Chancai Falls

2002 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 haste, they had damaged it whilst it was still in the shaft and, as Trace watched, it collided with another vessel and both erupted violently.

Madness, she thought. Madness.

   “Come on!” she shouted over the din, trying to heave Ocern into the speeder, but he batted her hands away.

   “No,” he wheezed.

   “What?” Trace grabbed him by the lapels. “Come on!”

She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and she spun in fury, angry at the interruption and worried as to whom it may be.

Letitia Arkensaw looked at her with concerned eyes.

   “Are you okay?” she asked quickly. Trace saw that she had her lightsabre in hand, deactivated, although her aide Jeddess Essar stood behind her with green blade wavering, making sure no threats descended upon them.

   “Do I frecking look okay?” Trace shouted, the blood in her veins pumping so violently she thought her head would explode. Letitia did not flinch. She held up her hand and smiled slightly.

   “Do not worry,” she said, “I have come to help you.”

Trace suddenly felt a wash of calm run over her body and she exhaled sharply.

   “I’m not worried,” she said, the feeling permeating her body and leaving her warm. “I know you’ve come to help. I’m sorry.”

   “We have to get the Governor out of here,” Letitia leaned down to help Ocern into the speeder. “I know of a fast ship on Level 15.  If we hurry we can make it”

   “No!” Ocern gasped, pulling his arm away from the two women.

   “’No’? What do you mean ‘no’?”

Trace knelt down and turned his head to face her.  

   “Ocern…”

   “I’m not going. Without direction, if the Ki-Ki searches for me, they’ll tear the planet apart. I need to stay here. Try to continue talking.”

   “Continue talking?” Trace almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “They’re blowing the place to pieces!”

   “Trace,” Ocern pulled her in close. “I’m old. I’m not a military man. All I’ve done during this war is talk. The people need someone of action, someone who knows what they want and is willing to do anything to get it. Trace… I know you keep recordings of our private conversations and records of my less than honest dealings to use against me if the need arose.”

Trace recoiled.

   “Ocern, I…”

   “No, no, it’s okay. I think, in a way, I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t. It is the Setnin Way, after all.”

Tears streamed down Trace’s face and she placed her hand against the side of Ocern’s face.

   “Don’t cry, Trace. I can’t bear it when you get upset. You’ve always been strong for me, hard headed for the council. Now I need you to be strong for the Setnin Sector. Here, take this.” He placed a small infochip in her hand and folded her fingers over it. “It’s a data list of contacts, strategies, everything you need to continue the fight. It’s not a war of politics, not a war of who’s right and who’s wrong. Now, it’s a war of survival and I know you’ll do what you can to see our sector through it.”

   “I’m not leaving you, Ocern,” Trace grabbed him by the collar. “You’re coming with me. Letitia! Help me with him!”

But the Jedi Knight held back and watched, her expression pained.

   “I cannot.”

   “Why?” Trace screamed.

   “We have already discussed this, Ocern and I. We agreed if this day came, he would be left to face the Ki-Ki invasion force alone, to carry on his war of words. Believe me, Trace, I tried to talk him out of it, but…”

Ocern interrupted.

   “But I love Setnin so damned much I’m not going to run away. All we’ve done in this war is retreat; I’m sick of it. Leave me here, Trace. Leave me here, where they can find me.”

   “No!”

   “Letitia, take her out of here. Get her to safety.” Ocern grabbed hold of Trace’s wrists and held her back. Letitia wrapped her arm around Trace’s waist and started to drag her back into the crowd, all the while fighting against her kicking and wrestling to be free, her arms reaching out to Ocern.

   “No! No! Ocern!”

The five X-Wing fighters hovered near their assigned transports and waited for the remaining civilians to climb onboard. Blake stretched his mind out to his Jedi and felt their readiness. Ten Jedi, three of which were experienced Jedi Masters. The rest were either fully trained Jedi Knights or advanced initiates. They formed the bulk of Ghost Squadron and they may have just formed the last best chance of escape for many Zelonians. He was concentrating on tracking nearby ships when he received a message through the Force from Maarsquith.

With a final blessing to the pilots, he opened his eyes.  He was needed elsewhere.

Commander Sall shook her head in dismay and closed her eyes.

   “Orders, ma’am?” asked her executive officer.

She did not reply. She simply stared at the newly arrived Ki-Ki vessels and trembled. Whether she was terrified or saddened, she did not know.

Twenty fresh, unblemished vessels dropped out of hyperspace and formed a line of firepower that slowly edged forward to the warring starships. What made her wince and consider fleeing was the huge battle platforms being towed slowly by several large freighters.

The platforms were at least four hundred metres long, according to sensor readings, and the power fluctuations were off the scale. Weaponry of varying designs jutted from all over the hull, giving the impression that it was simply a huge pincushion of ordnance and death. Slightly ovoid, with a square back section that appeared to be an engine or power core of some sort, the two vessels were slowly dragged into position and hung motionless. Sall knew what was to happen next as the Ki-Ki ships moved quickly out of harm’s way.

   “Ma’am, your orders?”

   “Get us out of here!” she bawled.

Scenes of utter madness engulfed Chancai.  On every level, docking bays were packed with panicked people, handing their children over the heads of the crowds towards pilots and ships captains who greedily raked credits in hand over fist.  Charging cash for freedom in a perversion of the Setnin Way.  The sound of the crowd was terrifying, a constant pitch of screams and yelling, crying and hysteria.  Death rained down from the skies, pouring its fire onto the populace.  Fringe-Mall was on fire, as was Sub City, the area behind the trade centre that housed the fifteen million inhabitants and workers of Chancai.  And from within, the pervading sense of doom and despair cast a pallor over the people, an internal effect almost as destructive and dangerous as the external attack.  It was as if insanity and terror had not been so much brought to Setnin by the Ki-Ki as merely released by their presence.

The Ki-Ki Killship Battle Platforms opened fire. The darkness of space was as a small sun for a few moments as dozens of turbolasers, light cannons, torpedo and missile launchers all fired simultaneously. S.D.F vessels were torn apart by the onslaught, some only just getting out the way of the hail of fire although they still lost huge chunks of armour and structure. Fighters vaporised, gunships erupted, warships broke apart slowly and were then decimated as hit after hit rained down upon them.

Fleet Commander Cathum watched from the bridge of Fedarn’s Shining Beauty whilst chewing his lip in thought. He held up his hand to cease-fire.

   “They work,” he said simply. The second officer looked at the devastation and nodded his assent.

Cathum straightened his collar and took a deep breath.

   “Signal all dropships and landing craft. Begin the landing and secure the city. Put me through to the Killships.”

There was a moment of static, then,

   “Commander, your orders?”

   “Gentlemen. Target the Tuca Mountains power station, the old Imperial garrisons and any remaining military targets in the vicinity of the city.”

   “As you command.”

Cathum turned to face his second.

   “Benesk?”

   “Ninety percent damage to the construct. Troops report prisoners taken.”

   “Excellent,” Cathum smiled, although he didn’t feel the meaning of it. “Excellent.”

A hundred black silhouettes glided effortlessly through the darkness of space.  Two wings of advanced SJS-X-Wing fighters rode shotgun to a full wing of advanced Falcon Stealth Bombers as they sped away from the Intrepid and rapidly approached the Ki-Ki’s forces.

   “Bomber group, concentrate on clearing the larger ships out the way.  We’re going to need a fast escape route on the way back up. Fighter group, concentrate on helping the freighters and transports get out. We’ll only get one shot at this, so make it count, people.”

   “Maarsquith!”

The Wookie Jedi Master roared as he sent blaster bolts exploded away from him. His lightsabre already activated, Blake parried several more blasts, and turned to the other Jedi Master.

   “Everybody else is onboard.”

Maarsquith pointed towards the twelve abandoned children who were hovering nearby, and gave a gentle growl. Blake nodded and started moving them into the docking bay and towards the nearest freighter that was still boarding passengers.  As soon as they were through the giant Wookie sealed the hanger bay doors behind them, his great paws smashing the controls and making sure no one else would follow. The hanger floor was a mess of panicked people as people desperately pleaded, begged or tried to bride their way off planet. One ship’s captain, a stern looking middle-aged woman, saw the two Jedi approaching with the children and cleared the way.

   “My name is Blake De’Athe,” he said, gently reinforcing his words with the Force.  “These children have been abandoned. Have you room for them onboard?”

The captain nodded, as she fixed him with a firm grin. 

The Force isn’t needed here, he thought.

   “Captain Trella D’Staan. No problems. There is just enough room, but they might stand a better chance on the planet. Ships are smashing into each other in their eagerness to escape.”

Blake nodded.

   “Then allow me to offer the services of Jedi Master Maarsquith. He will be able to guide you out of the melee.”

The giant Wookie grunted his greetings as he holstered his massive lightsabre. The captain gave him one quick look and grinned.

  “Does he mind performing guard duty as well?”

In a vain attempt to stem the flow of the Ki-Ki attack the lower levels had been swiftly evacuated and flooded with a gout of water from the Mutumbarr Lake.  Washing through the lower levels and devastating all that lay within its path, the bulkheads were closed and the waters contained, slowly seeping back out into the forest and back towards the lake that it had come from.  A glut of Ki-Ki attack troops had perished, but many S.D.F troops had also drowned.  The price of freedom, it seemed, was going to be a very heavy price to pay.

Blake sank into the cockpit of his X-Wing and brought the weapons systems online.  The cockpit closed smoothly as the repulsors gently lifted his fighter up to hover a meter or so above the docking bay floor.  He relaxed into the Force and sensed his compatriots around him. Suddenly there was readiness, and he stretched out into the Force, merging his senses with the other Jedi Masters and his brother Jedi on the nearby transports.

There was fire in the streets.

As troops and support ships dropped down from the top of the central shaft of Chancai, repulsortanks and walking machines of war approached from the now drenched base ramps of the two kilometre-high construct, through the shattered remains of Fringe-Mall.

Maanu Ejjapi and his S.D.F Covert Ops Team continued pushing upwards as best they could. They knew there was no way out of the lower levels as the Ki-Ki forces bolstered their invasion with fresh men and equipment, which meant their only real chance was to get further up the city to see if any vessels remained.

Loudspeakers from the Ki-Ki Striker repulsortanks echoed through the halls and streets of the city.

   “Stay in your homes and places of business. Do not walk the streets or you will be shot on sight. This is your only warning. Stay in your homes and places of business. Do not…”

The message was cut off abruptly as one of Maanu’s men suddenly appeared, a plasooka hefted onto his shoulder. With a flash and a cry of ‘shot on sight, is it?’ the soldier launched, the small explosive shell blowing the command pod of the tank apart and flinging flame over the troops accompanying it.

Blaster bolts criss-crossed the road between the advancing invaders and Maanu’s team. Bodies fell, explosions ripped through the rubble that was already strewn across the road. TAPs moved in to support but the S.D.F team retreated, escaping down back alleys and access corridors to regroup and strike again.

As the team converged, minus three members who now lay lifeless in the street, Maanu shook his head and caught his breath to clear his senses.

   “We can’t go on like this. Options?”

His men looked at one another until one spoke up.

   “We should push on, do as much damage as possible, make them pay for every level taken.”

   “Pointless,” said another. “We throw away our lives and for what?”

   “Maybe we should split up,” was another opinion. “Move quickly, quietly. Meet up on a higher level.”

   “Negative,” Maanu shook his head. “Although I do agree we should push on. At least, you lot should.” The comment caused his men to look at him and each other in confusion.

   “Look, I know the Ki-Ki forces. They don’t take prisoners. They lay waste to everything and that’s that. I’m not going to be taken. I’m also not leaving.”

   “But, sir…”

   “But nothing. I was born here. I’ll die here. I’ve spent the last two years retreating. Where can I go to now? I’m staying, and I’m going to do as much damage as possible whilst the Ki-Ki stay.”

Without a pause, most of the men shook their heads and leaned in closer.

   “We’re staying, too.”

   “We’re with you, boss.”

   “We ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Maanu cut them off.

   “No! You’re all to head up and commandeer a ship and get the hell out!”

   “Forget it, sir. There are only seven of us left. We have no ties to family or friends which is why the rest of the S.D.F call us the ‘Suicide Squad’.” The others laughed. Maanu, who hadn’t heard the phrase before, looked bemused.

   “We stay, all of us, and we fight.”

   “We’ll need a base of operations to hide in,” said another.

   “And supplies.”

   “Layout of the whole city, streets, drainage, air flow…”

   “And safe zones for retreat points…”

   “Hold on! Whose in charge here?” Maanu made a chopping motion with his hand to emphasize his point. “Alright, let’s find a hole and disappear for a few days. You do realise the chances of a horrible painful death are substantially increased if we stay here to fight a guerrilla war?”

His men smiled.

   “Hey,” one of them said with a shrug, “that’s what hazard pay’s for.”

Letitia was still hauling Trace along with her as she managed to reach the turbo shaft that would take them from the Chancai City Halls on Level 7 all the way up to Level 15 and, with luck, the Berone Sunrise.  The Jedi said a silent prayer of thanks to the guardian angel that had been smiling down upon her that day that had casually made her check the docking logs for potential enemy vessels and innocently spot Lomona’s ship.  In days past she herself had flown aboard the Sunrise, and knew of its power, deftness and manoeuvrability.  In a situation such as this she could think of no better vessel, or pilot.  And besides, Ocern himself was a close friend of both Lomona and Dallagra, and the Governor had been utilising Jan’s unique skills as a stealthy pilot in recent months.  Fitting then that, as the echoes of war and acrid smoke filled her ears and lungs, that this would be the ship to protect the future leader of Setnin and aide in the fight to free Setnin once more.  If it hadn’t already departed.

She checked the corridor as the turbo lift opened and looked left and right.  Nothing, not a single person in sight.  Rubble was strewn across the steel floor, speeders lay abandoned in the speeder lanes that lined the streets, confused droids, slaved to a central command node, ambled about with no defined purpose.  But no more confused than the millions and millions who had witnessed the shocking events of the past hours.

Jeddess Essar ignited her lightsabre and followed Letitia, who did the same.  A small but tight group, all circled around Trace Dallagra, edged into the large corridor and across towards the docking bay.  Beyond lay the enormous shaft that led upwards to freedom.  Known for sectors around as one of the most congested, but strangely safe lanes to travel in, it was now a smoking canyon of death, crammed with destroyed ships and smoking hulks.  Without the guidance of the Zelon Wave Exchange to act as a localised air traffic control the pilots didn’t stand a chance.

Letitia reached the docking bay and checked inside.  Thankfully the Sunrise was still there, as were queues of people cramming aboard.  An air of barely controlled panic was palpable, and as Jeddess Essar and Letitia Arkensaw cut through the throng the whispers of despair and anger rose in pitch.  Terrie was at the foot of the ramp, herding people up into the stock heavy freighter, filling every available nook and cranny.  She paused as she saw Letitia and Jeddess, and raised a surprised eyebrow at the site of Trace Dallagra, enclosed by six security officers and council staff.  Letitia approached.

   “Commander Saffra, a moment of your time.”

   “Have you seen Jan?” asked Terrie, ignoring the pleasantry.  Letitia shook her head.

   “No, we’ve come here directly from the City Halls.  I haven’t seen Captain Lomona for some time.  Is he not aboard?”

Terrie’s face sank as she counted another six people aboard.  Damn you Jan, what the freck are you playing at?

   “No he isn’t, and I don’t know where he is.”

That complicates things, thought Letitia to herself, and behind her Jeddess caught the loud broadcast of her thoughts and silently agreed with her. Saffra won’t leave without Lomona, and if she waits much longer, she won’t leave at all.   She fixed her face and stared at Terrie, and made a decision.  The Force guided and weighted her next few words.

   “We need passage off-planet.  Governor Gabe has been…lost.  Trace Dallagra is in control now.”

Terrie didn’t need to hear any more, and she moved aside as the group of nine made their way into the freighter and towards the cockpit.  The last person clambered onto the ship.  Two hundred and ninety eight people had managed to cram aboard, filling heads, escape pods, locker space, walkways, gun pods, cargo space and everywhere inbetween.  But as Terrie counted the people she also counted the cost to her heart as she tried to comm Jan again to a flash of static and realised that this was, as her lover had said, real life as real as it gets.  And as she closed the ramp and made her way through the throng to the cockpit she wondered if she would ever truly forgive herself.

There was little left of the S.D.F around Zelon.  The burning wrecks and clouds of debris were now more of a hazard to the disciplined lines of Ki-Ki warships than the few remaining fighting ships.

The Iron Claw warships Davlon and Marauder had formed up on the Thunderer, and the three frigates escorted the pitifully few freighters in their zone away from the gravity mass of Zelon as well as the interdictor field being generated by the Ki-Ki VSD.

Captain Raj Gillet stood on his bridge, and cursed himself.  Since the first opening volleys of the attack he’d been unable to raise Ryath Centaur on any comm channel, and now the enemy fleet were in control of Zelon space, he could wait no longer in the hope that the master of the Iron Claws had managed to commandeer a ship and escape the chaos of Chancai.

The Thunderer shook again as more fire lashed across her hull, and Gillet glanced back at Tactical.  They were being harassed, but the enemy seemed more concerned with pummelling the Zelon surface than giving chase to the few Setnin stragglers. 

Why would they, he thought.  With Chancai fallen, what resistance remains in the sector?

He stared at the two largest images and a shiver ran down his spine as he watched in morbid fascination at the amount of firepower those Killships poured out, his tactical mind already running through scenarios on how to tackle such beasts.  At every turn the same answer came back – the cost in men and ships would be murderous.

And then his eyes flicked to the purple icon of an unknown capital ship.  Unlike the others it wasn’t moving away from the heart of the battle, but towards the centre.

   “Tactical.  Who the hell is that?”

More than any other captain present in the Yatchrare System, Khan understood his choices.  The powerful sensors of his carrier clearly showed the last stragglers leaving the planet, and he knew that his Jedi charges were heading straight into the Ki-Ki maw.  Caught between those two giant weapon platforms the Ki-Ki had towed into place and his old pirated Star Destroyer and its interdiction generators, the was no escape, not even for the Jedi.

Nera sensed his foreboding, and placed a calming hand on his arm.

   “What’s left of the Setnin Council are amongst those ships,” said stated quietly

He didn’t meet her gaze, but nodded, once.

   “Helm,” he said evenly.  “Full power to the engines.”

Warning icons flashed across the scopes of the sensor operators onboard the VSD Sword of Justice, and Fleet Commander Dagger turned sharply from where he was scrutinising the bombardment of Chancai through the VSD’s impressive view ports. Half a dozen steps later and he was staring down at the pit crew.

   “Report,” he commanded, his voice as always firm and authoritative.

   “Commander, we’ve approximately three wings of combat fighters on intercept.”

   “From where?” The question was rhetorical, as he watched the scopes flicker and then focus on dozens of fighters and bombers speeding towards the heart of the Ki-Ki fleet.  Following in their wake was a large vessel, comparable in size to his Star Destroyer, and he scowled at her relatively low power output.  “Mothership,” he nodded to his second officer.  “Comms.  Order the picket frigates to intercept, and get some of our fighters back from the surface to support them.”

He looked again at the plot and the image of Khan’s carrier, and his frown deepened.  “What the hell does her captain think he’s doing, following up so close to his fighters?”

An aura of control emanated from Khan, but he felt far from calm inside.  His X-Wings had cut a swathe through the Ki-Ki fighter screen, and his bombers had left two stricken enemy frigates burning behind him, but the Ki-Ki had exacted a high price in return.  His remaining squadrons buzzed over and around the nearest Killship weapons platform, and the Intrepid’s own limited arsenal of torpedoes and turbolasers had started pounding the giant battle platform. For all the good it’s doing, he growled to himself.  For all their concentrated firepower they’d barely scratched the Killship.  In return he’d lost over a third of his fighters, and though Intrepid’s shields still held, he knew the carrier couldn’t take much more.

   “What’s the status of the Jedi?”

   “Sir, they’re still within the VSD’s interdictor field.”

Khan stared at the holographic plot, and his worst fears were confirmed.  There were six X-Wings heading away from Zelon, but at a fraction of their available velocity.  Instead they buzzed about fifty freighters and space yachts, the last escapees from Chancai, and the Jedi refused to abandon their charges.

Ki-Ki fighters rose up from their bombing runs on the surface of Zelon as more tore down on the fleeing starships from the Ki-Ki fleet above, and all the while his old VSD hung like a carrion bird above the impending melee, its interdiction generators cutting off the last escape route away from the doomed planet.

   Then it all fell into place, and he understood what he needed to do.

   “Designate new targets for our fighters.  Let’s see how methodical the Ki-Ki are when their weapon’s platforms have no tugs to hold them in place.” 

That should buy us just enough time, he thought, and then turned to smile at Nera, but the Jedi Master frowned in confusion at the mix of emotions boiling inside the captain.

   “Ma’am, it’s been an honour, but I think it’s now time for you to leave my ship.”

She looked at him for a moment, puzzlement in her eyes, and then she understood. He felt the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder, and then a moment later she turned and left the bridge.

He heard himself say, “Helm, target the Sword of Justice, and give me ramming speed,” and marvelled at how calm he sounded.

Blake’s sensors were an overload of data as hundreds of ships fought through the tightly packed space above Zelon, avoiding the clouds of debris as much as the fire from enemy fighters and warships.  Open space was just beyond, for all the good it would do the mass of freighters following close on his heels.  Even without checking his scope he knew the VSD was blocking their escape into hyperspace.

Then, despite the explosions and drifting wreckage, he saw the distinct outline of Intrepid and it was both marvellous and horrifying in equal measure.

Swarms of dots buzzed around the burning carrier, whilst the combined firepower of the Ki-Ki weapon platforms, VSD and nearest Ki-Ki warships systematically tore the vessel apart.  Yet still the carrier struggled forward, though it’s own turbolasers, if it still had any, were silent.

The area of space around him seemed to grow still, as if everyone, crewman and fighter pilot, couldn’t tear their eyes away from the cataclysm unfolding before them. 

Tractor beams fired out from the Sword of Justice as the VSD desperately tried to fend off the suicidal attack, and it’s great engines flared to full power whilst it still sent salvo after salve of destruction into Intrepid’s maw.

And then, briefly, the Yatchrare System had a second sun, and all the scopes of the nearby ships died the same instant Intrepid did.

   “May the Force be with you,” muttered Blake, just as he and the last few survivors of the Battle of Zelon hit hyperspace, and slipped through the Ki-Ki fleet’s fingers.

Governor Ocern Gabe could hear the echoes of the last shots of the invasion reverberate throughout the city. Every now and then a blaster shot would ring out, or a light beam would shoot through the gloom of the twilight sky, an explosion would bring down the last ruined shapes of Fringe-Mall.

The whole body of the city of Chancai was holed, ruined and smoking. The structure remained intact – as a tribute to its designers, no levels had collapsed under the onslaught, nor had there been any major crumbling of severely crippled sections. As Ocern looked up from the ruined balcony of the Chancai City Halls, he could see great smoking holes peppering the side of the centre where it had been continuously hit. There was even the huge tail section of a starship jutting out of one level. Smoke blotted out the sky, the moonlight of Benesk fighting to get through it. He knew there was no Chamber of Systems on the moon anymore. If the Ki-Ki Sector had done their job properly, then it would be so much rubble by now.

He desperately hoped that Trace Dallagra had escaped with the other delegates and representatives of those who wished to rescue the Setnin Sector from the invaders. So much had been done in the past few months, so many alliances formed, such a force designed to fight back the Ki-Ki push.

But still, even with the co-operation of so many, they talked. Talked of ceasefires, of peace, of bargaining. Not once had he given the direct order to attack the invaders en-mass. Not once had he made a definitive decision to attack instead of defend, act instead of react.

And now, here, he looked at the cost.

Had he really become so old? In his youth he had been fast and decisive. He had run the lanes of trade and got stuck in with a fiery heart and passionate soul. Had age and long exposure to the Galactic Alliance, the very government who always proposed talking instead of action, bought him to this? Had the re-integration of the Setnin Sector with the Galactic Alliance caused its downfall?

He leaned against the ruined wall and stared as the heart of Setnin withered.

She didn’t know whom she hated the most, Ocern for telling her to go or Letitia for making her.

Trace stared out of the cockpit window of the Berone Sunrise as it fled through hyperspace. There were others aboard who had helped her escape and they were packed tightly in the cargo area behind, although strangely there was a gap around where she stood. The others watched with concern and sympathy but did not approach, not even Terrie, who had so expertly piloted the Sunrise, and now sat in silence, her own thoughts lying with her lover left stranded behind on Zelon.  Two women, locked in prisons of personal betrayal.

   “You’re in charge now,” came a voice from behind her. She turned slowly to face Letitia who placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ocern put the fate of the sector in your hands.”

Trace lifted her arms to show her shaking fingers and her sweating palms.

   “These hands?” she whispered.

Jan Lomona stood outside the ornate and imposing building with his hands jammed into his pockets and a grin of anticipation etched deeply into his face.  In the distance he could hear the rumbles and blasts of the Ki-Ki attackers as they forced their way deeper and deeper into the trade centre, but experience told him that they would have a long way to go before they got past the resistance forces and reached Level 15. 

He didn’t turn as Ryath Centaur stalked effortlessly across the plaza from the Northside entrance and through shattered rubble to stand by his side in silence. The two men looked at each other and remembered the vow they’d made decades before in wilder, less complicated times.  Neither could resist a smile, and after a moments reverie they began to walk forward…

   “Governor?”

There was no response.

   “Governor Ocern Gabe?”

Still blaster fire echoed throughout the city. Still the odd dull thump of an explosion shook dust from the rubble.

Ocern turned slowly at the voice and was confronted by two smartly dressed officers and a small detachment of troops. Each officer, one human and one of a lizard-type species, stepped forward towards the haggard governor. They were both dressed in smartly cut high-collar uniforms that denoted them of some importance, small coloured ropes of office hanging from shoulder to breast, boot newly scuffed as they traversed the debris.

   “I am he,” Ocern responded, straightening his robe and shaking his head as if these small actions would clean him off totally. He stood tall and waited for the officers to come to him.

   “I am Fleet Commander Cathum, this is Fleet Commander Dagger of the Prime Lord’s First Squadron. Governor, I think we had better discuss an end to this.”

   “An end?” Ocern almost burst out laughing. “An end? I can’t figure out an end, Commanders. I’m not even sure I understand the beginning.”

Cathum appeared uncomfortable and he closed in on Ocern. Dagger held back, his huge form dwarfing all about him, even the heavily armoured troops.

   “I have direct orders from our Prime Lord on Fedarn to secure this city, and with it the Setnin Sector. My orders are clear. Either you sign an unconditional surrender or the city of Chancai will be bombed out of existence and you will be executed. Governor, for the sake of the this city and it’s citizens, I urge you to sign.”

   “Traces of mercy after you blow my city to hell!” Ocern raised his voice but caught his anger. He looked out over the shattered buildings again.

Streams of civilians, now refugees, swarmed from the city. The roads from Chancai into the mountains were packed with speeders and forms of fleeing people. Both Ocern and Cathum watched them for a few moments before Ocern said,

   “You won’t bomb Chancai. Without the core trade centre the rest of the Setnin will collapse into economic meltdown. You wouldn’t dare.”

   “Either way, Governor, we win,” Dagger rumbled as he approached. “We are victorious. Our foe defeated. Our enemy crushed. What you will do in signing this surrender is spare the integrity of this sector and the lives of millions. We urge you to sign and inform all neighbouring sectors and Coruscant of the surrender.”

There was a moment of quiet as Ocern stared at the datapad.

   “I… I can’t.”

   “What do you mean you can’t!” Cathum suddenly shouted, his expression twisted into one of rage.  Even Dagger was taken aback by the sudden outburst. “You have lost, governor! Your ships are destroyed, your forces dead or fleeing, your people crushed! This city only stands because we deem it so; this sector exists because we allow it to! There are two Killship weapons platforms in orbit. All I have to do is withdraw my troops and this whole area will be ablaze within the hour. Millions dead! The sector will collapse and we will go home without the prize, but victorious! Now sign! Sign it now and save your people!”

Ocern stammered.

   “I…”

   “Sign it! Sign it or die with your precious Setnin Sector, governor!”

Ocern cleared his face of shock and rose up to his full height.

   “You want me to sign this so the Galactic Alliance do not take action. It makes your victory legal!”

   “Of course it does! We did not spill blood so that we could be targets! Do you want this to continue? Do you want the Setnin Sector to be even more decimated through even more war?”

Without warning, Ocern reached out and grabbed the datapad from Cathum’s hand. He stared at the two beings with contempt. He stared at the glowing screen with disgust. Then, with tears streaming down his face, he removed the light stylus from the top of the pad and put his name at the bottom of the declaration.

We, the Setnin Sector, do hereby unconditionally surrender the territories governed under the Chamber of Systems and all systems under the interplanetary treaties of the Setnin Sector to the Prime Lord of the Ki-Ki Sector, Prime Lord Atheus. The forces of the Setnin Defence Force do hereby lay down their arms and agree to all terms and conditions set by the governing bodies, both political and military, of the Ki-Ki Sector.

Signed: Ocern Gabe, Governor.

He handed the pad back to the Fleet Commander who looked at it with satisfaction. After a brief moment, he signed it also and handed it to Dagger to countersign. He turned back to the distraught Governor.

   “Governor Ocern Gabe, I am instructed to convey you to the Ki-Ki capital of Fedarn, where you will make a public broadcast of your surrender to all concerned government bodies. You will be incarcerated until such a time as the Prime Lord sees fit to either release you or allow you access to friends, family or the outside galaxy. You will not attempt to escape, sabotage or surreptitiously undermine the surrender. The consequences will be severe. Do you understand the terms?”

Ocern gathered his senses and nodded.

   “I do.”

   “I gladly accept your surrender and,” he motioned to Dagger, “I hereby call a cessation of hostilities other than those deemed necessary to maintain order an control. Sergeant!”

One of the heavily armoured troopers stepped forward and saluted smartly.

   “Sir!”

   “Escort the governor to the flagship. He is not to be harmed in any way and he is not to have contact with anyone.  Do you understand?”

   “Sir! This way, governor.” The trooper stepped back and motioned for Ocern to precede him.

Ocern stepped forward but paused, looking at Cathum directly.

   “You’ve won the Setnin Sector,” he said with venom, “but now you have to control it.”

With that, Governor Ocern Gabe, the First Speaker of the Chamber of Systems and the leader of the Setnin Sector, walked from the Chancai City Halls for the last time, surrounded by troops.

Cathum watched him go, shaking his head.

   “Ah… victory,” came a voice.

Sheu Ho-Travi emerged from the darkness with his aide, dirty but unharmed, and approached the Fleet Commanders.

   “My congratulations, Commander,” he said, bowing at the waist. “I am most pleased to see the Ki-Ki Sector here, at last.”

Cathum snorted in disgust.

   “You are pleased with all this because now you will control the new Ki-Ki Territories.”

   “Oh, no, no,” Sheu held up his hands to placate the Fleet Commander. “This is a great victory…”

   “Victory?” Cathum laughed aloud. “And what have we won, Mister Ho-Travi?”

He looked out at the devastation. He saw thousands upon thousands of people swarming from and now to the city as many realised that exposure to the elements was far too daunting a prospect. Many would return to take their chances, but always there would be the look in their eyes as they looked upon their new Ki-Ki masters, the passion for freedom, to have back their sector. There would always be the want for independence, and always there would be the smouldering hate that may, in the future, erupt into fire.

Cathum sighed heavily.

   “What have we won?”

Chancai Falls

2002 story by Jonathan Hicks, Mark Newbold, Paul Squire and Louis Turfrey

Thirty-eight years after Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – The 160^th story to be added to Lightsabre, and the pivotal moment in the Ki-Ki/Setnin War.  Originally planned to be story 150 and due to hit the site in October 2001, Chancai Falls was delayed due to the nature of the story, in light of the events in New York and Washington on September 11^th.  Written by the full Lightsabre team of Jonathan Hicks, Mark Newbold, Paul Squire and Louis Turfrey, this story, much like story 100 Centennial before it, was based on a story mapped out by all four members and written around a structure laid out by Jonathan Hicks.  However, unlike Centennial, which took four short-story views at a single situation, Chancai Falls has scenes written by each member that are tightly interwoven around each other, with certain scenes containing work by two or more authors.  Including all the major characters of the time this surprise attack by the Ki-Ki shows the determination of the invaders to take Setnin as their own, whatever the cost.  And the desperate actions of the Setnin populace to escape shows the utter hopelessness of their situation.

Cast of Characters

Governor Ocern Gabe

Jan Lomona

Ryath Centaur

Terrie Saffra

Jedi Master Blake De’Athe

Trace Dallagra

Tannis Rixx

Fleet Commander Cathum

Fleet Commander Dagger

 Galactic Alliance Advisor Sheu Ho-Travi

Jedi Master Letitia Arkensaw

Jedi Knight Jeddess Essar

Ziggy Teflon

Master Zeboden

Nera De’Athe

Jedi Master Maarsquith

Commander Raj Gillet

Major Maanu Ejjapi

Commander Sall

Captain Barler

Captain Trella D’Staan

Arnee Kwarnee

Admiral Gemasson