2002 story by Jonathan Hicks,
Mark Newbold, Paul Squire and Louis Turfrey Thirty-eight
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Fireworks exploded over the Chancai Trade Centre.
Fringe-Mall was alight from hundreds of thousands of hand-held laser shows
that shot into the air and painted pictures of light on the low clouds.
Sliced flimsy and coloured ribbons were scattered from the thousands of
windows that covered the outer surface of the two kilometre-high city creating a cascade of colour that settled upon the
buildings and streets below. Beings
of varying species ran through the streets, banging doors of homes and
businesses alike, throwing the scattered debris falling from the city above
into the air, cheering, whooping, crying. People
danced, waved their appendages or staggered as if drunk, dazed at the news
they had received. Within
Chancai itself the passageways and levels were alight with colour and awash
with sound. The denizens of the enormous city were also in the streets,
dancing and leaping as the news they were celebrating was piped through the
public address system. Even the official announcer couldn’t hide the joy in
her voice, which soon turned to weeping as the news came in. The central shaft was as the outside of the city – coloured
markers drifted in the air creating a blizzard of colour starships had to
wade through. A small freighter slipped out of her bay only to be covered in
the swarm; by the time she reached the opening of the shaft at the very top
of the city her hull had been turned from a bleak grey to a glorious mix of
hues. The pilot looked out of his ship with a huge smile as the colours
washed down. Bars opened early. Shops closed. Restaurants were jammed. “Think we picked the wrong time to come to
Chancai?” Jan
Lomona raised his eyebrows and wrapped his arm around Terrie Saffra’s
shoulders, squeezing her close to him and kissing the soft shiny black hair
on the top of her head. Revellers
thronged through the streets, streets that were always a mass of heaving life
and machinery, but were now a wild, unrestrained party. Jan looked around, unsure of what exactly
they were celebrating. New year was
still hours away and usually passed without note in this twenty-seven hour
city. One species new year was
another’s summer break. And after
recent events, the impending sense of doom the Ki-Ki/Setnin War had thrown
over everyone, this new year seemed an almost senseless celebration. After all, what was there to
celebrate? The certain knowledge that
they would be soon under the thrall of the evil Ki-Ki? Jan Lomona was an optimist, but even he saw
little sense in welcoming the new year.
Out with the old and in with the new. “There isn’t a right time to come to Chancai. I’ve been coming here for fifty years and
there’s always something
going down.” He checked around again
and grabbed a passer-by. “Excuse me,
what’s all the noise about?” The female Entallian frowned and split a wide grin. “Haven’t you
been listening to the Zelon Wave Exchange?
We flattened a Ki-Ki attack fleet on the edge of the system.” She waved to someone in the crowd and began
to move away. “We’ve hit back at the
Ki-Ki!” She rushed away as Jan turned
to Terrie and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well Commander,
what do you make of that?” Terrie returned a smile, although it was barely such a
thing. One battle doesn’t win a war.
This place is going crazy over a skirmish. She took Jans hand and squeezed it
tight. Oh Jan, if you only knew half about this damn war as I do. You wouldn’t be so damn optimistic. Jan held Terries gaze and frowned deep inside. Wish I felt as confident as I look. This is making the hairs on the back of my
neck stand on end, and that always spells trouble.
Ocern Gabe couldn’t see what was happening far below him
on the planet of Zelon, but he could certainly hear the celebrations on the
moon of Benesk. The public address system and the Zelon Wave Exchange
broadcaster, Arnee Kwarnee, were almost roaring down their microphones so
that they could be heard over the tumult. Ocern listened as Arnee tried to explain what was
happening, knowing that his voice and the sounds of celebration were being
transmitted across the Setnin Sector and beyond.
“I can’t describe it… beings in the
streets, hanging out of speeders, launching themselves into the crowd. The
light is incredible – it’s as if every celebratory gadget has been saved for
this day. Laser shows, fireworks… there’s alcohol everywhere! Whoa! Fizz-bang
drinks are going off and I almost got hit! This is great! Hold on… sorry
about that, it seems everywhere I walk there’s always someone who wants to
kiss me… looking out of the main window towards The door buzzer hooted for attention. Ocern leaned across
his desk and muted the sound of the transmission, pressing another stud to
open the portal to his office. Letitia Arkensaw and her aide, Jeddess Essar, walked
quickly into the room, their dark brown robes only slightly ruffled by their
apparent haste. Ocern stood with his back to the huge window that looked out
over the moon of Benesk, the glittering half-globe of Zelon shining above the
mountainous horizon. “The scheduled
meeting on Zelon is almost upon us, governor,” Letitia said quickly,
confusion written over her face as she saw Ocern’s huge smile. “I have been
informed that Galactic Alliance Policy Advisor Sheu Ho-Travi’s transport has
already entered the Yatchrare System and is on its way to Chancai… Governor,
this could be the most important meeting of this conflict, what are you
smiling about?” Ocern walked slowly around his desk and picked up his
brief pouch, tucking it under his arm. “Admiral Gemasson’s Task Force came across a Ki-Ki attack fleet.” “Where?” Letitia frowned with concern. “At the edge of the system.” There
was a silence. “What happened?” “Thirty-two
Ki-Ki ships went into direct conflict with twenty-three poorly armed Setnin
vessels. It was a hard battle.” Again there was silence. Letitia looked over at Jeddess
who shrugged helplessly. “And?” Letitia
whispered. “Who won?” With his grin transforming into a smirk, Ocern leaned
across his desk and pressed the mute button of the receiver to allow the sound
of Arnee Kwarnee’s broadcast to flood the office. “The first ships are in… some are landing
outside the city, they’re quite damaged. Some are landing in the bays by the
lake. People are rushing onto the fields, onto the landing platforms. Flags
are waving, cheering… the crews of the victorious S.D.F are in for a right
old shock!” Ocern turned to face the Jedi Knights. “Guess,” he
asked as he watched the two women stare at the speaker then each other with
shock, their own smiles increasing Ocern’s own joy. “I’ll be there
shortly.” Terrie finished on the comm and handed it back to Jan, who notched it back onto
his belt as she linked her arm back into Jans. They watched through the windows as
speeders and skimmers buzzed by the windows of Level Fifteen, Southside, the seedy side of the Chancai Trade Centre. Jan eyed the crowd carefully as he pushed
his way through, aware that while he was certainly a recognisable face to the
local populace he was also just another victim to any unsuspecting pick pocket
or mugger. Certainly many had tried
their luck with the A-desandian over the years, and many had failed. In fact, all had failed. Jan suffered fools like any other
compromising citizen of the galaxy, but didn’t suffer them getting their
hands into his deep pockets. Not
unless they wished to keep them, anyway.
He glanced at Terrie as she scanned the crowd and smiled to
himself. He knew she had a secret
rendezvous that she didn’t want him to know the details about, but he also
had a meeting of some importance to him that she was totally unaware of. Rounding the corner Jan took a deep breath
and stretched his arms wide.
“Ahhh, think I might get myself a duarga while it’s not too busy in the bars. Wanna join me?” he asked, fervently hoping
for once that she would say no. Terrie shook her head with a frown and
continued walking.
“No lover, you carry on. I’ll
meet you back here in,” she checked her chrono. “Forty minutes. I’ve a few things I have to sort out
myself.” Jan sucked in his upper lip in a
façade of passive agreement but inside was grinning.
“Sure honey. Forty minutes it
is. And don’t let anything happen to
you while I’m gone.” Terrie frowned a humorous frown.
“Lomona, what could possibly happen?
This is Chancai, remember?” Jan cocked his head and nodded in mock
agreement as he turned towards the long avenue that led to the Northside of
the trade centre.
“Right. Nothing ever happens here.”
Galactic Alliance Advisor Sheu Ho-Travi listened to the
broadcast with confusion. “The people are swamping the vessels. The
crew, from the lowliest technician to the highest officer, are being carried
through the crowd as heroes… I’m not sure they can take many more kisses!
Anyone wearing a uniform is going to be swarmed over!” “Captain?” he
asked the tall officer standing next to him. “What in the galaxy…?” The captain smoothed back his short-cropped hair and
sighed. “It appears to
be a celebration of the fact that the S.D.F has just defeated a Ki-Ki assault
fleet at the edge of the system. They’re celebrating the fact that they’ve
just saved Zelon and Chancai from attack.” Sheu
drew in a deep breath and exhaled loudly, shaking his head and looking out
the main view port of the Galactic Alliance Diplomatic Transport. He could
see some vessels dropping through the atmosphere of Zelon towards the
celebrating city of Chancai. Others hung in orbit, others more badly damaged
stayed in orbit for safety reasons but shuttles dropped from their hulls. In
addition, three huge picket ships and satellite defence platforms sat ready
and, as he watched, the traffic control centre called to verify their
presence. “Transmit our
passage details and reasons for our visit,” Sheu ordered quickly. The captain
looked over at his comm officer and nodded
affirmation. “Have you noted the
defence positions, captain?” Sheu asked quietly. “Every satellite
and picket vessel has been identified, ascertained and positioned. The
corridor we will be allowed through the defence net is only one of two available.” “Excellent. Compile the data and transmit
it as soon as we are given our landing route. Hold position and I’ll take the
shuttle down.” “C’mon, clear a
path,” growled the Iron Claw officer as he and his men forced a way through
the half-drunk crowds of the mid-levels for their scowling leader. “Save me from
happy bureaucrats,” grumbled Ryath Centaur under his breath, but loud enough
for Raj Gillet to hear, as he stalked towards his meeting with the S.D.F
Commander-in-Chief. “They’re just
showing their appreciation and support to their noble defenders,” began
Gillet, with more than just a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes. “The same
appreciation they’ve showed the non-affiliates for the past five years?”
growled Centaur, unable to bite back the sarcasm. He glanced at his chrono and cursed. “This wretched crowds going to make me
late, and the Executioner’s already bound to be in a foul mood.” “His not the
only one,” shot back Gillet, and received a sharp glance off his boss for his
trouble, and then Centaur’s face cracked open the tiniest of smiles. “Hell, Tannis
Rixx can be angry enough for the both of us,” he conceded, and nodded about
himself at the celebrating Zelonians.
“Hope Gemasson thinks all this is worth him stealing Rixx’s
thunder. Only a brave man or a fool
would knowingly antagonise a Janite.” “Well,” said
Gillet dryly, “you’d know,” The large ship dropped out of hyperspace on the edge of
the system and almost immediately six small craft exited from its massive
landing bays. Their profiles would have caused consternation to any picket
ship that had seen them, but their only witnesses were the broken corpses of
derelict warships and gently drifting debris of the recently fought battle. “Heads up team.
Maintain battle formation. If local transmissions are correct, then we need
to keep a wary eye on our screens, just in case there are any stragglers.”
Blake De’Athe looked over his shoulder whilst he received affirmation from
the other members of Ghost Squadron. “How are you
doing back there Zeb?” There was a grunt from the
cramped passenger seat to the rear of the modified X-Wing. “I will be
extremely glad when we are on the ground.” Tannis Rixx fixed Ryath Centaur with a hard stare, one
that would have made most men wilt under its furnace-hot gaze. But Centaur wasn’t one for melting, and his
own steely stare comfortably countered Rixx’s. Within the opulent and plush confines of
the Setnin Defence Force’s Headquarters on the Northside of Level 12 both men
seemed out of place, the contest of wills even more so. But Setnin was a place of contradictions,
and no place more so than Chancai.
Rixx seated himself, drew a deep breath and allowed the atmosphere to
settle before continuing. “Your opinion is
valid Centaur. But I’ll say it
again. I believe your analysis is in
error.” “That’s your
right, but bitter experience has shown me the folly of believing that the
seemingly impossible cannot be achieved.
This is the Setnin Sector. Why
would it only be the citizens of this sector who can pull off the
impossible?” Rixx narrowed his stare, intrigued by a thought. “I’m beginning
to see a pattern in your logic.” At last, thought Ryath, he finally concedes it. Rixx continued. “You believe the Ki-Ki have a spy within our ranks.” Ryath took his turn to draw breath and leaned forward in
his chair. He always felt a slight
discomfort, being on the opposite side of the desk. The wrong side, he felt. Years of Iron Claw leadership had given him
the luxury of eyeing people from the business side of the desk. The one with buttons that led to trap doors
and ejector seats. He felt slighted
here, and didn’t like it. “This war has
been raging for years, and there are many factions,” he paused while he let
the connotations sink in. Rixx wasn’t
just a Janite, he was an ex-Janos Executioner, and more than any man in this
new amalgamated S.D.F, he knew all about factions. The animosity between he and Centaur, who
still had the death sentence in absentee on Janos, was nothing compared to
the political no holds barred battle being conducted by the previous S.D.F
Commander-in-Chief, Admiral Gemasson. “Yes,” he stated
flatly. “I believe there are those
within the Setnin Alliance who would not lose sleep if the Ki-Ki prevailed.” Tannis Rixx leaned back in his own seat, and then turned
slightly to gaze outside. People
milled by below as the early evening sun began its lazy trawl down the sky to
its rest. It was the eve of a new
year, and even to a Janite such as Rixx that was a cause for renewed
hope. A fresh start and a new
beginning, free from anger or hate. Or
imprisonment. Someone within the ranks
of Setnin was a spy. If Centaur
believed it, then that was evidence enough.
But who? “Then we must
weed them out.” “Agreed. But you’re a political animal now
Rixx. Forgive me for being so blunt,
but you can’t simply throw accusations across the council floor.” Tannis Rixx smiled, and Ryath immediately wished he were
receiving the cold stare. It was
warmer and a lot more genuine. “As ever I value
your advice. But I’m a true politician
now. And I have weapons much deadlier
than mere accusations.” Fleet Commander Cathum stood on the command bridge of the
vastly modified Fedarn’s Shining
Beauty and waited in silence. Next to him, the huge imposing form of
Fleet Commander Dagger stood as a statue, his patience eternal. Cathum envied
him his stoic appearance and tapped a datapad nervously. “Any signal?” he
asked a second officer. “Nothing yet,
Commander,” the woman replied. “Still waiting.” “We’re closing on the appointed time. Tell
the ships to prepare and power up the Killship
Battle Platforms. Tell the Victory Class Destroyer to prepare. Commander
Dagger?” “Commander?”
Dagger snapped his heels together and waited for orders. “Perhaps you
would like to retire to the Sword of
Justice to lead the first wave? I will transmit the Zelon defence
layout as soon as I receive it.” “Agreed.
Strength and Victory.” Dagger slammed his huge scaly fist against his
opposite shoulder. Cathum
returned the salute. “Strength and
Victory, Commander, and good luck to you and your men. Remember –
fighter/bombers from the mountain range and then land your troops. Any
orbital warfare the Killships will take care of.
Just concentrate on your objectives and I want the main city as whole as
possible. I don’t care about Fringe-Mall.” Dagger turned on his heel and exited the command bridge
with his aides. Cathum watched him go with a blank expression. “Any news of
Commander Brotus?” Cathum asked as he watched the heavy blast door close
behind Dagger. “Negative,
Commander. No news.” “Damn him. The most important engagement
of the war and he’s off settling personal vendettas. No matter. Transmit the rules
of engagement to all ships. I don’t want the House Barons thinking we used
their vessels and personnel without following the code.” “Transmission
sent… Commander, we are receiving a Priority One signal from the Galactic
Alliance vessel. It appears to contain the data we require.” “Excellent,”
Cathum smiled although he didn’t really feel it. “Transmit to the Sword of Justice and all other
ships. Tell them to begin the countdown.” “Happy new year,
you old soak. I see business is still
paying off for you.” Ziggy Teflon shuffled past Jan’s feet at knee level and
kicked a half empty box of DL-3 into the corner of the storeroom. He turned and glanced up at the A-desandian
as Jan leaned on the doorway. “That’s
right. I’ve no complaints. Business is good. Better on the Southside, but then it
usually is.” Jan nodded.
Ziggy’s other shop, Ziggy’s
Highly Addictive Substance Showrooms was
where the small, pot bellied green-skinned native of the planet Leuchars sold
most of his…non-legal substances.
Being on that side of the trade centre largely shielded him from
prosecution, and given the huge taxes paid out by the shopkeepers of the
Southside, the Chancai Trade Guilds tended to turn a blind eye. Which suited Ziggy, Lomona, and many
ganglords of the past. And probably
the future. Here on the Northside in
Ziggy’s Herb and Spice Shop he sold general use articles to the public. Medicines, herbal teas, aromatherapy
miscellany. And sugar. Sugar
had once been Setnins prime cargo of smugglers, rare as it was among the
worlds of the sector. And where other
smugglers from other sectors ran illegal and deadly substances, Setnin
traders ran sugar. Harmless, sweet
tooth inducing, fattening sugar. Until
the Empire learned of the massive profits to be had from its illegal movement
and banned sugar from the trade lanes of Setnin. As with everything else, an underground
market sprang up, and Ziggy Teflon was at the forefront. And as his name implied, he was never
caught. Or at least, no prosecution
ever stuck. “So, what do you want me to do for you Zigg? Run a sugar
cube out to Janos and sweeten the Emperor Priest? Or maybe drop a spoonful on the Ki-Ki?” Ziggy
looked up again. “Don’t joke about it Lomona. If there’s anything in this rotten world that
can soften the Ki-Ki then I’d like to know what it is. I don’t see them easing up anytime soon.” Ziggy
Teflon always had his ear to the ground.
And not just because he was little over a meter tall, Jan knew that
his old friend was hardwired into the information grapevine, perhaps more
than he was. Jan moved into the
storeroom and closed the door a notch. “What do you know?” Ziggy
slowed, turned and lowered the box he was hefting onto the bottom shelf of
the DL-3 rack. He cleared his throat. “Traders have been disappearing. Good guys, regular as clockwork guys. They’re leaving their ports and not making
it through the lines.” Jan
chewed his lip. “It’s a war Zigg. What do you expect? They can’t exactly show a doctors note and
cough their way through.” Ziggy
nodded. “I know that, but these guys have been
evading the Ki-Ki for years. No
problems. You know the lanes better
than anybody out there. Haven’t you
noticed it’s been getting harder and harder to make your way around?” There
was no doubt about it, the lanes were significantly tighter these past few
weeks. Less room for error, less room
to breathe. And now he was here, at
the very heart of Setnin, both geographically, financially and spiritually,
he could almost sense the fingers of oppression wrapping themselves like a
vice around his throat. Jan Lomona
wiped his brow as a bead of sweat made its way down his temple and he fixed
his jaw. “Ziggy, you want a cargo taking anywhere
and I’m your man. Just name your price
and destination.” Ziggy
wiped his three-fingered hand on a rag and placed his hands on his hips. “The destination is Noscage. I have six crates of sugar to be delivered
by noon local time tomorrow.” Jan
paused. “And the price?” Ziggy
Teflon brushed his way past his friend of fifty years and blew out a long
breath. “Only my soul, Jan. Just my soul.” There was a groan of anger throughout the assembled
delegates as, once again, Sheu Ho-Travi stood to counter the points made by
others. The meeting, taking place in the Chancai City Halls, was
supposed to be one of progress. It appeared to Ocern Gabe that the Galactic
Alliance had finally decided to take the Setnin situation seriously. He had
made sure that everyone who would have been affected by the meeting was
present, and even though he had not been able to get in touch with all those
he wished the news of the meeting had spread through word of mouth. The City
Halls were filled with beings. And, as they tried to make breakthroughs as far as the
inclusion of the Galactic Alliance or, more importantly, the right of the
Setnin Sector to throw off the shackles of Galactic Alliance law to fight off
the invasion, Sheu Ho-Travi sealed off the progress. Even now, as the
delegates discussed the possibilities of the negotiation of ceasefires and
battle lines, the booming voice of the Galactic Alliance Policy Advisor rang
across the cavernous room. “Gentlebeings,
please,” he said, interrupting a delegate from what little now remained of
the Non-Affiliated Worlds of the Setnin Sector, “we cannot assume that these
ideas for a cessation of hostilities will be honoured as there are no
representatives of the Ki-Ki Sector here. We are simply trying to ascertain
what we could do, not what will happen…” and he continued on in the same
vein, repeating himself on several occasions. Ocern Gabe leaned in close to whisper to Trace Dallagra. “Is it me, or is
he wasting our time?” Trace
nodded. “He’s stalling.
He keeps looking at his chronometer.” “What do you
think he has planned?” “I’m not sure.
Letitia seems to think he’s been the main voice of peace back on Coruscant,
but it appears to me he’s all bluster and no action.” Ocern agreed with a pained expression. “This is going
to take longer than I imagined. I’ll let him listen to his own voice for
another few minutes and then I’ll call a recess.” Blake De’Athe and Jedi Master Zeboden stood to the rear
of the hall, keeping as low a profile as they could. As representatives of
the Setnin Jedi, and more recently associates of the Raven Corporation, they
had been asked to attend the meeting. Letitia had not been best pleased, but
Ocern Gabe was a persuasive Ishi Tibb. The aged Jedi Master turned towards
Blake. “Something’s not
right. I can sense it.” Blake nodded solemnly. “I think you are
right old friend. There is more going on here than meets the eye.” Commander Dagger checked the countdown. With just one
minute to go, he turned to face his second officer. “Is every ship
of Strike Wave ready?” “Yes, Commander.” “And the
signal?” “Still coming
through clean from the Galactic Alliance Diplomatic Transport. We have the
location and route which will take us straight through their defence
network.” Dagger watched the numbers drop away on the timer, closing
on the appointed time. “Has the signal
been detected?” “Negative. The
sheer mass of congratulatory transmissions is hiding it better than we
expected. The mass of ships and atmospheric activity should also mask the
attack fighter descent.” “As planned. And the meeting on Chancai?
What do we know of that?” The second officer pointed at another screen where a
number of names scrolled. “The last update
we had indicated that over ninety percent of all possible threats are at the
meeting.” “Then we will
make the city shield generator, the Zelon Wave Exchange and the Chancai City
Halls our primary targets; inform the pilots of the change of orders.” “Yes,
Commander.” The counter began to drop away the final few numbers.
Both Dagger and the second officer watched as the display finally read a
series of noughts. Dagger
sighed, nodding to the second officer, who turned and bawled at his comms
officer. “Message to all
ships! Go! Go! Go!” Terrie Saffra waited for the last few stragglers to pass
as she unlocked the entryway and closed the door behind her. It was dark and dank, and the pervading
smell of engine grease felt like a moist cloth that had fallen upon her. This was where she was supposed to be
meeting her contact, to pass information and intelligence. But as her eyes adjusted to the gloom she
could see she was alone. So, even my contact has been
intercepted. Then it’s true, the Ki-Ki
really are everywhere. She waited in the half-light for a minute. Galactic Alliance contacts were never late. If they said 19.30 hours then they damn
well meant it. With the realisation
that she was wasting her time she stepped back into the street and rejoined
the throng making their way towards the main plaza of Level 15. The desk clerk handed over Centaur’s weapon belt, and
nodded a curt thanks as he signed for them. Just like Amagad, thought Centaur sardonically, but without the ninth floor. “You survived
then?” asked Gillet, as he stood from where he’d been sitting patiently in
the S.D.F HQ lobby. “Scarred, but
still alive,” smiled back Centaur, and then handed the Iron Claw Captain a
discreet briefcase. “New orders,” he
stated simply. Gillet couldn’t hide his anticipation and Centaur’s smile
grew hungrier. “Shore leaves
cancelled, Captain. Looks like our new
boss wants to keep us busy.” “Our lad’s
getting too rowdy for the civilians?” “Let’s just say
the Janite would rather our energies were focused elsewhere. Now,” continued Centaur, “get back to the Thunderer and prepare to break
orbit. I’ll follow you up shortly.” “Sir?” “My
father-in-law’s in town,” replied Centaur slowly. “Promised the old man a drink.” He shrugged. “You never know, maybe this time he’ll
actually pay for a round.” Captain Barler of the warship Divine, formerly a New Republic Fast Attack vessel but now in
the hands of the Setnin Defence Force, almost choked on his chav as almost
every warning klaxon the ship possessed began to wail. “What the hell…! What’s that?” He jumped to his feet and
virtually leaped the distance between his command chair and the helmsman’s
controls. “Proximity
alarms! Spatial intruder warnings! Lock-on alerts! Captain, every alarm is
going crazy!” Barler looked out of the main bridge viewing port but he
was loathe to do so; the sudden appearance of a large group of vessels just
behind the Zelon defence line, straight down one of the secure transport
corridors through the net, was terrifying enough on the monitor without
seeing it in all it’s glory. But look he did. A least twenty-four vessels of varying
sizes were dropping out of hyperspace within the lines. Vodon class warships
appeared, immediately launching fighters, covered by gunboats and battleships
of varying, unknown designs. Each one had the emblem of the Ki-Ki Sector
emblazoned across its hull. And then appearing just behind them all in all its glory
came a Victory Class Star Destroyer, fully repaired, fully operational.
Before Barler had chance to call general quarters and transmit a warning,
defence satellites and picket ships started to explode under a massive hail
of fire. He
watched. As if on slow motion, more ships appeared. Some, their navigation
off by a fraction of a degree, did not appear in their designated place and
collided with Setnin vessels. They tore into each other’s hulls, throwing
debris in all directions that only served to confuse locking sensors. All the
while, the klaxons screamed. And, as a swarm of Ki-Ki Screamers tore the underbelly of
the Divine open and exposed
most of her internals to space, Barler screamed also. “No Jan, I’m
certain it’s your round. I brought the
drinks on Gista.” Jan mock-frowned and nodded, waving the droid over and
ordering a round of drinks. Ryath
grinned at his father-in-law and waited to accept the fresh beverages. The two old friends clinked glasses and
drank deep. Jan waited for Ryath to
lower his glass and, rolling his own glass around in his hands, asked a
question. “So, what brings
you to the Big Pyramid? You’re not
here for the new year celebrations, or you’d have brought Paige with you.” Ryath nodded and smiled. “Right first
time.” He leaned in. “I’ve just had a meeting with Tannis Rixx.” “Oh right,
important stuff.” Jan nodded,
impressed, and took another sip. The
Flameout was certainly hitting the spot today, and he winced slightly as the
spicy drink poured down his throat.
“Any hot gossip you shouldn’t be telling me? Or was it all just the usual dry political
stuff you desk jockeys talk about?” Centaur didn’t rise to the bait, choosing to ignore Jan’s
playful dig, and instead grabbed a complimentary cockon
from the bowl and tossed it into his mouth.
Jan waited for him to answer. “Rixx is a busy
man, and busy men usually have a glut of aides whispering advice into their
ears. And as you know from your time
administrating on A-desando, those aides usually know as much about politics
as a Gungan.” Ryath smiled again. “Rixx trusts my advice, and doesn’t trust
his aides. I think he sees that I’ve
been around a while and he trusts my judgement. Even if he doesn’t always agree with it.” “Well come on,
who in their right mind does?” poked Jan, finishing his drink with a
flourish. Ryath nodded at Jan. “So why are you
here? Is Terrie with you?” “Yeah, she’s
around somewhere on Level 15. I’m
supposed to meet up with her in a while.
Not sure what she’s doing, probably Indigo business.” Ryath nodded. As
commander of the elite X-wing Squadron Indigo, Terrie had many duties to
perform. But Centaur knew that her loyalties
lay both with the Setnin Defence Force and with the Galactic Alliance. He admired that quality in her: the
willingness to put aside her personal feelings and fight for what was right,
and still have the diplomatic nous to stay onside with the Galactic
Alliance. Some would call it sneaky,
but Ryath could see the sense in covering all options in times such as
this. Only a fool would burn all their
bridges when the future was far from set in stone. “And why are you
here?” “Ziggy offered
me a deal I couldn’t refuse. But then
again, I never could refuse the little green creep.” They both laughed at that. Ziggy Teflon had employed practically every
smuggler and trader in the region over the past half century, and his grumpy
demeanour and basic ways were familiar with almost everyone in the
underworld. But he was a notoriously
good payer, and no one had cause to question his word. Or his information. “Of course, Terrie doesn’t know about
it. She’d kick my butt if I told her I
was still running sugar at a time like this.” “Not exactly the
smartest thing to be doing right now, is it?” added Ryath. Jan frowned and leaned in, swiping Centaurs
half-empty glass and downing it quickly. “Hey, don’t
forget who’s the daddy here.” Jan
grinned his smuggest grin and stood to leave.
“Thanks for the drink.” Ryath eyed his empty glass of Flameout and frowned. “Don’t mention
it.” Sanctuary, just outside the Chancai city limits within
the mountain range that nestled around the great construct, was a small
community resting on a ledge that jutted from one of the lower mountains.
Even here, in the small mining community that had grown from the remnants of
an underworld hideout, beings were in the streets, shouting and dancing. The
huge drilling machines were silent, the digger automatons were covered in
flowers and streamers and the buildings pounded with noise and music. Above the heads of the pulsating crowds, approaching the
city of Chancai from the narrow mountain passes, came black shapes that moved
quickly and in tight formation. Each ship was a little larger than a fighter
with stubby wings that were covered in bolt-on weapon pods. Other, smaller
fighters flew just above them as cover. They filled the sky as they swept overhead, groups of
three in triangular formations, the cockpits polarised against the glaring
sun. The symbol of the Ki-Ki Sector was borne proudly on their upper hulls. The people in Sanctuary watched the ships pass overhead
and, obsessed with their revelry, cheered and waved at the vessels they saw
as their returning heroes. The delegates stood on the balcony of the Chancai City
Halls overlooking Fringe-Mall and watched the citizen’s dance and cheer.
Eight levels up from the surface of the planet allowed a commanding view of
the surrounding area and the mountains beyond and the representatives all
stood and talked amiably, taking a well-deserved break from the talks. The
wind was soft on their faces and the sun shone through wisps of white and
pink cloud. There was, however, an undercurrent of dismay in the
conversations. All were concerned over Sheu Ho-Travi’s apparent dismissal of
proposals put forward by both Setnin and Galactic Alliance representatives. Ocern Gabe managed to wind his way through the small
crowd and avoid the main question from the others, what is going on with the
Policy Advisor, and get close to Sheu as he talked heatedly with an aide. “Mister
Ho-Travi,” Ocern said in a loud voice to cut into the conversation. His smile
was wide and masked his anger well. “A minute of your time?” The Galactic Alliance man checked his chronometer and
nodded. “Of course,
Governor.” Ocern motioned for them to approach the balcony edge
where the crowds were thinnest, the drop down to Fringe-Mall below was
disturbing for most attendees, and together they stood at the force field
that kept them safely back from the edge. Finally away from the press of
delegates Ocern dropped his expression of contentment and stared hard at the
man from the Core. “Do you care to
explain to me why we’ve wasted the past few hours?” Ocern demanded. “Governor, I
don’t think the progress we’ve made…” “Progress?”
Ocern almost shouted. He quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying
too much attention and dropped his voice again. “What progress? Every idea we have had for either a peaceful
negotiation or tactical move against the Ki-Ki Sector you’ve slapped it down
with a smug expression and a glut of reasons why it shouldn’t happen.” “If I had a glut
of reasons why they wouldn’t work,” Sheu replied, keeping up his smile, “then
surely all I’ve done is highlight the problems in the plans suggested?” “You called this
meeting because you thought it was time for the Galactic Alliance to get
directly involved,” Ocern growled. “I’ve gone out of my way to get every
important being in Setnin here, and all you’re doing is either ruining
relationships between these people or blocking any progress. If things don’t
change in the next session and you don’t take a more pro-active role, I’m
adjourning the talks.” It was Sheu’s turn to drop his
expression to a harder visage. “Governor, I
know you dislike the Galactic Alliance immensely after what has happened to
this sector of space but you must understand this; any move we make on your
behalf will have huge repercussions throughout the Galactic Alliance. The
Setnin Sector is huge, Governor! It’s not a sector; it’s a region of space.
Can you imagine the resources required to build an effective defence? To have
peacekeepers and ambassadors cover enough of the sector to keep it safe, not
to mention the repercussions on the stability of the surrounding sectors? The
logistical requirements alone would pull resources from member sectors and
planets and leave them vulnerable, members who fought during the civil war
and supported the building of the new government. Something the Setnin Sector
never did, Governor.” “Precisely how
many excuses do you people have for not getting involved? First it’s lack of
resource, then political reasons, then public pressure. All that is
irrelevant. As a member sector of the Galactic Alliance…” “As a member you are entitled to the laws
and protection of the Galactic Alliance, I know that, Governor. But such
things look so neat when it’s written on a datapad. The reality is so much
different.” Sheu looked at his chronometer and suddenly appeared
uncomfortable. “There’s plenty
of time until we go back in, Mister Ho-Travi,” Ocern mumbled, almost
confused. “I have to check
in with my courier ship in orbit, Governor,” he said hurriedly, glancing up
at the sky. “I will be back in time for the rest of the meeting.” He motioned
to his aide who opened the huge glass door that led back into the chamber and
he hurried out. Ocern watched him go with open anger and confusion. He looked
up into the sky to see what had attracted the Policy Advisor’s attention and
saw only flashes high up in orbit, probably returning vessels hitting the
atmosphere or reflections off the defence satellites hulls. He shook his head
and looked back out over Fringe-Mall, sighing heavily as he tried to figure
out Sheu Ho-Travi’s strange behaviour and apparent consternation. He frowned as he saw a number of vessels appear from
within the mountain range and head towards the city, passing over the edges
of Fringe-Mall in tight triangular formations Who gave them permission to do
a fly over, he
thought. Ten metres further along the balcony, Blake De’Athe
looked out at the approaching vessels and felt a slight but significant
tremor in the Force. He quickly looked over at Zeboden, silent thoughts
passing between them. The senior Jedi Master nodded, sensing the same thing
and started towards the docking bay. Blake made a move towards Governor Gabe,
but noticed Letitia nearby. He paused, then changed his mind. There were
other places he needed to be. Jan walked parallel with the vast balcony that strung
along the side of Level 15 as he made his way back to the rendezvous place
with Terrie, and noticed a few distant lights that looked like vessels flying
in formation coming over Fringe-Mall and towards Chancai. He squinted, his eyes not as keen as they
had been in days past and paused.
There was the usual mass of ships leaving and arriving at the trade
centre, but these ships…they just didn’t look right. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck,
and a moment later he realised with surprise that he was sprinting towards
the plaza faster than he had run in years. “Just blow the locks and let it go!”
Barler roared. The Fast Attack warship Divine suddenly split along the midsection. Explosive latches
ruptured and blew away the badly damaged engine compartment, which was flung
away from the crippled vessel just in time. It erupted, the shockwave
throwing other vessels into disarray. “Emergency power
to weapons!” he shouted as the lights died and then powered up again.
“Activate the backup core!” The space around the Divine was a maelstrom of destruction. Every defence satellite
had been destroyed, but their complements of torpedoes and energy weapons had
still had time to increase the scale of the destruction as every vessel in
their vicinity had been badly mauled. Ki-Ki warships intermingled with the
Setnin Defence Force, surgically removing any starship that stood in their
way. The Setnin warships that had fought off the earlier apparent invasion at
the edge of the system were decimated, the ones that had returned damaged
already obliterated by concentrated Ki-Ki fire. The huge bulk of the Victory Class Star Destroyer, Sword of Justice, sat in the middle
of it all. Explosions ripped all over its hull but it did little to slow it
down as every weapon that protruded from its hull sent bolts of destruction
into the Setnin ranks. As Barler watched, an older Setnin vessel lost control
and slammed into another, sending each one into the atmosphere, burning and
exploding as it fell. Out of the other side of the carnage flew Ki-Ki dropships
and fighters. Most of the smaller craft stayed within the battle to aid their
brethren but many fell towards Chancai far below on the surface of Zelon. “All power to
whatever weapons we have left!” Barler ordered, heaving the body of the
helmsman from the piloting chair to take control himself. “Let’s take some of
these freckers with us!” Ziggy frowned as he held the portable comm
to his ear and listened closely. He
could sense the growing aura of panic begin to descend upon the crowd outside
his shop, half a century of trading on Level 15 had made his old ears
sensitive to the changing moods of his public. No doubt about it, something was about to
happen, and with sad hearts he realised that, in no small way, everything was
about to change. He activated a few
switches, noted that the six crates of sugar had been delivered and stored
aboard the Sunrise, and
sighed deeply. On the bridge of the Sword of Justice, Fleet Commander Dagger watched impassively
as another Setnin vessel made an attack on the capital ship and was almost
immediately destroyed. Parts of it’s wrecked superstructure bounced off the
shields and the hull and drifted away harmlessly. He turned to his second officer. “Is the Benesk
strike team in place?” he asked as if disinterested. Flashes of light through
the huge view port illuminated the bridge with hues of white, yellow and
orange. The officer nodded. “Yes, Commander. They have dropped from
hyperspace and are awaiting your signal.” “Very well. Tell
them to make their run against the Chamber of Systems. Remember, I want prisoners. Make sure the squad leaders remind their
troops to set weapons to stun. Once they’ve secured the site, they can set
charges.” The officer nodded again. “Once we’re done
here, I want the Chamber of Systems wiped off the surface of Benesk.” Ocern Gabe found himself being tackled from behind as
another warhead slammed into the side of Chancai. The City Halls were all but
destroyed, with huge areas of devastation covering the gargantuan chamber.
The ceiling had collapsed, the windows were gone and the walls were buckling
as debris and wreckage rained down from above. Beings screamed for help, trapped under fallen beams and
masonry, others scrambled for the exits, even more tried to make sense of the
confusion and attempted to aid their fallen comrades. Ocern hit the floor, the wind flying from his lung. A
cloud of dust rose from the impact but was swept away by an ear-shattering
shockwave as another charge slammed into the building. Fire and debris flew
overhead and he felt the grip of his unknown saviour relax. He lay there for a second, trying to gather his senses
and catch his breath, then rolled over to thank his saviour but, whoever it
had been, they had already moved on. Startled, he got to his feet to see what
new damage had been caused. A huge gaping, smouldering hole opened the wall to the
outside of the city. Chunks of melted metal dripped lazily from the ruined
section and smoke blinded his eyes for a second but the high winds this far
up in the Chancai Trade Centre allowed him some visibility. He stared, and gasped at what he saw. Fringe-Mall was burning. Ki-Ki fighters swooped in low, discharging their blasters
at anything on the ground, the pods under their stubby wings releasing huge
canisters which flew of their own accord, releasing points of light which
detonated on impact. Whole buildings were burning brightly, smoke hung over
the whole section of the city. People ran screaming in the streets, running
for cover, trying to get out of the city, a huge crush of beings trampling
over one another to get out of harm’s way. Dropships appeared from the thick
smoke, their underbellies open, dropping Ki-Ki troops to the ground. They
held onto head-sized silver balls, gravity parachutes, and drifted slowly
down, their rifles picking off any resistance on the ground. Far beyond,
between the edge of the city and the mountains, sat two three hundred meters
long Vodon class warships, their ramps down like huge mocking tongues, war
machines descending into the population. Tripod Assault Pod, TAPs,
walked through the devastation, the light cannon on top of the egg-shaped
pilot’s cockpit swivelling, firing just behind the fleeing masses to make
sure they kept running. The eight-metre tall war machines seemed to stroll
lazily in the maelstrom. All-Terrain Personal-Transports, AT-PT’s, and Striker repulsortanks supported them, the two-legged machines
hanging back and rushing in when the flow of beings they pursued either
slowed or tried to break through back to the city. All the while, fighters
dropped their ordnance creating a blizzard of fire and rubble. Ocern watched in silence. The war machines were as
shepherds, the citizens as beasts, being herded out of Fringe-Mall in
enforced evacuation. Except it wasn’t an evacuation. It was a stampede. “Governor!” He
spun to stare into the bedraggled, dirt-smeared face of his aide, Trace
Dallagra. She had the expression of someone in pain and, as he looked her up
and down, he saw a jagged piece of metal lodged in her upper left arm. “Trace…” “Ocern… we’ve
got to go.” “The city…” “We’ve got to
go!” “But the
people…” “Ocern!” Trace’s voice was loud and
firm, and even Ocern could hear the anger in her voice over the roar of
devastation. “We’ve got to go! Now!” As she grabbed him by his arm and started to drag him
over the rubble to one of the few remaining exits, Ocern stumbled. Even with
her wounds and her age, Trace managed to heave him to his feet and help him
along. “The shield…” Trace shook her head. “It’s gone.
Besides, their using new warheads and the city defence shield is too old to
resist that kind of pounding!” “We need to call
for help!” “We think we’ve
managed to get a signal off to the reserve ships, but the Zelon Wave Exchange
transmitter station’s been vaporised. We’re cut off!” “Terrie, Terrie!” Jan yelled as he was battered by a wave of
people clambering past him and frantically making their way towards exits,
ships and speeders. He could see his
lover in the distance, maybe ten meters away.
It may as well have been a hundred as he struggled to make headway
through the throng and be by her side.
For her part she also fought, pushing and weaving her way through
countless people. Even on a relatively
quiet day such as this Chancai was still a potent and cosmopolitan mix of
races, species, sexes, creeds, biological and mechanical entities. And all of them seemed intent on getting
between Jan Lomona and Terrie Saffra. Suddenly Jan had a brainwave. He grabbed for his comm
and coded in her number. He held the comm high and placed it to his ear, hoping that she would
see his intentions, or maybe hear the bleeping of her unit, but he was
obscured from her view and out of sight.
With a yell of frustration he pocketed the comm
and turned towards the main exit. The Berone Sunrise lay just a short
walk away in a secure docking bay.
Maybe if he could fight his way there he could come up with a
plan. And knowing Terrie, she would
have the same idea. Chancing his arm,
and like he had done so many times before, he steeled himself and pushed as
hard as he could for freedom. “Sir, the Ki-Ki fleet’s
overwhelming the S.D.F. Should we
intercede?” Captain Kahn gave the young commander an icy look. He
turned towards the Jedi woman who was now standing at the communications
console. She turned to face him. “Captain, the
Zelon Wave Exchange is inoperable, and they’re jamming local communications.”
Kahn nodded. “Then we have a
problem. Your Jedi leader is in charge of this mission, and I have no way of
knowing what his orders are.” Nera De’Athe smiled in response. “My husband and I
can communicate over great distances Captain. When he needs us, I will know.” The mid-levels bucked and Centaur lost his footing as
more masonry and debris smashed down around him. Ahead a gantry-way swung precariously as
repulsor generators strained and groaned in an effort to keep the walkway in
place. There was a blinding flash, and
then a shockwave hurled the mercenary leader like a rag doll as a vessel
ploughed through the wall of one of the minor starship shafts before erupting
in a fireball that incinerated the mob of screaming citizens heading to the
docking bays and their only hope of escape, a starship off Zelon. Coughing, he picked himself up, and standing upright
dusted the broken glass off of his uniform. “Should have
guessed,” he said, and smiled despite the disaster unfolding around him. All that remained of the frontage of the
Yapya Restaurant was the elegant wooden arched entranceway, miraculously
undamaged. Of the glass façade and
front row of tables, nothing was recognisable. “Must be a family thing,” he mumbled to
himself as he too headed to the docking bays.
Jan Lomona had been involved in more than one gunfight in his youth
that had resulted in the destruction of the Yapya Restaurant, and even now, in
his A-desandian middle age, was still banned from the exclusive restaurant. “Lomona,”
muttered Centaur out loud and stopped in his tracks. He looked again at the rapidly emptying
streets and walkways, as a quiet voice whispered old promises in his ear. There was no way he’d reach the Thunderer now, but maybe that was
for the best… Reaching a
decision, he turned on his heels and hurried away from Chancai’s docking bays
and headed back into the heart of the city, Comp-Act blaster rifle at the
ready, and a wolfish grin on his face. “Jan, Jan, can you hear me?” shouted Terrie
into the comm, but all she received for her
troubles was an earful of static. The transmitter must be down. If the Ki-Ki are smart they’ll have blasted
it to bits to stop Chancai calling for help.
Assuming this is a Ki-Ki attack, of course. She thought the situation through
for a second. All localised comm systems automatically
slave to the main Zelon Wave Exchange.
Now that’s been destroyed we’re totally isolated. She caught herself in mid-thought and chastised
herself for her emotionless reaction to what was clearly a devastating
situation. In the near but
frustratingly packed distance she could see the entrance to the docking bay
where the Berone Sunrise lay. She wondered if Jan had had the same thought,
but didn’t concern herself with doubt.
Of course he has. He’s Jan Lomona, and that’s the Berone
Sunrise. The two go together like Cockons and
Duarga, Hillins and Kwarnee, Janites and trouble. She heard the cries of the crowd, frantic yells screaming
that Fringe-Mall was being attacked, that a wave of people were fleeing
Chancai’s ground-based shopping complex, some rushing into the jungle, some
around the Mutumbarr Lake and many, like dazed cattle, towards the main,
twenty-seven level high haven of Chancai itself. Even by the high standards of insanity she
had witnessed in her many years in the military, this was utter madness. There, by the doorway, she spotted
Jan. He turned and saw her arm raised
in the frantic crowd. “Jan, Jan!!” she yelled and he waved
back, entering the bay and disappearing from sight. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the
world, to all intents and purposes, fell down around her ears. The shadows wrapped around Blake as he
closed his eyes, calmed his mind and opened himself up to the Force. He saw five of his Jedi, each with
lightsabres drawn, forming a living bulwark against the oncoming troops.
Their lightsabres flashed as heavy blaster fire was repulsed back towards
their points of origin. Scores of civilians used the shield they created to
escape towards the docking bays, but Blake knew they could not hold the line
forever. He cast his mind out further and felt it brush against his old
friend’s. Zeboden had made it to the fighters and the news was not good. He turned his attention back to the
Lightsabre defence, and spoke to the Wookie Jedi Master. Maarsquith,
get these people to whatever transports will take them, and try and get some
of our people on them too. He knew
they all stood a better chance if he could coordinate the evacuation through
the Force, but there were only a handful of Jedi, and so many people. One
fighter to each transport… and trust in the Force. The giant Jedi roared his response
over the sound of blaster fire, as if Blake was at his elbow, and the Jedi
Master allowed himself a brief smile.
He then steeled himself and reached out with his mind across the gulf
of space separating him and his wife. One message leapt through the Force
with as much power as he could muster. Get us out
of here.
“Commander,” the second officer of the Star Destroyer, Sword of Justice, turned to his
superior. “We’ve got a group of S.D.F warships dropping in right behind us!” Dagger looked at the concerned face of
his subordinate with a cool gaze.
“Strength and numbers?”
“Twelve vessels, three capital class.”
“Hmm.” Dagger rumbled. His face remained expressionless. “Mission time
elapsed?”
“Seventy minutes, Commander.” Dagger frowned.
“This could prove to be inconvenient.” Jan waved Terrie towards him and as
she reached his outstretched arms she fell into his warm embrace and hungry
kiss. She pulled back after a few
seconds, not out of a desire to end the moment, more a desire to continue it. Alive, and somewhere safe and warm. Anywhere but here. Explosions continued to echo through the
steel streets of the trade centre, magnified by the panic and palpable fear
that smothered everything. Jan held
Terrie’s face in his hands and locked his ocean blue eyes onto hers.
“Okay honey. I’m going to say
this because,” he glanced outside at the craziness, the stampede of life that
ran hell-for-leather towards doom or salvation. “I might not get the chance again.” Terrie smiled and held his hands in
hers, close to her cheeks.
“Hey, it’s not like you to play the defeatist.”
“The realist. This is real life baby, as real as it
gets. We’ve both been up against it
before, but have you ever been this
worried?” She shook her head, but in truth she
had, over thirty years ago, fighting aboard the Super Star Destroyer Revenger, trapped on the bridge and
fighting a seemingly never-ending flow of Stormtroopers. But this wasn’t the time for that
admission. This was now, the Ki-Ki had
made their attack and the entire future of Setnin was at stake. As was her life, and that of her man.
“No, never. So what’s the great
plan, Captain? There’s always a plan.” Jan nodded.
“Yeah, but nothing fancy. Open
the ramps and pack as many people as you can aboard. Get Aurran to slide the crates out and
stack them against the wall. I’ll come
back for them some other time.” Terrie frowned. What
crates? The hold is empty. She nodded as Jan moved towards the
doorway, and grabbed his hand. “Wait, |