Chapter Thirteen

There were six troop transports in all, followed closely by heavy armour support and support crews in three other, larger ships. Each transport was flanked by an element of fighters, the two TIEs keeping either side and a little behind the main vessel.

They approached the surface of Junduk in a triangular formation, the heavily armed lead ship training weapons on prime targets on Raca City; power distribution centres, communications relay stations, main thoroughfares throughout the city. If the citizens or the ruling body decided to try and defend the place then the lead vessel would destroy these key targets and effectively cripple them. Just behind the main body of vessels a whole swarm of TIE fighters came screaming in, overtaking the lead craft and starting patrols of the upper atmosphere.

Lieutenant Shreems sat in the command couch of the lead vessel. He stared at the readouts in front of him, methodically going over situation reports and advance scout dispatches. Everything was running smoothly and he motioned to the pilot’s station.

“Begin the landing. Signal all ships that they should hold their fire unless targeted. All Stormtroopers and support personnel set for stun.” He kicked the floor with his feet and the couch spun around. Just behind him was Terrov, wiping the bruise on his face with a small sticky gauze pad, the swelling and the nasty purple of the injury going in moments.

“Lieutenant,” Shreems said, standing and walking over to him. As he got closer he lowered his voice so that only Terrov could hear. The sounds of the compact bridge, whirring motors, bleeping screens and humming deck plates drowned out most of their conversation.

“Why have I just started a pacification landing?” Shreems wanted to know.

Terrov looked at him side on, his eyes narrowed and dark.

“The Grand Moff has reason to believe that a person of threat to the Empire is down there. I’ll supply you with details.”

“If you would. I have informed the captain that the orders are locate and apprehend. He was most perplexed when I couldn’t give him any other information.”

“I have security holo pictures of both targets. The industrial dignitary who was on the Malevolent and a boy called Skeet Jonas.”

Shreems nodded as he took the datapad from Terrov and he handed it to an aide.

“Transmit this to the other ships and patch me through to the Scourge.” The aide clipped his heels and disappeared through the rear hatch. He turned back to Terrov. “Why are we doing this? The planned acquisition of Junduk wasn’t supposed to happen for months, not until resources had been built.”

“To be honest, Shreems, I think the Grand Moff has a personal reason for this.” Terrov wanted to let Shreems know of his concerns but didn’t want to divulge too much information about what he already knew. “I’m beginning to think he’s losing his command abilities...” Terrov’s eyes wandered over Shreems’ shoulder, and Shreems turned to see a comm officer looking in their direction. “Mind your station!” he snapped.

Shreems lowered his voice further.

“Those remarks are treasonous.”

“As treasonous as utilising a fully loaded Imperial Star Destroyer for a personal agenda? Why do you think we’re out here?”

“Sir,” the comm officer turned from his console, his swept-back black helmet reflecting the pale light. “The Scourge wishes to communicate.”

“Good.” Shreems walked back to his command couch and adjusted his collar. “Put it on the viewer.”

A long screen just over the bridge window, which was now showing the view of the planet’s rocky surface, crackled with static and then slowly turned into a view of Grand Moff Galgen sat in a similar vessel.

“Lieutenant,” he said, his voice still ringing clear even over the disrupted communication.

“Grand Moff. I have ordered a pacification landing, as per your instructions. I will still need locations for the command ship’s landing area.”

“I will place the Scourge on the central estate. You land the Menacing near the main city entrance and we’ll co-ordinate our efforts from those locations. Send all other landing vessels around the main traffic centres of the city. Is Lieutenant Terrov with you?”

Terrov took a step forward so that he was within the communicator’s visual pickup.

“Yes, sir.”

“Come to the Scourge and join me when you’ve landed.”

“Yes, sir. Grand Moff, I...” but as Terrov started his sentence the viewer crackled and died as Galgen terminated the transmission.

Raca City was now a glittering mirage on the horizon, the blue sky of twilight behind it seemed diluted by the bright lights as the city cast out a huge halo.

“No good will come of this,” Terrov muttered.

The turbolift doors at the base of the pyramid house opened and five beings exited. Boron came out first, a large bulky blaster pistol in hand, and he checked the grounds as officer Eilen followed, her hand on her holstered pistol. Emag Retsam followed, behind him Brey Yard and finally Skeet Jonas, whose eyes were narrowed as he squinted at the horizon.

“Ships,” he pointed as he saw the tiny points of light coming at the city at an angle. They were obviously the Imperial vessels they had been warned of, clustered together as they were.

Boron nodded.

“We’ve got about five minutes.”

“Nowhere near enough time to get to my ship,” Emag said.

“There’s time,” Boron growled. “Let’s go...”

There was a low scream as vessels shot overhead, TIE fighters doing a brief scout of the city before the main transports arrived. They flew in pairs, the lead fighter making manoeuvres that were duplicated by the ship following, going out wide and then swooping in low over the city to map the area and scan for signs of trouble.

All around them the staff of the administration buildings were running from their places of work, heading for the anti-grav tubes that would take them to their homes or their vehicles. There were shouts of consternation as a multitude of beings communicated their fears in a dozen languages.

Skeet caught Emag’s arm.

“If the predictions said this was the place then why are we running?”

“Because the predictions didn’t say what would happen. And if Galgen finds you, finds me, we’re dead. We can’t win this, Skeet. We have to get out of here.”

The screams of the TIE’s were drowned out by other vessels as they rose from landing pits. Freighters and other transports started rising from the cliff-face as the occupants tried to beat a hasty retreat. TIE jockeyed them for airspace, firing warning volleys over their hulls to force them back to port. Some vessels retreated back to their bays, others tried to flee and the five on the estate could only watch as they were chased, hunted, by the TIE fighters. Obviously, the Empire didn’t want anyone leaving.

“Do you think he’s doing this because of me?” Skeet said, suddenly feeling profound guilt as to what was happening here.

“I don’t know,” Emag said truthfully and gripped Skeet’s arm. “Come on, nephew. Let’s go.”

“Your vessel is on the lower pad, by the racetrack garages,” Boron said, pointing towards a private turbolift. “Stay close to me.”

They all headed for the lift, Eilen waiting until everyone had passed her and then following, covering their retreat. Brey gave her a lopsided smile.

“There’s nothing there to worry about,” he remarked.

A huge Imperial transport suddenly roared overhead, the massive landing struts screeching as they extended to take the vessel’s weight. It was long with an oversized rear cargo compartment that, even as it was landing, was slowly being lowered. As the five reached the turbolift door, the ship touched down and vented gases.

The lift doors slid shut, allowing the occupants a brief glimpse of the rear hatch touching the ground and half a dozen speeder bikes fly down the ramp, closely followed by white-armoured Stormtroopers who advanced at a half-crouch, ready for anything. The beings from the administrative buildings that were unfortunate enough to still be on the estate were shouted at to remain still and those who attempted to run were cut down by stun blasts.

The lift went down at a fast rate. Emag lowered his head and closed his eyes, the thought of his beloved Raca City in the hands of the Empire tearing his heart in two. Skeet noticed this and did his best to ignore it, knowing, somehow, that he was responsible for this and not wanting to compound Emag’s sorrow by offering a stammered apology. Boron placed a huge arm around Emag’s shoulders.

“Come on, governor,” he said. “It had to happen one day. Even we can’t escape the attention of the Empire.”

Emag nodded.

“I know,” he whispered through glazed eyes. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

The lift doors opened directly onto a small reception area. Beyond that was the viewing box Emag used to watch the races. They all entered the plush, well-decorated room and out through a side door. Boron checked every corner and waved the others on when he felt it was safe.

A minute later, they saw the landing pit below them where a long triple-engine freighter was berthed. It was already powered up and several beings were disconnecting power feeds and ventpipes from the main hull.

“Looks like the Winning Raca is ready,” Emag said. “It’s just down these stairs...”

The roaring engines of a TIE fighter filled their ears as it passed overhead. It banked sharply as another civilian freighter, one of the racing teams, began its departure from a neighbouring pit, its circular hull gleaming from fresh paintwork. The TIE fighter fired a warning shot across its hull but the freighter ignored it. Its single laser cannon turret swivelled in the TIE’s direction but it was too late.

A short barrage of green-bolted laser fire from the TIE’s twin cannons slammed into the engine section of the circular freighter. Panels and chunks of ablative armour flew off and the ship banked horrendously. Smoke spewed from the engine as the glow from the exhaust started to die. It tipped over...

...and fell directly into the Winning Raca’s landing pit. Boron was already turning, his wide arms stretched to try and gather up as many of the others as possible as he dived for cover. They were already moving, helped along by Boron’s dodging manoeuvre. The freighter connected with the Winning Raca, their hulls seeming to shatter as the immense weight of the vessel crumpled the other. To make things worse, the Raca’s engines were whining up ready for take off. Raw energy spurted from the drive as the build-up reached dangerous levels, and as the circular freighter finished her death throes both ships violently exploded.

Debris rained down on them all as what was left of both ships scattered across the immediate area and the racetrack. They all stood and looked at the remains of the two destroyed craft.

“Kupp was on that ship,” Boron whispered.

“What the hell do we do know?” Eilen asked no one in particular. “We need a ship.”

“We’ve got one,” Brey said hurriedly. “My ship, the Happy Contriver, its in the public bays on the first peak.”

“But how do we get there?” Eilen said with exasperation. “The city will be crawling with Imperials in minutes!”

Skeet nudged her and pointed towards the speeder pens on the opposite side of the track.

“How else?” he said with a smile.