Brothers - 10.030

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

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On the far edge of the Dorvalla system, border of Alliance space


The Skiprider was hobbled, and the chase was ended. The light freighter's engines flickered in their death throes after a pummelling from Novgorod's concussion warheads, and she tumbled adrift a few hundred kilometers ahead of the Alliance frigate. Fortunately the damage was largely localized to the engine compartment, leaving the valuable cargo of stolen cybernetic components more or less intact. Despite the freighter having a respectable weapons payload, it had put up hardly any fight, instead relying on hot-shot piloting and speed to chance a getaway. Against most ships, it would've done just that, but Novgorod wasn't most ships.

Captain Raurrssatta sat in his chair on the bridge, waiting for any signs of resistance. Still, the guns were silent. The Skiprider's pilot, it seemed, knew when he was beaten.

"Send the orrderr."

"Aye."

Lieutenant Joeren lit up the comms, broadcasting to the crippled freighter.

"Novgorod to Skiprider, you are ordered to surrender. Power down all systems and prepare to be boarded."

Now, the waiting game.

[Sanis Prent]

Probably a concussion. Yeah, a concussion.

I tried to pick myself up of the floor, faltered, and spilled back down to the metal deck plating. The broom closet that passed for the ship's bridge stank of chemical smoke and ozone, a testament to the array of fried helm controls. Finding my seat, I fell into it gracelessly, taking a moment to fish a crumpled stim out of my jacket pocket.

Ever since my life had taken a sudden turn towards Black Sun, I'd thought about this day, and how it would go down. What would I say? What would he say? And what then?

I knew what I deserved.

Wiping a bit of detritus from the comms console, I sent a return message. No visual. No audio. Good old-fashioned Aurebesh text.

"Brother."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

The message blinked on Cirr's terminal simply.

"Brother."

The Captain could feel the blood surging to the tips of his ears, and he looked up to the adrift freighter with incredulous eyes.

"Captain? The message makes no sense. Orders, sir?"

Cirr's eyes drifted again to his console.

"Brother."

Cirrsseeto had many brothers to be sure. But there was only one who would send that message.

He worked himself up to his feet with a little effort, and moved toward the turbolift with the permanent limp in his gait he'd suffered at the hands of the Ssi-Ruuk. No one dared offer a hand, they knew better.

"Prreparre a shuttle forr me."

Captain Tallen, the commander of his SpecForce troops and marines, balked.

"Captain Quez, the boarding party..."

"Shuttle forr one, Captajin!"

He looked back at the Felacat, a maelstrom of emotions on his face.

"...forr one. You have yourr orrderrs. And the conn."