One Black Night

1989 short story by Paul Squire

Three years after Episode IV – A New Hope

The door rasped open. It sounded broken and cracked, as was most of the circuitry aboard the Rebel Alliance Cruiser Retribution. Light blazed forth from the well-lit corridor, shining deep into the dimly lit chambers. Dust tumbled and fell about in the eddies and currents of the stale, scorched air.

The silhouetted figure, flight gloves tucked under his left arm took one step forward. The door forced itself shut, allowing some detail of the man to be gleaned from the darkness.

He was tall, almost two metres with the brawny frame of an athlete. His face was strong with a chiselled edge and the light reflected across his eyes like sunbeams on ice. His lips were a mere trace of a line and his beard short and trim.

He took another step forward further into the light.

A scar could now be seen, tracing a line from his lined forehead, down the left side of his face to his cheekbone. His hair was short and brushed back. Dark but with hints of copper and gold in it. And silver.

A breath stirred the air, sending the dust in a myriad of perplexing waves. It came from another man. He sat across the room. His back was straight and his shoulders square. They didn’t betray the weight that they had to carry. His arms were locked upright on the desk and his fingers were curled. His head hung down, starring at a computer readout on his desk. His short cut, greased hair glistened in the light.

He slowly raised his eyes to meet those of the mercenary before him.

He motioned his hand.

“Sit down, Captain.”

The pilot moved confidently to the desk and lowered himself into the chair, placing the gloves on the desk. The General continued.

“You did well. Three squads of Stormtroopers?”

“Four. And one of our adversaries shot himself in panic.”

“And you lost three of your men.” Stated the General with a dismissive air.

“Two, actually. One defected during the battle.” He smiled coldly. “He came to regret that. General, my men are novices, they have little real experience between them. And yet they have managed to take out the Imperial base on Kalum IV. Other units you have assembled took far higher losses and confirmed fewer kills.” He narrowed his eyes. “I fail to see your problem.” His voice was cold and the bitterness was evident.

“I have no problem, Captain.” The General said simply then paused before he continued. Everything hung quiet, the air still, but the atmosphere was electric. “On the contrary. Your performance has impressed the right people. That is why your unit is being divided up amongst the other teams. And you, Captain, are now sectioned to me.”

The mercenary didn’t reply for some time, though a flicker of a frown crossed his brow. After a minute he spoke.

“I am a mercenary assisting the Rebel Alliance in its struggle, by choice, not by order. My presence here is advantageous to me and to you. I have valuable combat experience and knowledge of your enemies.” He stood to his feet. “I am not an agent for you or anyone else. I tried that and I didn’t like it.” His voice was solid and firm.

The General looked up from his readout.

“The Rebel Alliance is changing by the hour Captain. Our victory at Yavin and our defeat at Hoth saw to that. As such, her servants have changed too. We all serve a greater good, and do so with pride. But know this Captain.” The General folded his arms and drew a breath, confident in the power his rank gave him. “An Imperial Captain, responsible for the deaths of hundreds of civilians on Durathosin, is not the kind of man the Rebel Alliance boasts about having in its ranks. We don’t need murderers and butchers for our heroes.” The General smiled a tight little smile and watched the mercenary slowly fold his own arms. His smile intensified as the man leaned over the desk closer to the General’s face.

“Just one more word, General.” Said the mercenary slowly, methodically, menacingly. “And you’ll be swallowing it along with my displeasure.”

“How like an Imperial officer – all threats.”

In the time it took for the General to begin a smug shrug of his shoulders the mercenary gripped the General by his collar and with a roar pulled the man across the desk and onto the floor. The General gagged for a second, not quite realising what had just happened. Then sensing the mercenary’s strong figure striding purposefully towards him, he went for his Blaster.

He was swift but inaccurate. The stun blast narrowly missed the merc’s left shoulder as he smashed the gun from out of the General’s hand. With his other hand he grabbed the General by the lapels and hauled him to his feet. His grip was secure and tight and the General began to choke.

“I’m no murderer. I’m no butcher. Those are your terms of reference. But I may just start with you.”

With that the mercenary released his grip and the General crumpled, wide-eyed, to the floor. Clawing at his reddened throat he pulled himself over to his Blaster. With hate filled eyes he aimed at the merc’s unprotected head.

His finger tensed on the trigger.

A split second before the bolt erupted from the barrel the mercenary had spun, drawn his own Blaster and slapped a shot just mere centimetres wide of the Generals head. The merc’s eyes bore through the soul of the General.

Slowly the General lowered his Blaster, but hate still occupied his face.

“Just one more excuse General Soli, that’s all I want. One more excuse.” His weapon didn’t waver in his grip.

“You’re finished here Centaur, I’ll see to that! I’ll have you arrested for attempted murder and sent down for twenty years. Sentencing a man like you would be a pleasure for any judge. By the time I’m through you won’t have the rank to command a garbage skip…not even with your Imperial scum associates!” He screamed. “You’re finished.”

Ryath Centaur looked through him for a few seconds.

“Finished? I haven’t even started. I’ll be sitting in your seat before this war is through. If you want to change that then I suggest you do something about it right now. It’ll be the only chance you get. Happy hunting.”

The door slid shut behind him.

One Black Night

1989 short story by Paul Squire

Three years after Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – Written on 3^rd September 1989 by NHP Whitestorm founder Paul Squire and revised in 1999 by Mark Newbold, One Black Night originally showed the character of Ryath Centaur in a polar opposite role - an Imperial reporting back to his Imperial commander about the amount of Rebels he had dispatched. With the alterations in the character over the intervening years and the creation of the Chronology it was decided that this story be altered slightly so as to facilitate the new additions to the mythos. Also interesting is the presence of General Soli. In the original it was also Soli who Centaur reported to, a fact not lost in the intervening years when Soli turns out to be an Imperial spy.

Cast of Characters

Ryath Centaur