When the small blue figure vanished, Loki waited. The moment stretched out, far into the distance, to a tiny speck of shadow, where the sky swarmed and flashed. Absently, his fingers teased at the disc of cool metal beneath his shirt; Captain Ben's words returned to him. In hiding his fear, did he think he could protect Shuvin from hers? His gaze crept sideways, and he studied the girl until she came back to him. And, when she did, he stepped onto the dorsal hatch.
"Can you pilot this ship?"
"Captain Orgern's gunship has departed for the surface."
Rolth glanced down into the crew pit, affirming the update from the flight technician with a nod.
"Stay in contact with him on the descent. I want a full report once he makes contact with Captain s'Ilancy."
Wygraant couldn't help but keep a grim face at the thought. He knew exactly what the former Jedi was capable of. It was highly probable that he'd sent Orgern to his death. Still, a swift surprise attack might...might win the day.
"Captain, receiving signal from Captain Garr on the Rostrum." The comms officer piped up with her commanding officer still standing directly above. "Visual sighted on the beacon coordinates. It appears to be centered within a large agricultural complex. A ranch, perhaps. Large, over a dozen structures. Wait..."
The comms officer pressed her headset to her ears, focusing on a screen readout.
"New signals! Reporting multiple flight launches, vectors aligning to intercept our ships. Count thirty ships, maybe more. Fighter class confirmed, multiple makes!"
Wygraant leaned slightly over the catwalk, gesturing with a black-gloved hand.
"That's them! Give the order for Rostrum and Quaestor to close distance and begin their attack immediately. Commscan!"
"Sir!"
"I want realtime telemetry at the war table now." Wygraant was already in motion, briskly walking to the rear of the bridge with Commander Belgen and Wing Commander Karnel in tow.
The 6'x3' holographic war table was already aglow, rendering holographic topography of the landscape as two blue-tinted star destroyers glided along above. At the other end of the table, the target site appeared in enemy red. So too did the small snub fighters being scrambled to the Rebels' defense. Captain Garr and Captain Helvet needed no micromanagment, they were already disgorging a screen of TIE fighters to deal with the desperation ploy.
"Turbolaser bombardment range in three...two...one..."
"Pilot! Do you have visual on the target?"
Captain Orgern stepped forward to opening of the Sienar Patrol Gunship's cockpit, gripping an overhead triangle clattering on a rail to prevent falling in the buffeting turbulence.
"I've got her. Dead ahead, just off the pedway."
The grey-helmeted gunship pilot clicked through his vocabulator, pointing out his faceted cockpit bubble with a gloved hand. The ground spun as they approached on descent, and at the center of the lazy circle was a speck that became a blonde-haired woman in a military jacket. Orgern buckled the chinstrap on his steeply-flanged Army-issue helmet.
"Fly over that intersection and steepen your descent! Cut her off!"
Orgern pivoted back towards the crew compartment, where a dozen heavily armed and armored Imperial Shocktroopers waited, their armor distinguished by a crimson accent stripe.
"Descent cables hook up!"
As one, each of the troopers snugged their rifles in a three point sling along their shoulder pauldrons, then pulled a cable spool from their belts, snapping them in to the overhead bracket. The cabin filled with a warm red light.
"Red light! Be ready!"
The gunship's throaty engines reverberated off the approaching ships and structures in the starport, and it didn't take long before every face below was turned up in their direction. As they continued to dip in controlled fall towards the surface, the lightly-armored gunship juddered, rattling every control surface on the way down. Suddenly, the light flicked from warm red to cool green, a second before double sliding doors peeled open to let in the fading sunlight outside.
"Green light! Deploy! Deploy! Deploy!"
Six at a time, shocktroopers jumped from the skids of the transport, thirty meters of freefall quickly slowing to a managable glide for the last two down, before each man detached his cable, slinging his weapon up to bear.
"Galactic Empire! Don't resist!"
"All batteries..."
Captain Trasiim Garr sounded from the fore of the bridge, standing at the best vantage point to witness the battle below. The swipe of a black-gloved thumb along his well-manicured mustache was more an unconscious habit rather than a need to reign in any straying whiskers.
"...fire."
The twin daggers of projected Imperial power cut loose at once. Across both the Quaestor and the Rostrum, gun emplacements along the ventral hull and the equatorial belt of each destroyer fixed their range, then loosed their terrible volley. Sheets of green fire rained down on the Rebel stronghold, initially repulsed by deflector screens. No doubt the rebels had shored their defenses, be they portable or the permanent kind.
Miles away, the sight was beautiful. Rhythmic flashes of thunder that bent light into a shimmering prismatic diffusion. The buzz of the occasional ARC-170 or Y-wing across their approach vector annoyed what might otherwise be a perfect display of destruction and spectacle.
Captain Garr watched the kaleidoscope unblinking, his thumb once again gliding over his lip.
* * *
"Casai, ssshhh...ssshhhh....it's just thunder. Rest, little one....it's okay....okay."
Nanti did her best to calm her wailing baby, bouncing the cub up and down gently as she pressed him to her chest. She whisper-hummed a Catharese lullaby in his ear, quiet enough to not disturb the other families huddled together in the windowless mud brick room. Nanti lied to herself as she waited for Casai to relent or tire himself quiet. He was hungry. He hadn't been fed since morning, and that was just what little powdered blue milk she'd been able to trade her own rations for. Casai was hungry, but Nanti was starving. Her normally ruddy, rounded cheeks had become hollow. There were shadows under her eyes. Where her homespun clothes weren't threadbare, they were beginning to hang off of her figure like feed sacks.
Casai's crying didn't wane, it increased. Nanti patted his short silky crop of black hair as she kept whispering to her son. She was lying to herself that he was only crying because he was hungry. She knew the sound of fear. Even Ibsi had stopped playing with the stick figure her father had whittled for her. She clutched the wooden man to her chest, miming Nanti's own maternal display as her big brown eyes looked up to the ceiling. The lighting in this hovel was utilitarian. Industrial bulbs caged in protective wire screen filled the cramped refugee quarters with spotty and cool light. Ibsi watched as the next peel of thunder came in, and a little trickle of dust unsettled from the ceiling, sifting through the light to make eerie chalky ghosts.
"Mama, when's Razzgo gon' take us forra star trip 'gain?"
Ibsi leaned halfway into her father's lap as she sniffed a runny nose that perpetually tried to invade her filthy face.
"Soon, firefly. He'll take us soon."
Casai's crying had petered into an exhausted grumble as he gripped the fraying neckline of his mother's tunic. Nanti took that moment to try and clean Ibsi's face, and turned to her life mate seated next to her on the floor against the wall.
"Right?"
Ryor looked at his mate with besieged eyes. It took all of his will to nod.
"Any day now, tooka. Any day."
It broke Nanti's heart to look at him. Her brave man. He'd carried so much burden for them from their village, to the camps, to the smuggler's hideaway on Cathar. On a half dozen tramp freighters and a half dozen worlds. All for a hope of something better. They hadn't had much at home, but he'd sold everything on a hope. And now? He was fighting to hold onto the little hope he could hold in his hands. Fighting to keep his growing despair from blowing it all away.
The sky rumbled again. Again. Again and again. Outside came shouts of men and the tromping of dozens of boots on the ground. Now someone else's cub cried, and the cycle of helpless, nervous waiting resumed it's slow onslaught on the souls of everyone trapped here. Eating at their insides. Hollowing them out. Ryor stood up, shuffling towards the door in his ratty shoes with blown-out soles.
"Razzgo? Razzgo!"
A familiar face caught Ryor's attention. He ran the last three paces to the door, slapping his hands against the metal to get the Bothan's attention.
"What's happening out there? My family, they're..."
The Bothan looked disheveled and unkempt. He didn't make eye contact with Ryor.
"Friend, just stay indoors okay? We'll let you know when it's safe to..."
"Safe??" Ryor's eyes flashed wild and desperate. He hooked his fingers through the door's speakeasy window. "Razzgo, I know what that sound is. You don't think I've heard that before back home?? Please, help us! I...I...I don't have any money left, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Ryor was shaking and he couldn't stop. Waning sunlight from outside caught a glint on something shiny and metallic, and the Cathar followed it down.
His wedding band.
It took no effort to pull it free, his fingers had thinned just like the rest of him. Ryor snatched it off and held the ring between index and thumb, pushing nearly his entire arm out of the window.
"Razzgo, please..."
He couldn't stop his hand from shaking. The offered ring danced in front of the Bothan, who backed away from it as if it were cursed. Razzgo shook his head. Shook his head and took off running.
"Razzgo!!"
Last edited by Rolth Wygraant; Feb 7th, 2017 at 12:12:34 AM.
Shuvin looked up at the Star Destroyer still looming over the City.
"Not well enough to keep us from gettin' blasted to smithereens," Shuvin replied. "But we don't need the ship."
Her eyes were gleaming when she looked back at Loki, a mischievous smile pulling the corners of her mouth apart.
"We have something else."
Shuvin brought Loki down the dorsal hatch, and into one of the cargo bays. The lights burst on, and she walked over to a small but bulky cargo speeder parked in a corner.
Five minutes later, with Alderaan safely locked up, they were driving out of the star port and through the city.
Ryor fell against the door, clutching the last thing he owned and could offer up between both quaking hands. The shaking metastasized, running into his elbows, his shoulders, into his chest - where he pressed his ring to his heart as his face seized in a grimace that held the last line against becoming the prelude to a wail. He found the eyes of Nanti, who held him blameless with a look. But the despair Ryor had tried so hard to keep from his family was now over the wall, infecting everyone he loved. Even Ibsi.
"Ibsi..." Ryor whispered, beckoning the little girl to him. When she was within reach he swallowed her up in a hug, planting kisses over every inch of her face before burying her against him.
"What do we do?"
The thunder rolled. Louder, more frequent. The gaps of silence filled by the labored sounds of glowing power converters out in the distance struggling not to surrender their ghosts.
Ryor pushed a sheen of sweat off his forehead into his unwashed mane of hair.
"We're going to leave. Nanti, gather Casai. Tooka..."
He pulled his daughter back so that he could look her eye-to-eye.
"We're going on a trip today." Ryor smiled, remembering how to pretend. And whether it was genuine or for her father's sake, little Ibsi's eyes brightened.
"We are?"
"Oh yes. Get Mister Sticks. You're in charge of him. We're leaving."
Ibsi's mouth made a little 'o'.
"Is Razzgo coming?" she whispered. Ibsi liked her Bothan friend. She'd follow a Hutt if he'd show her the stars.
"No, not this time. This is a special trip."
The other families started to stir at this change. There were no secrets packed this close together.
"Where are you going?"
"What did Razzgo say?"
"Is there another ship??"
"How will you get out. The lasers, they're-"
Ryor ignored them. If they hadn't made this decision by now, they might never get the chance. He climbed to his feet, squaring himself in front of his daughter as Nanti stood behind the girl. Even little Casai was alert, the infant's eyes blue like his mother's.
"When I go out there, I want you to follow me, okay. You follow me and you don't look back. Don't look at anything, tooka. We stay together."
His eyes met Nanti's, and she seemed hauntingly serene. His life mate nodded.
"We stay together. Family." Nanti nodded, patting Ibsi on the head."
"Okay." Ryor drew a shaky breath in and out. What was the difference now between bravery, desperation, and hope? What did it matter? He turned, placed his hand on the door hinge.
"Okay, go!"
They threw open the door, letting the orange late day sun into the hovel as life mates and cubs took flight. Today it didn't matter if he was starving. It didn't matter if his shoes were falling to pieces, cutting the balls of his feet against sharp rocks. It. Did. Not. Matter. He ran as fast as his emaciated muscles would carry him. As fast as his burning lungs would afford. The sky overhead danced with the shimmer of a million colors in energetic violence as the shields gave up their last. Ryor could hear the final strain of the generators at their tipping point.
"Daddy! Daddy!" Ibsi couldn't help but be dazzled at the fireworks, and her eyes turned huge at the sky.
"Ibsi go!!!" Ryor wrenched her by the wrist, carrying her at the waist until she could find her feet again. Nanti was only a step behind, keeping at her life mate's heels as they weaved between scrambling partisan fighters going the other way. Then came a sound. An unnatural electric whine. A scream.
An explosion.
Faltering from his own advice, Ryor's pace slowed, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the compound's main shield generator immolate itself in a mushroom cloud. In the next heartbeat, the first undeterred turbolaser strike ran a grain silo clean through the middle, blowing sheet metal out in a fifty meter spray as the mass above toppled like a slain giant.
"RUN!!"
Where was he going? He didn't have a plan in any of this. All Ryor had was the last grain of hope to throw against anything and everything. A quick circuit around the main road showed a crushingly-empty hangar bay. No ships to be found.
The ground shook, throwing everyone to the dirt. Little Casai started screaming again, and there was no time to stop him. Ryor scrambled to his hands, turning back to see the remains of the refugee hovel igniting into plasma and fire. Fifty or so kinsmen, gone in an instant because of a choice. The old despair threatened to punch through adrenaline before Nanti shook her man hard by a shoulder.
"We keep moving!"
But where? Frantic eyes peeled left and right. There!
"A speeder! Go! Go!"
At best, it could carry them back to Feriae City. But Feriae City had a star port. A chance. Ryor bounded into the unoccupied driver's seat, thankful to all of his ancestors to find the activation crystal plugged into it's port. He primed the engines as Nanti helped Ibsi into the back, bottoming out the accelerator before they were secure in place. At this speed, he could barely make the turn, scraping paint against a feed trough before dumping the power plant once more in the straight-away. Up ahead was the road out. The road to freedom. Ryor gripped the yoke until his knuckles turned ashen. The speeder was nearly redlining, and the wind hurt his face as it whipped by in a hurricane-force chinook. Nanti clutched Casai against her chest, shielding the baby from the whipping air.
As Ryor looked toward the city, his heart sank. He didn't need to explain himself to Nanti. Perched above the capital that awaited them was another Star Destroyer.
There was no escape.
And still, Ryor didn't relent. He jammed the acclerator pedal with all of his weight, sending the speeder screaming across the road as it bisected green pastures.
"Ryor!"
He turned to his life mate, who's eyes had moved from the despair of the star destroyer. She followed a shape in the sky. Something approaching them with speed. He'd spent almost his entire life under the tyranny of the Empire. The sound of twin ion engines was that of a wraith that stole peaceful dreams.
Ryor didn't want to look at it anymore. Instead, he turned back in his seat, looking at Ibsi. His beautiful daughter, with eyes just like his. Casai. He hadn't even said his first word, but Ryor felt like he knew his son like no one in the galaxy could know a person. Nanti.
His life mate swallowed hard, the gale of passing wind drying tears before they could be cried. She reached the gentlest of hands to his own, cradling Ryor's broad knuckles over the yoke.
"Drive, my love. Where we go, we go together."
He stood on the pedal, ignoring the temperature gauge of the speeder. The engine began to shriek and whine as alert lights flickered the HUD. Ahead, Feriae City existed only in the way that myths and legends did. And damned if he ever was, Ryor still believed in them with all of his heart. He'd held onto the last of his hope this far.
The scream behind him grew deafening as the coolant cycler blew a geyser of smoke from the hood. It partially veiled the road ahead, just like a dream. He could close his eyes and see Feriae, and all the places they were going to see after that. Parsec by Parsec. Sector by Sector.
They were a family.
They
Would
All
Go
Together.
* * *
The TIE Bomber peeled out of it's run, gaining speed and altitude as the proton bomb impacted dead center of the road. It raced for the clouds once more to begin searching for yet another target of opportunity.
"Cutlass Eight to Actual. Enemy vehicle neutralized heading north by northeast. No survivors."
* * *
"Galactic Empire! Don't resist!"
In that moment Cerie realized that out of all of her bad decisions, all of those unfortunate life choices she'd ever made, this moment in time was the absolute worst. Space Scout cookies demanded a high level of sacrifice to acquire at times, and the blonde had the sinking feeling that she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life in trying to use her normal disguise in the effort of getting more boxes than a normal individual otherwise could. But she'd done it all for the cookies.
And as she skidded to a sudden halt, staring wide-eyed at the stormtroopers now surrounding her, Cerie Moreau wasn't so sure that going all in for cookies was the best course of action she could've taken. In fact, chest heaving as she turned about, she came to the heart-sinking realization that it was the worst thing she'd ever done. Where was Ben? And where was Shuvin?
Even so, in the same instant, there was an overlapping of obviousness that accompanied the words shouted at her.
"Galactic Empire?!" Finally she rounded on the one who looked to be in charge, fixing him with as icy a stare as she could muster while tamping down the panic that set her heart into a frenzied, beating pace. She clutched her prized bags with tight fists, knuckles turning white.
"I woulda never guessed!"
Down empty streets, the speeder soared, unhindered by traffic and the crush of pedestrians. They swept past the market, where the stalls had been abandoned, full of leathers, and jewellery, and meats. Around a corner, the bulky cargo speeder lurched, scattering potted plants, and a basket of flowers that showered them in petals like the serenading of some runaway wedding. Despite the lashing wind, and the whining of overworked engines, the eerie stillness seemed to join them in the vehicle, silent with disapproval. And, with Shuvin at the wheel, there was little Loki could do, other than weather the unnatural silence and keep his eyes on the Star Destroyer looming above. That was until they turned the next corner:
"Shuvin!" he called, stiff in his seat. No doubt she'd also seen it, up ahead, in the middle of the road: a squad of armed stormtroopers, and an armoured transport hovering above them. There was no good that could come from an encounter with stormtroopers, and, fortunately, Loki had spotted a way out. He pointed, there was an alley breaking away from the road, it just wide enough. "There! Quickly!"
Last edited by Abarai Loki; Feb 8th, 2017 at 05:46:45 PM.
What was it with Rebels and their pithy little lines? Did they all just practice them in front of a mirror for moments like this?
"Captain s'Ilancy. Charming."
Orgern's eyes flicked to the trooper with the non-comm pauldron.
"Search her. She's likely armed."
A pair of troopers wrangled the bags of boxes free from s'Ilancy with a fair bit of protest.
She fought them tooth and nail, making them pay for each box that was in the bags they wrestled from her hands, and in a moment of sudden, mad desperation, the blonde skipped back a half-step, putting at least the smallest of buffer zones between herself and the stormtroopers. Her arms lifted in a defensive pose as her entire body tensed. Hands out, fingers splayed, and her blue/white gaze shifted to those around her.
"Stay back, or I'll boil your brains in your helmets."
For as bad of a decision as she'd made, and for as bad of a situation that she was in now, Cerie would be damned if she was going to go quietly. They'd taken her cookies, and that was reason enough for a special sort of rage. She made sure that her eyes settled on the one leading the group, and like a whipsnake striking at its' prey, she reached one hand into her jacket, pulling a metal cylinder from a leather shoulder harness and holding it up as though it was a sword, ready to spring forth a deadly blade.
The stormtroopers each shifted back slightly at the sight of the lightsabre hilt, their blasters still raised.
Last edited by Cerie Moreau; Feb 8th, 2017 at 10:27:03 PM.
"Got it!" she called, her eyes on the Stormtroopers ahead. A couple turned, hearing the speeder roaring behind them, and she gasped. "Sorry Loki! Change of plans!"Originally Posted by Abarai Loki
She reached one arm into the leg space directly behind her seat, and pulled out a beaten looking blaster, and shoved it into Loki's arms, all without looking away from the ring of Stormtroopers.
Loki turned to look at her with a wide eyed look of almost panicked surprise, but his words were lost in the sudden increase in the speeder's engine sounding it would explode out of the chassis of the vehicle.
"Look out!" she shouted, and the Stormtroopers had the presence of mind to dive out of her way as she turned the controls and hit the brakes. The speeder skidded to a stop, its arc scattering more troopers and casting a cloud of rocks and dust over the remaining Imperials.
"Hey Cerie. Hop on. We gotta save Ben!"
"Hey! Look out!"
One of the trooper voiced barked out in it's homogenized vocabulator tone before nearly the full dozen had hit the deck to avoid the incoming reckless craft. The clatter of blastoid armor hitting the pavement barely registered over the throaty howl of the speeder engine. Captain Orgern similarly dove for safety, his eyes quickly making sense of the changing situation - and the two fresh faces added to the mix.
"Don't just lie about! Blast them!"
The voice that reached her ears was wreathed in the wondrous feathering of angelic tones, and Cerie needed no other urging as the cargo speeder skidded to a halt nearly right in front of her. One of the stormtroopers had dropped a cookie bag, and she stooped low to scoop it up. Her feet dodged flailing hands intent on tripping her up, and the blonde took advantage of the confusion to - as she hopped past the Imperial in charge - deliver a booted toe to his cheek in the instant after he'd gotten out the word 'them'.
She dove over the speeder's side panel and into the back seat, landing in a tangle of limbs and curses. The 'lightsabre' was dropped in the floorboard as she scrabbled for something to hold on to.
"GO GO GO GO!!"
The sudden gear change made Loki's heart flutter. He took a breath to offset the feeling of falling, as he watched, powerless to stop himself from being thrust into the firing line of a dozen stormtroopers. They fell in unison, just before the back end of the speeder fishtailed over their heads, and scrambled out of its way. The pounding in his ears became a high-pitched whine, drowning out all else. And then...
Control.
He opened his eyes and let loose the first shot, intent on making a smoking hole in a plastoid breastplate, but instead of the sharp piercing bark of red death, the blaster made a deep springing sound, followed by a muted boom that drew to mind the sound of a mine being detonated underwater. The stormtrooper, and the one beside him, were both hit by a ripple of energy that struck them like a charging reek. They landed with a crunch, in a tangle of limbs.
Owl-eyed, Loki inspected the weapon, with its bulky housing and broad conical muzzle, with a newfound respect. On the periphery of his vision, he noticed the gleam of white armour, and he reacted immediately, leaning into his shot. The stormtrooper was lifted off his feet like an infant, and ragdolled against the wall behind him.
"Ha!" Loki blurted, with delight. The speeder was in motion again, and as they turned, he took cover behind his seat, squeezing off the occasional shot, and smirking at every crash and startled cry.
It didn't take long for the adrenaline to fade like the hovering dropship above the Stormtroopers along with Feriae itself; replaced with the tense understanding that they were heading in the wrong direction to completely relax from this, despite the usually calming feeling nature gave her.
The only sounds were the rumbling of the engine and the wind, and the deep thrumming of the Star Destroyers in the atmosphere, and the explosions and sounds of destruction that were getting louder. They began to crest a hill, and Shuvin kept her eyes on the top, refusing to look up or back, her hands gripping the steering column of the speeder almost too tightly. The incline lessened; they had reached the top.
And all three of them gaped at how utterly dominating the two Star Destroyers looked this much closer. She glanced over to Loki, and then back to Cerie, but she never stopped their forward motion. Ben would be asking why they were heading in the direction of the Destroyers when Alderaan was in the opposite direction; but he wasn't there, and that was the reason they were being so foolhardy in the first place.
And still the daggers loomed overhead, poised to strike a killing blow upon this planet, like many others before it.
The peels of distant thunder heard around the partisan base had finally rocked the inner sanctum. Direct turbolaser strikes were hitting throughout the compound with enough force to shake foundations. The emergency klaxons along every corridor bleated themselves into an opera of electronic wailing and discord. Motes of dust shook themselves loose from ceiling nooks and support beams, casting chalky spall into the red of warning strobes hanging along the wall.
"The Selonian's loose!" a partisan yelled to his comrades as he rounded a corner, breathless from sprinting. A dozen of his comrades were mustering from the opposite direction, their faces sheened with sweat and dirty.
"Who cares about the Selonian? The Empire's taken out the generator. We're all sitting ducks here!"
"We've got to get out while we've still got time. The transports are loading. If we don't leave now, they'll dust off without us."
"If we don't buy them time, the Knight will reach them before they take off. Somebody has to make it out!"
The partisans looked at each other, realizing that their options had all been reduced to one. A single desperate act. Another turbolaser shot snuffed out the lighting in the hallway as a power generator was obliterated. Seconds later, an emergency generator restored bare-bones lighting, casting eerie shadows down the corridor. An older human tightened his grasp on his rifle.
"We've hold this corridor. Give the transports any chance they can get."
A dozen younger faces looked up to the grizzled veteran, realizing that what he'd asked for was likely a death sentence. It was too much for one of the men, who turned tail to run in the direction of the transport staging area. The fact that the rest of the soldiers decided to hold the line was it's own small miracle. The veteran looked at the rest of the men and women who'd decided to share in his fate.
"It's flesh and blood, just like you and me. Focus your fire. Fall back under cover for reloading. I don't care what kind of powers an Imperial Knight has, but we'll bring it down and buy our friends the time they need. May the force be us."
Sounds began to echo down the corridor, their source obfuscated by a T intersection. The partisans took their positions around what cover they had, posting up against crates and cargo haulers. A faint noise could be heard. A lethargic hiss, growing closer.
"There." one of the partisans called out in an urgent whisper, wiping sweat from his brow as he pressed his cheek tight to the weld of his rifle's stock. In the uneven light, a figure in silhouette was cast against the wall. It created a long, lean shape, moving ahead with a forward lean and a slight stoop.
"There she is! Shoot her!"
Voices further down the hall called out, and two humanoid shadows painted the wall along the opposite side. The shadows dimmed as blaster fire barked and echoed through the duracrete walls. The tall shadow whipped like a reed in a storm, dancing through the gunfire. The lazy hiss became a growl as the opposing shadows pounced on her, a flash of light erasing the shadows but for a moment, only to dim as the silhouettes cast by the defenders fell away.
The hiss resumed, metered by the steady slap of bare footpads on bare duracrete floor.
Lady Vissica rounded the corner, dragging her heavy blade of white energy in her wake. The killing edge of the greatsaber scored the duracrete, gurgling and popping as it raked a channel of molten slag in the floor where it met. Sparks and spall occassionally pinged along the floor, each winking out as the scar dimmed from yellow, to orange, to red.
The partisan veteran's breath held in his throat, the holographic aimpoint of his rifle filled by the Selonian's chest as she exited cover. It was a clean shot, so why was he so uneasy?
"Open fire!!!"
The hallway came alive with the brilliant kinetic violence of concentrated blaster fire. Then, the impossible happened. The Selonian's white blade came alive, licking the floor as she sliced upwards into the opening shots. Center of mass bolts changed direction, splashing into duracrete as the hallway became a hailstorm of embers. Constraint was an illusion to the towering alien, and Vissica lashed into the fusilade with furious abandon, gashing and gouging walls, ceiling and floor alike as she swatted, recovered, and mercilessly advanced. Light bars above exploded in the wake of molten slices as the soldier next to the veteran fell with a smoking hole in his chest - courtesy of his own shot.
The firing continued at furious pace. At the eye of the hurricane, Lady Vissica focused her fury. The Dark Side was powerful, but it was ultimately a tool. A slave to her zeal, focus, and fanatical devotion. Every shot she returned, every dissolute enemy she hastened to their destiny, she advanced incrementally toward not only her goal, but to the fulfillment of her inviolate oath. What good was power without purpose?
Bounding under a spray of fire on all fours, Vissica closed the gap as her greatsaber shaved into the floor. The white blade shrieked as it flecked molten slag in advance of a wicked inverted-grip slice, biting fatally along it's broad edge into the belly of the nearest partisan. The Selonian bunched, hitching her shoulder as she wrenched the weapon clean, severing her victim in half only to use her momentum to fall into another.
All around her was fear. The cold of despair, second-guessing, and the feckless abandonment of hope. Vissica took it all in, her unblinking black eyes reflecting each shot, each face. Every ounce of their terror served to cement her hold over their fate, and the folly of their treason. Their line broke. She fell upon them unceasing, snatching back the slowest by a paw full of the hair on their head, only to drive her blade clean through them. With a growl, she kicked the still-twitching corpse off the length of her ever-burning lightsaber. Her now-liberated paw extended towards their awaiting exit. The duracrete buckled in a growing lattice of cracks, heralding the destruction that came a moment later as Vissica brought the ceiling down over the exit.
"There is no escape."
Shockwaves threw Orgern to the ground with enough force to squeeze the breath out of him. He took a few seconds to catch his breath in a greedy wheeze, before crawling over to the nearest trooper on the ground. A press of two fingers at the exposed bit of bodyglove-clad neck told him what he needed to know. Dead.
"Are you alright, sir?" One of the troopers stood over him, his body language cagey, even though his vocabulator-scrubbed voice was sterile of emotion.
"Fine. I'm fine!" Orgern stammered, red-faced at his rapid reversal of fortune. Drawing quickly to his feet, the Captain drew his comm stick from his belt.
"Orgern to Decimator. Extraction has failed. Target absconded, last seen on a small cargo utility speeder - headed west by southwest to grid three three six."
Reikkel stared off in the direction of the slowly-repopulating street through which the heroes had made their getaway.
"They may be attempting to flee the city. Can you visually acquire from your vantage?"
"Flight control to shore team, we have a visual match, currently on high speed vector along the western thoroughfare."
"Call in an airstrike!" Orgern tightened his grip on the comm stick.
"Negative, shore team. Fighter combat operations are not authorized within city airspace."
Damn, the Captain glowered, letting out a long sigh.
"If they're headed out of the city, that won't save them. Contact Rostrum and Quaestor. Inform them of potential incoming high value target. Live capture. And call in my gunship for extraction."
The immediate concern of their survival coupled with making sure the single bag of cookies were secure occupied her immediate needs, and as Shuvin hurtled them down the main thoroughfare, Cerie held enough faith in the Togruta woman that she knew she could spend a few seconds to shove the bag under one of the back seats. Her hand reached under the back of the driver's seat then, pulling out the pair of Westar 34's that she and Shuvin had installed. At the time, the two had made a multitude of jokes about being the super-spy Reigan Sorn, and having a secret weapon inventor named Qek. It was all silly fun and rolled eyes then; now it was real life and necessary. Funny how that stuff happens.
Either way, the blonde pulled free the Westars while in the same motion popping up to drape herself over the passenger seat headrest. She gave a look to the... had Shuvin picked up a booty call???
She blinked, then sent her eyes to Shuvin as her voice raised above the angry rumble of engines.
"Were they havin' a sale at the Cheap Boy-For-A-Night Gettin'-Place or something?!"
"You!"
It wasn't until that moment, when the blonde stranger surfaced from behind him, that Loki realised they were no longer alone. Prior to then, he had been basking in the afterglow of an all-too-brief brush with death. His heart raced, and his senses sung, rejoicing at the flashes of colour, the roar of the speeder's engines, and the whipping of wind through his hair. His skin had tingled with electricity, and then, at the sudden unexpected appearance of Loklorien s'Ilancy, the electricity turned to gooseflesh. The surprise on his face transformed, crashing down into deep creases of irritation.
"What the hell are you doing here? Did- did you just call me cheap!?"
Shuvin laughed gaily, her mouth opening and her eyes squinting from her effort to keep her eyes open while driving. She gave Loki a wide smile, sharing in the exhilaration of escaping sure death.
"The cheapest!" she called back. "Only a cup of tea and a conversation! Cerie, this scruffy-looking nerf-herder is Loki; Loki, this is Cerie! She puts the artist in con-artist!"
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