9.015 - Ours is Not to Question Why

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Piss an' shyte, them's A-Wings."

Ledo stood from his chair, finishing the dregs of his bottle, which he threw against the wall in a violent display of displeasure at their circumstances.

"We ain't got time t' scramble. Man the guns. Keep 'em dancin' while we plot a shot th' hell outta 'ere."

The Corona class cruiser, Filthy Minx hugged the contours of the nearest moon, attempting to use whatever space they had to put it between the pirates and the fighters. That distance was closing, however, and the four point defense laser cannons began to swivel aft, ready to put down a few lanes of covering fire.

[Kidd Smix]

The cruiser's sudden retreat surprised Kidd, who found it nothing if not suspicious. And as he and Gold Seven trailed the shrinking saucer, he was reminded of an old docuholo he saw featuring a couple of kaadu wandering cluelessly into the lair of a hungry nexu and its vast snapping jaws.

"Easy, Spiceman," he muttered into the comm, "My pa used to say you should never corner a womprat."

"Iceman," a voice hissed in his ear, "My name is Iceman. How many times, blast it? You make me sound like a frackin' dealer. Why don't you corner a womprat?"

"Well, I heard they get all antsy and make a mad dash up your pants. But don' worry, I don' think that's entirely possible in our present situation."

Although both pilots had diplomatically steadied their approach, they failed to dissuade the cruiser from firing up its weapons, and the cockpit suddenly glared a crimson warning. In the last desperate violence-free seconds that followed, Kidd blurted into the comm, transmitting on an open channel:

"Unidentified vessel, please... identify... yourself," he tapered off, lamely.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The nice thing about not only being in the position that her rank allowed but the very nature of who she was, s'Il had a bit more of a grasp on the unknown than those around her. She watched with interest at the dance that was playing out before them, her thoughts stretching outward.

Normally she would have simply taken over the comm channel with her own orders, but this was now - for all intents and purposes - Cirr's ship. And while she knew that she had the ability to override his commands, the Commodore was loathe to pull the rug out from beneath the Cizerack's feet so soon. Instead, she merely watched with intense curiosity, her eye never leaving its' forward direction.

She frowned, her mind stumbling over the bizarrely familiar, and moving from her position to lean back in her seat, she lifted a hand to rest two fingers over her lips.

This was interesting indeed.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Gold Seven to Novgorod, taking fire from unidentified frigate. We are evading."

This was most certainly beyond chasing phantoms now. Cirr kept his eyes fixed on the battlespace map. Telemetry began flooding in on their target, which the databanks IDed as a Corona-class Frigate, an old heirloom Haor-Chall mulitasker that the Weequays in particular had used for over a generation on the rim. He had faith in his fighters, the ships themselves blindingly nimble and fast, and his pilots half crazy stuntmen. Still, he worried. Lives were on the line.

"Gold Thrree, Gold Seven, flank and overrtake. Flush them arround that moon. We'll set up a fjirre line."

He looked at his helmsman, who didn't even need the vector order, and was already intuitively interpreting his command to form the anvil for the fighter's hammer. It would be a long minute to see if the gambit worked.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Captain noticed s'Il's demeanor change.

"Trrouble?"

[Kidd Smix]

"Copy that," Kidd droned into the comm, then with a dubious sideways glance, whispered, "Okay, Bette, be kind."

The flight pedals gasped underfoot, engines boiled, and the A-Wing surged forward alongside its brother. Shortly, the freighter loomed vast in their field of view. It opened fire, spitting crimson death into the void, forcing the starfighters to weave and tumble away from their wicked glare. In an instant, Gold Three and Seven were regrouped, and climbed dangerously close to the saucer ship, swooping overhead while its cannons barked like angry dogs, lasers criss-crossing in futility.

"Lame mules don't kick," said Kidd, mysteriously, over the comm.

"Huh?"

"Lame mules-"

"Look, if this is another one of your codes-"

"Just blast the stinkin' cannons, Iceman."

By the time the chatter subsided, both A-Wings had rounded on the larger ship for another pass, and this time bared their teeth. A brief explosive volley of laser fire lanced the freighter, striking a mounted cannon. In unison, the starfighters dipped gracefully out of sight and swept under the belly of the ship to line up a second strategic blow.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

"Thejy've opened fjire, captajin."

Huntress Captain Mdharra Ceergorra sipped gingerly at her Krii'aachee tea and wrinkled her nose. It was a few degrees too hot, but not hot enough to disguise the weak flavor that came from mixing the tea with brined fish oil instead of oil pressed from the liver of a freshly slaughtered aachee bass. Krii'aachee should be an assault on the senses, possessing an acid pungency that stung the mouth and forcibly opened every sinus.

Curling her lip, Mdharra returned the cup to its saucer on the tray beside her seat on the command dais. "Opjinjion, Commander?"

Lieutenant Commander Neyashte Ajakeeri, Mdharra's second aboard the battle galleon Santaurra, sat like a statue of polished bronze beside her captain, moving only her cerulean eyes as she scanned the tactical viewer between them. "Dogs fjightjing over the same bones, ma'am," she said. "We majy capture two prjizes todajy."

"A Marauder-class corvette," Mdharra observed, "fjieldjing RZ-1s and T-65s. Advanced loadout for a rustjy museum pjiece ljike that."

It might have been a privateer under the flag of Ryloth, or perhaps an enforcer for the Hutts intending to collect on an overdue debt. Whatever the Marauder's intentions, it was moving in on another hunter's prey. Mdharra rose from her seat and turned her eyes to the forward viewer, where tiny flashes of blaster fire lit up the dark side of a misshapen moon.

"We have wajited long enough," Mdharra said. "Helm, plot for paraboljic jintercept. Weapons, jI want targetjing solutjions as soon as we breach the magnetosphere. Comm., prepare to announce our presence."

The rumble of the battle galleon's powerful sublights filled the bridge as the Santaurra prowled forward out of the dead zone he had occupied in the gas giant's magnetic field. Until now the galleon had been invisible to the other ships in the star system, but before either the Marauder or the Corona could register the massive warship bearing down on them on a descending arc like an avenger from heaven, Santaurra's comm tower opened up with a debilitating howl of noise on every frequency. It was a predatory roar that served two purposes: first, of disrupting the local communications of any ship that could pose a threat to the galleon, and, second, of announcing the arrival of the Pride Mother's long arm of justice to all pirate scum who violated the sovereignty of Cizeri commerce.

The echoes had barely faded when Mdharra spoke, in basic, on an open channel to all ships: "Thjiss jis Huntrrrresss Captajin Mdharra Ceergorra of the Battle Galleon Santaurra. The pjirrrate frrjigate Filthy Minx isss the lawful prrrrey of the Cizerack Hunterrr Forrcesss. Do not jinterferrre jif jyou value jyour ljivess."

[Ledo G. Prent]

If ever there was something to dump icewater in your veins...

Ledo Prent wasn't exactly the sort of man to smile in the face of death. Lie, cheat, and steal from death, and shiv him in the back as you tip-toe away from a confrontation. That was his style. There was absolutely nothing about engaging the Cizerack that was his style. You. Get. The. Hell. Away.

"Th' fuck we ever do to you?!" He shouted impotently at the screen, a channel not even open to the potential harbinger of every person's death on the Corona frigate.

He slapped the back of the Weequay's head who was running helm, and screamed, spittle wetting his dome.

"Definition of all-holy-fucking haste, lad! Or do you want to see the end of days as a pair of boots?"

The only thing they'd ever hope to rely on was their speed, their fickle luck, and a dirty trick if he still had one in his pocket.

Was he afraid? About as afraid of the day the tap ran dry, the pussy walked out, and his balance read zero. So yeah, pretty fucking tiffed.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"Si'aarrreita..."

The tip of a murderous Cizeri curse dangled on the edge of Cirrsseeto's tongue, and the Captain only just managed to rein it in for the sake of his command. His arm-rests, however, were not so lucky, mauled by two handfuls of claws in full-dig mode.

The galleon captain was clever too, using the gas giant like a patch of high grass to shorten their approach. While both Novgorod and likely the Corona frigate could dance circles around a Korri galleon, the Cizerack warship could outgun them multiple times over, and take a titanic amount of damage. There would be little to nothing gained by a fight there.

That being said, Cirrsseeto was angry. This was his mission, and that pirate ship was his prize. Even if this was a mission about nothing, it was now about something. If all he could do at the moment was be heard, he was going to do exactly that.

"Channel to Saantaurra, now!"

The comms officer nodded when the line was live, and the tension on the bridge ratcheted up.

"Galleon Saantaurra, thjis jis the Alljiance frrjigate Novgorrod. We arre on an jinterrdjictjion mjissjion agajinst a known supply rrajiderr. Stand down at once!"

He wasn't going to be bullied, even if it was a Cizerack female with a much bigger ship.

[Kidd Smix]

The sudden obnoxious wail of comm noise made Kidd squirm in his seat and left him disoriented long enough to get clipped by one of the frigate's hungry cannons. The ship rocked, jostling him out of his deafened stupor, he took a glance at the diagnostics readout and was relieved to discover it had only been a glancing shot, most of which had been mercifully absorbed by the shields. He took a bracing breath and kicked the pedals for a burst of speed.

It seemed the trap had been sprung prematurely with the boisterous arrival of the Cizerack galleon, and while Captain Raurrssatta fenced words with their uninvited guests, the pirate frigate, now identified as the Filthy Minx, dramatically altered course. Both A-Wings were swept aside in its wake, dashing any hopes they would be able to lure the pirates into the waiting jaws of the Novgorod, instead all that was left for them to do was buzz about the fleeing vessel while awaiting orders.

"Gold Three to Novgorod. The frigate has altered course and is now in full retreat. Figure those Cizeracks have 'em spooked."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It took a fair amount of mental wrangling, but s'Il was able to keep herself from simply standing to her feet and taking charge of this situation. She remained seated - almost casually even - as Cirr displayed the steel in his spine. It was heartening to see her friend stand his ground to another of his own kind; and a female at that.

For now she would allow Captain Raurrssatta the room he needed while she remained focused within the Force.

That feeling of familiarity nagged at her, and the Lupine stretched out with her thoughts to pinpoint exactly what it was.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

"Pjirate vessel jis fleejing, captajin. Headjing two-one-seven mark fjifteen."

Straight for the ring matter gathered on the gas giant's ecliptic - clearly the pirate captain thought he could mire the battle galleon in the orbital muck and then escape before Santaurra could close into firing range for his Gorroka particle cannons. Little did he know that the Gorroka hardpoints on Santaurra's centerspine were dummy units, concealing something far more lethal below.

"Arm Saanja tube one," Mdharra growled. "Envelopjing matrjix. Twentjy-fjive percent power. Hold tube two at fjiftjy percent, standard matrjix."

"Aye, ma'am, tube one twentjy-fjive envelopjing, tube two fjiftjy standard."

Such was the language of the Saanja torpedo. When Mdharra had taken command, the terminology and logic of the weapon had been alien and mysterious, an unwelcome spanner in well-oiled workings of a ship of the line and a heresy against the established combat doctrine of the Pride Navy. But since then it had become second nature to her to think in terms of long-range ballistic duels, charging cycles, and precision strikes instead of the low-speed raking actions galleon captains were accustomed to.

The forrda pirate thought he was still out of range. He was wrong.

"Open a channel to Novgorod," Mdharra ordered. "Alljiance frrrjigate. jYou do not gjive orders to a shjip of the Prrrrjide Navjy. jI suggest jyou sssstay out of mjy way."

"Target locked, captajin!" the weapons officer reported.

Mdharra curled her lip at the saucer-shaped skiff on her tactical viewer. "Fjire torpedo one."

Even at twenty-five percent power, the firing of a Saanja torpedo was a cataclysmic event. The lights dimmed momentarily from the power drain, and then the bridge filled with the bubbling sound like molten lava cooling in an ocean as a miniature green sun burst from Santaurra's centerspine and hurtled through space toward the Filthy Minx at terrifying speed.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Saine blanched behind her sensor suite readout.

"Captain, I'm reading some massive energy spikes from that galleon. Hypermatter antiproton readings...five times beyond a hyperspeed spool. That's..."

She shook her head.

Cirrsseeto bounded from his chair, meeting his recon officer at his station to pore over the data.

"That's not a heavy parrtjicle spjike ljike a Gorroka charrge..."

He hadn't the foggiest what he was looking at, but this shouldn't be normal at all.

"Helm, back us off qujickly! All fjighterrs, rrally pojint thrree zeta!"

The galleon's reactor looked like it was on a runaway feedback to critical. If that was true...

Novgorod immediately cut its vector, peeling away to gain distance. There was no room to rattle the saber anymore.

"Captain!"

A blinding orb of light screamed from the galleon's port-side particle cannon superstructure. Cirr spun around to catch the sight on his viewscreen.

"What the..."

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Cap'n! Massive energy build on that galleon!"

Ledo spun around. What was going on? They were clearly outside of particle cannon range. He slipped into his chair, bringing up sensor readouts.

"Wha' is da'? Ain't the main weapon, its somethin' else."

Almost drowned out by the alarming power readings from the galleon was another reading. A weapon's tracking lock, pinging for IFF frequencies. More specifically, theirs.

Nearly tripping over a Klaatoinian deckhand, Ledo tackled the gunny out of his seat, accessing direct control to the launch tubes. He was looking for...

"Gunny deck, dis' is th' Cap'n. Load the rabbit toot suite boys!"

They'd only have one shot at this. Whatever hell was about to be unleashed, it was a seeking weapon, trained on them.

"Rabbit loaded, Cap'n!"

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

What appeared to be a probe launched with a comet tail of thruster exhaust, speeding aft in a hurry. The weapon broadcast the same IFF frequency of the Filthy Minx.

[Kidd Smix]

From above the Filthy Minx, Kidd had a clear view of all the major powers at play and had the distinct impression that he had suddenly become the small fry in the shark tank. No sooner had the order to retreat been barked over the comm than a bright green orb was belched from the hulking galleon, his cockpit flashed with all the psychedelic flare of a Zeltron cantina, and sensors bleeted deliriously. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a probe launch from the pirate vessel and it sped off on a lonely intercept course for the alien weapon.

"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this..."

Pulling back on the flight stick, he wrestled his ship belly-up and watched the frigate fall away beneath him. Suddenly, a burst of emerald set his hull ablaze like sunlight and a heart-stopping moment later Kidd lurched forward, snatched upon the crest of violent energy wave and sent spiralling into oblivion.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Now she did stand, coming to her feet with a suddenness that was born from carefully controlled surprise. What sort of weapon was this?! her shoulders hitched back as she watched the sight unfolding before them all on the viewscreen.

Every head on the bridge was turned to watch, and the Lupine's brow knit in concentration. With her thoughts torn from the pirate vessel, they now focused on the battle galleon with grim determination.

With a quick look to Mallin, she noted the man's return glimpse, and her hand lifted in a hurried gesture. The comm officer nodded, opening another channel to Santaurra.

"This is Jedi Master Loklorien s'Ilancy," the solid currents of calm iron laced her voice heavily.

"You are requested to stand down your attack at once."

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

Mdharra flicked one ear in irritation. Even if there was a Jedji aboard that ship, her authority had died with the Galactic Republic. Mdharra had no intention of kowtowing to a deluded mystic. "Close that channel, Ensjign Harrushi."

The young woman on sensors frowned at a sensor reading that shouldn't be possible. "Ma'am, the pjirate has reversed course," she said. "Headjing thjirtjy-seven mark seventjy-fjive, acceleratjing at two thousand gravjitjies--"

Mdharra seized the tactical viewer at her left hand and lifted the screen toward her face. The pirate's signal was rapidly backtracking, but there was another, fainter signal continuing along his original course. "A decoy!" she spat. "Weapons, reacqujire orjigjinal target!"

"The torpedo jis not respondjing, ma'am!"

Crackling with hypermatter potential, the Saanja torpedo made an abrupt turn to chase after the Minx's decoy probe, which in turn had decided to lock onto the nearest sustained signal: the Novgorod.

"Detonate! Now!" Mdharra snapped.

It was going to be close.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

The green sphere blossomed into the microcosm of a nova, hurting Cirr's eyes in the half second it took for the viewscreen to auto-correct for brightness. With the explosion at that distance, they only had a second or two to...

"Brrace brrace brr..."

Cirr was bowled over a railing as his ship rocked violently under the shockwaves of the Saanja weapon. Consoles sparked and belched smoke as the ship broke out into a shrieking of klaxons. Novgorod took an indirect hit, but that was more than enough to rip her shields apart and wreak havoc over more than a few systems. Her sudden retreat was reduced to a limp on emergency thrust, as her reactor temporarily locked down for a second or two to ensure that the damage sustained wasn't causing a cascading overload. Main power groaned back a second or two afterward, and everyone on deck slowly started picking themselves up.

[Ledo G. Prent]

Oh, his luck held!

"Tha' got 'er!"

Not only had they turned back the Cizerack terror weapon, but it had also put a wrench in the works of the Alliance ship too. Ledo's pock-marked face creased with a wide grin, and he slugged the arm of the nearby gunny in approval.

"All speed for the rings, lads! Get us a jump to whereva, soon as we can."

Maybe the Cizerack and Alliance ships would start fighting each other. That would be a bonus.

[Kidd Smix]

"Gold Seven, do you copy?" Kidd spoke into the comm, "Iceman?"

"You sound worried, farm boy," croaked his wingman.

"That was some kinda crazy thing. Thought for sure I was a goner that time."

While they talked, Kidd went through the usual process of checking each of his ship's key systems, only to discover no substantial damage had been sustained. That was just the shockwave, he considered darkly. A weapon like that was a real game-changer. It was imperative they didn't linger, and just as Kidd was about to regroup with Iceman, the Filthy Minx sailed overhead.

"Novgorod, this is Gold Three. The frigate is making another break for it. Orders?"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Coughing up lungfuls of smoke, Cirr stumbled to Mallin's station, nodding to patch the line live to his advance scouts.

"You made jit thrrough that? Good flyjing, Thrree."

He glanced back to the viewscreen, filled with the Cizerack galleon. Unfortunately, their hands were a bit tied at the moment.

"Purrsue but do not engage. Move to band two-fourr Tau, and keep rrespectful djistance."

He looked back to s'Il, hoping she had some ideas up her sleeve with the current bind they were in.

"You'rre gonna be on yourr own forr a ljittle bjit. Do what you can. Novgorrod out."