Showdown at Junction

[Abarai Loki]

"Thank you. For helping me with Cerie and coming with to help with Ben. Not a lot of people would have done so much for someone that's basically a stranger."

"Oh."

The hug came as a surprise, and not a wholly unwelcome one. She felt warm against him, and small, and, suddenly, vulnerable. Even though he scarcely knew Captain Ben, it was difficult not to share in her relief, for it seemed to seep out of her very pores as she held him. What he could actually smell, however, was smoke, engine grease and something else beneath all that, something clean. The rigid alarm untangled from his muscles and he managed to get one arm around her to gently, sporadically, pat her on the back. It felt weird, but in a good way.

"They wouldn't?" he said, somewhat puzzled. Helping her had felt like the natural thing to do, at the time. Sure, she was pretty, and she had been nice to him, when he was, admittedly, a little down on his luck (not that she had to tell everyone that!), but, even if she hadn't been any of those things, could he have just denied her help, like that? Being kind was normal, he reminded himself. And it was rewarded with hugs. He pulled himself out of his reverie, and from the embrace, and gave her a nod, "Glad I could help."

He cleared his throat to punctuate an end to the closeness and the warmth, and all that stuff. And he turned just in time to see Lok peel off her own fracking scar. His mouth fell open. His legs worked underneath him, slowly at first, as he replayed her conversation with Ben, about the uniform, and her reason for wearing it. And as his thoughts gathered momentum, so did his legs, until he had rounded the speeder, and swept up the crumpled prosthetic, to brandish it at the mystery woman.

"Who- who are you?" he said, eyes narrowed, as if he were starting to see beyond the facade, at last. The scar wobbled between his fingers, "What are you supposed to be? What- How- Who are you!?"

[Ben Merasska]

"Not so much of an issue?" He gaped. "Ah huh, wha, I... I have no words. No words, Cerie. Do I have to point up at the big scary Imperial ship? Right there? That I'm pointing at?"

He shook his arm, emphasizing that he was pointing at the Destroyer.

"I mean it's not like it's not helpful, and I'm not going to keep you from keeping your grasp on the fine art of swindling and confidence gaming as razor sharp as you have it, but..." he trailed off, realizing he was completely negating every point he wanted to make. "...Why do you have to look like some real bigwig? Why couldn't it have been some mid-ranking Colonel or Captain or something? It would've been so much easier."

"Who are you?!" Loki snarled, his eyes and face creased with a confused and betrayed sort of anger that came from believing someone to be other than they were.

"See? Right there." Ben gestured to Loki, mostly ignoring his sputtered demands in favor of accentuating his point while he and Cerie climbed into the speeder. "Right there. See that? That's what happens. Almost every time."

[Cerie Moreau]

Cerie responded with a rolling of her eyes, making a face as she deposited herself roughly into the back seat. Of course, in the very next instant she winced while rocking her hips upward, free hand going behind her to remove the Westar she'd stuffed into her belt. A frown, and her lips pursed as she resettled herself.

"Look, I could ask you why you thought it would be a good idea to go into a building that was gonna be spending its' future in a pile of rubber, but I'm not because I'm not a jerk."

Loki's furious demand was ignored in favor of bowing up in indignant anger.

Moments later she was right back up, as if she'd never sat down in the first place, and with a finger nearly in his face, she opened her mouth to retort further. Not a single word came out, and she clamped her jaw shut once more. Her brow rose, and mouth opened once more yet the same lack of verbal defense was all that she had. Or didn't have. Whatever. Either way the words were just not happening, and that fact was just as annoying as anything in the history of ever.

And after the third attempt at speaking - still with the same silent result - Cerie screwed her face up into an expression of silent, absolute, and utterly rage-filled frustration.

A hand came up, index finger extended, and choosing physical force rather than words, she poked his face right on the spot of where she could see a bruise beginning to form.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

King Vashakhal was led from the royal palace under Imperial protection to the parade ground. The gunship that had delivered Vissica and her shock troopers to the palace had since been replaced by a Lambda-class shuttle, itself disgorging a dozen troopers who served to keep a growing crowd away. More and more sounds of agitation could be heard as the citizens of Feriae saw their King being led to the ship.

"What's happening?"

"They're taking the King??"

"You Imperial bastards!"

Vissica walked alongside the King, mindful to keep the concerned subjects at bay. Her attention, however, drifted above. From the main bay of the Decimator, a small Gozanti class cruiser launched. From it's height, the Selonian could barely make out the features of a pair of AT-ST walkers underslung beneath the support vessel's hull as it picked up speed, - heading west to leave the city. Vissica's tail slapped the treadstones as she tugged at her chin tuft.

"Place the King aboard the shuttle, Lieutenant." Vissica ordered, as she separated herself from the throng. She embarked on a new path - one that was hers alone.

It would take her back to the star port. To a place she could feel the force guiding her.

[Abarai Loki]

"Wh-" Words died on Loki's lips, as he watched Cerie climb into the speeder to resume her argument with Ben. He stared, indignant, "Are you ignoring me?"

Nothing. The fraud continued to huff, and object, and assault Captain Ben, sparing him not even a glance. He considered the limp prosthesis in his hand for one more second, before casting the offensive little thing back into the dirt. There was Shuvin, climbing into what had originally been his spot, beside Ben. He gaped at her, hands open and spread wide, as if either of them would catch a clue.

"Am I being ignored, here!?"

She looked apologetic but had little to offer in the way of explanation or consolation. Perhaps experience had taught her to keep out of the firing line whenever mother and father were having a tiff. And, though he held no such personal reservations, Loki was not prepared to parrot himself like some ill-tempered child. He climbed into the back seat, and lifted his trusty tool box into his lap, hugging it close.

"I'm being ignored."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the glimmer of the sonic blaster and snatched at it before the fraud got any ideas, hoarding it to himself. As the speeder took off towards the city, the fraud was afforded one last scathing look.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Here, Cerie," she said. "Take the front."

Shuvin clambered into the back seat and sat next to Loki.

"Oh, poor baby," she hummed, throwing an arm around Loki's shoulders and squeezing him while they jolted forward. Ben turned them around to go back the way they came. Shuvin smiled at Loki's pouting and somehow refrained from teasing him more. Instead, she gave up the one armed hug, and sat away from the boy, one leg crossed and a curious look on her face.

"So, I guess you thought she was that Alliance lady, Lokoren Spilancy, or whatever, right? It seems like you know her personally, though. I mean, it's kinda weird to be so angry about someone pretending to be someone you don't know..." Shuvin trailed off, looking at her newfound friend intently for a long moment, as if trying to pierce a veil around his person. She smiled easily a moment later. "So you repaired some of droids or something then?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Everyone knew her."

His gaze was on the horizon, where the distant city started to grow and take shape beneath a black dagger-shaped sky. And beyond, the blue-inked ceiling of the world was wounded, torn open in angry slashes that looked ready to bleed. Night was drawing in like a shroud over the atrocities of the day.

The naive attempt at Loklorian s'Ilancy's name, it made him think back to a time when someone could say it aloud without experiencing a sharp twisting sense of dread in their guts. So much had changed since then, and, like the sky above, night had fallen upon Loklorian s'Ilancy's days, followed at last by the promise of a new dawn. Loki hated her, once. The betrayal had cut deep with all Jedi, poisoning fertile soils with distrust. Now, he didn't know. And the beauty of being so far removed from his old life, worlds away from Ossus and the Jedi, it meant he was under no obligation to have any of the answers, anymore.

When he finally looked Shuvin's way, he gave his tool box a pat, and shrugged, "Even Alliance ships needed droid mechanics."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Orgern smiled behind his macrobinoculars, trimming the focus to bring the silhouette of the enemy speeder into sharp relief. With Feriae City in the far distance, reflecting the city lights off the hull of the Decimator, his target stood out in the darkening twilight.

"Contact at three-three-nine. Advance and fire!"

The ITT speeder's engines pushed to accelerate as the Captain slid back down the porthole, covering the hatch. At their flanks, the two speeder bikes picked up speed, easily overtaking the heavier craft in an attempt to harry their quarry. The transport gunner began to sight in on Orgern's coordinates, finding the speeder exactly where it ought to be. He opened fire, anti-personnel lasers stitching through the grass and pocking the paved highway just beneath the heroes.

Orgern crouched behind the driver, watching the chase unfold in the transparisteel viewport. He had them this time!

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Even Alliance ships needed droid mechanics," Loki said. Shuvin pursed her lips.

"Mmmhmm," she hummed, still looking at the boy. "Still, somethin's weird about your reaction—"

The sound of laser cannons firing was very distinctive, and one wasn't about to forget it if the experience didn't leave you a smoking mess of ash. The sound of explosions and the smell of burning air was also distinctive, and Shuvin shrieked and ducked.

"Ben! SOMEONE'S TRYING TO KILL US AGAIN!"

The speeder lurched forward as Ben gunned the engine and let loose with the throttle.

[Cerie Moreau]

The air around them cracked, like the atmosphere was something tangible and able to be broken by a set of shell-crackers, and the earth around them responded in kind. Pits instantly dug down, burrowing into small, ugly craters that sent flecks of debris out in angry shower. Bits of earth and durracrete hit the underside of the speeder, a few bouncing off the edges, and a few even tumbling inside.

Shuvin's yelled words only punctuated another volley of fire, and instinctively the blonde ducked low, hands gripping the handles of her Westars tightly.

There wasn't much that small blasters could do against anything larger than a person, and looking back, Cerie couldn't help the dismay at the sight of the two speeders rapidly closing the distance, and a larger craft following them. All of this was just fantastic.

"Where's that noisy whisperbug number you usually keep in here?!"

[Ben Merasska]

"Why?! Why this again?" Ben muttered to himself as he pulled off the road and into the rougher grassy terrain of the land that surrounded Feriae Junction. "I can't narrowly avoid death just once today. No. No, I have to almost die twice, hell, three times before the day is over! HOLD ON!"

The speeder bucked as they hit a narrow divot in the ground, lined with gravel and loose rocks, which sprayed out from the effort of the repulsors keeping the vehicle afloat.

He slammed on the brakes and turned sharply, watching the gunship rocket past them before sharply turning itself to reacquire them.

'I wish we had something to throw back at them,' he thought. 'Hell, a blaster rifle, a big rock, a sharp pointy stick, a grenade—'

His eyes widened and he threw himself back on top of Shuvin and Loki, frantically pawing open a small console where three thermal detonators sat in dusty unused glory.

"Aha! Here! Someone throw these!" he called back while he dug around the console with one hand, the other busily pointing at the imperial ship in desperate emphasis. "At that! Cerie, drive!"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki's patience was wearing thin. With the screech of Imperial lasers, the day, which had already gone from unfortunate to disastrous, had now crossed the threshold into outright tedium. The speeder lurched forward under Cerie's command, but the racing speeder bikes were already upon them. Loki turned, propping his knee against the seat, and wasted no time in firing off a shot from the sonic blaster. With a deep thrum, the air rippled and warped, carving a shallow canyon in the dirt; the bike bucked, like a rampaging reek, casting the stormtrooper to the ground. His friend returned fire, but the shots found only air, as Loki turned and sank back into his seat.

"Captain Ben, we are going to need-" His sentence fell apart at the sight of what greeted him, unearthed from stars-know-where, sitting on the seat beside him. Not one, not two, but three thermal detonators. He snatched one up and regarded it hungrily, like a ripe apple, "Yes. Yes!"

The day's proceedings had been shambolic, at best; a fiasco of missed flights, mistaken identities, and persistent Imperial pestering. Only decisive action would cut through the drudgery. And there were precious few things in the galaxy that yielded results as instant and satisfying as a thermal detonator. The fuse was activated under his thumb, and while the silver orb flashed and whined in his hand, Loki counted. Behind him, he could feel the advance of the troop transport, encroaching in thorny vines around his mind. One last shriek of anti-personnel fire.

He rose up, turned and released the detonator. It sailed across the expanse with unerring accuracy, and with a faint metallic tink against the transport's gun emplacement, it exploded. With the glare of fire shimmering on his face, Loki beamed.

"Ha!" He extended an open hand to Shuvin, "Another!"

[Reikkel Orgern]

The clap of the thermal detonator against the hull of the ITT deafened the crew within. Inside the downy embrace of tinnitus, Captain Orgern glowered ahead.

"TARGET THEIR ENGINE!"

He shouted over the din of his own protesting ears just in time to see the silhouette at the rear of the speeder wind up for another throw. This one didn't have the distance...but that was a problem. Orgern watched as the second detonator bounced once...twice...

...He checked his shoulder into the oblivious driver.

"EVADE YOU ID-"

Too late. The second detonator went off. Unlike the first that clapped against armor, the second detonator struck the rear of the armored transport's underbelly, hitting where no armor could protect. The explosion blew apart the rear compartment - including the repulsor drive. Brought back to earth - literally - the ITT crashed into the dirt, carving a rut as it bled it's momentum to a halt.

All Captain Orgern could do was watch his quarry elude him - again. He pounded the console in anger with a gloved fist.

[Cerie Moreau]

It was like some wild, limb-flailing dance that managed to deposit Cerie practically in Ben's lap as she leaned over as far as she could. Short arms made many tasks difficult when it came to reaching for things, and trying to lay hands on the steering yoke while finishing the tight half-turn that Ben had begun was like trying to put pasties on a dancing Askajian. While blind.

But, the blonde managed well enough, her fingers closing around the yoke and holding it as steady as possible for a brief moment before returning them to their previous vector.

She didn't dare look back, despite Loki's triumphant cry. Instead, Cerie focused on maintaining their direction.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben did nothing so undignified as cheer or shout in victory when he saw the gunship go down. Instead he just went limp in relief, rolling onto his back with a sigh and a smile as he watched the clouds above drift lazily in peaceful repose.

"Wait, who's driving this thing?" Ben asked. Loki and Shuvin both gave him nonplussed looks. Cerie cleared her throat. "Oh yeah. That'd be me."

Ben pushed himself up to the front again, not without some awkwardness; Shuvin gasping, "Cap'n! Don't touch me there... in public!" really put a berry on top of the awkwardness sundae truth be told. Especially given the suddenly accusing eyes of Loki, whom it seemed Shuvin had won over pretty handily. Even his protested, "Now I ain't ever touched you like that before!" only slightly lessened the glare. It only disappeared when Shuvin giggled and said, "Well yeah, but that's not what I said, is it?"

It was Shuvin's turn to be gifted with unimpressed looks. She simply smiled in satisfaction.

"Now what do we say we just get out of here before anything else horrifying deadly happens to us?" he asked. "I vote yes. To leaving."

[Abarai Loki]

"Yes. Please. And with all haste."

The thrill of disarming the transport was fading. How Loki had basked in its death throes: the telling groan of metal, the final sigh of repulsors, and the delicious screech and clamour as it buried itself in the ground, behind a shroud of dust and debris. If only a single thermal detonator could have the same effect upon the ominous shape draped over the city. The speeder resumed its approach. There was nothing for it: to escape this world, they must first step into the long shadow of the Empire.

"You know, they will probably be looking for this vehicle, now. We'll be spotted the second we enter the city."

[Ben Merasska]

"Hey now," Ben retorted, sending a reproaching look back Loki's way. "You know how much I spent on this thing? Too much to just toss it aside the second it becomes noticeable in a harebrained and dangerous rescue mission. That's how much. Besides, we can make it."

Fifteen Minutes Later...

The speeder groaned and hit the ground with a resounding thud as its repulsors gave out. Thankfully it didn't incur that much damage from the circumstance, as its front end was partially buried in a brick wall. Most of the damage had been taken before the fall what with the blaster fire and reckless driving through the city to get away from the Imperial forces that were looking for them.

"It's fine," Ben said, looking at the speeder in anguish. Shuvin, Loki, and Cerie were arrayed around him, all looking at the vehicle. "We can fix it."

The speeder caught on fire.

"A little fire never hurt—" Ben's words were cut off as a small muffled explosion caused the speeder to jerk as if in its death throes. "I've fixed worse—"

The brick wall crumbled over the speeder, burying it.

"Oh come on!" Ben threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Fine. We'll walk from here. We're not that far anyway."

To be fair, they'd nearly made it to the Feriae Junction star-port just fine, if it hadn't been for the eagle-eyed Imperials in their AT-STs keeping up just enough to make sure pursuit didn't completely lose them.

"Oh she was a beaut fer sure, Cap'n," Shuvin commiserated. "I'll miss her fierce."

Ben nodded and patted the teen on the shoulder in muted thanks as they trudged through the streets, carefully making their way back to Alderaan without being seen.

"Yeah, she was at that, Shuvin," Ben sighed.

[Cerie Moreau]

She stopped short of giving Ben a pat to the back as they walked, and instead focused on making herself as inconspicuous as possible. Well, at least as inconspicuous as one could be in a group of four individuals trying to essentially slink back to the starport. It was one of those weird things - though not quite so weird as things had been in her first meeting with Ben and Shuvin. That one had really taken the ryshcate.

Instead, she settled for simple silence in the face of it all.

At least she still had her blasters, which were currently in the grasp of white knuckled fingers, and her eyes tracked from one side to the other as the group moved on.

[Shuvin Undhi]

Ben remained drawn and reticent as they made their way into the avenues of the terminal; now deserted, it had an eerie feel to it that Shuvin had a hard time coming to grips with, given only hours before she'd been this close to making out with Loki not too far away.

"Seems a bit too quiet 'round here, don't it?" she whispered. Ben blinked and looked around.

"It does," he agreed. "But even if it is, our way still lies through it. Just be on your toes and don't be makin' any noise ain't needed to be made."

With that warning, they rushed through the terminal to Alderaan's landing bay, being as quiet as they could be. At the door, now closed, Ben stopped and turned to the group.

"Now we aren't going to have much time up in the air to be makin' plans, so let's get it right here so we know what we're about and not running 'round like a half-slaughtered nuna. Once we get on the ship, I'm going to be gettin' us out of here as quick as can be. Shuvin, I want you at the core, milking every last drop of power into the shields and engines as you can."

"Shiny, Cap'n!" Shuvin smiled easily.

"Cerie, I'm gonna need you in the cockpit. We'll probably need to lose every last bit of chaff and tall trails to keep 'em from lockin' on us."

Ben nodded once to Cerie, resting a hand on her shoulder, and turned to Loki.

"And, er, Loki..." Ben paused, sizing up the boy in front of him. Shuvin glanced over, and saw he looked serious and grim. Something about his expression seemed to strike a chord in Ben, who grimaced slightly and continued, "...you can operate a cannon turret, right? Right. Of course you can. Follow me and Cerie. I'll show you where to go."

Ben placed a hand on the door control.

"Everyone ready? We can do this. It's like every other month we end up outrunnin' someone gunnin' for us. Nothing's different about this time."

He pressed the door control, and with a loud mechanical clack as the locks disengaged and the doors slid open, Alderaan sat in pristine glory. Ben stopped a few steps in, looking at the ship.

"Uh, now this is different," he squinted, making out a figure on top of the ship. Shuvin came to halt next to the Captain.

"That looks like..." she murmured...

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

As the industrial spotlamps hung aloft in the hangar bay began to flicker to life, Alderaan began to take form from shadow. Blacks and greys turned to warmer shades incrementally, revealing the freighter moment by moment. In those seconds of transition, a shadow refused to yield. An inky aberration sat perched atop the hull. Two pinpricks of gold caught the growing light, reflecting it back at the approaching heroes. They blinked out in unison and then returned.

"The Force has willed that we meet again, Captain Merasska."

The voice was low, gravelly, yet unmistakably feminine in its origin. A familiar voice to Ben. The shadow bunched, prowling to the edge of the ship. The light caught her there, turning shadow into a cape, dull metal armor, and tawny, wiry fur. The gold pinpricks of eyes became black as Lady Vissica surveyed her quarry. With fluid movement, the Selonian loped off the edge of the Ghtroc freighter, her wide paws thudding on the duracrete below. Vissica gathered, then rose to her full height.

Outside the hangar, a rhythmic sound of ching-chock ching-chock rose in the night. No one needed reminding of what made such a metallic stamping. A pair of AT-ST walkers rounded adjacent buildings, situating themselves in the best position to block the exit.

"And this must be Crewman Undhi." Vissica shifted her attention to the young Togruta at Ben's side. She'd only caught a glimpse in Alderaan's greeting screen, but she did not forget a face.

There were other figures behind the crew still covered by night's shadow. She'd deal with them soon.