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One Black Night 1989 short story by Paul Squire Three years after Episode IV – A New Hope The
door rasped open. It sounded broken
and cracked, as was most of the circuitry aboard the Rebel Alliance Cruiser Retribution. Light blazed forth from the well-lit
corridor, shining deep into the dimly lit chambers. Dust tumbled and fell about in the eddies and currents of the stale, scorched air. The
silhouetted figure, flight gloves tucked under his left arm took one step
forward. The door forced itself shut,
allowing some detail of the man to be gleaned from the darkness. He
was tall, almost two metres with the brawny frame of an athlete. His face was strong with a chiselled edge
and the light reflected across his eyes like sunbeams on ice. His lips were a mere trace of a line and
his beard short and trim. He
took another step forward further into the light. A
scar could now be seen, tracing a line from his lined forehead, down the left
side of his face to his cheekbone. His
hair was short and brushed back. Dark
but with hints of copper and gold in it.
And silver. A
breath stirred the air, sending the dust in a myriad of perplexing
waves. It came from another man. He sat across the room. His back was straight and his shoulders
square. They didn’t betray the weight
that they had to carry. His arms were
locked upright on the desk and his fingers were curled. His head hung down, starring at a computer readout on his desk. His short cut, greased hair glistened in
the light. He
slowly raised his eyes to meet those of the mercenary before him. He
motioned his hand. “Sit down, Captain.” The
pilot moved confidently to the desk and lowered himself into the chair,
placing the gloves on the desk. The
General continued. “You did well. Three squads of Stormtroopers?” “Four.
And one of our adversaries shot himself in
panic.” “And you lost three of your men.” Stated the General with a dismissive air. “Two, actually. One defected during the battle.” He smiled coldly. “He came to regret that. General, my men are novices,
they have little real experience between them. And yet they have managed to take out the
Imperial base on Kalum IV. Other units
you have assembled took far higher losses and confirmed fewer kills.” He narrowed his eyes. “I fail to see your problem.” His voice was cold and the bitterness was
evident. “I have no problem, Captain.” The General said simply then paused before
he continued. Everything hung quiet,
the air still, but the atmosphere was electric. “On the contrary. Your performance has impressed the right
people. That is why your unit is being
divided up amongst the other teams.
And you, Captain, are now sectioned to me.” The
mercenary didn’t reply for some time, though a flicker of a frown crossed his
brow. After a minute he spoke. “I am a mercenary assisting the Rebel
Alliance in its struggle, by choice, not by order. My presence here is advantageous to me and
to you. I have valuable combat
experience and knowledge of your enemies.”
He stood to his feet. “I am not an agent for you or anyone
else. I tried that and I didn’t like
it.” His voice was solid and firm. The
General looked up from his readout. “The Rebel Alliance is changing by the
hour Captain. Our victory at Yavin and
our defeat at Hoth saw to that. As
such, her servants have changed too.
We all serve a greater good, and do so with pride. But know this Captain.” The General folded his arms and drew a
breath, confident in the power his rank gave him. “An Imperial Captain, responsible for the
deaths of hundreds of civilians on Durathosin, is not the kind of man the
Rebel Alliance boasts about having in its ranks. We don’t need murderers and butchers for
our heroes.” The General smiled a
tight little smile and watched the mercenary slowly fold his own arms. His smile intensified as the man leaned
over the desk closer to the General’s face. “Just one more word, General.” Said the mercenary slowly, methodically,
menacingly. “And you’ll be swallowing
it along with my displeasure.” “How like an Imperial officer – all
threats.” In
the time it took for the General to begin a smug shrug of his shoulders the
mercenary gripped the General by his collar and with a roar pulled the man
across the desk and onto the floor.
The General gagged for a second, not quite realising what had just
happened. Then sensing the mercenary’s
strong figure striding purposefully towards him, he went for his Blaster. He
was swift but inaccurate. The stun
blast narrowly missed the merc’s left shoulder as
he smashed the gun from out of the General’s hand. With his other hand he grabbed the General
by the lapels and hauled him to his feet.
His grip was secure and tight and the General began to choke. “I’m no murderer. I’m no butcher. Those are your terms of reference.
But I may just start with you.” With
that the mercenary released his grip and the General crumpled, wide-eyed, to
the floor. Clawing at his reddened throat he pulled himself over to his
Blaster. With hate filled eyes he
aimed at the merc’s unprotected head. His
finger tensed on the trigger. A
split second before the bolt erupted from the barrel the mercenary had spun,
drawn his own Blaster and slapped a shot just mere centimetres wide of the
Generals head. The merc’s
eyes bore through the soul of the General. Slowly
the General lowered his Blaster, but hate still occupied his face. “Just one more excuse General Soli, that’s
all I want. One more excuse.” His weapon didn’t waver in his grip. “You’re finished here Centaur, I’ll see to
that! I’ll have you arrested for
attempted murder and sent down for twenty years. Sentencing a man like you would be a
pleasure for any judge. By the time
I’m through you won’t have the rank to command a garbage
skip…not even with your Imperial scum associates!” He screamed. “You’re finished.” Ryath
Centaur looked through him for a few seconds. “Finished?
I haven’t even started. I’ll be
sitting in your seat before this war is through. If you want to change that then I suggest
you do something about it right now.
It’ll be the only chance you get.
Happy hunting.” The
door slid shut behind him. One Black
Night 1989 short story by Paul Squire Three years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – Written on 3rd September 1989 by NHP Whitestorm founder Paul Squire and revised in 1999 by Mark
Newbold, One Black Night
originally showed the character of Ryath
Centaur in a polar opposite role - an Imperial reporting back to his Imperial commander about the
amount of Rebels he had
dispatched. With the alterations in
the character over the intervening years and the creation of the Chronology it was decided that this
story be altered slightly so as to facilitate the new additions to the mythos. Also
interesting is the presence of General
Soli. In the original it was also
Soli who Centaur reported to, a fact not lost in the intervening years when
Soli turns out to be an Imperial spy. Cast
of Characters
Ryath
Centaur General
Soli
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