Chancai Falls2002 story by Jonathan Hicks, Mark Newbold, Paul Squire and Louis Turfrey Thirty-eight
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Fireworks exploded over the Chancai Trade Centre. Fringe-Mall was alight from hundreds of thousands of hand-held laser shows that shot into the air and painted pictures of light on the low clouds. Sliced flimsy and coloured ribbons were scattered from the thousands of windows that covered the outer surface of the two kilometre-high city creating a cascade of colour that settled upon the buildings and streets below. Beings of varying species ran through the streets, banging doors of homes and businesses alike, throwing the scattered debris falling from the city above into the air, cheering, whooping, crying. People danced, waved their appendages or staggered as if drunk, dazed at the news they had received. Within Chancai itself the passageways and levels were alight with colour and awash with sound. The denizens of the enormous city were also in the streets, dancing and leaping as the news they were celebrating was piped through the public address system. Even the official announcer couldn’t hide the joy in her voice, which soon turned to weeping as the news came in. The central shaft was as the outside of the city – coloured markers drifted in the air creating a blizzard of colour starships had to wade through. A small freighter slipped out of her bay only to be covered in the swarm; by the time she reached the opening of the shaft at the very top of the city her hull had been turned from a bleak grey to a glorious mix of hues. The pilot looked out of his ship with a huge smile as the colours washed down. Bars opened early. Shops closed. Restaurants were jammed. “Think we picked the wrong time to come to Chancai?” Jan Lomona raised his eyebrows and wrapped his arm around Terrie Saffra’s shoulders, squeezing her close to him and kissing the soft shiny black hair on the top of her head. Revellers thronged through the streets, streets that were always a mass of heaving life and machinery, but were now a wild, unrestrained party. Jan looked around, unsure of what exactly they were celebrating. New year was still hours away and usually passed without note in this twenty-seven hour city. One species new year was another’s summer break. And after recent events, the impending sense of doom the Ki-Ki/Setnin War had thrown over everyone, this new year seemed an almost senseless celebration. After all, what was there to celebrate? The certain knowledge that they would be soon under the thrall of the evil Ki-Ki? Jan Lomona was an optimist, but even he saw little sense in welcoming the new year. Out with the old and in with the new. “There isn’t a right time to come to Chancai. I’ve been coming here for fifty years and there’s always something going down.” He checked around again and grabbed a passer-by. “Excuse me, what’s all the noise about?” The female Entallian frowned and split a wide grin. “Haven’t you been listening to the Zelon Wave Exchange? We flattened a Ki-Ki attack fleet on the edge of the system.” She waved to someone in the crowd and began to move away. “We’ve hit back at the Ki-Ki!” She rushed away as Jan turned to Terrie and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well Commander, what do you make of that?” Terrie returned a smile,
although it was barely such a thing. One
battle doesn’t win a war. This place
is going crazy over a skirmish. She
took Jans hand and squeezed it tight.
Oh Jan, if you only knew half about this damn war as I do. You wouldn’t be so damn optimistic. Jan held Terries gaze and frowned deep
inside. Wish I felt as confident as I look. This is making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end,
and that always spells trouble.
Ocern Gabe couldn’t see what was happening far below him on the planet of Zelon, but he could certainly hear the celebrations on the moon of Benesk. The public address system and the Zelon Wave Exchange broadcaster, Arnee Kwarnee, were almost roaring down their microphones so that they could be heard over the tumult. Ocern listened as Arnee tried to explain what was happening, knowing that his voice and the sounds of celebration were being transmitted across the Setnin Sector and beyond. “I can’t describe it… beings in
the streets, hanging out of speeders, launching themselves into the crowd.
The light is incredible – it’s as if every celebratory gadget has been saved
for this day. Laser shows, fireworks… there’s alcohol everywhere! Whoa!
Fizz-bang drinks are going off and I almost got hit! This is great! Hold on…
sorry about that, it seems everywhere I walk there’s always someone who wants
to kiss me… looking out of the main window towards Mutumbarr Lake… it’s
incredible… absolutely incredible… I can see the first few vessels of the
fleet hitting the atmosphere…” The door buzzer hooted for attention. Ocern leaned across his desk and muted the sound of the transmission, pressing another stud to open the portal to his office. Letitia Arkensaw and her aide, Jeddess Essar, walked quickly into the room, their dark brown robes only slightly ruffled by their apparent haste. Ocern stood with his back to the huge window that looked out over the moon of Benesk, the glittering half-globe of Zelon shining above the mountainous horizon. “The scheduled meeting on Zelon is almost upon us, governor,” Letitia said quickly, confusion written over her face as she saw Ocern’s huge smile. “I have been informed that Galactic Alliance Policy Advisor Sheu Ho-Travi’s transport has already entered the Yatchrare System and is on its way to Chancai… Governor, this could be the most important meeting of this conflict, what are you smiling about?” Ocern walked slowly around his desk and picked up his brief pouch, tucking it under his arm. “Admiral Gemasson’s Task Force came across a Ki-Ki attack fleet.” “Where?” Letitia frowned with concern. “At the edge of the system.” There was a silence. “What happened?” “Thirty-two Ki-Ki ships went into direct conflict with twenty-three poorly armed Setnin vessels. It was a hard battle.” Again there was silence. Letitia looked over at Jeddess who shrugged helplessly. “And?” Letitia whispered. “Who won?” With his grin transforming into a smirk, Ocern leaned across his desk and pressed the mute button of the receiver to allow the sound of Arnee Kwarnee’s broadcast to flood the office. “The first ships are in… some are landing outside the city, they’re quite damaged. Some are landing in the bays by the lake. People are rushing onto the fields, onto the landing platforms. Flags are waving, cheering… the crews of the victorious S.D.F are in for a right old shock!” Ocern turned to face the Jedi Knights. “Guess,” he asked as he watched the two women stare at the speaker then each other with shock, their own smiles increasing Ocern’s own joy. “I’ll be there shortly.” Terrie finished on the comm and handed it back to Jan, who notched it
back onto his belt as she linked her arm back into Jans. They watched through the windows as
speeders and skimmers buzzed by the windows of Level Fifteen, Southside, the
seedy side of the Chancai Trade Centre.
Jan eyed the crowd carefully as he pushed his way through, aware that
while he was certainly a recognisable face to the local populace he was also
just another victim to any unsuspecting pick pocket or mugger. Certainly many had tried their luck with
the A-desandian over the years, and many had failed. In fact, all had failed. Jan suffered fools like any other
compromising citizen of the galaxy, but didn’t suffer them getting their
hands into his deep pockets. Not
unless they wished to keep them, anyway.
He glanced at Terrie as she scanned the crowd and smiled to
himself. He knew she had a secret
rendezvous that she didn’t want him to know the details about, but he also
had a meeting of some importance to him that she was totally unaware of. Rounding the corner Jan took a deep breath
and stretched his arms wide. “Ahhh, think I might get
myself a duarga while it’s not too busy in the bars. Wanna join me?” he asked, fervently hoping
for once that she would say no. Terrie shook her head with a frown and continued walking. “No lover, you carry
on. I’ll meet you back here in,” she
checked her chrono. “Forty
minutes. I’ve a few things I have to
sort out myself.” Jan sucked in his upper lip in a façade of passive agreement but
inside was grinning. “Sure honey. Forty minutes it is. And don’t let anything happen to you while
I’m gone.” Terrie frowned a humorous frown. “Lomona, what could
possibly happen? This is Chancai,
remember?” Jan cocked his head and nodded in mock agreement as he turned towards
the long avenue that led to the Northside of the trade centre. “Right. Nothing ever happens here.” Galactic Alliance Advisor Sheu Ho-Travi listened to the broadcast with confusion. “The people are swamping the vessels. The crew, from the lowliest technician to the highest officer, are being carried through the crowd as heroes… I’m not sure they can take many more kisses! Anyone wearing a uniform is going to be swarmed over!” “Captain?” he asked the tall officer standing next to him. “What in the galaxy…?” The captain smoothed back his short-cropped hair and sighed. “It appears to be a celebration of the fact that the S.D.F has just defeated a Ki-Ki assault fleet at the edge of the system. They’re celebrating the fact that they’ve just saved Zelon and Chancai from attack.” Sheu drew in a deep breath and exhaled loudly, shaking his head and looking out the main view port of the Galactic Alliance Diplomatic Transport. He could see some vessels dropping through the atmosphere of Zelon towards the celebrating city of Chancai. Others hung in orbit, others more badly damaged stayed in orbit for safety reasons but shuttles dropped from their hulls. In addition, three huge picket ships and satellite defence platforms sat ready and, as he watched, the traffic control centre called to verify their presence. “Transmit our passage details and reasons for our visit,” Sheu ordered quickly. The captain looked over at his comm officer and nodded affirmation. “Have you noted the defence positions, captain?” Sheu asked quietly. “Every satellite and picket vessel has been identified, ascertained and positioned. The corridor we will be allowed through the defence net is only one of two available.” “Excellent. Compile the data and transmit it as soon as we are given our landing route. Hold position and I’ll take the shuttle down.” “C’mon, clear a path,” growled the Iron Claw officer as he and his men forced a way through the half-drunk crowds of the mid-levels for their scowling leader. “Save me from happy bureaucrats,” grumbled Ryath Centaur under his breath, but loud enough for Raj Gillet to hear, as he stalked towards his meeting with the S.D.F Commander-in-Chief. “They’re just showing their appreciation and support to their noble defenders,” began Gillet, with more than just a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. “The same appreciation they’ve showed the non-affiliates for the past five years?” growled Centaur, unable to bite back the sarcasm. He glanced at his chrono and cursed. “This wretched crowds going to make me late, and the Executioner’s already bound to be in a foul mood.” “His not the only one,” shot back Gillet, and received a sharp glance off his boss for his trouble, and then Centaur’s face cracked open the tiniest of smiles. “Hell, Tannis Rixx can be angry enough for the both of us,” he conceded, and nodded about himself at the celebrating Zelonians. “Hope Gemasson thinks all this is worth him stealing Rixx’s thunder. Only a brave man or a fool would knowingly antagonise a Janite.” “Well,” said Gillet dryly, “you’d know,”
The large ship dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of the system and almost immediately six small craft exited from its massive landing bays. Their profiles would have caused consternation to any picket ship that had seen them, but their only witnesses were the broken corpses of derelict warships and gently drifting debris of the recently fought battle. “Heads up team. Maintain battle formation. If local transmissions are correct, then we need to keep a wary eye on our screens, just in case there are any stragglers.” Blake De’Athe looked over his shoulder whilst he received affirmation from the other members of Ghost Squadron. “How are you doing back there Zeb?” There was a grunt from the cramped passenger seat to the rear of the modified X-Wing. “I will be extremely glad when we are on the ground.” Tannis Rixx fixed Ryath Centaur with a hard stare, one that would have made most men wilt under its furnace-hot gaze. But Centaur wasn’t one for melting, and his own steely stare comfortably countered Rixx’s. Within the opulent and plush confines of the Setnin Defence Force’s Headquarters on the Northside of Level 12 both men seemed out of place, the contest of wills even more so. But Setnin was a place of contradictions, and no place more so than Chancai. Rixx seated himself, drew a deep breath and allowed the atmosphere to settle before continuing. “Your opinion is valid Centaur. But I’ll say it again. I believe your analysis is in error.” “That’s your right, but bitter experience has shown me the folly of believing that the seemingly impossible cannot be achieved. This is the Setnin Sector. Why would it only be the citizens of this sector who can pull off the impossible?” Rixx narrowed his stare, intrigued by a thought. “I’m beginning to see a pattern in your logic.” At last, thought Ryath, he finally concedes it. Rixx continued. “You believe the Ki-Ki have a spy within our ranks.” Ryath took his turn to draw breath and leaned forward in his chair. He always felt a slight discomfort, being on the opposite side of the desk. The wrong side, he felt. Years of Iron Claw leadership had given him the luxury of eyeing people from the business side of the desk. The one with buttons that led to trap doors and ejector seats. He felt slighted here, and didn’t like it. “This war has been raging for years, and there are many factions,” he paused while he let the connotations sink in. Rixx wasn’t just a Janite, he was an ex-Janos Executioner, and more than any man in this new amalgamated S.D.F, he knew all about factions. The animosity between he and Centaur, who still had the death sentence in absentee on Janos, was nothing compared to the political no holds barred battle being conducted by the previous S.D.F Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Gemasson. “Yes,” he stated flatly. “I believe there are those within the Setnin Alliance who would not lose sleep if the Ki-Ki prevailed.” Tannis Rixx leaned back in his own seat, and then turned slightly to gaze outside. People milled by below as the early evening sun began its lazy trawl down the sky to its rest. It was the eve of a new year, and even to a Janite such as Rixx that was a cause for renewed hope. A fresh start and a new beginning, free from anger or hate. Or imprisonment. Someone within the ranks of Setnin was a spy. If Centaur believed it, then that was evidence enough. But who? “Then we must weed them out.” “Agreed. But you’re a political animal now Rixx. Forgive me for being so blunt, but you can’t simply throw accusations across the council floor.” Tannis Rixx smiled, and Ryath immediately wished he were receiving the cold stare. It was warmer and a lot more genuine. “As ever I value your advice. But I’m a true politician now. And I have weapons much deadlier than mere accusations.” Fleet Commander Cathum stood on the command bridge of the vastly modified Fedarn’s Shining Beauty and waited in silence. Next to him, the huge imposing form of Fleet Commander Dagger stood as a statue, his patience eternal. Cathum envied him his stoic appearance and tapped a datapad nervously. “Any signal?” he asked a second officer. “Nothing yet, Commander,” the woman replied. “Still waiting.” “We’re closing on the appointed time. Tell the ships to prepare and power up the Killship Battle Platforms. Tell the Victory Class Destroyer to prepare. Commander Dagger?” “Commander?” Dagger snapped his heels together and waited for orders. “Perhaps you would like to retire to the Sword of Justice to lead the first wave? I will transmit the Zelon defence layout as soon as I receive it.” “Agreed. Strength and Victory.” Dagger slammed his huge scaly fist against his opposite shoulder. Cathum returned the salute. “Strength and Victory, Commander, and good luck to you and your men. Remember – fighter/bombers from the mountain range and then land your troops. Any orbital warfare the Killships will take care of. Just concentrate on your objectives and I want the main city as whole as possible. I don’t care about Fringe-Mall.” Dagger turned on his heel and exited the command bridge with his aides. Cathum watched him go with a blank expression. “Any news of Commander Brotus?” Cathum asked as he watched the heavy blast door close behind Dagger. “Negative, Commander. No news.” “Damn him. The most important engagement of the war and he’s off settling personal vendettas. No matter. Transmit the rules of engagement to all ships. I don’t want the House Barons thinking we used their vessels and personnel without following the code.” “Transmission sent… Commander, we are receiving a Priority One signal from the Galactic Alliance vessel. It appears to contain the data we require.” “Excellent,” Cathum smiled although he didn’t really feel it. “Transmit to the Sword of Justice and all other ships. Tell them to begin the countdown.” “Happy new year, you old soak. I see business is still paying off for you.” Ziggy Teflon shuffled past Jan’s feet at knee level and kicked a half empty box of DL-3 into the corner of the storeroom. He turned and glanced up at the A-desandian as Jan leaned on the doorway. “That’s right. I’ve no complaints. Business is good. Better on the Southside, but then it usually is.” Jan nodded. Ziggy’s other shop, Ziggy’s Highly Addictive Substance
Showrooms was where the small, pot
bellied green-skinned native of the planet Leuchars sold most of
his…non-legal substances. Being on
that side of the trade centre largely shielded him from prosecution, and
given the huge taxes paid out by the shopkeepers of the Southside, the
Chancai Trade Guilds tended to turn a blind eye. Which suited Ziggy, Lomona, and many ganglords of the
past. And probably the future. Here on the Northside in Ziggy’s Herb and
Spice Shop he sold general use articles to the public. Medicines, herbal teas, aromatherapy
miscellany. And sugar. Sugar had once been Setnins prime cargo of
smugglers, rare as it was among the worlds of the sector. And where other smugglers from other
sectors ran illegal and deadly substances, Setnin traders ran sugar. Harmless, sweet tooth inducing, fattening
sugar. Until the Empire learned of
the massive profits to be had from its illegal movement and banned sugar from
the trade lanes of Setnin. As with
everything else, an underground market sprang up, and Ziggy Teflon was at the
forefront. And as his name implied,
he was never caught. Or at least, no
prosecution ever stuck.
“So, what do you want me to do for you Zigg? Run a sugar cube out to Janos and sweeten the Emperor
Priest? Or maybe drop a spoonful on
the Ki-Ki?” Ziggy looked up again.
“Don’t joke about it Lomona.
If there’s anything in this rotten world that can soften the Ki-Ki
then I’d like to know what it is. I
don’t see them easing up anytime soon.” Ziggy Teflon always had his ear to the
ground. And not just because he was
little over a meter tall, Jan knew that his old friend was hardwired into the
information grapevine, perhaps more than he was. Jan moved into the storeroom and closed the door a notch.
“What do you know?” Ziggy slowed, turned and lowered the box he
was hefting onto the bottom shelf of the DL-3 rack. He cleared his throat. “Traders
have been disappearing. Good guys,
regular as clockwork guys. They’re
leaving their ports and not making it through the lines.” Jan chewed his lip.
“It’s a war Zigg. What do you
expect? They can’t exactly show a
doctors note and cough their way through.” Ziggy nodded. “I
know that, but these guys have been evading the Ki-Ki for years. No problems. You know the lanes better than anybody out there. Haven’t you noticed it’s been getting
harder and harder to make your way around?” There was no doubt about it, the lanes were
significantly tighter these past few weeks.
Less room for error, less room to breathe. And now he was here, at the very heart of Setnin, both
geographically, financially and spiritually, he could almost sense the fingers
of oppression wrapping themselves like a vice around his throat. Jan Lomona wiped his brow as a bead of
sweat made its way down his temple and he fixed his jaw.
“Ziggy, you want a cargo taking anywhere and I’m your man. Just name your price and destination.” Ziggy wiped his three-fingered hand on a rag
and placed his hands on his hips.
“The destination is Noscage. I
have six crates of sugar to be delivered by noon local time tomorrow.” Jan paused.
“And the price?” Ziggy Teflon brushed his way past his friend
of fifty years and blew out a long breath.
“Only my soul, Jan. Just my
soul.” There was a groan of anger throughout the assembled delegates as, once again, Sheu Ho-Travi stood to counter the points made by others. The meeting, taking place in the Chancai City Halls, was supposed to be one of progress. It appeared to Ocern Gabe that the Galactic Alliance had finally decided to take the Setnin situation seriously. He had made sure that everyone who would have been affected by the meeting was present, and even though he had not been able to get in touch with all those he wished the news of the meeting had spread through word of mouth. The City Halls were filled with beings. And, as they tried to make breakthroughs as far as the inclusion of the Galactic Alliance or, more importantly, the right of the Setnin Sector to throw off the shackles of Galactic Alliance law to fight off the invasion, Sheu Ho-Travi sealed off the progress. Even now, as the delegates discussed the possibilities of the negotiation of ceasefires and battle lines, the booming voice of the Galactic Alliance Policy Advisor rang across the cavernous room. “Gentlebeings, please,” he said, interrupting a delegate from what little now remained of the Non-Affiliated Worlds of the Setnin Sector, “we cannot assume that these ideas for a cessation of hostilities will be honoured as there are no representatives of the Ki-Ki Sector here. We are simply trying to ascertain what we could do, not what will happen…” and he continued on in the same vein, repeating himself on several occasions. Ocern Gabe leaned in close to whisper to Trace Dallagra. “Is it me, or is he wasting our time?” Trace nodded. “He’s stalling. He keeps looking at his chronometer.” “What do you think he has planned?” “I’m not sure. Letitia seems to think he’s been the main voice of peace back on Coruscant, but it appears to me he’s all bluster and no action.” Ocern agreed with a pained expression. “This is going to take longer than I imagined. I’ll let him listen to his own voice for another few minutes and then I’ll call a recess.” Blake De’Athe and Jedi Master Zeboden stood to the rear of the hall, keeping as low a profile as they could. As representatives of the Setnin Jedi, and more recently associates of the Raven Corporation, they had been asked to attend the meeting. Letitia had not been best pleased, but Ocern Gabe was a persuasive Ishi Tibb. The older Jedi Master turned towards Blake. “Something’s not right. I can sense it.” Blake nodded solemnly. “I think you are right old friend. There is more going on here than meets the eye.” Commander Dagger checked the countdown. With just one minute to go, he turned to face his second officer. “Is every ship of Strike Wave ready?” “Yes, Commander.” “And the signal?” “Still coming through clean from the Galactic Alliance Diplomatic Transport. We have the location and route which will take us straight through their defence network.” Dagger watched the numbers drop away on the timer, closing on the appointed time. “Has the signal been detected?” “Negative. The sheer mass of congratulatory transmissions is hiding it better than we expected. The mass of ships and atmospheric activity should also mask the attack fighter descent.” “As planned. And the meeting on Chancai? What do we know of that?” The second officer pointed at another screen where a number of names scrolled. “The last update we had indicated that over ninety percent of all possible threats are at the meeting.” “Then we will make the city shield generator, the Zelon Wave Exchange and the Chancai City Halls our primary targets; inform the pilots of the change of orders.” “Yes, Commander.” The counter began to drop away the final few numbers. Both Dagger and the second officer watched as the display finally read a series of noughts. Dagger sighed, nodding to the second officer, who turned and bawled at his comms officer. “Message to all ships! Go! Go! Go!” Terrie Saffra waited for the
last few stragglers to pass as she unlocked the entryway and closed the door
behind her. It was dark and dank, and
the pervading smell of engine grease felt like a moist cloth that had fallen
upon her. This was where she was
supposed to be meeting her contact, to pass information and
intelligence. But as her eyes
adjusted to the gloom she could see she was alone. So, even my contact has been intercepted. Then it’s true, the Ki-Ki really are
everywhere. She waited in the half-light for a minute. Galactic Alliance contacts were never late. If they said 19.30 hours then they damn well meant it. With the realisation that she was wasting her time she stepped back into the street and rejoined the throng making their way towards the main plaza of Level 15. The desk clerk handed over Centaur’s weapon belt, and nodded a curt thanks as he signed for them. Just like Amagad,
thought Centaur sardonically, but without the ninth floor. “You survived then?” asked Gillet, as he stood from where he’d been sitting patiently in the S.D.F HQ lobby. “Scarred, but still alive,” smiled back Centaur, and then handed the Iron Claw Captain a discreet briefcase. “New orders,” he stated simply. Gillet couldn’t hide his anticipation and Centaur’s smile grew hungrier. “Shore leaves cancelled, Captain. Looks like our new boss wants to keep us busy.” “Our lad’s getting too rowdy for the civilians?” “Let’s just say the Janite would rather our energies were focused elsewhere. Now,” continued Centaur, “get back to the Thunderer and prepare to break orbit. I’ll follow you up shortly.” “Sir?” “My father-in-law’s in town,” replied Centaur slowly. “Promised the old man a drink.” He shrugged. “You never know, maybe this time he’ll actually pay for a round.” Captain Barler of the warship Divine, formerly a New Republic Fast Attack vessel but now in the hands of the Setnin Defence Force, almost choked on his chav as almost every warning klaxon the ship possessed began to wail. “What the hell…! What’s that?” He jumped to his feet and virtually leaped the distance between his command chair and the helmsman’s controls. “Proximity alarms! Spatial intruder warnings! Lock-on alerts! Captain, every alarm is going crazy!” Barler looked out of the main bridge viewing port but he was loathe to do so; the sudden appearance of a large group of vessels just behind the Zelon defence line, straight down one of the secure transport corridors through the net, was terrifying enough on the monitor without seeing it in all it’s glory. But look he did. A least twenty-four vessels of varying sizes were dropping out of hyperspace within the lines. Vodon class warships appeared, immediately launching fighters, covered by gunboats and battleships of varying, unknown designs. Each one had the emblem of the Ki-Ki Sector emblazoned across its hull. And then appearing just behind them all in all its glory came a Victory Class Star Destroyer, fully repaired, fully operational. Before Barler had chance to call general quarters and transmit a warning, defence satellites and picket ships started to explode under a massive hail of fire. He watched. As if on slow motion, more ships appeared. Some, their navigation off by a fraction of a degree, did not appear in their designated place and collided with Setnin vessels. They tore into each other’s hulls, throwing debris in all directions that only served to confuse locking sensors. All the while, the klaxons screamed. And, as a swarm of Ki-Ki Screamers tore the underbelly of the Divine open and exposed most of her internals to space, Barler screamed also. “No Jan, I’m certain it’s your round. I brought the drinks on Gista.” Jan mock-frowned and nodded, waving the droid over and ordering a round of drinks. Ryath grinned at his father-in-law and waited to accept the fresh beverages. The two old friends clinked glasses and drank deep. Jan waited for Ryath to lower his glass and, rolling his own glass around in his hands, asked a question. “So, what brings you to the Big Pyramid? You’re not here for the new year celebrations, or you’d have brought Paige with you.” Ryath nodded and smiled. “Right first time.” He leaned in. “I’ve just had a meeting with Tannis Rixx.” “Oh right, important stuff.” Jan nodded, impressed, and took another sip. The Flameout was certainly hitting the spot today, and he winced slightly as the spicy drink poured down his throat. “Any hot gossip you shouldn’t be telling me? Or was it all just the usual dry political stuff you desk jockeys talk about?” Centaur didn’t rise to the bait, choosing to ignore Jan’s playful dig, and instead grabbed a complimentary cockon from the bowl and tossed it into his mouth. Jan waited for him to answer. “Rixx is a busy man, and busy men usually have a glut of aides whispering advice into their ears. And as you know from your time administrating on A-desando, those aides usually know as much about politics as a Gungan.” Ryath smiled again. “Rixx trusts my advice, and doesn’t trust his aides. I think he sees that I’ve been around a while and he trusts my judgement. Even if he doesn’t always agree with it.” “Well come on, who in their right mind does?” poked Jan, finishing his drink with a flourish. Ryath nodded at Jan. “So why are you here? Is Terrie with you?” “Yeah, she’s around somewhere on Level 15. I’m supposed to meet up with her in a while. Not sure what she’s doing, probably Indigo business.” Ryath nodded. As commander of the elite X-wing Squadron Indigo, Terrie had many duties to perform. But Centaur knew that her loyalties lay both with the Setnin Defence Force and with the Galactic Alliance. He admired that quality in her: the willingness to put aside her personal feelings and fight for what was right, and still have the diplomatic nous to stay onside with the Galactic Alliance. Some would call it sneaky, but Ryath could see the sense in covering all options in times such as this. Only a fool would burn all their bridges when the future was far from set in stone. “And why are you here?” “Ziggy offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse. But then again, I never could refuse the little green creep.” They both laughed at that. Ziggy Teflon had employed practically every smuggler and trader in the region over the past half century, and his grumpy demeanour and basic ways were familiar with almost everyone in the underworld. But he was a notoriously good payer, and no one had cause to question his word. Or his information. “Of course, Terrie doesn’t know about it. She’d kick my butt if I told her I was still running sugar at a time like this.” “Not exactly the smartest thing to be doing right now, is it?” added Ryath. Jan frowned and leaned in, swiping Centaurs half-empty glass and downing it quickly. “Hey, don’t forget who’s the daddy here.” Jan grinned his smuggest grin and stood to leave. “Thanks for the drink.” Ryath eyed his empty glass of Flameout and frowned. “Don’t mention it.” Sanctuary, just outside the Chancai city limits within the mountain range that nestled around the great construct, was a small community resting on a ledge that jutted from one of the lower mountains. Even here, in the small mining community that had grown from the remnants of an underworld hideout, beings were in the streets, shouting and dancing. The huge drilling machines were silent, the digger automatons were covered in flowers and streamers and the buildings pounded with noise and music. Above the heads of the pulsating crowds, approaching the city of Chancai from the narrow mountain passes, came black shapes that moved quickly and in tight formation. Each ship was a little larger than a fighter with stubby wings that were covered in bolt-on weapon pods. Other, smaller fighters flew just above them as cover. They filled the sky as they swept overhead, groups of three in triangular formations, the cockpits polarised against the glaring sun. The symbol of the Ki-Ki Sector was borne proudly on their upper hulls. The people in Sanctuary watched the ships pass overhead and, obsessed with their revelry, cheered and waved at the vessels they saw as their returning heroes. The delegates stood on the balcony of the Chancai City Halls overlooking Fringe-Mall and watched the citizen’s dance and cheer. Eight levels up from the surface of the planet allowed a commanding view of the surrounding area and the mountains beyond and the representatives all stood and talked amiably, taking a well-deserved break from the talks. The wind was soft on their faces and the sun shone through wisps of white and pink cloud. There was, however, an undercurrent of dismay in the conversations. All were concerned over Sheu Ho-Travi’s apparent dismissal of proposals put forward by both Setnin and Galactic Alliance representatives. Ocern Gabe managed to wind his way through the small crowd and avoid the main question from the others, what is going on with the Policy Advisor, and get close to Sheu as he talked heatedly with an aide. “Mister Ho-Travi,” Ocern said in a loud voice to cut into the conversation. His smile was wide and masked his anger well. “A minute of your time?” The Galactic Alliance man checked his chronometer and nodded. “Of course, Governor.” Ocern motioned for them to approach the balcony edge where the crowds were thinnest, the drop down to Fringe-Mall below was disturbing for most attendees, and together they stood at the force field that kept them safely back from the edge. Finally away from the press of delegates Ocern dropped his expression of contentment and stared hard at the man from the Core. “Do you care to explain to me why we’ve wasted the past few hours?” Ocern demanded. “Governor, I don’t think the progress we’ve made…” “Progress?” Ocern almost shouted. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying too much attention and dropped his voice again. “What progress? Every idea we have had for either a peaceful negotiation or tactical move against the Ki-Ki Sector you’ve slapped it down with a smug expression and a glut of reasons why it shouldn’t happen.” “If I had a glut of reasons why they wouldn’t work,” Sheu replied, keeping up his smile, “then surely all I’ve done is highlight the problems in the plans suggested?” “You called this meeting because you thought it was time for the Galactic Alliance to get directly involved,” Ocern growled. “I’ve gone out of my way to get every important being in Setnin here, and all you’re doing is either ruining relationships between these people or blocking any progress. If things don’t change in the next session and you don’t take a more pro-active role, I’m adjourning the talks.” It was Sheu’s turn to drop his expression to a harder visage. “Governor, I know you dislike the Galactic Alliance immensely after what has happened to this sector of space but you must understand this; any move we make on your behalf will have huge repercussions throughout the Galactic Alliance. The Setnin Sector is huge, Governor! It’s not a sector; it’s a region of space. Can you imagine the resources required to build an effective defence? To have peacekeepers and ambassadors cover enough of the sector to keep it safe, not to mention the repercussions on the stability of the surrounding sectors? The logistical requirements alone would pull resources from member sectors and planets and leave them vulnerable, members who fought during the civil war and supported the building of the new government. Something the Setnin Sector never did, Governor.” “Precisely how many excuses do you people have for not getting involved? First it’s lack of resource, then political reasons, then public pressure. All that is irrelevant. As a member sector of the Galactic Alliance…” “As a member you are entitled to the laws and protection of the Galactic Alliance, I know that, Governor. But such things look so neat when it’s written on a datapad. The reality is so much different.” Sheu looked at his chronometer and suddenly appeared uncomfortable. “There’s plenty of time until we go back in, Mister Ho-Travi,” Ocern mumbled, almost confused. “I have to check in with my courier ship in orbit, Governor,” he said hurriedly, glancing up at the sky. “I will be back in time for the rest of the meeting.” He motioned to his aide who opened the huge glass door that led back into the chamber and he hurried out. Ocern watched him go with open anger and confusion. He looked up into the sky to see what had attracted the Policy Advisor’s attention and saw only flashes high up in orbit, probably returning vessels hitting the atmosphere or reflections off the defence satellites hulls. He shook his head and looked back out over Fringe-Mall, sighing heavily as he tried to figure out Sheu Ho-Travi’s strange behaviour and apparent consternation. He frowned as he saw a number of vessels appear from within the mountain range and head towards the city, passing over the edges of Fringe-Mall in tight triangular formations Who gave them permission to do a fly over, he thought. Ten metres further along the balcony, Blake De’Athe looked out at the approaching vessels and felt a slight but significant tremor in the Force. He quickly looked over at Zeboden, silent thoughts passing between them. The older Jedi Master nodded, sensing the same thing and started towards the docking bay. Blake made a move towards Governor Gabe, but noticed Letitia nearby. He paused, then changed his mind. There were other places he needed to be. Jan walked parallel with the vast balcony that strung along the side of Level 15 as he made his way back to the rendezvous place with Terrie, and noticed a few distant lights that looked like vessels flying in formation coming over Fringe-Mall and towards Chancai. He squinted, his eyes not as keen as they had been in days past and paused. There was the usual mass of ships leaving and arriving at the trade centre, but these ships…they just didn’t look right. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and a moment later he realised with surprise that he was sprinting towards the plaza faster than he had run in years. “Just blow the locks and let it go!” Barler roared. The Fast Attack warship Divine suddenly split along the midsection. Explosive latches ruptured and blew away the badly damaged engine compartment, which was flung away from the crippled vessel just in time. It erupted, the shockwave throwing other vessels into disarray. “Emergency power to weapons!” he shouted as the lights died and then powered up again. “Activate the backup core!” The space around the Divine was a maelstrom of destruction. Every defence satellite had been destroyed, but their complements of torpedoes and energy weapons had still had time to increase the scale of the destruction as every vessel in their vicinity had been badly mauled. Ki-Ki warships intermingled with the Setnin Defence Force, surgically removing any starship that stood in their way. The Setnin warships that had fought off the earlier apparent invasion at the edge of the system were decimated, the ones that had returned damaged already obliterated by concentrated Ki-Ki fire. The huge bulk of the Victory Class Star Destroyer, Sword of Justice, sat in the middle of it all. Explosions ripped all over its hull but it did little to slow it down as every weapon that protruded from its hull sent bolts of destruction into the Setnin ranks. As Barler watched, an older Setnin vessel lost control and slammed into another, sending each one into the atmosphere, burning and exploding as it fell. Out of the other side of the carnage flew Ki-Ki dropships and fighters. Most of the smaller craft stayed within the battle to aid their brethren but many fell towards Chancai far below on the surface of Zelon. “All power to whatever weapons we have left!” Barler ordered, heaving the body of the helmsman from the piloting chair to take control himself. “Let’s take some of these freckers with us!” Ziggy frowned as he held the
portable comm to his ear and listened closely. He could sense the growing aura of panic begin to descend upon
the crowd outside his shop, half a century of trading on Level 15 had made
his old ears sensitive to the changing moods of his public. No doubt about it, something was about to
happen, and with sad hearts he realised that, in no small way, everything was
about to change. He activated a few
switches, noted that the six crates of sugar had been delivered and stored
aboard the Sunrise, and sighed deeply. On the bridge of the Sword of Justice, Fleet Commander Dagger watched impassively as another Setnin vessel made an attack on the capital ship and was almost immediately destroyed. Parts of it’s wrecked superstructure bounced off the shields and the hull and drifted away harmlessly. He turned to his second officer. “Is the Benesk strike team in place?” he asked as if disinterested. Flashes of light through the huge view port illuminated the bridge with hues of white, yellow and orange. The officer nodded. “Yes, Commander. They have dropped from hyperspace and are awaiting your signal.” “Very well. Tell them to make their run against the Chamber of Systems. Remember, I want prisoners. Make sure the squad leaders remind their troops to set weapons to stun. Once they’ve secured the site, they can set charges.” The officer nodded again. “Once we’re done here, I want the Chamber of Systems wiped off the surface of Benesk.” Ocern Gabe found himself being tackled from behind as another warhead slammed into the side of Chancai. The City Halls were all but destroyed, with huge areas of devastation covering the gargantuan chamber. The ceiling had collapsed, the windows were gone and the walls were buckling as debris and wreckage rained down from above. Beings screamed for help, trapped under fallen beams and masonry, others scrambled for the exits, even more tried to make sense of the confusion and attempted to aid their fallen comrades. Ocern hit the floor, the wind flying from his lung. A cloud of dust rose from the impact but was swept away by an ear-shattering shockwave as another charge slammed into the building. Fire and debris flew overhead and he felt the grip of his unknown saviour relax. He lay there for a second, trying to gather his senses and catch his breath, then rolled over to thank his saviour but, whoever it had been, they had already moved on. Startled, he got to his feet to see what new damage had been caused. A huge gaping, smouldering hole opened the wall to the outside of the city. Chunks of melted metal dripped lazily from the ruined section and smoke blinded his eyes for a second but the high winds this far up in the Chancai Trade Centre allowed him some visibility. He stared, and gasped at what he saw. Fringe-Mall was burning. Ki-Ki fighters swooped in low, discharging their blasters at anything on the ground, the pods under their stubby wings releasing huge canisters which flew of their own accord, releasing points of light which detonated on impact. Whole buildings were burning brightly, smoke hung over the whole section of the city. People ran screaming in the streets, running for cover, trying to get out of the city, a huge crush of beings trampling over one another to get out of harm’s way. Dropships appeared from the thick smoke, their underbellies open, dropping Ki-Ki troops to the ground. They held onto head-sized silver balls, gravity parachutes, and drifted slowly down, their rifles picking off any resistance on the ground. Far beyond, between the edge of the city and the mountains, sat two three hundred meters long Vodon class warships, their ramps down like huge mocking tongues, war machines descending into the population. Tripod Assault Pod, TAPs, walked through the devastation, the light cannon on top of the egg-shaped pilot’s cockpit swivelling, firing just behind the fleeing masses to make sure they kept running. The eight-metre tall war machines seemed to stroll lazily in the maelstrom. All-Terrain Personal-Transports, AT-PT’s, and Striker repulsortanks supported them, the two-legged machines hanging back and rushing in when the flow of beings they pursued either slowed or tried to break through back to the city. All the while, fighters dropped their ordnance creating a blizzard of fire and rubble. Ocern watched in silence. The war machines were as shepherds, the citizens as beasts, being herded out of Fringe-Mall in enforced evacuation. Except it wasn’t an evacuation. It was a stampede. “Governor!” He spun to stare into the bedraggled, dirt-smeared face of his aide, Trace Dallagra. She had the expression of someone in pain and, as he looked her up and down, he saw a jagged piece of metal lodged in her upper left arm. “Trace…” “Ocern… we’ve got to go.” “The city…” “We’ve got to go!” “But the people…” “Ocern!” Trace’s voice was loud and firm, and even Ocern could hear the anger in her voice over the roar of devastation. “We’ve got to go! Now!” As she grabbed him by his arm and started to drag him over the rubble to one of the few remaining exits, Ocern stumbled. Even with her wounds and her age, Trace managed to heave him to his feet and help him along. “The shield…” Trace shook her head. “It’s gone. Besides, their using new warheads and the city defence shield is too old to resist that kind of pounding!” “We need to call for help!” “We think we’ve managed to get a signal off to the reserve ships, but the Zelon Wave Exchange transmitter station’s been vaporised. We’re cut off!” “Terrie, Terrie!” Jan yelled as he was battered by a wave of people clambering past him and frantically making their way towards exits, ships and speeders. He could see his lover in the distance, maybe ten meters away. It may as well have been a hundred as he struggled to make headway through the throng and be by her side. For her part she also fought, pushing and weaving her way through countless people. Even on a relatively quiet day such as this Chancai was still a potent and cosmopolitan mix of races, species, sexes, creeds, biological and mechanical entities. And all of them seemed intent on getting between Jan Lomona and Terrie Saffra. Suddenly Jan had a brainwave. He grabbed for his comm and coded in her number. He held the comm high and placed it to his ear, hoping that she would see his intentions, or maybe hear the bleeping of her unit, but he was obscured from her view and out of sight. With a yell of frustration he pocketed the comm and turned towards the main exit. The Berone Sunrise lay just a short walk away in a secure docking bay. Maybe if he could fight his way there he could come up with a plan. And knowing Terrie, she would have the same idea. Chancing his arm, and like he had done so many times before, he steeled himself and pushed as hard as he could for freedom. “Sir, the Ki-Ki fleet’s overwhelming the S.D.F. Should we intercede?” Captain Kahn gave the young commander an icy look. He turned towards the Jedi woman who was now standing at the communications console. She turned to face him. “Captain, the Zelon Wave Exchange is inoperable, and they’re jamming local communications.” Kahn nodded. “Then we have a problem. Your Jedi leader is in charge of this mission, and I have no way of knowing what his orders are.” Nera De’Athe smiled in response. “My husband and I can communicate over great distances Captain. When he needs us, I will know.” The mid-levels bucked and Centaur lost his footing as more masonry and debris smashed down around him. Ahead a gantry-way swung precariously as repulsor generators strained and groaned in an effort to keep the walkway in place. There was a blinding flash, and then a shockwave hurled the mercenary leader like a rag doll as a vessel ploughed through the wall of one of the minor starship shafts before erupting in a fireball that incinerated the mob of screaming citizens heading to the docking bays and their only hope of escape, a starship off Zelon. Coughing, he picked himself up, and standing upright dusted the broken glass off of his uniform. “Should have guessed,” he said, and smiled despite the disaster unfolding around him. All that remained of the frontage of the Yapya Restaurant was the elegant wooden arched entranceway, miraculously undamaged. Of the glass façade and front row of tables, nothing was recognisable. “Must be a family thing,” he mumbled to himself as he too headed to the docking bays. Jan Lomona had been involved in more than one gunfight in his youth that had resulted in the destruction of the Yapya Restaurant, and even now, in his A-desandian middle age, was still banned from the exclusive restaurant. “Lomona,” muttered Centaur out loud and stopped in his tracks. He looked again at the rapidly emptying streets and walkways, as a quiet voice whispered old promises in his ear. There was no way he’d reach the Thunderer now, but maybe that was for the best… Reaching a decision, he turned on his heels and hurried away from Chancai’s docking bays and headed back into the heart of the city, Comp-Act blaster rifle at the ready, and a wolfish grin on his face. “Jan, Jan, can you hear
me?” shouted Terrie into the comm, but all she received for her troubles was
an earful of static. The
transmitter must be down. If the
Ki-Ki are smart they’ll have blasted it to bits to stop Chancai calling for
help. Assuming this is a Ki-Ki
attack, of course. She thought
the situation through for a second. All
localised comm systems automatically slave to the main Zelon Wave
Exchange. Now that’s been destroyed
we’re totally isolated. She
caught herself in mid-thought and chastised herself for her emotionless
reaction to what was clearly a devastating situation. In the near but frustratingly packed
distance she could see the entrance to the docking bay where the Berone
Sunrise lay. She wondered if Jan
had had the same thought, but didn’t concern herself with doubt. Of course he has. He’s Jan Lomona, and that’s the Berone
Sunrise. The two go together like
Cockons and Duarga, Hillins and Kwarnee, Janites and trouble. She heard the cries of the crowd, frantic yells screaming that Fringe-Mall was being attacked, that a wave of people were fleeing Chancai’s ground-based shopping complex, some rushing into the jungle, some around the Mutumbarr Lake and many, like dazed cattle, towards the main, twenty-seven level high haven of Chancai itself. Even by the high standards of insanity she had witnessed in her many years in the military, this was utter madness. There, by the doorway, she spotted Jan. He turned and saw her arm raised in the frantic crowd. “Jan, Jan!!” she yelled and he waved back, entering the bay and disappearing from sight. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the world, to all intents and purposes, fell down around her ears. The shadows wrapped around Blake as he closed his eyes, calmed his
mind and opened himself up to the Force. He saw five of his Jedi, each with lightsabres drawn, forming a
living bulwark against the oncoming troops. Their lightsabres flashed as
heavy blaster fire was repulsed back towards their points of origin. Scores
of civilians used the shield they created to escape towards the docking bays,
but Blake knew they could not hold the line forever. He cast his mind out
further and felt it brush against his old friend’s. Zeboden had made it to
the fighters and the news was not good. He turned his attention back to the Lightsabre defence, and spoke to
the Wookie Jedi Master. Maarsquith, get these people to whatever transports will take them,
and try and get some of our people on them too. He knew
they all stood a better chance if he could coordinate the evacuation through
the Force, but there were only a handful of Jedi, and so many people. One fighter to each transport… and
trust in the Force. The giant Jedi roared his response over the sound of blaster fire, as
if Blake was at his elbow, and the Jedi Master allowed himself a brief
smile. He then steeled himself and
reached out with his mind across the gulf of space separating him and his
wife. One message leapt through the Force with as much power as he could
muster. Get us out of here. “Commander,” the second
officer of the Star Destroyer, Sword of Justice, turned to his
superior. “We’ve got a group of S.D.F warships dropping in right behind us!” Dagger looked at the concerned face of his subordinate with a cool
gaze. “Strength and numbers?” “Twelve vessels, three
capital class.” “Hmm.” Dagger rumbled. His
face remained expressionless. “Mission time elapsed?” “Seventy minutes,
Commander.” Dagger frowned. “This could prove to be
inconvenient.” Jan waved Terrie towards him and as she reached his outstretched arms
she fell into his warm embrace and hungry kiss. She pulled back after a few seconds, not out of a desire to end
the moment, more a desire to continue it.
Alive, and somewhere safe and warm.
Anywhere but here. Explosions
continued to echo through the steel streets of the trade centre, magnified by
the panic and palpable fear that smothered everything. Jan held Terrie’s face in his hands and
locked his ocean blue eyes onto hers. “Okay honey. I’m going to say this because,” he glanced
outside at the craziness, the stampede of life that ran hell-for-leather
towards doom or salvation. “I might
not get the chance again.” Terrie smiled and held his hands in hers, close to her cheeks. “Hey, it’s not like you to
play the defeatist.” “The realist. This is real life baby, as real as it
gets. We’ve both been up against it
before, but have you ever been this worried?” She shook her head, but in truth she had, over thirty years ago,
fighting aboard the Super Star Destroyer Revenger, trapped on the
bridge and fighting a seemingly never-ending flow of Stormtroopers. But this wasn’t the time for that
admission. This was now, the Ki-Ki
had made their attack and the entire future of Setnin was at stake. As was her life, and that of her man. “No, never. So what’s the great plan, Captain? There’s always a plan.” Jan nodded. “Yeah, but nothing
fancy. Open the ramps and pack as
many people as you can aboard. Get
Aurran to slide the crates out and stack them against the wall. I’ll come back for them some other time.” Terrie frowned. What
crates? The hold is empty. She nodded as Jan moved towards the
doorway, and grabbed his hand. “Wait, where are you
going?” Jan smiled his warmest smile and leaned back to kiss her again. “You’ll see. Just do as I asked and fill the ship. I’ll be back.” Jedi Master Zeboden pushed his way through the crowds towards the
docking bay area, just in time to see Jan Lomona striding purposefully away
from the Berone Sunrise and out of sight. He reached the edge of the
docking platform as the woman that Jan had been talking to started to open
the ship. “Commander Saffra!” His
deep bass voice carried easily over the milling crowds and caught Terrie’s
attention. She saw him easily, his two metre plus frame dwarfing those around
him; his dark Jedi robes making him stand out among the crowds. “I haven’t much time so
make it quick.” As the Jedi approached her she continued to prep the ship, checking
lines and baffle plating as she did so. Old habits die hard, and the Sunrise
needed to be at its best over the next couple of hours. “Commander, the Wave
Exchange has been destroyed and there is no way in which to communicate
between ships. I am arranging for a group of six of our Jedi, myself
included, to journey aboard some of the transports. We have six fighters on
planet that will act as escorts. It will offer you a means of communication
that cannot be jammed. Master De’Athe wants to know if you require one of us
to assist your escape from the surface?” Terrie considered the offer for a moment, knowing what Jan would say,
knowing how proud he was of his own flying abilities. However, Jan was not
here at the moment. “At the moment, any
help is good help.” The Moz’a’ti turned slowly as it tried to intercede itself
between the attacking Ki-Ki warships and the fleeing transports that were
racing away in droves from the planet surface. Other S.D.F vessels did the
same, seeing that the invasion force were picking off certain vessels as they
tried to run the mass of warring starships in orbit. “They’re only going after
armed vessels,” Commander Sall noticed, narrowing her eyes from the glare of
an explosion outside the view port. Ki-Ki gunboats were harassing the newly arrived
fleet at every opportunity. She motioned to her gunnery officer. “Fire at
will. This is too much…” she held onto a handrail as the ship rocked from a
huge explosion near its hull, “…of a mess to be tactical.” A Vodon class warship filled the sensor screen with pulsating weapons
and waves of support fighters. “Damn it, where’s
our fighter wings?” she shouted to no one. Her executive officer looked up. “On the surface, ma’am.
They’re trying to hold back the bombing runs on Fringe-Mall.” “Surely there’s more than
that!” “There was, ma’am,” the
officer replied, her face grave. “Looks like they were all bombed on their
pads in the initial attack.” Again the deck rocked from impacts. A monitoring
station at the back of the bridge exploded into sparks and sharp glass. The
attendant screamed in pain. It was all Sall could do to ignore it. “Up tilt, eight degrees,
turn hard right when I say!” Sall watched the Vodon class bear down on the
smaller Nebulon S she commanded, almost twice the length of her own ship and
more than powerful enough to take her and her accompanying vessels out on its
own. “Let them get to point
blank then let them have it, full weapons!” “Captain?” Khan looked away from the scanners turning towards the Jedi woman. Her
face showed a high level of concentration. “Yes Madam De’Athe?” She placed a hand to her temple; a move Khan suspected was more of a
reflex than for simple effect. “Blake says that now would
be a good time to,” she hesitated and frowned, “plough the road?” Khan smiled and turned towards the deck commander. “Bring Intrepid into
combat range, and standby to drop the stealth screens. I want the main guns ready and all
fighters standing by. We’re going to give the enemy an enema.” Trace attempted to haul Ocern, who was now weak from exhaustion and
pain, into the open topped speeder as they emerged into the streets of the
inside of Chancai. Other delegates were already running in all directions. The central shaft was filled with smoke, crammed with vessels as panicked citizens boarded whatever craft were available and tried to get out of the city. Trace watched with horror as some beings, crammed into the streets where there once had been celebration, fell screaming over the edge of the shaft and down to the bottom. She covered Ocern as a vessel fell burning, it’s upper hull raked with cannon fire, and she saw it was a Ki-Ki Screamer, the escaping vessels blasting it as best they could. Unfortunately, in their has |