9.015 - Ours is Not to Question Why

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

The icy diaspora beneath Saantaurra lit up with brilliant flashes of laser and ion fire. Below, deep in the ring matter, Jalthi squadron swarmed the Filthy Minx like hawkbats on fresh carrion. Two of the Minx's assault shuttles went up in incandescent candleflames almost immediately; their meager shields were nothing against the overwhelming firepower of a whole squadron of Keerta fighter-grapplers. The pirates were hopelessly outmatched.

But Mdharra was never one to rest on a merely excellent chance of success.

"Weapons, status of Torpedo Tube One?"

"Torpedo one jis armed at twentjy-fjive percent capacjitjy."

"Set the matrjix to envelop," Mdharra growled. "Slave the targetjing scanners to Jalthi leader's telemetrjy."

"Envelopjing ajye, ma'am. Scanners locked jin."

Let them try to fool a Keerta's targeting scanners at close range. "Brjidge to Jalthi squadron. Wjithdraw to a djistance of fjiftjy thousand kjilometers. We'll crack open thjis koonhathee egg for jyou."

Mdharra watched her tactical display as the fighter-grapplers fell back to a safe distance, content to corral the frigate in the targeting zone. Even now, at what would be extreme range for Gorroka particle cannons, there was no way they could miss.

"Fjire."

Another blazing green sphere of hypermatter spat from Santaurra's centerspine and fell toward the Minx like ball lightning.

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

Aboard the Novgorod

It was the work of moments to exchange the appropriate protocols and mate the shuttle's docking cowl with the Rebel frigate's umbilical line. A short, thickly built Cizeri female wearing engineer's patches on her navy uniform stood at the gangway flanked by a pair of armed marines as the hatchway doors slid open. At the threshold of the Rebel warship stood a hyooman woman and a big Cizerack male, both of them in what passed for a uniform in the Alliance.

The engineer instinctively looked to s'Illancy. "jI am Deck Offjicerrr Anjuuree Sayalee. We arrre here to rrrender all reasonable aid accordjing to the Marjitjime Code of the Confederacjy of jIndependent Sjystemsss. Permjissjion to come aboarrrrd, ma'am?"

[Kidd Smix]

Safe below the Minx, Kidd regarded the fierce swarm of combat with the same kind of detached curiosity as a natural history holovid, a flurry of pigeon pirate ships and hulking Cizeri raptors. One by one, the Weequay fighters were destroyed with a faint pop of orange fire, debris tumbling every which way. It was a dance he was happy to sit out. And, in that sentiment, he wasn't alone.

"Would you look at that?" he uttered with a note of surprise, "Looks like we got ourselves a couple o' rogue nerfs out the pen."

Upon the canvas of black, twin splinters of shimmering silver sped away from the action, shrinking amongst the stars. Instinct took hold and he kicked the flight pedal, his ship lurching in pursuit. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Iceman pulling up on his flank.

"What's the score, farmboy? A couple of VIP's?"

"Whoever they are, they're about to be a lot less deader than their buddies, and the boss wants answers. Shoot to disable, Iceman, we don't want-"

Kidd froze, silenced by a creeping sense of deja vu. Slivers of light striped the contours of his ship, and his cockpit was bathed in an eerie green glow, he looked up. The torpedo blazed like an emerald sun as it descended upon the battlefield, and then winked out of view behind the Minx, framing the disc ship in a warm corona of light. Kidd's gaping mouth snapped shut in a determined grind of teeth, crushing pedals underfoot, he wrestled the A-Wing into a sharp sweeping stoop. His Sightline system flashed and he squeezed the trigger, bearing down upon the pirates, spitting columns of laser fire.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Aboard the Novgorod
The engineer instinctively looked to s'Illancy. "jI am Deck Offjicerrr Anjuuree Sayalee. We arrre here to rrrender all reasonable aid accordjing to the Marjitjime Code of the Confederacjy of jIndependent Sjystemsss. Permjissjion to come aboarrrrd, ma'am?"

"Commodore s'Ilancy," came the clipped response.

s'Il hesitated a moment, trying to pick apart the woman before her before finally taking a small step back.

"Permission granted."

She canted her head slightly to the side, affording Deck Officer Sayalee a stern look with her white eye as the other woman formally stepped aboard.

"If you and your team will follow me... "

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirrsseeto said nothing, but his jawline set tight at the sight of Hunter Marines under arms. Smile politely with your claws out, he reminded himself of Cizeri realpolitik, saying nothing to contradict his superior officer's acceptance of aid. Still, he didn't like this turn of events. Stalling tactic as it might be, it felt like a capitulation of a sort. He didn't want the Pride Mother's finest sticking their noses where they didn't belong. He could only hope that the Commodore was prepared to enforce their limits. They couldn't afford to let this distraction delay them, especially if he still had fighters outbound.

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo hated introspection. It forced oneself to look back and to question the sanctity of the moment. He'd always looked out for number one, and that had served him just fine, but as he watched the Filthy Minx take her coup de gras, he couldn't help but find the gravity in it all. Drawing out a flask from an inside pocket, he unscrewed it and held it up.

"T' th' Minx. Not th' ugliest bird I flew, an' not the scraggliest buncha cunts I served wit'."

Guzzling a few gulps, he winced, and passed the flask to Sadie.

"Neva' lose sight of th' fact tho'. In th' end, its yer own arse. Still. To me boys."

And that's when the laser blasts hit, causing a series of klaxons to sound.

[Dr. Saanjakeeto]

"jI would be onljy too happjy to assjissst!"

From the crowded cabin of the shuttle, a tall, shimmering specimen of Cizeri aristocracy shuffled forward through the deckhands and marines in a bright blue non-military uniform. She clapped her hands together and turned to face the assembled engineers and medics.

"Rrrjight, team han to the deflector sjystems. jI want full rreporrts on magnetic rrretentjion and energjy djissjipatjion rrrates. Team fei to the engjines--"

Deck Officer Sayalee made a sound in the back of her throat as if she were dislodging an entire bone from her windpipe. The blue-suited Cizerack started and whirled around toward the Rebel officers.

"Oh, rjight!" she said, and she smiled brightly and offered a hand to s'Il. "Dr. Tataari Saanjakeeto, specjial consssultant from Cana'daari Engjineerrrjing. Just pojint me the rrrjight way, and we'll have jyou fixed up jin no tjime at all!"

[Mdharra Ceergorra]

In the Rings

By all rights, the boiling mass of hypermatter should have punched through the Minx's meager shields like a cannonball through a sail, then erupted over her hull with a force that would scatter the frigate's debris to the five moons of Ryloth. But for all its shock and terror, the Saanja torpedo was a work of technical wizardry full of tactical possibilities that stretched the definition of possible.

The moment the glistering torpedo struck the Minx's shields, the magnetic bottle surrounding the hypermatter payload merged with the frigate's deflector field. The result was a cascade of green fire that burned its way across the deflector grid until the Minx was bathed in a sphere of transdimensional potential. Potential that then erupted all at once into destructive force.

The blast sent the Minx tumbling on its axis, shields completely stripped away, generators fused by the overload, internal systems scrambled by the electromagnetic burst. All at once, well before the frigate's crew could recover, Jalthi squadron swarmed back in, raking her hull with ion cannon fire, harpooning her with a dozen tractor beams to keep her from running.

"Jalthi leader to Saantaurra. Enemy frjigate djisabled. We are deplojyjing marjines now."

Mdharra's fingers tightened over the arms of her command chair. The day was not a total loss, then - there would be prize money for the captain and crew, close to a million credits spread across the five thousand women and men who had contributed to the capture of a dangerous pirate vessel. But Mdharra was not satisfied. There was one more objective to fulfill.

"Saantaurra to Jalthi lead. Confjirm whether Ledo Prent jis aboard."

[Kidd Smix]

It was a direct hit, the saucer-shaped shuttle jostled in his targetting scopes, and tumbled away before a second volley was unleashed. The sudden manouver suggested the brunt of the attack had been absorbed by the ship's shields, rather than its engines. Kidd frowned, the element of surprise had gone to waste. Rolling onto their sides, the A-Wings plunged effortlessly into the ghostly trail of sublights, and pinned the fleeing pirate ship in their sights.

"Look at that thing," he muttered, "Weequay's must have no imagination."

"I like it, in a minimalistic kind of way."

"Minimalistic kinda- oh, wait, thar she blows!"

Sensors warbled frantically and the trio of weaving starfighters were soaked in a brilliant green aura. It meant only one thing: the Minx was toast. Kidd thumbed a red switch atop the flight yoke and waited for the satisfying click-click of fully-loaded concussion missles. It was time to give this pirate something to think about.

"Unidentified shuttle, this is Ensign Smix, of the Alliance corvette, Novgorod," he announced, with practised clarity, "Your comrades have been neutralised by Cizerack forces. You are outnumbered and outgunned. Surrender yourself peacefully, now, and no further harm will come to you."

[Sadie K'Vesh]

"Or, ya know, could always trick their fighters inta self destructin'."

Sadie wasn't sure if she was glad the comm wasn't on or not. Just like she wasn't sure if she was just talkin' shit or not too. The one possession she'd managed to drag off the rock and keep with her to this point was her datapad and oh the wonders she could do with it when given 'nough motivation. And 'bout now was right and proper motivation indeed.

Already she was figurin' out the logistics of it. She had a program that could drive a whole fighter squadron's sensors screwy to the point where anythin' a pilot could see with their eyes was all they were gettin'. Had been tested on Imp and Alliance folk alike and gone smoothly. Sadie wasn't sure it would work on the angry kitty folk though so she hadn't even suggested it. But now... Well... these rebel types already had a bead on the shuttle so that lil trick was next ta worthless. But to make 'em blow themselves to hell... well, that'd be a feat. Somethin' to write home to the band 'bout.

Course, it wasn't her ship. And it wasn't her call.

"So... we runnin' or we playin' their game?"

[Ledo G. Prent]

The Pirate took another drink. No witty comeback. The calculus of his situation was removing possible answers and leaving only one. Two A-Wings outgunned him, out-maneuvered him, and out-sped him. He had no desire to join the cosmic space dust in eternal fucking communion or whatever.

Surrender to the Cizerack was already a non-starter. There was no such thing as clemency with their lot.

He looked at Sadie, and shrugged.

"Guess we takin' our chances wif dese lot. Maybe put on th' ol' charm an' get outta this. Maybe."

He switched on tighbeam comm with his pursuers.

"A'right, come off it. Follow me navs t' Ryloth. Y' got me, ya cunts. I'll go gentle as y' please."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Oh, rjight!" she said, and she smiled brightly and offered a hand to s'Il. "Dr. Tataari Saanjakeeto, specjial consssultant from Cana'daari Engjineerrrjing. Just pojint me the rrrjight way, and we'll have jyou fixed up jin no tjime at all!"

s'Il took the offered hand, but her grasp was firm and conveyed the sense that she meant to be obeyed.

"Dr. Saanjakeeto."

It was a curt delivery, and as their hands came apart, the Commodore made sure to mix equal parts diplomacy and firm control.

"We are on secondary power for the time being," she started as they began walking.

"Our main relays are overloaded, and my engineers will no doubt appreciate your help."

[Dr. Saanjakeeto]

"Oh, of courrrse, of courrrse."

Dr. Saanjakeeto had produced a datapad, on which she was recording notes at a prodigious rate.

"jYour rrrrelajys are overrrloaded, jyou sajy? Was the electrrromagnetic pulssse that powerrrful? Fascjinatjing!"

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

By every power that bound him under naval protocol, Cirr kept his mouth shut, but he was grinding the hell out of his teeth in doing so. Seeing these women on his ship? If they didn't need the distraction to potentially work in their favor, he'd throw them back through the airlock. He mumbled an excuse to his Commodore to relieve himself of attending to the most polite invasion ever, and stomped off to presumably resume command. Instead, he took a left at the t-intersection and found exactly who he was looking for.

"You!"

Cirr pointed at Regan Altink, stalking up to his chief engineer as he nearly yanked his arm out of socket, pulling Regan along with him as the Captain went back the way he came, towards the bridge.

"jI've got an jimporrtant mjissjion forr you. Engjineerr to Engjineerr. Come on!"

[Regan Altink]

Regan found himself gripped by a variety of things. The most visibly obvious was the Cizerack Captain that grabbed his arm; second came the look of confusion that gripped his brow. There was a lot more manhandling going on below the surface however; chief among them was the sadness and longing that was cast back towards the open EPS manifold that Regan had been repairing.

It wasn't longing for the task that fuelled his fleeting gaze; the calibration had been nothing but a source of frustration, which really required the kind of engineer with smaller hands that Regan was too stubborn to summon. No: there was something else to long for in that direction; to lust after, even.

Atop the deck plates, now protected only by the hydrospanner discarded beside it, was the most wonderous and soul-melting sandwiches that Tink had ever crafted or consumed. The secret was the emulsion of his own recipe: spices, citrus, and just a dash of grain alcohol thrown in to really give the slick yellow paste a kick. The net result was something smooth on the tongue but vicious on the sinuses: it had blasted it's way through Regan's brain, and made him feel more awake and alert than he had done in months.

And now he was getting torn away, his precious sandwich left exposed. It would be found and consumed by someone, he wagered. Probably Murray. Damn that bastard Squib. A section of Regan's brain was instantly set aside for the task of plotting an appropriate culinary revenge.

Fortunately, another more attentive part was paying attention to the more important matter at hand. "A mission, y'say?"

There was a pause, fractured aspects of Regan's psyche chattering away to each other in the back of his mind. They reached a consensus. The question was asked.

"Will there be sandwiches there?"

[Kidd Smix]

"A'right, come off it. Follow me navs t' Ryloth. Y' got me, ya cunts. I'll go gentle as y' please."

A stunned silence was drawn out following the announcement, then suddenly, in his ear, Kidd heard his wingman, "Well, that was easy."

"Hmm. Too easy..."

"Did you just say that, Smix? Did you actually just use those words?"

"Just keep your gorram eyes peeled, Spiceman."

"Hey now, that was deliberate!"

The A-Wings plunged gracefully through Ryloth's golden atmosphere, and followed the pirate shuttle down towards the outskirts of a vast desert, where the scorched earth was scarred in jagged brown streaks. Swooping lower, Kidd saw small settlements etched into the canyon walls, terracotta husks of homes, long since abandonned. The fighters settled down behind the landed saucer, whipping up torrents of dust around them. When the pilots emerged from their cockpits, they were armed.

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo emerged from his assault shuttle, stepping down the gangplank as he puffed a cigar. Sadie didn't look thrilled, but he honestly couldn't care. The alternative to this was pretty fucking awful.

"Lookie 'ere, love. Coupla real hard cases, these lot. Can't help but surrenda in th' face a' this."

He paused a moment, smiling cheerily as he puffed on his cigar like it was a holiday.

"Well now, lads. Y' go' me. Now...how is y' gonna spirit me off this shitpile wiffou' dem kitties flossin' they teeth wif our guts?"

[Sadie K'Vesh]

It was a right mess. Down to the last bit everythin' had up and gone sideways in ways it wasn't supposed to. And now this... two rebel pilots, one of which looked like he was young 'nuff to still go and get excited 'bout havin' body hair in new places. Nice.

Aw well, there weren't no use in poutin'.

Sadie eyed the A-Wings the boys had come in on and crossed her arms over her chest as she came to a stop next to Ledo. She shook her head at the site of it all and let a grin form. Or maybe it was forced. Fuck it.

"Was wonderin' 'bout that m'self. I'd go and say it was their lucky day but I'm guessin' havin' our likes sittin' in those birds with 'em aint exactly what you'd call 'fortuitous'. Still... can't go an 'magine they'd let the Ciz turn us inta red jelly neither." She shrugged and cast her eyes briefly upward as if expectin' the galleon to suddenly burst on through the atmo. "Course maybe the Rebs are lookin' to change that goodie-goodie anti-establishment rep they got."