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HunterPrey 1999 short story by Paul Squire Four years before Episode IV – A New Hope Ryath Centaur stayed low, resting on the torso of the
terrorist whose throat he’d so cleanly slit, making sure that his profile
didn’t show up in the gloom of the mountain scrub. With one fluid move he slipped his vibroblade smoothly into its sheath and tongued his
helmet’s com. “Sector four
secured.” His voice was clipped, precise, and emotionless as he barely
whispered into the mike. “All targets
eliminated.” “Roger,
RCH-9206,” came back the filtered reply, buzzing imp-like in his ear. Despite all the missions he’d been on, and
the different controllers who’d guided him from their warm, safe offices, the
voice that whispered to him across the still night was always the same. Cold and menacing, yet still holding only a
fraction of the malice that he held towards all those that would threaten the
Empire; His Empire. “Proceed.” There was a barely perceived nod from the sergeant as he
acknowledged the order and a kick of adrenaline as he felt time slowly bleed
away for his prey. Hard eyes narrowed
to slits behind his helmet’s visor.
This was the moment he’d been waiting for for
the last three days and he savoured the taste of revenge. His quarry would know soon enough, but it
would be too late. Too late to correct
their fatal mistake. With a hand-signal to the rest of his squad, the Scout
Stormtrooper melted back into the patchwork of greys that shrouded the cold
mountain scrubland, leaving the still warm corpses of the Rebel pickets to
whatever carrion would feast on traitor’s flesh. “You’re a liar.” “I tell you, we scragged two dozen of ‘em. Maybe more.” Honsen’s bushy eyebrows knitted closer
together, looking as if a scalga worm had fallen
asleep just above his eyes. “What do you think? They just opened up the doors and offered
us a ride home!?” Danska shook his fur-covered head in disbelief and his
deep brown eyes tried to look beneath Honsen’s scowling face. “I think you’ve cracked open one bottle of
Duarga too many, my friend. You just don’t walk out of an Imperial
prison. Not when it’s crawling from
top to bottom with Stormtroopers.” “Pah!” was all Honsen said by way of reply, and poured
himself another glass of the ruby red liquid.
He knew what he’d done and what he’d seen and no oversized spitball cheap excuse of a pilot would tell him
otherwise. He might take the old
space-jockey’s snide comments in his stride over a synth-ale
or two, but not when half the base’s crew were on hand. Of course, thirty-six people wasn’t an excessively large audience, but by the ripple of
amusement that was focused on his debate, it was more than enough when he was
the centre of their attention. “You know what I
think?” he said pointedly, his dark brown eyes taking on a harder edge
fuelled by all the alcohol running through his veins. “I’m sure we’re
about to find out.” came another voice, more husky than the Jenet’s, and sexier.
At least it would have been if it didn’t belong to the Rebel base’s deck
officer. Lieutenant Ruhbek wasn’t as
cold as ice, she was ice. Sure, the lines and curves were all there,
but scratch that frosted exterior and you’d fine one huge granite sized block
of attitude beneath. Leaning
nonchalantly against the canteen’s open doorway she raised one eyebrow in
that condescending manner of hers and waited with an expectant air of silence
that dared Honsen to break it. Holding her cold gaze in his, and then sweeping his eyes
around those assembled before him, Honsen took one last swig of his drink
before leaning forward to tell his story all over again. “Well,” he
began, his voice edged with a hardness that drew his audience once more into
the horror and excitement of his story.
“Tolbruson, Agganna and I’d been in the cell for what had seemed like
a lifetime when the Imps came again to haul me off for another chat with
their torturers. Well, I knew that
this was it. It was now or never, so
I…" The night sky was as black as pitch, yet Centaur,
concealed behind a low ridge, could clearly make out two of his men as they
moved cautiously back up towards his position. The energy emissions from their power-packs
were low, yet the sensitive sensor arrays in the scout’s armour picked up even
that slight trace, and used it’s UV lenses to
outline the two scouts as they flitted wraith-like from tree to tree. “It’s all set,
sergeant." said the first as he joined up with the rest of the squad. “Good work.”
acknowledged Centaur, impressed with the speed and efficiency of his men. They’d been moving around just a stone’s
throw from the cave’s semi-concealed entrance, and he’d picked out the heat
signatures of at least three humanoids just hidden within its mouth. He’d kept a close eye on them, and the
energy levels on their repeating Blaster, but they’d remained oblivious to
the Imperials just under their noses.
It was the sort of sloppiness he’d come to expect from this kind of
enemy. The Empire faced many different types of threats to its
peace, and Centaur had faced them all in his service to the Emperor. Some were obvious and honest, if
misdirected. Planets whose corrupt
officials fought to cede from the glory of the Empire for their own selfish
ends, or aliens whose very existence was an affront to the Emperor’s grace
and whose leaders turned against his will even though his benevolence allowed
the adhorrents to live in service to the
Empire. Even the motives of pirates he
could understand after a fashion.
Greed was as much a weapon of the Empire as any Star Destroyer or regiment
of Imperial Guard, though as one of the Emperor’s elite he didn’t truly
understand the concept. The only thing
a Stormtrooper craved was to prove his worth to the Empire. Anything else was a distraction. Yet these anarchists were something else. All they seemed to strive for was the
destruction of order and the spreading of chaos. They had no discipline, no code, or a least
none that he could grasp, and they were indiscriminate in their hatred of any
institution whether it was a barracks, a press office, or a COMPNOR education
centre. Hell, even the Imperial
Catering Core wasn’t safe from their attention. The only thing that all the anarchists and terrorists
that he’d faced had in common was their lack of skill. It was almost an insult to his own skills
to tackle scum like this, but he and his men had a score to settle. He looked again at the poorly concealed entrance hacked
into the mountain’s side and a cold humourless smile spread across his
face. Their blissful ignorance
wouldn’t last for long. “The guards at
the lift didn’t know what hit ‘em. I
took one out with the butt of my rifle, whilst Agganna did her favourite
trick and,” Honsen made a quick gesture with his arms, mirroring how the
unit’s muscle woman liked to snap her enemy’s neck’s, and smiled as his
audience both winced and grinned at their exploits. He continued with his story in hushed
tones, his eyes alive with the telling.
“The alarms were still blaring, but we’d made it as far as the
observation deck without any more trouble.
I reckon the Imps were too busy dealing with all the other prisoners
we’d released, but whatever they were up to, they weren’t doing it by us. “Tolbruson
wasn’t doing too well at this point.
Whatever those butchers had been doing to him during his last
interrogation had really screwed up his system and he could barely walk, so
we took a breather and did what we could for him. Seems that luck was on our side too.” he
added, then took another swig of his Duarga, purposefully staring at Danska as
he polished off the glass. The Jenet couldn’t keep his disbelief in check any
longer. Knowing that the other Rebels
couldn’t help but love Honsen’s story just made it worse for the slightly
built alien, and his whiskered nose twitched in agitation. “I tell you,
there is no way that the Imperials would call their men away from the
repulsor deck, not even with a full scale riot happening in their detention
centre!” he exclaimed. His voice was
higher pitched than normal and he slammed his two hands down on the table in
frustration. “I don’t doubt that your
escape was daring and heroic, Honsen.
But even you know what animals the Imperials are. If they thought they couldn’t contain the
prisoners, they’d just send in their Stormtroopers and gun the lot of ‘em
down and be done with it.” “You just don’t
get it do you?” shot Honsen back, annoyed at yet another interruption and
determined to shut the Jenet up once and for all. Why couldn’t the little fuzz ball just
accept what he was saying as fact. He
rounded on his antagonist and his voiced oozed with condescension. “That’s the point I’m trying to make, and
your inert little mind just can’t grasp it can you. It’s all propaganda. All of it.
We’re told by state news, by holovids, by
the word on the street. Everyone knows
that the Empire’s finest, their most lethal,
hardened, unstoppable weapon is their legions of Stormtroopers. They’re the best of the best, with armour
and weapons to match, and anyone who’d want to go up
against ‘em is just looking for a fast one way ticket outta this miserable
life. “Well, it’s all
scrub-dung!” Danska shook his head in disbelief at what he was
hearing, but before he could reply Honsen held up a silencing hand, and his
voice was so sure, so determined nobody, not even Ruhbek could interrupt. “We scragged each and every Stormtrooper we came across,”
said Honsen slowly, letting his words sink in. “I can’t say for certain how
many it was, might ’ave only been a dozen, but,”
and he paused pointing a finger at everyone of his captive audience, “between
the three of us, we took down or saw off any who got in our way. “They couldn’t
shoot, and we’ve all heard stories of their vaunted accuracy with a rifle,
but one thing’s for sure, they weren’t cowards,” Honsen’s quick grin flashed
as he paused dramatically, enjoying the attention of the moment. “They were too stupid to be cowards. I tell you, they were more like
domesticated Stagobison. The equipment’s all there; they’re just too
dim to use it. Empire’s probably got
them all flying high on spice or somethin’ just to
keep ‘em under control. “Just remember,”
summed Honsen up, leaning nonchalantly back on his chair, “everything you’ve
ever heard about Stormtroopers is propaganda.” “Guess its gotta be,” said Ruhbek slowly, her eyes not breaking
their hold on Honsen’s. “How else
would we explain your great escape?” “Exactly!”
replied Honsen cheerily, ignoring the dubious look in the Jenet’s
eyes. The jump down from the vent was easy enough, and the last
of Centaur’s men landed with a barely audible thud. The grill to the air-vent had been
reasonably well hidden from sight, but had shown up like a beacon on the
Stormtroopers sensors. For a brief second Centaur had thought that it was a
deliberate decoy, maybe booby-trapped to takeout the unwary, but a brief
inspection showed that he’d given the Rebel filth too much credit. No thermal detonators, no trip wires, not
even a motion sensor. Why command
thought that these scum were a threat was beyond him. Still, orders were orders, and besides, he
and his men were taking this particular op personally. Looking around, the air-vent had brought the troopers
into the darker recesses of the Rebel’s hangar bay. There were a handful of fighters parked up,
with what looked like a Z-95 sat quietly waiting on the launch pad, pointing
to the base’s only escape route. The green glow off the small motion detector that Centaur
held in his fist reflected eerily across his helmet, and his face was as
impassive as his faceplate whilst he studied the readout before snapping the
lid shut. “Take your
positions, men. This is the place.”
growled Centaur quietly into his com, and then turned again to look at the
small snub-fighter. A ruthless grin
slowly crept across Centaur’s face and he quickly checked his chrono. He had just enough time. Lieutenant Ruhbek thought she could smell something,
something acrid and bitter, but she was in the canteen and such smells
weren’t that unusual here. Besides,
there was definitely something in the air with Honsen continuing to elaborate
on his story. She smiled to herself, careful not to let anyone see the
amusement in her eyes, after all, she had a
reputation to consider. There it is again!
She sniffed the air, more focused now, and a frown creased her smooth
brow. Surely if there was a fire the
base’s alarms would be blaring, but apart from Honsen, all was quiet. Pushing herself up off the wall, the deck officer started
to move over to the canteen’s main doorway when there was an groundshaking explosion that ripped the solid metal hatch
clean out the wall and sent it hurtling with bone shattering power into the
middle of the canteen. Dust and smoke
billowed after it and those that hadn’t been crushed beneath the door or
ripped apart by shrapnel stood dumbfounded as armoured apparitions appeared
through the smoke, Blaster fire carving up all those before them. In the paralysis of her shock, Ruhbek still managed to
note with a distracted morbid fascination how each bolt that was fired into the
crowd hit its mark. Rebels were
falling all around her, each dead before they hit the floor, and no one had
even managed to clear their guns from their holsters to return fire. It was a massacre.
A cold, methodically controlled massacre, and still her feet remained
rooted to the spot. Honsen tumbled backwards over his chair as the
Stormtroopers blasted they way into the canteen with lethal precision. He didn’t have time to think, just act, and
he rolled with the confidence of one too drunk to care about the consequences
right out into the middle of the canteen. His pistol was held firmly in both his hands before he’d
come out of the roll, and he sent two quick shots into the nearest Imperial,
spinning the Stormtrooper round like a rag doll before he hit the floor dead. Ruhbek was standing still, her mouth open in shock just a
couple of meters away, and beyond her was the corridor that led to Medical,
and Honsen’s only ticket out of here, the alternate route to the flight deck. Pushing himself off the floor, Honsen grabbed Ruhbek’s hand dragging her towards his escape route. Behind him his fellow Rebels continued to
fall as the troopers moved relentless into the canteen, crushing all
opposition before them. Centaur took his time.
Another Rebel entered his sights, but he wasn’t the one he was looking
for. A double tap on the trigger and
he put a high energy bolt through the scum’s head and heart and had dismissed
the target from his mind before the corpse had even hit the floor. His com was alive with the quiet,
controlled voices of his squad. They
worked as one, tracking prey, pointing out key targets and eliminating the
greatest threats in a timely order. A figure darted to the room’s only other exit, dragging a
woman behind him. The smoke obscured
his vision, but not enough. That was
the man, the one who Centaur had tracked since they’d allowed him to escape
from their barracks. It was part of the base Commander’s plan. Let the fool think he and his cronies had
managed to escape the prison on their own, and follow the short ranged beacon
planted on the man all the way back to this den of anarchists. It was a good plan, Centaur knew, but the
Commander had wanted to make it look authentic. His own men, aware of what was happening,
had been expected to let themselves die at the hands of these scum. They’d been told to act like second rate
amateurs, letting the Rebels steal a repulsor and escape the Imperial
compound. That was what really irked Centaur. He accepted that his life was the Emperor’s,
and there was no greater glory than to die for his cause, but he’d always
considered that to be the one flaw in his Commander’s plan. Who would believe that Stormtroopers could
shoot that badly? His pistol came up and he fired, two shots in quick
succession, and couldn’t help but smile at his own skill. The gun exploded in Honsen’s hand as he brought it round
for another shot, and he cursed his ill luck.
Still, least the fools had missed him, and he was around the corner
within a blink of an eye, and away from the chaos of the canteen. It was only when Ruhbek yelled for a second
time that he realised that she’d been shot. He stopped to grab her by the waist, and it was only then
that he saw the blood staining her trousers as the dark patch spread over her
thigh and down towards her boots. Her voice was already shaky, and her face pale as he
continued to drag her towards the flight deck and their only ticket away from
this hell, a ship that would take them off planet. “Where’d they
come from?” muttered Ruhbek, gritting her teeth against the pain. “Dunno, but it doesn’t matter now, Lieutenant,” muttered
Honsen, struggling to hold the wounded woman up and make good time. It wouldn’t take long before the Imperials
were flushing this corridor out too, and he wanted to be long gone before
they did. “We’ve just gotta get you
out of here.” “That Duarga's addled your brain, Honsen.” The Rebel looked down at Ruhbek; all signs of drunkenness
gone and shook his head. “There’s no
time,” continued the deck officer, ignoring the sharp look Honsen was giving
her. “There’s only one ship prep’d for take off and that’s the Ready One
fighter.” She coughed, struggling to
keep her breath, and pushed herself up, gripping Honsen’s shoulder between
blooded fingers. “You know what to
do.” “But,” began
Honsen, not wanting to accept what he knew was true. “Listen,
soldier,” spat Ruhbek, a fierce determination in her eyes despite all the
blood loss. “The Imperials have this
base whole and that means they’ve got the database too. It might take them a little while, but
they’ll crack the codes, and when they do, Hozzata, Grumskells and the other
Rebel bases will get their attention.
Someone’s gotta get out of here and warn them before it’s too late, and that someone is you. You’re the hero,
Honsen. You’ve slipped out of the
Empire’s grasp before, you can do it again.” Their eyes met, and Honsen understood. Ruhbek was selling her life but not just
for his, but for the hundreds of other Rebels that he must save. He nodded once and then went, leaving the
deck officer to slide down the corridor’s silver wall, leaving a smear of
blood in her wake. Moments later her eyes flickered open and she stared into
the dark void of an Imperial Stormtroopers black lenses. Centaur rushed into the hanger bay just as the Z-95’s
engines fired. He raised his pistol
and sent a succession of Blaster bolts flying towards the craft, but its
raised shield’s deflected the barrage with contemptuous ease. There was a flare of engines, and the craft shot out of
the hanger and into the night sky, leaving an eerie emptiness behind. “You’re too
late, Imperial,” said a weak voice behind him, and the sergeant slowly turned
to see a wounded woman being helped into the main bay by another Rebel,
shepherded along with the scant few other prisoners by Centaur’s squad. “Silence scum.”
barked one of the other troopers nearby, and waved his gun menacingly. “Your men can
threaten me all they want, Imperial,” spat Ruhbek at Centaur, “but it won’t
make any difference. You’ve failed and
you’re masters won’t take kindly to it.” There was something about the woman’s defiance that
annoyed Centaur, and he turned his full attention on her. She was pretty enough, that was easy to see
even with her half smeared in blood, and there was a fire burning in her eyes
that showed how alive her spirit was.
That wouldn’t last. Few
survived full interrogation unbroken, but then maybe she was strong enough. “Failure isn’t
an option,” he stated simply. “It already is,”
shot back Ruhbek, and there was triumph in her voice. “By the time your technicians have
unscrambled our codes, any data you get from our computers will be too
old. Honsen escaped you once before,
and he’s done it again, and with him goes your only chance of stopping
us.” Ruhbek couldn’t contain her
glee. It was a small victory in the
face of her capture and destruction of this base, but it was still a victory,
and yet the Imperial didn’t seem to care.
She frowned. “Aren’t you
listening to me? Don’t you get it?” Centaur ignored his prisoner’s comments, and pulled a
small but solid datapad from one of his pouches. The Z-95 was barely a spec in the night sky
as it thundered towards the hemisphere, but the scout sergeant didn’t rush as
he casually flicked the lid of the pad to reveal a single red button. Ruhbek looked on in horror, and her jaw dropped in
disbelief as realisation stuck her like a dagger to her very heart. They’d been so close, but not close enough,
and she felt her legs turn to jelly as hope seeped out of her. Finally, Centaur deigned to turn towards his prisoner,
and Ruhbek could almost visualise his chilling grin as the Stormtroopers
thumb pushed the pads button all the way down. “There’s no
escape from the Empire,” he said, his voice all the more callous in its
sincerity, but nothing happened.
Ruhbek could still make out the spec of the fleeing fighter, and
watched in hope as the craft escaped to freedom. “So much for
your Imperial arrogance, pig!” spat the Rebel flight officer, conviction
rekindled in her eyes. “The harder you
try to grind us under your heel, the more determined we’ll become. You’ll never stop us. Never!” Centaur heard the woman’s words, but they just washed
over him as he continued to watch the night sky long after the small snub
fighter had fled into hyperspace.
Finally he pocketed the small device and focused on the prisoners at
hand. The transports would be here for
them soon enough and he needed to clear enough space in the hanger for them to
set down. The Z-95 was no longer his
problem, and he gave it no further thought. The Empire had more than enough resources. No doubt they’d deal with the pilot and his
friends, all in good time. The Z-95 span through the ethereal dimension of hyperspace
on its way to warn the nearest Rebel base, and the small tracking device
hidden beneath the pilot’s chair tracked it all the way. HunterPrey 1999 short story by Paul Squire Four years before Episode IV – A New Hope Histories - Set four years before the
destruction of the first Death Star
and two years before Ryath Centaur's
defection from the ranks of the Empire,
this shows the level of dedication that Centaur showed to the Empire. Cast of Characters Ryath Centaur Lieutenant Ruhbek Honsen Danska Tolbruson Agganna |