The night sky was bright, almost unnaturally so, the twin moons that hovered over the planet casting twin beams of light like spotlights, illuminating the planet as it slowly rotated, in keeping with the near perpetual night that was common to this world.
Ranox. A planet far away from anything that could be called civilisation, and deep within the outer rim territories. It occupied its own system, the planet rotating only just faster than its own sun, meaning that every night was almost as long as the planets year, one side of the world being bathed in the radiation from the star, while the other was populated by the dour people that called the world home.
Even with its near-eternal night, the planet was beautiful, the lack of any large cities making the planet seem natural in a way that the core worlds simply couldn’t match. In fact, the only piece of technology for miles around was the massive ship that was squatting on top of a large mesa, the orange and white hull glinting in the half light, obscured only slightly by the crouching figure who was perched on top of the Hammerhead Cruisers Bridge.
The figure was huge, the massive wings that protruded from his back only adding to its size. Slowly, Spike rose to his feet, looking out across the landscape with a sparkle in his eyes, before jumping down from the roof, flaring his wings and landing softly on the ground in front of the lowered gangplank, just in front of a pair of soldiers.
“Sir.” One of them said lazily as Spike walked past them. There had been a time when they had tried to be completely formal, but over the years, Spike had let discipline slide. As long as they were ready if anything happened, Spike was fine with them.
Walking through the bowels of ship, Spike quickly reached the command room, looking over at the men already standing around the room.
Spike was surprised that they were all up already, just because the world was shrouded in night didn’t mean that they still didn’t sleep. The Republic, and by extension Spike, had been on this planet for three months now, helping the planet to recover from the damage done to it in the great Sith War. Compared to a lot of the planets Spike had seen, this one had hardly suffered, only a few of the permanent townships had been destroyed. Funny how he now classed that as minor damage.
The Republic 59th Recovery Force, a unit that had taken to calling themselves the Vipers, had been established half a decade after the final defeat of Exar Kun at Yarvin IV, about the time Spike had returned from his last hunt against the Terentateks, his sixth successful one in the two year hunt. Initially set up to help those planets in the core and mid-rim, Spike had quickly changed the mission statement for the unit when he had seen the devastation wrought in the outer rim. Until that time, the only other unit that had been helping those planets had been a small militia platoon, a gesture of good faith more than an actual relief force, now, he was the only force operating out here, the militia disbanding after Spike arrived.
That had been over twenty years ago, and in that time Spike and the 59th had helped hundreds of planets, rarely returning from their mission to enjoy the comforts the core worlds offered. They were eight years into their newest five years deployment, severely overdue for a resupply and some much needed R&R, but after seeing how those who suffered during the war lived, the taskforce had been getting fairly lax with keeping to schedule.
“So, how long left on Ranox?” Spike asked, looking between his two commanders.
“Well, officially we should be gone.” Captain Parn said simply, the Rodian female looking down at the round command table they were all gathered around. Parn was probably the most uptight member of the force, but she was ok, and her crew had never steered Spike wrong so far, so he had no reason to doubt her abilities. “But, with our personal mission parameters, we have another week here.”
“Oh, um, the chieftain wants to speak to you.” Sergeant Cortez chimed in. “Said it was something important, but it didn’t sound like it was a problem on this planet. We could probably ignore it, but it probably wouldn’t make him all that happy.”
Spike chuckled at the man’s antics. The Sergeant was a good guy, but calling him intelligent would be nothing more than a lie. In fact, calling him stupid could be classed as an insult to stupid people, but his heart more than made up for it, and he cared deeply for the soldiers under his command. Between the three of them, they had every facet of the Republic militant arm represented, army, fleet, and of course, the Jedi.
Technically, the Jedi weren’t soldiers, nor were they a true part of the Republic, but they shared a symbiotic relationship with each other. The Jedi provided the Republic with unmatched diplomats, healers, and when the need arose, warriors, and in return, the Republic sheltered the Jedi, providing security with armies far larger than anything the Jedi themselves could muster. The Jedi scratched the Republics back, and the Republic scratched theirs.
“Very well. Parn, I’ll be leaving in an hour for the capital, ship will be yours in that time. Don’t let Cortez blow anything up when I’m gone.” He smirked, before turning and making to leave.
“How much sleep did you get?” Parn asked expectantly, her motherly tone still making Spike grin whenever he heard it.
“Five hours. On and off.” Spike said simply.
“Good night for you then.” Parn noted.
“Tell me about it.” Spike nodded, not turning around. “At this rate I doubt I’ll ever be able to sleep for hundreds of years like normal Dragons.”
“Still can’t wrap my head around that.” Cortez said as Spike left. “I mean, I can sleep for a long time, but centuries, no way.”
Spike shook his head as he made his way through the ship, ducking under the doors as he headed back out of the ship. As he exited the ship, Spike stretched up again, working the cricks out of his neck that had built up when he had been inside. The ship may have been a good one, much better than anything else he had ever been assigned to for an extended period of time, but it wasn’t half small for him. Spike had finally stopped growing at a ridiculously quick rate, levelling off at just over eight foot. He was however, still growing, it just was nowhere near the level he had been growing before. Small mercies at least.
Slowly, Spike extended his wings, giving them a few experimental flaps as he looked off into the distance, the soldiers guarding the entrance to the Hammerhead taking a few steps back as they were buffeted by the wind Spike was kicking up. Happy that his wings had been limbered up, Spike began to flap them much harder, quickly taking off the ground, and soaring through the skies, slowly flapping his wings to keep himself aloft. He did not have to flap them nearly as fast as a Pegasus would, easily able to keep himself air born with long, large flaps. His wings when compared with a Pegasus actually fitted his body, being properly proportioned to him, something he was glad of, as he always assumed that Pegasus could only fly thanks to the magic of Equestria. Take them off world, and their wings would be useless, just a dead weight slowing them down, and making them vulnerable.
Spike had to admit though, now he had tried it, he was hooked, the feeling of the wind rushing across his scales as he soared and dived far above the ground, the knowledge that he was no longer tied down to the earth that confined the rest of his friends and allies. This was true freedom. Saying that, it was also a useful skill, distances were next to meaningless when you could fly faster than old combustion cars, even if he had never tried to use flight in combat. That being said, he didn’t want to try really. His wings were not like a jet pack, and they did not give him perfectly smooth flight, he could not hover in place like a Pegasus could, or take off instantly like a rocket trooper could, his was an unstable flight, but it was flight none the less.
It did not take him long to reach the capital city, or rather the biggest town on the planet, swooping low over the ground before folding his wings and dropping the last few meters, landing on the cobbled street with a thud, barely breaking stride as he made his way into the town.
As he walked, he saw the townsfolk, the Ranoxians, going about their nightly business, hawing their wares or otherwise flitting to and fro between the metal scrap buildings. The Ranoxians had once been normal humans, thousands of years in the past, long before the Republic had made contact with them. They had settled here in the time of the Hutt Empire, fleeing the wrath of the crime lords as they fled from the planet they had originally occupied. In light of anything better, and out of options, they had been forced to crash land on the planet, converting their damaged flotilla of sleeper ships into the first settlement, and what had eventually become the town Spike was now standing in.
The Ranoxians themselves had not been unchanged by the years either, slowly evolving from humans into creatures that now bore little resemblance to their progenitors. Black skinned, hunch backed creatures, the Ranoxians had adapted to life on the dark planet, the inhabitants eyes growing in size, and being taken up nearly totally by the pupils, their faces taken up almost completely by the eyes and their large, teeth filled mouth. Their sharp teeth allowed them to eat a near-completely meat based diet, owing to the fact that very little edible foodstuff grew anywhere on the planet.
Certain creatures did seem to thrive on the planet however, feasting on anything that stood in their path. They had been a constant pain for the inhabitants of the world in these trying times, as they lost entire villages to these creatures. Well, they did loose entire villages to the creatures. Now, with a little Republic assistance and a weeklong hunt by Spike, the creature’s numbers had been culled to manageable levels. Since then, not a single village had fallen to these beings, their nameless foes shrinking back into the legends they were born from, the Ranoxians only identifying them as ‘The Bringers of Sorrow’.
Quickly, Spike climbed a ladder to reach the Bridge of the main ship that made up the town, the Bridge acting as a town hall of sorts. He could have quite easily flown to the top, it would have been quicker at least, but the first time he had tried to do that he had been accused of breaking traditions and spitting on the memories of their ancestors. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t understand the traditions that they had, but he didn’t have to understand them, just follow them.
Eventually, he reached the top of the massive ladder, pulling the door open and moving inside, looking around at the Silent Council, an ironic name for the ten Ranoxians from the various villages around the planet who were usually anything but silent. As far as politics went, this was quite an easy variation. Shouting and the occasional posturing match, then everything was sorted out fairly quickly. They had no leader, everyone was equal on the silent council, and everyone had an equal say. The system worked well for something with no leader, and even no names. When a Ranoxian was elected to sit upon the council, it was until death, and they forsook the lives they lived before, stripping back to just their appearances, to symbolise they spoke for the planet, not themselves.
“Jedi Spike.” One of the Ranoxians nodded as he entered.
“Silent Council.” Spike greeted back, bowing deeply. “I have been informed that you have some information that may be useful to the Vipers.”
“We have something.” Another Ranoxian agreed. “We often trade with the planet of Thresh, a couple of sectors over. They haven’t been sending anything for a week and a half now, they’re overdue on four trades.”
“A trade dispute is hardly what I would call a matter for the 59th Recovery.” Spike pointed out.
“No, of course not.” One of the members of the Council said, getting to his feet and walking around the table, the hunched creature using their overly developed forearms to stabilise themselves as they walked. “But the fact that they have also not replied to any of our communications is. The last traders we sent were over three weeks ago, they refuel at Thresh and come back, they haven’t returned. At first we thought it was just a hiccup on their end, but not anymore.”
“Ok, maybe it is an issue for the Republic.” Spike said as he sat down at one of the free chairs, really more of a lump of metal than an actual carved or manufactured chair. Nothing was wasted on Ranox, everything served a purpose or could be made from junk. Functionality took preference over form. “What exactly to you trade with Thresh, and what do they give back?”
“As you know, Ranox is relatively rich in underground deposits of Tibanna gas. We give some of our exports to them in exchange for some food and things we can’t make ourselves.”
“Tibanna gas?” Spike double checked. “They make blasters then?”
“High quality to the outer rim.” The council agreed unanimously. “If you want a blaster, get a Thresher.”
“Great, so when some crazed gunman runs up and tries to shoot me, I’ll know where the weapon came from.” Spike smirked. “Anyway, tell me more about Thresh. Population, climate, everything you can.”
“It’s an Agri-world going through changes to become more industrious off the back of its weapon sales. Population is over twenty times that of Ranox, and they are a quick jump away at only twelve parsecs. Spatial coordinates of sixty two Gamma Gamma Epsilon niner seven five.”
“Defences?”
“A small system monitor fleet with an outdated surface to orbit cannons. Nothing big, but enough to see off pirates.”
“So if something has happened, this is a more concerted force.” Spike finished. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. How are we looking on the recovery efforts?”
“The Bringers of Sorrow have been contained, and we now have the strength to fight them off. The outlying villages have been linked back to the capital much more efficiently, allowing more aid and trade, and you’ve even managed to repair and re-equip our own defence fleet. I can’t imagine there is much more for you to do for us.”
“Well then, in light of this information you have provided us on Thresh, and the lack of need for us here, the 59th and I will take our leave from Ranox.” Spike said, getting up from his seat.
“We shall not forget your services, Spike the Dragon, nor that of the Republic. The people of Ranox will sing of you when the long night ends and the short day is upon us.” The councillors decreed, speaking in one voice once more. Spike wondered if they were slightly psychic when they did this, telepathically transmitting what they wanted to say to their fellows. It would certainly explain a lot.
Turning on his heels, Spike walked from the room, tugging the door closed with his tale, before spreading his wings wide. He may have had to take the ladder up, but there were no rules concerning it on the way down. Jumping forward, Spike allowed himself to fall for a few moments, before catching the rushing wind in his wings and soaring off into the night’s sky, making a beeline for his ship.
Crossing the distance quickly, Spike landed at the gangplank again just in time to see the soldier on duty being relieved by another pair.
“Belay that, get on board.” Spike ordered casually as he walked past the four soldiers. “Seal her up and get the crew ready for a jump.”
“Aye.” One of the soldiers nodded, before walking off down the corridor in the opposite direction from Spike, who began to make his way to the Bridge, passing the empty command room on his way.
“Jedi on the Bridge.” A man shouted, and instantly the Bridge crew stood at attention.
“Stand at ease and strap in.” Spike ordered, looking at Parn as she got up from the command chair. “Parn, take the helm please.” He nodded as he sat down in the chair.
“Aye sir, where are we heading?” Parn asked.
“The planet Thresh, short jump away.” Spike replied.
“Coordinates?”
“Sixty two Gamma Gamma Epsilon niner seven five.”
“Aye sir, sixty two Gamma Gamma Epsilon niner seven five.” Parn repeated, pressing a few buttons before grabbing the wheel and speaking into her headset.
“All hands to your stations, prepare for imminent lift off and Hyperspace jump.”
“Tell them to stand by in combat positions as well please.” Spike quipped quickly.
“Expecting trouble?” One of the Bridge crew asked, not looking round from their consoles.
“We could be. Thresh should have a defence fleet, but if something’s happened, then I want to be ready. Keep the Hyperdrive warmed up. If shit hits the fan, I want to be out of there in under a minute.” Thoughts of the Valiant and his failure crossed his mind, but it was not difficult to supress the old memories any more. They wouldn’t go away, but they wouldn’t be reducing him to tears any time soon.
“Clearing the atmosphere in five…four…three...two…one…mark. We have achieved orbit around Ranox. Hyperdrive spinning up. All hands, please stand by your stations for combat operations.”
“Miss Parn.” Spike smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Take us out.”
“Aye aye captain.” She nodded, pulling down on the level next to her. A second later, the ship jump forward, disappearing from realspace.