos’s lashing tongue threatened to cut away at the dignity of the Eternal Knights but neither unicorn, pegasus or batpony gave any indication of affront.
“You’re not our mother, Discord.” Midnight Blade said dourly “I feel certain that I would have remembered if you were.”
“You sure about that?” Discord fixed him with a weirdly motherly expression and his voice shifted to that of a middle-aged mare with a gentle, honeyed voice “You must take better care of your room, Nighty. And don’t let me catch you with those lewd parchments again.”
As the dark grey pony turned suddenly, those present felt certain a sudden gust had blown through the room, upsetting nothing and yet threatening to take White Wolf, Fletcher Fray and Discord off their hooves as the Lord Commander of the Eternal Knights spoke quietly, his face twisted with a scowl.
“Never speak in her voice again, Draconequus. Consider this your single warning.” Midnight ordered coldly “You would not be the first of your kind this blade drank the life of.”
Discord blinked, cleared his throat and nodded, flat-faced (Quite literally as he pulled his twisty white beard and flattened his features like a blind.) and spoke.
“Noted.”
“What did you do to get that voice? Retract your testicles...however many of them you might have?” Wolf asked.
“Nope. I simply channelled the voice of the simply lovely Kath Soucie.” Discord said, finishing by giving a ‘squee of delight’ with a blushing grin and a tiny hop on his hoof and claw “All kidding aside, Midnight, you’re so lucky to have had a mother with such a wonderful voice actress, even if it is just fan-casting!”
“Nopony ever knows what you’re talking about.” Fletcher said.
“Right. No more nonsense.” Midnight checked about and lit a lamp. Cyan luminescence filled the dark, dusty study. Floating blue candles glided over and under each other lazily towards the high ceiling. The walls were made of a great steel-grey stone that made one feel burdened by heavy weights just by looking at it.
“Emergency room.” Midnight explained “Spell-proof, weapon-proof, ghost-proof, just about everything-proof.”
“Everything-proof? What, were you that kid on the playground nopony wanted to play games with?”
“Shut up, Discord.” The batpony tapped the walls with his scabbard “Here, we may conjure a portal beyond this void without having to worry about it causing any disruptions elsewhere. This is a rare gift and not to be misused. We do not entirely know how strong a portal this room may hold and if there are signs that the infrastructure is unsound, then-”
“Yak-yak-yak-yak-yaaaaak! Good grief, you’re as bad as Twilight!” Discord sulked “Just gimme’ a sec and I’ll be ready to send you three stooges to your next sketch complete with the rubber chicken and the well-aimed custard pie.”
There was a pause. Wolf’s ears pricked.
Then Fletcher deftly drew his bow, lit up his horn and shot a magic arrow at the aforementioned custard pie that was flying towards him seemingly from out of nowhere, pinning it to the wall without staining himself or any of his comrades.
Tossing his wheat-gold mane with a narrowed eye, he turned to Discord with a frank tone that was typical of Farman ponies.
“All unauthorised products and substances are strictly prohibited in the lower floors, if that was not made clear at the entrance.”
Discord raised an eyebrow as Wolf sniggered and Midnight smirked.
“As if Equestria wasn’t full of enough spoilsports! Where did you crawl out of? The head of some sad twenty-something-year-old man-child who reads too much Berserk?”
“...Nope, not even going to ask.” Wolf shook her head “Can we just get on with it?!”
“Yes, yes, gimme’ a minute!” Discord sat down suddenly with his hand under his chin, screwed up his features and suddenly expelled a great treasure chest from between his hind legs as a chicken would expel an egg.
Opening it, he ducked his upper body inside and rummaged through, tossing various bits and bobs over his shoulders.
“Aha! Found it!” Discord retrieved himself and rose his head, grinning wildly. He was wearing a hat that was...quite bizarre.
At least that was the kindest word the Eternal Knights had for it.
White Wolf broke the silence after the two parties started at each other for some time.
“What the buck are you wearing on your head?!”
Discord’s eyebrows bounced
“Trust me, this will get us anywhere and everywhere where we’re heading.”
“What kind of weirdo sells a hat like that?” Midnight asked.
“What kind of weirdo wears a hat like that?” Fletcher retorted.
“This is no mere hat, mortals! This is a crown!” The Draconequus’s voice lowered in pitch as he guffawed wickedly “A crown that brings its wearer more power than the mightiest kings, more wealth than the richest merchants, more reach than the roots of the world tree! And it! Is! Mine!”
“Well I hope it’s worth looking like you’ve got two giant jet-black testicles on the sides of your scalp.” Wolf said, shaking her head in fatigue.
“Oh-ho-ho-ho-hoo, if only you knew! Ooh, yes, I feel the power coursing through it! Dreams come true with but a whisper! Nature is reversed, the wilds tamed, the magic of the world is my tapestry to weave! THE POWER! THE ABSOLUTE POWER! THE UNIVERSE IS MINE TO COMMAND! TO CONTROOOOOOOOL!”
There was another pause.
“...you done?”
“More or less.” Discord shrugged as he glided over to the middle of the scene and tapped his leonine thumb and forefinger, raised in the air and deftly drew it downwards.
And there it was. Spiralling and rippling in front of them, a hole, a ring, a door with no precise shape or depth with no clear consistent colour. The noises it made sounded more aquatic than astral and there was a gentle hum as it resonated along with a faint smell of woodsmoke.
The Knights stared at it as the Draconequus shook his hands jazzily.
“Voila! That’s your actual Prench!”
“Um...” Wolf mumbled “Is that it?”
“Yes, portal to another universe, or rather the path to it, via the multiverse.” Discord snapped the talons on his avian hand impatiently “You coming or what?”
“I mean...Is there nothing else to it?” Midnight asked “No chanting? No flickering lights? No virgin’s blood?”
“...well...if it’ll make you happy.”
“No, no, it’s fine.”
“I mean, if Fletcher can do the honours?”
“Me?! A virgin?!” The Farman Archer declared “Ha! Sir, I’ve had so many trysts through the centuries, the playwrights made erotic comedies about them!”
“Yes, yes, let’s get moving.” Midnight resigned to hurry them along.
“I’m serious! The actor who plays me has to wear a six-foot-”
“Come on! We’re wasting time and we’ve heard this story before.”
“I haven’t. What’s six-foot?” Discord piped up.
“We’ll tell you on the way. Now let’s go.”
“This isn’t going to take forever to get there is it?” Wolf butted in.
On the secondary navigation bridge of the Dreadnought Fantasia, a cadre of Thrawn’s chosen; students, colleagues, friends and otherwise persons who met his esteemed interest; worked in relative silence, discussing events and plans with each other in dignified decorum.
Thrawn was standing at the very prow, his back to the stars. Content that things were in order, he turned around and looked out towards the great cosmic expanse.
Eli Vanto was strumming away at the Janteillium they’d moved into the room, soothing the ears of those present with a gentle lilt.
Behind him, a quiet, unassuming officer with rounded, measured face and short smoky-brown hair eyed a datapad.
The Admiral breathed in the sight of the mesmerising vastness of space before him and asked his faithful young deputy.
“Tell me, Niriz...When considering the romantic poets, would you say Londahl or Adranax had more insight into the sentient condition?”
Lieutenant Dagon Niriz didn’t look up from his datapad and his answer was, in fact, a question that left Thrawn perplexed.
“Nerf-burger or barbeque-nuna-wings?”
Thrawn glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow as Niriz smiled bashfully, showing the datapad to be the cafeteria menu.
The Chiss sighed.
“...You’ve no soul, Niriz...”
“I’m taking a romantic insight into my lunch, sir. I always come out feeling more nourished in body and mind.” Niriz said in a tone that didn’t even have to try not to sound cheeky.
Thrawn had always found Dagon Niriz somewhat fascinating. His style of thought and theory was very different to Thrawn’s and many others he’d met. Despite being of high naval stock in terms of lineage, Niriz was possessed of a very mundane, practical, down-to-earth mindset. He was quick to grasp the bigger picture but never took his eye off the closest obstacle for a moment. When asked a philosophical question, he would answer in the broadest terms that sounded as though he was avoiding the topic and yet made perfect sense when one processed them.
Thrawn tested him.
“Just look, Niriz.” The Chiss said plainly, inviting the lieutenant to gaze out with him.
“As you wish, sir. Has something in it changed since last I looked?”
It was an interesting question.
“Almost certainly.” The admiral said, hypnotised by the wonder of it all “Countless miles, expanding ever onward. Millions of planets, trillions of lives, millennia of history...” He sighed.
“How is it...” he said, almost melancholic “That after so many years of progress and advancement in everything we know and possess, from technology right down to the way we think...that living creatures, civilised creatures...fight each other so often.”
Niriz thought about this and shrugged.
“Life’s the biggest battle there is, sir. And you only get to lose once.”
There it was. The astounding charm in simplicity.
Thrawn looked to his lieutenant with an intrigued glance.
“Who was it that said that?”
Niriz shrugged again.
“Someone very tired, most likely.”
The Chiss chuckled.
“Sometimes I do wonder...”
Niriz put his hands behind his back and stood side by side with Thrawn, taking in the atmosphere, or rather the spaces beyond.
“Not enough communication. That’s my theory.” He said flatly “Why there’s so much conflict. Sometimes learning the language isn’t all it takes to know how to speak. You need to just find time and space to sit down and talk it over. No-one ever manages that right when things get hectic. Elected officials just dither, autocrats can’t compromise, military figures only know how to solve things their way...and diplomats aren’t given enough pull.”
“Apart from the Jedi.”
“Yeah, well, look how that ended.” Niriz shook his head, inhaling through his teeth “Too devoted to their own esotericism, that lot. Never trust someone when you can’t tell how they think.”
“Is that right?”
“I mean, you can tell what someone’s ‘doing’ easily, whether they’re honest with you or not. You can take measures for that. Keep an eye on them. Find out what they’re up to. But when you can’t look inside their heads, it’s a no-man’s land.”
Thrawn nodded in an evaluating manner.
“And does that philosophy benefit you?”
Niriz gave a nod and a smirk.
“Every time you’re around, sir.”
The two laughed.
Thrawn had come to conclusion long ago that no-one would ever trust him. He was wired too differently for that luxury.
But people still tried. People still tried to understand him, work him out, unwrap his mind.
And that was always such an invigorating exercise. Had no-one ever tried, he was certain he would have lost his edge years ago.
“Admiral.”
A soft, feminine voice coupled with light but firm booted footsteps sounded over the gentle murmur of the bridge as Thrawn and Niriz turned.
“Ah. You have arrived.”
Captain Karyn Faro stood before them. A young, bright, energetic and quick-witted young woman with an oaky tan across her fair features and dimpled cheeks, nut-brown feline eyes keen as darts and an ebony hair with a rose rinse tied up behind her head in a ponytail, she cut a fine and inspiring figure and never had a thread on her uniform out of place.
Professionalism meant everything to her and her attention to detail, Thrawn had discovered in his time mentoring her, hid an artistic aestheticism. She’d been called over from her previous post in the Spirva Sector to aid Admiral Thrawn once again and the Chiss knew from the moment she stood before him, saluting primly before standing before them with her hands on hips, that he’d chosen well.
“Reporting for duty, sir.” She reached behind her belt and retrieved something “And bearing gifts.”
She held up in one hand an object, large, hard and coloured a fleshy crimson.
Thrawn paced forward and accepted it, turning it over and around in his hands.
It was a helmet. Not too unlike those of the Stormtroopers but the lower front was split down the middle to a black hive-like mouthpiece like those of the clone paratroopers or the recent Purge Troop project armour he’d seen on the confidential holofeeds. There were flat-metal prongs above the ears and a stripe of arrows running over the scalp, to what end and purpose, he could not say.
He looked at Faro with an uneasy eye.
“Details?”
“My marines caught them on Felucia. Apparently, they’re called Defilers.”
Eli Vanto was heard to give a sigh.
“Trust Zann to name his troops something so ridiculously edgy.”
“Information’s sketchy at the moment but from what we can tell, they’re a special-ops troop for the Separatist remnant, under Tyber Zann’s personal command. We cannot say how many they are but they’re deadly. They’d left a mountain dead among the local militia. As to the rest of their garb and equipment; standard issue and design. Not too far from the kind of thing you’d see in our stormtroopers, to be honest.”
“Any clue as to how many they number or where they’re situated?”
“Not yet. We know they have operations on Endor and Saleucami but we’re not certain if either hides their base. They’re small in number but they’re expanding aggressively. They operate as press-gangs, enslaving local populaces and spreading terror and corruption. They take orders from Toora but it seems likely that they see Zann as the real leader.”
“He’s definitely taken influence from the stormtroopers and those that came before them.” Thrawn said plainly “Still...it would not be like him to stop at what’s familiar to him...”
He handed the helmet to Niriz who took it away while giving a smile to Faro.
“You’ve done well, Captain Faro. While you’re here, I’m giving you command over our planetary intelligence mission. You’ll be working with Officer Himron who’ll oversee astral intelligence.” He gestured to a casual-looking man with strategic stubble and windswept slate-coloured hair, dressed in the silver long-coat of an intelligence officer who gave a genial beam at his old friend.
“Ah, good to have you back, Karyn.”
“Nice to see you, Molo.” Karyn grinned “You doing alright? How’s the wife?”
“Punted to the roadside along with her lawyer. Turns out she was shagging him when she wasn’t with her boyfriend. I got in touch with his wife, nice lady, and negotiations swiftly concluded.”
“Good man!” Karyn gave a hearty cheer at her old friend’s fruitful use of intuition in his recent divorce.
“Admiral?” Senior Lieutenant Rovaena Hammerly stood before the doorway. A statuesque amazon of a woman with a beautiful broad face, a dainty angular nose, high cheekbones, short curly blonde hair and piercing sea-blue eyes, Hammerly’s voice was in stark contrast to her intimidating build, her call to her commanding officer as soft and gentle as fathier fur.
“There is a Commodore Cridlington Bodhard wishing to see you. Should we let him in?”
There came a collective cross between a sigh and a groan from those in the room. They were all very familiar with Commodore Cridlington Yutsebridge-Bluorm Bodhard of Neelanon, commander of the Senex Trace Patrimony Flotilla which had recently headed the right flank of the 14th Fleet.
He was never very far away from Grand Vizier Pestage in voice and in person. Among the mid to lower circles, he was known as ‘Mayonnaise’ Bodhard.
Because, rather like most mayonnaise, he was rich, white, oily and thick, smelt rather strongly of eggs and prolonged intake of his presence typically left one feeling clogged and unwell.
Still, Thrawn did not find it beneficial to keep an officer so quick to take offence at nothing waiting for a reason to grow irate. With a sigh, he waved a hand in the air.
“Show him in.”
No sooner had the door opened than the Commodore thundered in.
He was muscular but bandy legged and had personalised part of his uniform to suit traditional Senex military-garb which meant designing his trousers extensively baggy but tucked into very high boots that stretched just over his knees, giving his thighs a ludicrously overstocked look as they blew behind his backside which, considering what people thought of him, seemed appropriate.
His face was bizarre in that the most prominent feature was his enormous nose that was fat, long and curved slightly upwards like some form of gourd or squash. It took up almost all the focus on him so his tiny, perpetually-sneering mouth; jutting chin; small, close-set eyes and greasy black perm went almost unnoticed
It was likely that, despite his staunch xenophobia and humanocentricism, Bodhard possessed alien-blood. Delphanian maybe, or H’nemthe. It was the same with Grand Admiral Danetta Pitta.
Sometimes what one hated most stemmed from what one couldn’t stand being oneself. That was why Thrawn had always found any form of hatred as such a waste of time and did his best to stay well clear of it.
As ever, Bodhard coupled a thunderous appearance with a voice of similar fashion.
“I might have known it! The blue-hued boil upon the face of the Imperial Navy!” He snarled at the Chiss before casting an eye at Vanto and the rest “Along with Captain Candy-Arse and the ‘Nothing’s-Sacred Band’.”
The mood was quiet as the various members of Thrawn’s entourage eyed the Commodore venomously. Only the Chiss kept a mellow expression as he spoke.
“Can I help you, Commodore?”
“I have been surveying the roll and timetable for the Anaxes Inter-Corps Athletics and Unarmed Combat Competition!”
“Indeed, your enthusiasm for public relations is an inspiration to us all, sir.”
“Quiet!” Bodhard snapped.
The mood grew more tense. Thrawn’s circle were inimical at best at technically lower-ranking officers who thought they could disrespect their admiral simply because they possessed the privilege of being human. They knew Thrawn didn’t report them and those aforementioned officers probably knew that as well. Still, it was always worth watching Thrawn’s reactions which constantly varied and were always enlightening.
“...have I offended you, sir?” Thrawn asked plainly.
“Oh, you have, alien! In many ways! But namely, I have checked to see that my task force is scheduled to participate in the competition with your own!”
“Ah, does this...interfere with any schedule of yours, sir?”
“Eeyup, he has a doctor’s appointment.” Eli Vanto piped up with a cheeky grin “He needs someone to remove the elongated arboreal instrument lodged in his rectal cavity. As soon as possible.”
The entourage chuckled as a crowd and the Commodore fixed the ensign with a lethal glare to which Vanto returned an innocent flutter of the eyelashes.
“Vanto, please. Exercise proper courtesy.” Thrawn said with a stern tone of uncertain severity “I do apologise for my ensign’s conduct, Commodore. Do continue.”
Bodhard collected his temper and spoke.
“You have women in your force, alien!”
“I’m pleased that you took such effort to notice. Does this...inconvenience you?”
The Commodore drew himself up and responded curtly.
“My flotilla practices staunch and well-established integral values subscribing to Imperial decree! The presence of females in a military task force under the Imperial banner is wholly unseemly and inane! And my troops shall endorse your removal from the competition should you not immediately take yourself off of all but the auxiliary exercises. Let your wenches slap their handbags against each other all they like, well out of the eye of quality. I shall not sully the good name of the 14th Fleet with such aberrant mingling, is that clear?!”
He pointed a finger as Thrawn meaningfully, apparently unaware that one did not point any of one’s ten fingers at Thrawn unless one wished to start counting on only nine...or five.
Nonetheless, Thrawn gave a narrow gaze at the Commodore and spoke flatly.
“I...am sorry you feel that way, Commodore Bodhard.”
“I have not one need of your apologies! You will do as you are bidden! I have the ear of the Grand Vizier himself and he shall arrange for something particularly unpleasant for you and your audience of bumpkin misfits should you cross me!”
The Chiss paused a moment, taking a deep breath before baiting the trap.
“Perhaps a man of your stately calibre and renowned appreciation for the...manly arts...would like to demonstrate your impression with more than words.” he said “For the sake of morale. Let it never be said that the Imperial Naval Units bickered without conclusion.”
“Hmph! You wish to challenge?” Bodhard snorted with a sneer “I think not. From what I hear, Veers flattened you in the ring.”
“He was the victor, yes, and I am made all the wiser for it. But I am not the task force unarmed-combat champion. Perhaps we could have an off-record spar between our chief combatants in preparation. Should we lose, we shall pull out of the upcoming events which will be proven to be too much for us.”
“Ha! Childs-play!” Cridlington Bodhard guffawed “My regiment represents the cream of Imperial manhood!”
“Never say the words ‘cream of manhood’ again.” A revulsed-looking Niriz whispered to a nearby Freja Covell.
“So your champion will challenge mine? Is that agreed?” Thrawn continued, unperturbed “May I know the name of our opponent.”
“That would be me, alien!” Bodhard answered with a smirk.
“Excellent.” The Chiss’s satisfaction with inevitable outcome didn’t go unnoticed “Then it is my pleasure to present our task force champion, Captain Pilvine Yelfis.”
He gestured to one who stepped forward.
A petite little woman who couldn’t have been much older than thirty-five with a cheerful demeanour, swaying locks of dusky-beige hair and a cybernetic left eye with a green-tinted visor.
Yelfis and Hammerly were eerily similar, differing primarily in size. Rumours abounded the two were cousins or step-sisters. They both shared the same broad but elegant face, high cheekbones, rosy smiles and, of course, fists like comets.
And it seemed that last part hadn’t met Commodore Bodhard’s ears as he sized up the little captain with a smirk.
“This is your champion? I knew you were tasteless but this?!” he snorted again, the noise highly audible out of his huge nostrils.
Pilvine Yelfis, on the other hand put her hands on her hips and nodded with a smile.
“Pleased to meet your acquaintance, sir.”
“What did you do there?” Bodhard gestured curtly to her left eye “Hit your head on the kitchen sink?”
There was a pause. Yelfis blinked with one eye while the green visor shrunk with focus in its metal socket.
Then she gave a small smile and patted his shoulder.
“See you in the ring, sir. Tomorrow. O’ nine-hundred hours. Don’t be late.”
“Pah!” The Commodore barged past her and thundered out the way he’d thundered in.
Once he’d gone, Yelfis shrugged in a merry manner as others around her chuckled at what was to come.
Karyn Faro gave a cold snigger as he turned to Thrawn and Niriz.
“Too many arseholes.”
“I beg your pardon, captain.”
“To your question, sir. My theory. Why there’s so much conflict in the stars after all this time.” She turned back to the spot where Commodore Cridlington Bodhard had stood a moment before.
“Too many arseholes.”
The Admiral and the Ensign glanced to one another with raised eyebrows.
Pipsqueak felt certain his lungs were crumpling like scrunched up paper. They certainly felt like it.
Wheezing fitfully, he fought for breath, writhing in pain in his prison of a seat while Ilitha shuddered in ecstasy.
Croesus Crodd was standing on the end of the room looking little more than momentarily bored.
“Just how long is this going to take?”
“As long as it needs to, excellency.” Ilitha crooned eerily “Concerned for the little thing?”
“Concerned for time.” The Grand Moff shifted impatiently.
“Well, begging your pardons, excellency, but I think it well-spent.” Sate Pestage gave a depraved leer towards the agonised foal before him “Ooh, deary me, not quite so full of insolence as I remember. Eh, young master Pipsqueak, you runty little parasite!”
Pipsqueak spat.
It was little more than a puff of parched droplets, making him feel all the more drained, but it worked.
The Grand Vizier drew back, pawing at the left side of his brow and upper cheek and looking ever more enraged. He gave a shrill shriek of anger and raised his bony hand with sharp fingernails.
“Ooh-ho. Careful, Grand Vizier.” Crodd was chuckling now “He looks like he could bite.”
Pestage looked a moment and retracted his hand, his lips twisting into a pained grimace.
“He is beyond the limits of disrespect! Just have his head off and be done with it!”
“Good luck getting answers from him then.”
Crodd folded his arms and gave a coy smirk.
“Still spirited, are we?” he said to the barely-conscious Pipsqueak “Look at you, boy. Drained, near-broken, and yet still fighting. You’re certainly no coward, that’s plain to see. You’re scared to death...but you’re no coward.” He nodded “I think I shall enjoy conquering your kind once we find them. They look to be very invigorating opponents.”
Pipsqueak found a breath of air and used it boldly.
“Luna...will destroy you...she’ll blow you to nothing...that’s if Rae doesn’t do it first!”
That made Crodd laugh.
“My, my, we are sure of ourselves, aren’t we, young sir.” He cocked his brow towards the Imperial Jester “As you were, madam, it seems your work’s not done. Don’t hold back.”
“Oh, by no means, sir.” Ilitha looked over the colt.
Pipsqueak had bitten his lip the third time she’d invaded his mind. He was bleeding from his nostrils too as well as one ear. But now he was staring down the Nautolan with blazing eyes.
“You keep on putting me in that room...in the darkness...with my dad...and it’s not going to be so scary...” the little colt said flatly “I grew up with it...It’s nothing new.”
“Hm...” Ilitha leaned back and caressed her chin with one wet finger “You know...that is a point. Overexposure can lead to...dissatisfaction. Still...” She cast her sheer black eyes over the colt “You seem like somepony with a swollen heart...”
“Um...no, actually I don’t eat much.”
“Oh, shut up, you wretched little puddle of bile!” Sate Pestage hissed. Ilitha just sniggered.
“No, no, I mean...you care too much about others. Your family, your friends...Perhaps, you fear not what your father would do to you but...” She left the sentence hanging and watched.
As it dawned on Pipsqueak what she was about to do, what she was about to experience, his eyes widened and his pupils shrunk in terror.
Ilitha noticed it and grinned wide in that unreal manner.
“Yes...I think so too...Your mother? No...You’d be used to seeing her knocked about by darling daddy...Ooh, but what about that pretty little friend of yours?”
She leaned in. Pipsqueak felt the back of his head press against the hard seat.
She smelt of black oil.
“Yeeeeeessssss...clean, periwinkle coat...mane as gold as wheat...those bright amber eyes...twinkling little smile...You know who I’m talking about, don’t you...”
Pipsqueak couldn’t respond.
She’d seen her.
She knew about Dinky.
She’d already conjured his father from out of his nightmares.
What, he feared to ask himself, could she do with Dinky?
Ilitha craned inward, her lips an inch from Pipsqueak’s ear.
“Have you ever touched her, little one?”
Pipsqueak’s lips twisted as caught something in his throat. Her question, and the way she asked it, made him feel unwell.
“Did your father?”
“He...he never knew her.”
“Oh...well...Do you think he’d like to?”
“No...please...” Pipsqueak was shaking like a leaf “Don’t...don’t give her to him!”
“Why not?” Ilitha asked, tilting her head to the side “Do you know...what sort of things big men like your father do...to little girls like your friend?” She giggled in a way that sounded dead, stilted, almost broken “Do you have any idea?”
“...no...”
“Well, now...” she drew her hands up and spread her fingers wide like the wings of a bat “What delightful sights I have to show you...”
“No, please!” The colt broke down sobbing “Not her! Don’t let him hurt her...Don’t hurt Dinky, please!”
“Oh, oh, please!” Sate Pestage was wringing his hands and raising the pitch of his voice as he imitated the colt’s wailing with menacing glee “Oh, no, please, not my little Dinky! Pathetic!” He spat. Pipsqueak felt it hit his shoulder and cling to his fur “There’s your courage, Crodd. Faded at the first drop of sentiment, as ever for aliens!”
Crodd said nothing. He was looking flat-faced at the colt with his arms folded.
“Get on with it, Ilitha. My time is not limitless.”
“Pipsqueak’s is.” The Nautolan replied with menace.
“Stop! Just stop, please!” Tears came to Pipsqueak’s eyes “Whatever you want to know, I don’t know. I keep telling you, I don’t know anything, I haven’t seen anything! Just stop please...” He heaved between his weeping as he gasped out the words “It’s not fair!”
Ilitha cocked her head again. Pipsqueak wasn’t sure if she’d blinked but she seemed confused a moment.
Then she answered plainly.
“I know.”
She chuckled, quietly, calmly, more so than he’d ever seen from her.
“It really doesn’t matter to me what you know or don’t know or say or don’t say...In this room, here, now...I can do what I like to you.”
She leaned in again. Her teeth, though not sharp, looked somehow shark-like. She spoke slowly, like a teacher to a slow student.
“You see how that works, Pipsqueak? I’m stronger than you...And that means...I can do...what I like...to you...”
Pipsqueak could say nothing. He could only watch as those horrible wet fingers arched across the sides of his head. He shut his eyes tight, hoping he could keep his thoughts away from her, keep Dinky Doo away from her.
His mind would not take it, this he knew.
The fingers pressed.
He felt the sides of his skull cracking. His teeth were aching, ready to break.
The seat tilted backwards as Ilitha was almost lying on top of him.
“Deeper...” she murmured maniacally “Deeper...Deeper!”
A familiar electric tearing sounded through the room as a flash of red invaded Pipsqueak’s eyes. The fingertips had pulled away from him and as his vision returned, he took in the sight.
Ilitha’s grin was gone. She was leaning back with a face contorted with dread as a crimson sabre of solid luminescence stood sideways an inch from the front of her neck. All trace of her arrogance and eagerness had dissipated at once.
There was a dark shape behind the Imperial Jester.
And as the sabre drew ever closer to her neck, forcing her to lean back until her eyes were upon the ceiling, she found herself staring into the face of death itself.
“Release him.” A booming voice from the mouth of Tartarus gave a command.
Ilitha’s hand drew away from Pipsqueak and reached feebly for the chair controls out of her reach, her fingers craning up and down like the legs of an upside-down crab.
There came a sound from the dark creature behind her that sounded like a sigh of impatience.
“You have power over the force, do you not, Miss Ilitha?”
The Nautolan’s face tensed with resentment as her hand gripped the air and twisted her wrist.
The manacles released Pipsqueak who drew his legs close and gasped for free air and muscle control once more.
Sate Pestage found his voice, wavering with alarm.
“S-S-Supreme C-Commander V-V-Vader.”
Croesus Crodd cleared his throat and stepped forward somewhat tentatively.
“Apologies for any...inconvenience, Lord Vader.” he mumbled “Do not fear, we shall take the specimen under question into our custody.”
The thing called ‘Vader’ did not move but his voice felt like a seismic shock as he gave another command.
“Lieutenant?”
The door swung open with a swish and Pipsqueak’s eyes widened with hope as a saviour entered.
Rae Sloane was standing before the doorway in her jet-black uniform, a blaster in each hand, one pointed at Crodd, the other at Pestage.
The Grand Vizier stared down the blaster barrel with a mixture of rage and shock.
Croesus Crodd, meanwhile, took a single step back but showed no outward fear. He looked at her tiredly, slightly amused.
“He’s not taking me seriously.” she thought “But I will keep my temper. It would pay to keep the situation in control with Vader around.”
“Gentlemen.” she said bluntly “I am serving as Liaison Officer for Supreme Commander Vader. I wish for you to stand in the corner while the specimen under question is transferred to our custody.”
“Put those down, young lady, and cease this folly.” Crodd’s teeth were bared but his mouth was a half-smile and his voice was quiet. He took a step forward and sniffed loudly “Boldness does not become you and you are in the presence of high command. I will give you a moment to apologise and leave before you embarrass yourself.”
Rae Sloane gave a small sigh.
Whump!
Croesus Cross doubled up as the underside of a blaster slammed into the spot below his stomach. He gave a short cry of pain and coughed. Before he could topple, Sloane had grabbed his lapel and pinned him to the wall with the blaster-barrel under his nose. The blaster in her other hand had not shifted from Pestage.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, sir!” Rae Sloane barked “I said get your arse in the damn corner before I pull this trigger and chargrill what little I’ll find of your brains in that bent little skull of yours then give your shrivelled old friend the same treatment just so he doesn’t feel left out!”
“Lord Vader! What is this blasphemy?!” Pestage wailed.
“You...You’re finished! That’s your uniform gone, you’re history, Sloane!” Crodd was hissing through gritted teeth “You assaulted me! You threatened me! You’re done!”
“Ah, I was right. You didn’t hear me.” Rae Sloane whispered as she gave the blaster a meaningful knock, watching Crodd shut his eyes tight “I am Liaison Officer for Supreme Commander Vader. You know who he is, sir? He’s the man who snaps higher-standing men than you in half for waking him up a minute late. You’ve pissed him off. I haven’t. So to me, as far as he’s concerned, you’re free game. Here, now, in this room...you have literally nothing to threaten me with.” She couldn’t help but laugh at having been able to say that out loud to creatures such as them “So I guess that makes me stronger than you...Can you guess what that means?”
And with that, she grabbed the sides of Crodd’s collar and shunted him into the corner. The Grand Moff stumbled and barged into Sate Pestage who was barely able to stop himself falling down himself. As the two men gathered themselves, they stood before Vader like scolded infants while Ilitha could move nothing for fear of the lightsabre burning through her jugular.
At last, Vader spoke.
“I shall say this once...” he declared darkly “The foal...is under my protection...Any attempt to harm him...shall be treated as an attempt to harm me...and dealt with appropriately...Is that understood?”
“Y-yes, Supreme Commander.”
“Of course. We apologise.”
“I am...truly sorry...Lord Vader.” Ilitha murmured, barely able to move her jaw “P-p-please...forgive my error...”
“Forgive?” Vader did not chuckle or tilt his head in the way Ilitha had done. What was most unsettling about him was how little he moved at all. The angle of his sabre-arm was tilting.
Something was about to cut.
“The Empire’s forgiveness...does not come cheaply!”
There was a hiss, like a branding iron trailing across a hard surface at sharp speed.
Ilitha gave a howl of agony and grabbed at something below her shoulder. Pipsqueak drew back in his seat as the smoking tip of one of the Nautolan’s head-tails landed next to him, wriggling lifelessly a moment before curling up and lying still.
Ilitha fell from the seat and rolled on the ground, crying and wailing.
It was incredible. Pipsqueak stared at the sight. This creature who had fed on fear, seen it her ambition to sup upon every sip of nightmares he held in his head, now seemed almost childlike, crawling into the corner and staring at Vader with abject terror.
Vader stood still, not even turning to face the Imperial Jester. His lightsabre was still in his hand, giving off a sinister hum until it retracted at once, vanishing into the hilt.
“Leave us, Ilitha. The Grand Inquisitor shall show you to your quarters.”
He raised a hand in a deadpan fashion and the door opened. The thin grey figure in black with the blood-red tattoos over his eyes was standing cordially. Ilitha did not touch him and he did not touch Ilitha but as the Nautolan trudged away, still cradling her cauterised head-tail with a series of whimpers, he followed behind.
As she departed, Pipsqueak felt much more at ease in the world he’d found himself in.
That left them with Crodd and Pestage.
“Grand Moff Crodd.” Vader said at last.
The stocky figure took one step forward, trying to keep his face straight.
“Yes...sir?”
Vader raised an open hand.
The next minute, Croesus Crodd was pressed against the wall, his feet off the floor kicking feebly as his hands wrestled with his collar, his already ruddy face turning strawberry-red as he fought for air.
Vader did not move his hand.
He slowly turned his gaze towards Crodd and spoke.
“Grand Moff Crodd...When I give an officer of the Empire an order, standard procedure dictates an officer obeying that order...or wishing he died with the Clone Wars. Therefore I am curious as to how this aforementioned procedure escaped you when you told Captain Voss Parck that you would not see me unless I asked for you in person.”
“I...L-lord...”
“What you have now, Grand Moff Crodd, is me...asking for you...in person...Does this situation satisfy you, sir?”
“I...No, I...I...”
“Thus far as of today, your little power-trip has cost both of us twelve-minutes and thirty-eight seconds that both of us could have spent productively.” Vader paced towards him and rested his hands around his neck properly “So...while I hold your fragile little life in my force-imbued fingertips, I ask you, Grand Moff Crodd...Did I need to ask for you in person? Did I?!”
“N-n-no! Lord Vader! No!”
“Indeed I did not...And yet here we are.”
The floating figure of Crodd jolted forward and then flung backwards with force against the wall behind him. Falling to the floor, he gasped and choked as Pestage stood stock-still in the corner Rae Sloane had sent him to.
The acting-Liaison Officer reached forward and rescued the little colt from the confines of his chair and held his shaking form to her shoulder, still keeping one blaster on both Crodd and Pestage. She was silent, waiting for the Supreme Commander to have his say, a procedure which never went interrupted.
“You shall consider your survival today a luxury. Should you...or any under your command, impede me in such a way as you have done today, I shall be forced to rescind that luxury. In the interest of our mutual timekeeping, we shall not speak of what has transpired in this chamber between most senior officials of the Empire.”
He turned and Rae did the same but not before Pipsqueak got a look at this figure who had come to his rescue.
He was a towering jet-black personage. His cloak was so long and wide that it was impossible to get a good idea of just how he looked beside it. He was a shadow, a shape. But his face.
It was some bizarre helm depicting a sheer black skull. Except not a skull. It had eyes. And its teeth weren’t teeth but a morbid corrugation. Covering his cranium was a dome-shaped helmet-top and a wide neck-guard arching round behind him, cowl-like.
There was no colour to him. He was more than just a shadow. He was the void. A walking abyss from which none crawled out of. This thing terrified Crodd and Pestage.
And despite coming to his rescue, it terrified Pipsqueak.
The black-clad hand moved to the mainframe of the Interrogation Chamber and pressed a series of buttons.
The door swung shut and a countdown timer from five-minutes started.
Rae Sloane fought off laughter.
Darth Vader had just locked Crodd and Pestage in that room for five minutes.
Pipsqueak found his voice.
“Th-th-thank you...s-sir...For-”
“Dispense with the pleasantries.” Vader raised a hand and for a moment, both Rae and Pipsqueak felt certain they’d feel the air snatched from their lungs.
They were fortunate.
Vader had simply motioned for silence.
“This was a mutual transaction of reinforcement. A debt now paid, now in the past. It shall not resurface. Lieutenant Sloane, you shall continue about your business. I have grown tired of this foal and am placing him in your custody. You may do with him as you wish.”
“Thank you, Lord Vader.” Rae Sloane stood to attention and saluted “Long live the Emperor.”
Vader did not return the salute. He stood a moment and nodded slightly.
“I shall remember the day you, young and inexperienced as you were, aided my troops during the Borm-Thad Chapel Crisis with high regard, Lieutenant. I count you among worthy officers of the Empire...But never presume upon this reputation for presumption leads to imprecision from which is born fatal error.”
“I understand entirely, sir.”
“Good. And I should keep the foal close. Young as he is, he seems adept at running into danger.”
“Of course, sir.”
“That will be all.”
His black cape blew a cold wind as he turned and departed down the corridor.
Rae Sloane put away her blaster and cradled the colt in both hands.
“You okay now, Pip?” She brushed a hand over his scraggly, sweaty mane.
Pipsqueak looked up at her smooth face and those warm, comforting eyes.
So much...like his mother.
His chest rose and fell suddenly, he snuffled a moment and then broke down, sobbing into Rae’s chest, his ears locked to the sides of his head, his little hooves clutching at Rae’s shoulders desperately.
“I want to go home!” his voice was muffled and not loud enough to shout but Rae heard Pip pour every ounce of his anguish and confusion into the words as she cradled the crying colt “I want to go home! I want to go home! I want to go home! I just want to go home! I just...I...I just...”
He sniffled then coughed and spluttered as he caught his own words in his throat. Rae patted his back until the coughing subsided and took him to a vending machine and poured him a cup of water.
He spluttered a bit after the first sip but drank down some of the rest fine. Calming him a little, he held onto Rae tightly and whimpered in a plaintive sob.
“I just want my mummy.”
“It’s okay, Pip. It’s okay...” Rae rubbed the back of Pip’s neck gently and murmured “Sometimes I do too.”
*
Another wrinkle.
This one was streaking from the left side of her nose to the corner of her lips.
Mon Mothma, former-Senator of Chandrila, sighed.
There was no hiding from it anymore.
She was getting old.
And if she wasn’t she was certainly feeling it.
She couldn’t remember the last time she or anyone else celebrated her birthday.
She shrugged.
Maybe getting old would actually have people taking her seriously now.
When she’d first been made a senator, she’d been one of the youngest members of the senate ever appointed at age fourteen. Only Padme Amidala had ever been appointed younger.
And Riyo Chuchi had been made a senator at the same age.
She winced at the memory.
Riyo Chuchi should not have had to have died like that. She was one of them, a Republic Loyalist, an advocate of democracy who’d done much and more to safeguard the peace of Pantora and the libery of its people.
But Berec had seen fit to take matters into his own hands.
Berec, a man she had granted power to.
Terrified, they had been feeding a hound of war and now the leash had snapped.
The door gave a whistle as it opened and a young man walked in.
The man was young and slim but muscular with a full head of smoky-blonde hair and and even fuller beard. But his eyes were slightly sunken and blue-grey, a haze of world-weariness and street-wisdom. He was dressed in a beige longcoat over a blue shirt and baggy white trousers, boots thick and hard on the floor, giving on a slightly scratched shine that suggested he’d had to go over them thoroughly before he was allowed to entertain the politicians.
Mon Mothma smiled as the man saluted in the traditional manner of the Republic Militia.
“Crix Madine.”
“Senator Mothma.” Madine replied in a sincere tone that registered non-mandatory respect for the woman before him “I’m happy to see you looking well after all these years.”
“Looking well? Heh...If you say so.” Mothma gave a chuckle “I feel less well by the minute.”
“Well, according to Imperial Databases, I’m officially dead so neither of us are at our best, it seems.”
“Cleaned up your tracks, then?”
“Cleaned up myself.” Madine held up a small, thin bar with his name, rank and number on it, marbled white and grey in the colours of the Imperial Storm Commandos.
With a look of disdain, he snapped it in half and threw it in the disposal chute beside Mothma’s desk.
It made her smile as Madine gave a sigh.
“There is only so much gore a man can wade through before he’s had enough. And I was up to my sodding nipples...ahem, begging your pardon, ma’am.”
“No, no, please, go ahead.” Mon Mothma said flatly “You should have heard me last time I got drunk. It made Bel-Iblis blush!”
Madine nodded gruffly.
“The Storm Commandoes are nothing but a glorified death squad. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve been told to do. Higher-ups would regularly offer me promotions, payoffs and stars know what else if I sent my men to massacre hundreds and make it look like a disaster or a pirate attack.”
“Just as I feared.” Mothma shook her head “Did our names ever come up?”
“Not collectively.” Madine answered “I don’t think they know you’re all together. They know you’ve left the Empire and that you’re still in contact with your friends but as far as I can tell, you’re relatively under the radar.”
“Well...in any event, I’m only glad you’re helping us. Your skills will be invaluable to our cause.”
“You honour me.” He took the seat Mothma offered as the former-Senator of Chandrila took her own behind her desk, switching on a few holograms and videos.
“So far, the news is bleak. Berec’s murder of Riyo Chuchi has lost us a great deal of support. Kinn Robb and Zinn Paulness have cut off contact with us, likely in protest, although we can confirm they have not been in touch with the Empire. Our mission in the Tapani Cluster has gone...very south. Gem Sirrom is alive but recovering mentally. The entirety of the resistance movement on Procopia, however, was killed by the Mecrosa Order.”
“What of Senator Organa and his family?”
“Still missing.” Mothma said gravely “And his replacement is causing us more trouble by the day.”
“I thought Elenwen Juben supported the Militarists.”
“She’s fickle. Always has been. And her elevation to acting-Senator has put Alderaan in a very difficult position. She has antagonised Imperial High Command in person and represents her planet in doing so. Her friend among our Self-Defence Corps, a Commodore Timberly Abra, is also looking for opportunities to attack Imperial convoys. If they have their way, the Empire will strike back. And we are not yet ready for their reprisal, we lack any advantage at this stage. That’s not even going into what Berec’s doing.”
“Sounds as though your current threat is within, if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am.”
“That does appear, sadly, to be the case. Which is where you come in.”
“Ah...” Crix Madine leaned back in his chair as his face creased with unease. He reached in his jacket pocket “Do you mind if I smoke, ma’am?”
“No, no, it’s fine. Frankly, I’m surprised the lot of us aren’t on one substance or another at this point.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, ma’am. Our advantage right now is that the Empire aren’t taking us seriously. I’ve been watching them and they’re far more invested in fighting each other than any real enemy.”
“What about Thrawn?”
Madine sucked his teeth.
“Most, if not all, of what you’ve heard about him is true, unfortunately. The good news is, he’s busy with a high-school nemesis right now, however many ways that doesn’t make sense.”
“I see.”
“The way I see it, now’s the time to begin covert operations against the Empire.”
“Under normal circumstances, that would be true.” Mothma stood and paced about her chamber “Unfortunately, launching such an operation would give our less-restrained allies such as Berec and Juben the perfect excuse to lash out which would botch our attempts at subterfuge against the Empire before they even got going. We need to make sure our allies aren’t a threat before we move.”
She pressed her hands against the desk.
“I’m not suggesting we kill them. But we must nonetheless find a way to control them. We turned to them when we were desperate and it has now become clear they wish to keep us desperate. This must cease. And we believe you’re the man to find their weak link.”
“I shall endeavour to give satisfaction, ma’am.”
“With your aid, we hope to be able to bring our various branches closer together and keep them under a collective set of laws and ethics for wartime. We are not the Empire and we shall not treat our enemies to their own brutalities or we cannot hope to progress.” Mon Mothma brought up some more holofeeds and linked them “To ensure this...we must find out more about the one who bears this symbol.”
Madine eyed the link that blossomed in a bright-blue sphere between the floating faces of Berec, Juben, Abra and other unreliable allies. It formed a strange symbol.
He raised an eyebrow as Mothma explained.
“Berec has recently appointed a Spymaster, someone we believe is keeping us all under surveillance. It is likely he who discovered Chuchi had received messages from Panaka and who probably abducted her in the process. We also have reason to believe he was on Alderaan shortly before Bail Organa went missing. He is currently operating on Cattamascar where Berec has stationed a military camp. We...had a few operatives there but...” She hung her head.
“Dead?”
“We lost all contact with them. And Berec denies they were ever there. We fear...”
Madine took a puff of his cigarra reflectively.
Rebels killing rebels?
The situation among the Alliance to Restore the Republic was worse than he thought. He’d never regret leaving the Empire at this stage but he could see he was going to have his work cut out for him and, to his shame, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just been thrown from one shady unit to another.
“This Spymaster...Before your agents went missing, did they say anything about what this fellow was like?”
“Yes. Nothing good.” Mothma’s brow furrowed in anxiety “They described him, in no uncertain terms...as a tyrant. He operates his training camp with an iron fist. Men are sent into death-zones and rarely return. In particular, they say he is exceptionally violent towards women.”
“Really?” Madine made an uncomfortable face.
“Whenever his operations go awry, he will almost invariably single out a female soldier or staff-member and put them to death, horrific torture, or both, rambling all the way and blaming them for things he should know weren’t their fault. Reports came that he talks to his own blaster and mumbles about his mother. He abuses his men and when he feels he’s exhausted the ways he may hurt them personally, he will abuse their families. His fits of rage are a period in which no-one’s safe.”
She shook her head and sighed.
“Cold, capricious and thoroughly thuggish. Put simply...he is a monster of the lowliest calibre.”
“And Berec vouches for this nut-case?”
“He assures us that he is an invaluable investment. It is certain that this spymaster hates the Empire with every ounce of his being and he is probably the most vocal of his partisans in voicing the urge to go to war.”
“Right. So now I’m about to meet this lovely chap then?”
“If you have any objections, I shall entirely understand and we will not fault you. I do not wish to send you to your death so soon after you’ve found new life.”
Madine shrugged with a small chuckle, blowing smoke out of his grin.
“I didn’t want to get too comfortable. Besides, without meaning any offence, ma’am, I don’t quite see myself behind a desk.”
That made Mothma laugh lightly.
“So what’s the name of this man?”
Mon Mothma tapped her holoprojector again and the sphere between the faces changed shape.
“We do not yet know. Nor have we ever seen his face. He simply uses a moniker and this symbol shows up whenever he is contact with anyone.”
Two lines that bent against each other at the middle, forming a diamond open at the top and bottom points. Two full diamonds marked the upper-halves of each line.
Madine studied the symbol quizzically as Mothma explained.
“We know him only as...Fulcrum.”
*
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
“You’re the one driving! Why are you even asking that?!” A green unicorn barked.
Discord gave a snort, his turned-up nostrils rounding and pinkening to appear porcine.
“Well, someone had to! None of you were picking up the slack!”
“Some of us possess the gifts of restraint and patience, Draconequus.” Midnight Blade said bluntly.
“Yeah, gifts...In the same way as tangerines and underwear are Hearths Warming ‘gifts’.” The God of Chaos sulked as he held his hands out, twisting and turning them as he navigated the way through the multiverse.
The space between their own universe was rainbow-tinted, swirling hazes of every colour floating over and under each other. Since then, the haze had lifted and they now beheld a rich, navy blue void with silver stars dotting each square inch of distance.
“We’re nearly there at any rate. The bridge to the universe of our destination is close.”
“What about any of these stars. What do they hold?” White Wolf queried.
“Oh those aren’t stars.” Discord said “You might want to duck.”
There was a breeze in the void and the knights just managed to duck down as a meteor, marble-white and glowing faintly, hurtled past, spinning wildly.
“What was that?!” Fletcher Fray gasped.
“Flying rocks?” The batpony snapped “You didn’t think to mention this place had flying rocks?”
“They’re not flying rocks. And they’re not stars.”
“So what the buck are they?”
Discord gave a small, knowing smile and answered.
“Ideas.”
“Come again?”
“They’re ideas, sailing through the multiverse.” The Draconequus explained “This place, this cosmos, is where ideas are born. Ideas that make the universe they’re part of off, well...fuller. They give it life, give it light, make something of it, essentially. Without them, there is only darkness. What you just ducked under there was an idea, in its rawest form, looking a place in the universe where it may shine, beside so many others.”
“Huh...you’d think ideas would look more elegant.”
“Well, all ideas start off as crude and shapeless, don’t they. It all begins with something at its core. That’s what makes them glow. But little by little, they find their shape...usually, with a little help.”
He cocked an eyebrow (Which gave a small shotgun-pumping sound) at two of the rocky ideas that spun closer and closer. And then...
‘Ker-Raaahhhh!’
The explosive noise was loud and thundering and yet...
Something about it sounded beautiful, victorious, like pumping one’s hoof in the air in achievement.
The Knights were somehow taken in by the sight and sound as the two rocks shifted away from each other, sailing slowly through the cosmos to show the spot where they’d hit had somehow smoothened, shining brighter, scattered rock unveiling crystalline ridges beneath.
“Ah...perfection...” Discord said softly.
“So...all of these stars are ideas? That form some kind of divine plan for the universe they guard?” White Wolf worked things out in her head “How many are there?”
“Countless. Literally. More come and go each and every moment. There is never any moment of stillness here. You stay here long enough and you notice a pattern, a web, a single shape conjoining each and every idea as one. At least...that was how it was a while ago.”
“What happened?”
Discord shrugged.
“In every universe, there are creators and there are sustainers. The creator of this universe grew weary, felt he’d lost control, depleted his resources...and hung up his crown.”
He gave a wry chuckle.
“Along came a mouse. A mouse that casts the shadow of a behemoth. A creature who holds many universes under their command. Some mightily, some shakily. We can’t all be kings. But the sustainers remained, adding their own little ideas to both the old world and the new.”
“Uh...I’m lost.” Fletcher Fray said, scratching the back of his ear.
“You think you’re confused, try being part of it yourself.” The dragonequus gave a shrug “Anyway, you see the big rocks up there. That’s creation. Those are ideas cast by the very rulers of this domain, not its mere denizens.”
Above, huge rocks soared through the aether, great solid leviathans. Several of the smaller rocks plunged into their proximity and struck home, chipping away parts of the rock. But most missed them or avoided them.
At this, the Knights noticed, Discord shook his head, tutting with concern.
“Nah, you see, they’re too fast. They’re not letting themselves be influenced. Big ideas like that can’t go too fast or they don’t grow properly.”
“I don’t quite see the problem. It’s moving as fast as the others.” Midnight piped up.
“Exactly!” Discord wrung his hands “When you’re trying to keep ahead, when you’re going faster than all the other bright lights, you’re hurtling into blackness. A big idea like that needs a lot of work. And to fit in with the universe, it requires other ideas, sometimes smaller, sometimes larger, to bounce off them, shape them, craft them into its proper shape. These ones just move too fast and therefore, grow too slowly. The form is massive but the core beneath...is still quite small. It has yet to properly wake up.”
“So...is that this ‘mouse king’s’ fault?”
“Well, yes and no. When you take charge of a universe, you want to move fast, don’t you? You don’t want to be pushed around and look like you’re just shuffling things along. You want to keep ahead, show you know what you’re doing and put a lot into it. But space isn’t the only problem when you’re trying to fit it all in. If there’s too much that isn’t properly shaped when it comes out, you pull things apart too much, everything moves without touching each other and then...well...what are you in charge of then? It’s like being in a giant treadmill that just goes faster and faster and faster...”
“Yeah, that’s my mind right now.” White Wolf shook her head with a growl.
“Even I, a literal God of formless Chaos, struggle to hold onto a single chunk of our own universe...” For a moment, Discord sounded completely serious “Can you imagine, for a minute, what it’s like having to rule more than one all at the same time?”
He sighed.
“I don’t fault them. I, of all creatures, understand the wish to control things. And the ideas are decent, in their own way, it’s just the chiselling they haven’t got right yet. They want to do good here. Show themselves to be worthy. Reaping the benefits never hurt but even then...I have some respect for them, I really do. They’re hard at work. But there’s a difference between working hard and working smart. Working smart requires you to just pause, sit down, let things settle and really look at what you’ve got...with eyes that may not even be your own.”
“Yyyyyyyyeah...” Midnight Blade mumbled “Let’s...let’s get all this down when we get back, shall we? I can feel my brain quartering itself trying to make sense of this.”
“No worries, we’re just at the bridge now. Gimme a minute and...wait...”
Discord’s ears pricked up and shaped themselves wider and thinner like earhorns. He gave a gasp and looked around.
“Oh no...Oh no, not again!”
“What? What is it?” Midnight’s forehoof reached for his falchion “Danger?”
“Like you’ve never seen before. Oh, sweet Nyarlathotrot! There’s more of them every year!”
The Draconequus looked sincerely panicky. The Knights took defensive positions. White Wolf drew two daggers, holding one in her forehoof and placing the other between her teeth while Fletcher Fray drew his longbow and nocked an arrow.
They were at a chasm. The rocks were sparse here.
Above was light, faraway but brilliant and lush where stars of every colour danced and sung.
Below was a cloudy grey abyss with red ripples and ruptures. Humungous, jagged shards of rock, broken off when ideas bounced off each other, were descending at a snails’ pace into the drop below.
“Where are we?” Fletcher asked.
“The bridge to the universe. The very border of the great base. Where love of the universe meets the hatred of it.”
“So...what’s to be afraid of here?”
Having asked that, Wolf’s ear pricked.
There were noises coming up from below. Thumping and cracking of rocks. And voices.
The most angry, hateful, maniacal voices they’d heard in quite some time.
Steadily, they could make out words. Or crude attempts of words.
“yuu killd ma chuldhud!!!”
“nutt mah sterr werrs!!!
“es-jay-dubbleyoo!!!”
“woek hoarrs!”
“I didn’t want to do this. I really didn’t want to do this...” The God of Chaos groaned.
“Oh, what fresh Tartarus is this?!” Midnight groaned “Discord, what is that coming up from below and what the hell is it talking about?!”
The Draconequus gave him a grim glance.
“In many stories, there is a bridge the heroes must cross, Midnight...And what do you find hiding under that bridge?!”
Fletcher cast his archer’s eyes out as things emerged, jumping from rock to rock or crawling up the chasm.
Freakish things, naked and hunched, pot-bellied but bandy-limbed, eyeless, earless and tasteless with bulbous noses, grasping fingers and claws. Huge mouths of hideous teeth gnashed and screeched feverishly and horns had sprouted all over their heads and joints. Their skins were mottled messes of slimy greens, pus yellows, scabrous reds, murky blues, blistery oranges, raw pinks, corpulent purples, mouldy cyans, faecal browns and every shade that brought about feelings of revulsion and suspicion.
Living sculptures of toxicity, clambering towards them.
“This place...”
Fletcher turned to his comrades and bellowed out at the top of his lungs.
“I can’t navigate through all this.” Discord called to the Knights “These creatures don’t let anyone through!”
The three bodyguards of Princess Luna beheld the oncoming horde with horror as the first dozen creatures clambered up to stare them down face to face, still raging and squawking, waving their limbs about like mad-things.
The knights tried to reach some degree of reason but there appeared no way through such a tide of hysteria.
“fak canunn an fak diznee!”
“In Equestrian, please?”
“yuu ruind da francheiz!”
“Well maybe, but is that any reason to shout?”
“Dayzee Ridli iz a libb-slu-”
Thunk!
One of the trolls jolted, transfixed by a short throwing dagger through his mouth. He gurgled on his curses and fell back the way he came, into the abyss.
All eyes turned to White Wolf whose hoof was still raised in a throwing motion.
“What?” she muttered “He shouldn’t have yelled at me. I get jumpy.”
A collective howl came up from the lungs of his comrades as they grabbed at chunks and splinters of rock and made their way forward in whatever way they could, beckoning for blood.
“Now ya’ done it!” Discord yelled “Now they think they’re being persecuted so we’re fair game!”
“You know what, buck this!” Midnight swung his falchion through the air “We’ll try to keep them at bay for as long as we can. Discord, get that bridge up and door open. The sooner we’re out of here, the better!”
“For once, no argument here!” The Draconequus pressed his hands against air before him and a gust of interdimensional vortex burst from his palms “If you need one-liners, let me know.”
“You two up for a spot of knife-work?” Midnight turned to his compatriots who responded with eager grins and raised weapons.
“I’m a Von Armbrust.” Fletcher Fray said proudly “We made troll-hunting a family pastime.”
“And I’ll carve up anything for some peace and quiet.” White Wolf snarled “And I don’t know what a ‘woak hoar’ is but I’m tired of hearing it.”
“Then it’s settled.” Midnight spread his bat wings and drew a forehoof over the flat of his blade “Tonight, the moon runs red!”
And with a mighty charge, with Luna’s name on their lips, the Eternal Knights flung themselves into the heart of war.
