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An Ancient Warning 1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A New Hope There
was another shower of sparks as Ranjid’s fusion
torch cut into the starships support beam. Molten metal dropped liberally
from the huge strut, falling in long globules into a vat of steaming water
below. The torch created arcs of energy that connected with the ceiling of
the workshop and the rest of the vessel’s hull. The
ship, a class three Haruuga trading
vessel, sat like a plundered corpse in the middle of the huge service hangar.
It’s support beams rose from what was left of it’s
hull like an empty ribcage, the engine section lay in thousands of pieces
behind it and the cockpit had been separated, making the whole thing appear
as a gutted fish. Ranjid was removing what was left of the upper support; the
heavy metal it was constructed of would melt down and make excellent hull
plating. Ranjid
ran a hand over his sweating face, his pale skin glistening with moisture and
metallic fragments. Over the years he had built up a resistance to the energy
emissions from the tools he used, making the use of a mask only necessary
when using heavier equipment. He gritted his teeth as the torch sliced
through the last part of the beam. Before
he could holler ‘watch out below’, the section of beam had detached from the
rest of the backbone of the vessel and fallen to the floor. It struck with a
resounding crash that overwhelmed the noise in the rest of the hangar. He
looked around the huge area, regarding his myriad of companions with an
expression of satisfaction. The
service hangar, a huge square affair roughly three hundred meters long and
wide, appeared to have been covered with every piece of machinery, piping,
scrap and wire that had ever come out of the explored galaxy. The chaos was
complete, spilling out into the empty streets of Luronsa IV’s second city.
The vacation planet, renowned for it’s nightspots, entertainment and leisure
facilities, was bustling even at this late hour. The service hangar that
Ranjid and his team had hired backed directly onto the city’s main power
generator at the edge of the city, enabling him to tap directly into the
power conduits and keep the place going. The authorities of the city turned a
blind eye; Ranjid was very good at making arrangements for the odd private staryacht to receive the odd modification. Late-night
revellers were making their way back to accommodation blocks, passing the
clutter in the street with drunken or tired eyes. Ranjid had turned the
street into an improper market. He found many people rooting through the
piles of scrap, enabling him to secure business on the street as well as
satisfying his more high-paying customers. Blazing
sun during the day. Fun during the nights off. Plenty of work. He was glad he
was here. Luronsa IV was a good place to be. “Ranjid!” He
looked over his shoulder, his legs dangling over either side of the support
beam. “Down here, Ranjid!” Twisting
his body right round, making his position more precarious, he saw a smaller
figure down below in a huge thick padded apron. He wore goggles on his
forehead and his belt was stuffed with tools. He waved at Ranjid to ensure he
was paying attention. Ranjid returned the motion. “What is it, Brackli?” Ranjid shouted back
over the noise of the hangar. Multiple beings were working on multiple tasks
on multiple starships. Lights strobed, sparks flew,
machines roared. “Visitor!” Brackli shouted back, taking
his heavy gloves of his hands. “Arr Sharn!” At
the mention of the name, Ranjid allowed a huge smile to spread across his
face. With a twist of his body he toppled sideways and fell off the high
support beam. Brackli
watched as he fell, unconcerned. At
the last moment Ranjid started to hover as the emergency break-fall belt
activated. The unit, only good for low height tumbles, immediately exhausted
its limited charge to lower Ranjid to the floor unhurt. He unbuckled the belt
and threw it to a passing service ‘droid for re-charging. “Arr Sharn, eh?” Ranjid shook his head and
started to untie his own heavy apron. “Haven’t seen him in a while.” Brackli
nodded, and turned to begin walking to the entrance of the hangar. “He’s pulled up in a heavy overland
transporter. Said he wants to show you something.” “Did he say what?” Ranjid was curious. He
knew that Arr Sharn had a flair for the dramatic, and would no doubt keep him
in suspension until the last minute, but he also knew that Arr’s surprises
were worth waiting for. The last one had been what was left of an old Kabrilli water skiff. What a piece of history that was. Not to mention the fact that
it had made him just over thirty thousand standard credits. He
sighed heavily and followed Brackli to the entrance. It was wide pair of
heavily shielded blast doors, permanently open due to a mechanical fault
Ranjid hadn’t yet got round to repairing. Outside the doors was a large
overland transporter, hovering just off the ground with a large open-topped
cab. The heavy tarpaulin covering an object on the back was damp with the
moist evening air, glistening under Luronsa’s two
moons. As
Ranjid approached, trying to ascertain what was under the cover, a huge alien
emerged from the other side of the transporter. He was undoing the magnetic
clamps holding the cover in place, and when he saw Ranjid he left the task to
a Sullustian that was helping. His frame was large and muscular, and he stood
a full two heads taller than Ranjid, who, for a human, was considered tall.
His head, blunt-snouted and heavy browed, shifted
with a sliding of scales as he regarded his friend. “Hello, Arr.” Ranjid said, standing in
front of the huge lizard with hands on hips. “What have you bought for me
this time?” The
lizard’s voice was deep, rumbling, and expressed strength and confidence. His
sharp irregular teeth clicked as he spoke. “This is the reason we exist as
technicians.” Arr said. “What is it?” “The very focus of our love of starships.” “I get the point, Arr, what is it?” “The single...” “Arr, you tell what it is in the next
sentence or I’ll tie a fluidic power conduit around your neck and reverse the
polarity.” Arr
Sharn’s laugh was loud and booming, causing several
more sound sensitive mechanics who had gathered around the transporter to
hold their hands to their ears. The crowd grew larger as more workers drifted
out of the hangar and up to the transporter, wondering what prize Arr had
brought this time. Ranjid suddenly became aware of the press of bodies and
turned to them, arms in the air. “What is this, a Holo-show? Get back to
work! I want that Haruuga fully
stripped by sunup!” Mumbling
in several languages, the amassed mechanics turned and wandered off, some
casting glances back in the hope of seeing the object before they were out of
sight of it. “A Haruuga,
huh?” Arr said. “Where did you get that?” “Oh, someone found it floating abandoned
in the P’ro Sector. It’d been there years. Anyway, don’t change the subject.
What’s this?” Arr
walked up to the tarpaulin slowly, adding more tension to the already
strained atmosphere. He gripped the edge of it and turned to look at Ranjid,
his eye’s twinkling and his grin so large it looked as though he could
swallow the entire transporter. “Behold!” He roared, and yanked hard on
the cover. The
small starship uncovered made Ranjid uncross his folded arms and place a hand
to his mouth. “My goodness.” He mumbled through his
fingers. Although
the vessel was streaked with dirt and missing several panels, Ranjid was
amazed at its condition. It was a fighter by definition, with a long sleek
nose topped with a bubble cockpit, twin laser cannons mounted just over the
pilot’s seat. The bodywork seemed to sweep upwards and behind the cockpit,
splitting into two arms that terminated in two huge powerful engines. It
hovered of it’s own accord, the sudden removal of
the tarpaulin causing it to wobble slowly but soon settle. “Behold, the S-76 Sunwing.” Arr said, his
grin threatening to explode his reptilian face. He looked over at Ranjid for
a reaction. Brackli had had to sit down on an empty fuel container, obviously
overawed by the ship in front of him. “Well?” Arr asked. All he got from Ranjid
was an incomprehensible mumble. “Well, what do you think?” He asked again,
almost demanding an answer. Ranjid
just took few steps forward and regarded the ship. “Is it real?” He asked. “Of course it’s real!” Arr exploded with
mock anger. “I checked the framestamp and had the
metal scanned on a molecular level. It’s made of Cantarr alloy. It’s as real
as it looks.” The
Sunwing had entered the realms of myth in the Setnin Sector. It was the first
ever mass-produced starfighter out of the Cantarr Bi Romou shipyards; each
one assembled by hand and aligned to the individual pilots
direct specifications. Every seat position, every capability, every weapon
configuration was adjusted and defined to suit one individual, no matter what
the species. It was said that it took three months to complete one squadron
of Sunwings and it was true; the builders were very proud of their creation. It
was soon overwhelmed by mass produced starfighters, which were capable of
faster moves and packed a heavier punch. The N-32 Headhunter, the T-65 X-Wing
and others soon stole the limelight. The Sunwings were scrapped or destroyed
by these more powerful fighters and the remaining ones soon fell into the
realms of the collector’s item. The only one Ranjid had ever seen was at the
Chancai Museum, but it was just a shell on a stand. This one appeared to be
complete. One of the missing panels revealed full internal workings and the
engines were exposed to show firing chambers and thrust capacitors. “Where... where...” “Where did I get it?” Arr had been
awaiting the question and he jumped up onto the back of the transporter,
resting a huge hand delicately on the nose. “I was sorting for spares in an
old junkyard on Lydon and this thing was just sat under a pile of piping. The
owner of the yard was selling up and he sold it for a reasonable price, after
I told him that it was a worthless shell which I could tear apart for
scraps.” Ranjid
jumped up and stood next to Arr, afraid to touch the ship in case it
dissolved under his fingers. “How much?” Arr
lowered his head conspiratorially and whispered. “Two thousand.” “What!” Ranjid couldn’t believe it. He had
heard of a Sunwing, incomplete, which was in the hands of a collector on the
New Republic capital of Coruscant. She
had paid over a million standard credits. He
looked over the ship and stepped forward. Arr motioned invitingly at the
fighter. “Check her over.” Ranjid
suddenly switched to professional mode, walking around the craft and looking
under and over it. “Full ablative panels, sub-frame conduit
wiring in fully shielded encasing, fluidic connectors for pilot interface, Noval variant engine bays, twin Boldoc
Blastercannons, lower bay for torpedo launchers...
dammit, Arr, this things almost completely original. We’re going to be rich.
How is she hovering like that?” The
lizard shrugged. “Beats me. I tampered with her for a
little while and it just turned on. She doesn’t even have any landing gear,
just like the original specs.” “Can I check out the cockpit?” “Sure,” Arr said, “but it’s fused. The
atmosphere pressurisation seals have decayed and sealed it shut. That’s one
of the reasons I bought her here...” “... to use my
sonic de-sealer.” Ranjid finished for him. He smiled, trying to peer through
the dirt on the plastiglass but failing to see anything inside. “I’ll get my
stuff. For freck’s sake get it
inside the hangar. I don’t want any opportunists seeing this.” After a few minutes the transporter had
been driven into the hangar by the Sullustian. The crowd gathering around the
ship started growing steadily as more and more workers saw the antique on the
back. Ranjid allowed them to gather his timetable for the evening's work
forgotten. He pressed a few buttons on a wristcomp
and a thin wiry ‘droid with a heavy backpack in the far corner activated,
walking slowly to Ranjid’s position. The crowd
parted and allowed the automaton with the sonic de-sealer to approach. Brackli
passed a small gun-shaped item to Ranjid and a wire spooled out from the
‘droids backpack. “Stand back, everyone. I don’t want any of
you vomiting on this baby with sonic sickness.” Many retreated, and Ranjid placed a pair
of heavy mufflers over his ears and leaned forward. Arr placed his hands on
his ears. The
gun-shaped object started with a hum that built in volume. Ranjid adjusted
the intensity so that he would have enough sonic disruption to split the seal
but not enough to damage the ship. Then he leaned forward and started
slicing. The
seal came away easily, crumbling under the power of the tool and effectively
opening the cockpit. When he had split the entire seal, he stood back to
allow Arr to step forward. He placed one hand at the rear of the sliding
cockpit window and shoved. It
moved forward easily, an old power cell activating and taking the job from
Arr’s hand. It slid open slowly on grinding motors and stopped when it had
fully opened. Arr
and Ranjid reeled from the stench. Neither
of them had expected to see the pilot, still strapped in his specially
moulded seat, his flesh peeling from his bones. The cockpit had been sealed
for a long time, preserving the body somewhat but allowing some degree of
decomposition. The body appeared to be human, the helmet lop-sided on the
skull. With
his hand over his nose Ranjid waved at Brackli. “Get everyone back.” “Come on, gentlebeings,
move away.” Brackli’s instructions were heeded,
more from the drifting stench than his wishes. Arr,
whose olfactory senses were less than effective, leaned forward. “The junkyard guy said that he found the
ship crashed in the mountains, but never got around to opening it up or
checking it out. Yeuch.” Placing
a rag over his mouth and nose, Ranjid moved forward also. “Looks like he’s been there a while. I
wonder if we could power up...” With
a flick of a switch the cockpit lights blazed into life. “Built to last.” Arr said, wiping the finger he had used to activate the
instrumentation on his trousers. He peered at a small screen on the panel.
“According to the log this thing last flew... sixty-two years ago. Damn.” “I wonder who he was?”
Ranjid wondered, trying to read the helmet lettering. “G-L-A... I can’t make
out the rest.” “Well, wipe it off.” “Forget it, I’m not touching him.” Arr
reached over with a handkerchief he had produced from his pocket and wiped
the helmet roughly. The corpse’s head wobbled as if the body was trying to
resist Arr’s attempts at cleaning it, but the letters underneath were smeared
and unintelligible. He shook his head and sighed. “Well, that’s that. I guess his name’s
going to die with him.” “Looking at this,” Ranjid observed, “the
ship’s computer core is wiped. The only entry is the immediate log giving us
the date. There’s a recording as well.” He looked at Arr. Arr looked back
expectantly, and shrugged. “Well?” “Switch it.” A
bleep, the sound of age-old computer systems restarting and a small screen
activated giving system details. Arr wiped the dirty monitor. “Last place of reference is a planet
called Klaem, Corb Sector.” “That’s the other side of the galaxy!” “Wait, there’s an audio recording.” If anyone listens to this, know that
I died trying to save my world. I’m not one for speeches or personal
feelings, so I’ll keep this to the point. I know my cockpit seal is jammed
and I can’t eject. Power levels are dropping in my engine pods and I’m losing
orbit. I reckon I’ll be on the surface in about an hour. That hardly matters.
My oxygen reserves will be depleted in ten minutes and my re-circulator unit
is so much scrap metal after that last barrage. Hopefully, others of my clan will
find me in time, but this recording is for the members of the Setnin Sector. Me and my clan have been fighting an evil for a long time,
an alien with influence so far that it is said that even the Republic and the
Trade Federation watch him carefully. We were on a mission to find this alien
and stop him from undermining governments and whole worlds with his powerbase,
but the leads we have so carefully followed for two years were nothing but an
elaborate trap. Before we were all wiped out, we did find out that our
adversary had designs on the Setnin Sector, and using his influence was going
to shape that whole part of space for his own ends. Beware of Longbody. Say
his name with fear. He is the destroyer, the malignant heart of the darkness
that lurks behind every government. “Gosh.” Arr said. “If he’s ‘not one for
speeches’ then I’d hate to meet his race’s poets.” Ranjid
waved him quiet. Know this, Setnin. This vessel is a
wonder to me, a wonder to all my friends who fly with me. All the ships of my
party were given to us as keepsakes by our wives and loved ones. We fly these
vessels with joy and love in our hearts. When we touch them we touch our
family. When we seat ourselves in them we commit ourselves to the loving arms
of our wives and children. These are our links to our homeworld, each ship a
constant reminder of why we fight Longbody. If my race does not survive this,
then please believe we were once peaceful, until Longbody came and corrupted
our weak hearts. If my clan finds me, I hope they
carry out my last request - bury me with my ship. Let me stay within the
embrace of those I love as I travel to the next world. This is my wish. I love you, Tameer,
and little Huji. I wish I could see you both just
one more time, let your laughter flow over me and bask in your affections. As
I fall into my forever slumber I will think of you both. The
recording clicked off. Ranjid
looked at the body, trying to imagine what kind of being he was who felt so
passionately about his family and his vessel. What kind of being would allow himself to be torn from his wife and child to fight an
alien whose name he didn’t recognise, half a century ago in a part of the
galaxy he knew nothing about. And why, with his last dying breath, he had
warned the Setnin Sector of Longbody, an alien he had never heard of and who
had never been a threat to the sector. A
being whose ancient expensive ship was now in his hands. “Ever heard of Longbody?” Ranjid asked
Arr, who was stood stock still, obviously moved by what he had heard. “Yes, but I can’t believe this recording.
Longbody’s a myth, a ghost story. People say they’ve worked for him, but no
one really knows whether he exists. He’s a kind of a legend in my part of the
sector. You know, like the big tales of giant space slugs Gillion used to
entertain us with. He’s supposed to be ruthless and it goes that he could get
to anyone anywhere, no matter who they were or what
position they held. But no one ever met him. I think someone was using his
name as a reputation enhancer and this poor soul was chasing a lie.” “He seemed quite serious about it.” With
a huge sigh Arr looked out over the hangar. “He spent two years hunting a ghost and it
killed him. He died over a world he didn’t know in a part of space that was
pretty much as far as home as he could get. I feel kind of guilty having
opened the cockpit. I feel as though we’ve intruded somehow.” With
full agreement, Ranjid slowly slid the cockpit canopy back into place. “He died sixty years ago, Arr. Maybe his
race doesn’t even exist anymore. Maybe they don’t even remember this conflict
if they do. We’ve got our hands on someone else’s dream. His ship.” Arr
nodded, seemingly worried. “The question is,
what do we do with the ship?” Ranjid
looked at Arr and saw indecision written into his frown. The ship, this
beautiful Sunwing with almost all-original parts, was their ticket to a
prosperous future. They also knew that the reality of the previous owners'
love for the vessel was sat in the cockpit, voicing his feelings sixty years
on. Ranjid
reached a decision and knew that Arr would support him. “Come on, my friend. We’ve got a big hole
to dig.” An Ancient Warning 1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A New Hope Histories – A vessel from far across the galaxy enters the Setnin Sector, bringing along
with it a full history of trouble and intrigue. Featuring three of the Setnin Sectors prime
mechanics, this tale of a lost ship begins the inexorable rise towards the
conclusion of the Glann Cipple
story. Cast of
Characters Ranjid Arr
Sharn Brackli |