Arach Raynor looked up as he heard the repulsor engines humming in the distance. His team were hurriedly loading their transports to leave Cawbate, and he frowned as he tried to ascertain the type of craft over the cacophony of noise around him. He could hear the sound from the dim sky, and as it drew closer he motioned to one of his aides to alert his men.

Tunnil Fulle stepped up, a small power converter in his large arms. He stood next to Arach and cocked his T-shaped head to listen also. He had put away his weapon to help with the loading, placing some of Arach’s salvaged parts on his own vessel.

   “Trouble, do you think?” he asked, his brow twitching in his species’ expression of a frown.

Arach shook his head.

    “It’s not Anzai and Latti, that’s a skyhopper engine.”

A small scaly alien stepped up and tapped Arach on the elbow. Arach turned.

   “Yes, Huff?”

   “Boss boss, there’s a landspeeder here here,” he panted hurriedly, “tall tall man, bad eyes.”

The power converter was lowered to the ground and Tunnil sighed, the breath raspy on his dry throat. He squinted into the early morning murkiness and nodded to the small alien.

   “Arach, I’ll check out this skyhopper if you want to check out ‘bad-eyes’.”

Arach nodded.

   “I’ll be right back.”

He was only gone for a few moments when a skyhopper dropped from the low cloud and approached the rapidly dissolving camp. The first thing Tunnil noticed was a huge hole in the stabiliser fin, charred and seemingly quite fresh. Electrical systems in the fin sparked and smoked as the skyhopper came in for a bumpy landing.

As the craft settled Tunnil saw the pilot in the steamed-up cockpit; Latti Tellex. He was amazed to see him on his own in an entirely different vehicle from the one he had left the camp in. He immediately wondered where Anzai was and approached the craft.

Latti bundled out of the damaged vehicle, walking backwards and inspecting the damage. He shook his head and took a deep breath as Tunnil approached. Several of the beings disassembling the camp looked on in confusion.

   “Surprised I made it this far,” Latti said, looking over at Tunnil. He gave a weak smile and rubbed his smoke-stung eyes.

   “What happened?” Tunnil demanded. “Where’s Anzai?”

Latti’s mouth turned down and he looked at his feet with apparent shame.

   “Imperials got him.”

   Tunnil’s face dropped. He grabbed Latti’s arm and turned him around.

   “The Empire? What do you mean?”

With a twist Latti broke the grip.

   “What I said! The bounty on Arach has been sanctioned by the Empire. Rebel collaboration charges. They ambushed us in a settlement and got him. I piled into this thing,” he motioned to the skyhopper, “but they shot and captured Anzai. Transport nearly fried me. I had no choice...” he trailed off, looking up at the hole in the stabiliser fin.

   “No choice...?”

   “I just left him there, Tunnil! I tried to get to him but the transport was armed and I wasn’t! There were just too many of them.”

Tunnil shook his head and his face went hard. The skyhopper fizzed and crackled. All around them beings collapsed constructs and ferried them on board the transports.

Tunnil looked over the compound and saw Arach approaching with another man he didn’t recognise. The man was tall, in well-tailored robes and a sported thinly trimmed facial hair.

He turned back to Latti.

   “How did they find you?”

Latti looked up to speak, but the tall man with Arach spoke first.

   “I think I can answer that.”

Latti looked over at the sound of the voice and his face turned to stone.

The man walked up and stood opposite them, his own face expressionless. His face was known to Latti, and Latti gave the man the courtesy of explaining himself as he tried to keep his temper under control, curling one of his facial braids around a finger.

   “And you are?” Tunnil asked.

   “I am Tecor Heloosh. I was with Dressel when he informed the Empire of Anzai and Latti’s destination. I was...”

The sentence was cut off abruptly as Latti threw himself forward, his fist connecting with Tecor’s face and sending him sprawling back into Anzai.

   “Bastard!”

Tunnil leapt forward to stop the altercation, but Latti’s thoughts of restraint were long gone from his mind. He had thrown himself so hard at Tecor he overbalanced and fell over his legs. Tecor was caught by a surprised Anzai, blood splashed across his lip and cheek.

Latti was already scrambling to his feet, his arms raised to get a hold of Tecor but Tunnil stepped in and grabbed his wrists, pulling him back. Latti struggled in his grip as he was pulled to his feet.

A bloodied Tecor yanked his body from Anzai’s grasp but made no attempt to retaliate, watching Latti struggle in Tunnil’s grip. He wiped the blood at his mouth and looked at Latti with anger. Anzai interposed.

   “Enough! I think we had better get some answers!” he turned his back on Latti who had calmed his struggling enough so that Tunnil relaxed his grip. “You must be misfiring on jet-juice to come here and tell us something like that, Tecor,” he said angrily. His hand rested on his hip-mounted blaster, his index finger flicking off the safety catch.

   “I know that you are all friends of Karoo, and that coming here was probably a huge mistake on my part, but you must realise something; I need transport off this globe and you are the only ones leaving... unofficially. Besides, you want your friend back, don’t you?”

   “Oh, great,” Latti spat, “he works for the man who sold us up the canyon and now he wants to help us rescue our buddy!”

   “If you’ll listen,” Tecor growled, “then I’ll explain.”

They all relaxed, Tunnil keeping one hand on Latti’s shoulder and Latti himself crossing his arms in defiance. Arach kept his hand on his blaster and nodded.

   “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

Tecor adjusted his collar and dabbed and his cut lip with a small cloth.

   “I have been determined to get out of the employment of Dressel for a long time. The man is a loser. I intended to leave him last night, but unfortunately Karoo and this one turned up, and Dressel demanded my presence. I wanted to leave quietly, but being at Dressel’s call made that awkward. Then he let the Empire know about your destination. You see, we had been tracking Karoo for a while. Dressel seemed quite intent on bringing him down. Considering I was about to make off with a hundred thousand credits of his money I thought I had better play along.”

   “A hundred thousand...” Tunnil began, incredulous.

   “Yes, a lot of money, don’t you think? So I made the transmission, and then told Dressel I was going to the Imperial base, where they’ll be holding Karoo, to collect the reward. I commandeered the fastest speeder he had and came straight here to arrange passage with yourselves.

   “I have nothing against Karoo or you,” he pointed at Latti, “but I was in a situation and I always look after myself.”

   “And what are your intentions now?” Tunnil asked with an air of anger.

   “My intention is to hook up with Glann Cipple. He is on a ship in the next system, a very short hyperspace jump from here. I called him a while a go to meet me, as I have a lot of information about Dressel’s operation I am sure he would be able to put to good use. I can trade that information for Anzai’s rescue.”

   “Why would you do that?” Latti laughed humourlessly, looking Tecor up and down. “Why go to the bother of helping us out?”

   “I know that Anzai and Cipple were friends, once, and maybe helping out Anzai will make the attraction of employing me a lot more desirable to him. He has a better organised and much more profitable business than Dressel. I am willing to take any chance at getting into his operation.”

   “Being the friend of a friend, huh?” Arach shook his head and looked at Tecor with a twisted mouth. “You’re double-dealing backstabbing bantha dung, Tecor.”

   “I have learned to live with the smell. Believe me, Glann Cipple is the only one with the contacts and the power to engineer Karoo’s escape.”

Latti stepped away, cursing under his breath. Arach looked at Tecor with a narrow-eyed stare.

Tunnil looked at the lightening sky.

   “I hate to say it,” Tunnil said, looking directly into Tecor’s eyes, “but considering you came here unarmed and laid all this out to us, I think we have no choice but to go along with it, for Anzai’s sake.”

Latti and Arach both spun to face Tunnil.

   “You what?”

   “Is he awake?”

   “Yes, Admiral. He’s a little groggy, but I think he’s up to answering a few questions.”

   “Was he badly hurt?”

   “Just a very heavy stun shot. There’s just a little bruising from his fall, but nothing that will seriously compromise his health.”

Anzai ‘s eyes flickered.

Where...

   “There will be a transport shuttle here in about five hours. He will then be sent to the ISD Retaliator for questioning.”

   “I’ll make sure he’s well enough for the interrogation, Admiral.”

Where the...

   “We’ll question him now. Open the cell.”

Anzai slowly lifted his head to watch a large figure enter his small room. He was silhouetted by the bright light flooding the cell, which made Anzai squint and move his head into the shadow, further covering the figure in darkness. Behind the figure Anzai could faintly see another officer and at least two stormtroopers.

The cell was nothing more than a small hole in the ground, with a large door in the top. A small flight of steps came down into the room from the ceiling, and Anzai was sure it was only just high enough so that he would still have to lower his head to stand. Nothing adorned the circular cell, and beyond the room Anzai could only see blander, grey walls.

He felt quite ill. He had been in and out of consciousness for a while, how long he did not know.

   “Anzai Karoo. So this is the man we have been hunting.”

   “What the freck is going on?” Anzai demanded.

   “Don’t play the idiot,” the man said, his tone conveying his obvious irritation and impatience. “We know you collaborate with the Rebellion and that’s why you’re under arrest.”

There was a pause. Anzai, not knowing whether he was expected to answer or not, kept his silence. The thought of the Empire knowing about his Rebellion contacts worried him. The thought of what they would do to him terrified him.

Finally, Anzai gave in to the silence and said,

   “What makes you think I’m allied with those terrorists?”

The officer, who Anzai still couldn’t quite make out because of the bright light behind him, laughed loudly.

   “It was quite simple. A cargo vessel was attacked by Rebel fighters a standard week ago; it’s cargo of rifles and equipment stolen from the holds. How shocked do you think we were when a Rodian, Obruk, came to us and was only too willing to spill the details about the deal between himself, a Twi’lek, a Gammorrean and a certain Gern Omik involving weapons with their serial numbers still intact. Unfortunate for you that the Rodian was a friend of Gern Omik’s and saw through your deceit. Then it was a question of getting the details and descriptions of you and you’re ship, and it all just fell together. You have quite a detailed file in Imperial records, Karoo. I’m surprised you’ve never been picked up before.”

Anzai wasn’t convinced.

   “It’s all supposition and guesswork...”

   “I have positive ID on you, Anzai. You could have got those weapons from only one place. The Rebellion.”

   “I could have bought those weapons off pirates who attacked your cargo ships, have you thought of that?”

The Admiral didn’t step from the light. Anzai knew that it was for psychological reasons and he tried very hard to quell the fear he felt.

   “One of the vessels that attacked the cargo vessels was a gunboat that publicly declared its intention to defect to the Rebellion after the Yavin incident. You don’t get much clearer cut than that, Karoo. Listen, I’ll make you a deal. Simply tell us where you got the weapons from, and you don’t have to go through any pain. Just a trip to Kessel where you’ll spend the rest of your life. What do you say?”

With reluctance, Anzai had to admit the Admiral’s offer was tempting. He knew, however, there could be only one answer.

   “Forget it. You got the wrong man.”

With a tutting sound and a dismissive wave, the Admiral started back up the stairs.  

    “Yes, I’ve seen it before in prisoners, ‘brave to the last’ I think they call it. Well, I won’t repeat the offer. Sergeant!”

Another shadow joined the Admirals as Anzai watched him disappear from view. There was tapping sound as the other officer came to attention.

   “Yes, Admiral?”

   “Fetch the ‘droid.”

Anzai swallowed hard.

I remember once, sat around the table in the galley of the Happy Contriver, talking to Riger about where our little group was headed. We had made a lot of credits, to be sure, but now things seemed to be winding down. We were docked on Trefnare, celebrating the fact that we had completed another successful deal.

It was strange on board the vessel without Dessio D’stann there. It was obvious things had become difficult in the group and his departure, although it had been for nearly two months now, still left a bit of a gap in the group. Dessio had always been the one to accumulate the information, make the contacts, know the right way to act around someone to get results. Now our jobs seem to revolve around luck and reputation.

Riger asked me what I intended to do with my future. I was a little shocked by the question but not entirely surprised. Riger had been spending a lot of time with a woman he had met on Trefnare and it was obviously making him a lot more relaxed and a lot less interested in the job.

Well, how could I answer? He was obviously asking me so that he could add another perspective to his plans, which obviously included this woman. I was hesitant to answer, mind. Many of my plans for the future had changed with the emergence of a new government from Coruscant, a New Order from the remnants of the Old Republic who called themselves the Empire. I was amazed how one word could

describe a government so perfectly and yet sound so cold.

After giving my answer, which, in truth, didn’t really go far beyond the Happy Contriver, Riger just smiled and patted me on the shoulder. His words still ring in my ears whenever I feel directionless or a little disillusioned with my work.

   ‘We have no destiny except that which we are responsible for’.

I never saw him again after that night. As far as I know, he’s dead.

Why am I thinking of that now? I’m trying not to think of something else. What is it?

Oh, that’s it. The pain.

Anzai threw back his head and screamed again as the black globe hovering in front of him sent another circular green energy burst his way. The blast seemed to enter his body and shock every nerve ending he had, sending him into spasms and seizures for a few moments. The needle on its side had already pumped a concoction of liquids into his bloodstream and now it seemed intent on frying his skin.

He fell, for how long he couldn’t tell in his drugged state, and hit the cell wall, sliding down it almost impossibly slow.

Above him stood the Admiral and one black-clad guard with a sergeant’s insignia. His black reflective helmet refracted the light from the interrogator ‘droid so that with every burst a hundred beams of light bathed the cell and the rooms outside with a dark green.

   “OV600,” came a slow, drawling voice.

Anzai looked up.

   “That’s what the serum is that’s coursing through you’re veins right now. It’s best not to fight it. I have seen prisoners burst blood vessels and die right in front of me fighting the need to tell me what I want to know.”

To Anzai’s distorted perception, the Admiral had become a huge figure, towering over him and twisting slightly so that it appeared to stretch out thinly, turning like a wet towel being wrung dry. The room accompanied him on this and Anzai pointed a finger and laughed, saliva spilling down his chin.

   “Where are your contacts in the Rebellion?” the Admiral asked again. “Where is the terrorist base?”

Almost nonchalantly Anzai went to tell him but he stopped. A small voice somewhere was screaming at him to be quiet, to seal his mouth tight and say nothing.

For some reason, Anzai could see his own mouth as it curled up so that he could get a better view. It appeared to have been sealed with a small blast door that was slowly inching open.

No, no the small voice raged. The blast doors started to close.

But I can’t stand the pain. The doors started to open.

Anzai became aware of the Admiral’s closeness although he still couldn’t make out any features. He sensed the Imperial was eager, close to something although he didn’t know what. Then he realised that the officer was excited about a word that he had just said, a word he wasn’t even aware he had spoken until just now.

Citadel Station.

   “What system?” the Admiral pressed. “What planet?”

Anzai shook his head. The blast doors were bulging now. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the bulging forms of the officer make a waving motion with his hand and a circle of green energy spewed from a black globe.

Anzai, on his knees with a torn shirt and bloodied arms and face, stretched almost to breaking point as wave after wave of energy ripped through him. He eyes bulged, he arched over backwards and his arms and shoulders were swept back as if a violent wind was blowing into him. Bared teeth crackled with energy as he snarled and tried not to scream.

   “What system?” the officer asked.

With an extra burst of energy the blast doors shattered and Anzai finally gave out.

   “Leogaaaaard!” he screamed with so much force his throat threatened to leap from his mouth and wounds that were almost closed on his face split asunder, sending fresh blood cascading down his skin. If his heart had exploded it would have killed everyone present.

The word echoed throughout the cell and beyond, but before the Admiral could rejoice at the information he had finally gleaned after over an hour’s interrogation, the wall exploded.

The Admiral moved quickly. Not in any form of combat posture but up the stairs. The sergeant unholstered a sidearm and started forward towards the hole the explosion had left in the wall but was stopped dead, literally, as several blaster bolts came screaming out of the smoke and took him in the chest and head. He jerked with every hit and flew back against the base of the stairs. Another officer appeared at the top of the stairs and he was the second to die.

As the black-uniformed officer rolled down the steps two figures leaped through the hole. They were dressed in dark grey clothes that were armoured on the more exposed areas of their bodies but not the joints, enabling decent protection but not hindering any dextrous movements. Each carried a rifle, which they continually kept at the ready. As they advanced towards Anzai another emerged from the hole and went to the base of the stairs. Shouts and alarms were echoing through the rest of the building Anzai was being kept in and every few moments the grey figure would fire a volley of shots up the stairs.

The tallest figure stood over Anzai and motioned for the other figure to see to him. He couldn’t understand the language. He couldn’t even understand what was going on or why he was here. All he knew was the pain that seemed to thump with every shot and every shout.

The next thing Anzai knew was that he was staring at the floor and all he could see was an overhead view of a pair of heels appearing and disappearing in quick succession. A blaster shot exploded close by, answered by heavy thumps of fire being returned. The sirens and shouts seemed to get further and further away, and as sound and light seemed to diminish Anzai suddenly knew what had happened.

I’ve died.