Tales From The Empire

by Peter Schweighofer

  Out of the corner of her eye, Taryn saw the Skipray had turned and was

  coming back to their position, and a moment later, the sensors told her

  why.

  The cruiser had launched TIE fighters.

  "Oh blast it, not again," she muttered. Luck had seen the Messenger

  through its first encounter with TIE fighters; she doubted it would be

  any match for them this time.

  "Del, get us a course out of here," she snapped, trying to gauge how

  soon the two fighters would overtake them.

  "I can't--I don't even know where we are!" he snapped back.

  "What about those?" Taryn indicated the coordinates MaraJade had

  transmitted, still displayed on the console.

  "No!" Bremen objected. "She could have set a trap.

  That cruiser didn't just show up by chance." He lurched as a thump to

  the Messenger's rear indicated that the TIE fighters had caught up.

  "Now she's back to finish the job," he added bitterly, glaring at the

  Skipray as it headed towards them.

  Lasers flashed as it neared, and Taryn wondered if he were right.

  But the Skipray zipped past overhead, and a moment later one of the

  dots on the sensor scopes blinked out. "I wouldn't hang around, if I

  were you," Mara Jade advised, and Taryn decided it was time for one of

  those split-second command decisions Bremen thought beyond her.

  "Use 'em," she ordered Del, who was already busy with the nav

  computer.

  Bremen protested, but before he could intervene another hit rocked the

  ship, sending him stumbling.

  By the time he'd clawed his way back up to position behind Taryn, the

  Messenger's shield indicator flickered an ominous red again.

  Hands tense on the controls, Taryn tried to avoid the laser fire which

  peppered their aft end. But the old freighter simply wasn't a match

  for the faster starfighter.

  If it weren't for the Skipray harassing the TIE and forcing it to split

  its attention between two targets, the Messenger would've already been

  blown to bits.

  They still might be.

  Another hard lurch threw Bremen against the back of Taryn's chair.

  Clinging to the seat, he looked over her shoulder at the sensors and

  shouted something. Just as she glanced down at the displays and

  realized with a jolt that the cruiser's remaining two TIE fighters were

  on their way to join the attack, the nav computer finally pinged.

  She pulled back the levers, and they escaped into the blessed emptiness

  of hyperspace.

  It turned out to be a rather short hop.

  Barely an hour after their escape from the cruiser, the proximity alarm

  clanged, indicating a minute to breakout.

  Bremen had spent most of the trip threatening to abort the jump, but

  even he was unwilling to risk stressing the Messenger with a second

  unexpected emergence.

  Despite Taryn pointing out that the Skipray had aided in their getaway,

  he remained convinced that Mara Jade had sold them out to the

  Imperials. He saw no other explanation for the cruiser's appearance.

  "A panther doesn't change its stripes," he said darkly, but declined to

  explain the comment.

  The console pinged again, and Taryn eased back the hyperdrive levers.

  Mottled sky became starlines, which became stars. They'd arrived.

  There was nothing nearby, but the long-range sensors showed a number of

  ships some distance off their port side. Within moments, they were

  close enough to identify.

  It was, indeed, the New Republic fleet.

  She let Bremen do the talking when the Mon Calamari cruiser Hope hailed

  them. Its captain confirmed a messenger from the New Republic had

  already arrived. "But we're still glad to see you," Captain Arboga

  added in his gravelly voice. "The datacard he brought us appears

  damaged, and we'd like to compare it with yours to fill in the

  blanks."

  The only thing left to do was drop Bremen and his datacard off.

  Greatly relieved at the prospect, Taryn headed for the Hope. They were

  still several kilometers out when Bremen stepped into the cockpit

  holding a small circular object.

  Her eyes widened in horror when she saw it. "Where did that come

  from?"

  "The hold," Bremen told her grimly. "Ironically, in the same crate the

  datacard was hidden. The Imperials must have planted it when they

  restacked the crates." The card in his other hand indicated that it,

  at least, had escaped Imperial treachery. "That must've been how they

  found us," he added grudgingly, a half-hearted concession that the

  cruiser's appearance hadn't been Mara Jade's fault, after all. Leaning

  past Taryn, he flipped on the comm. "Captain," he reported, "we've

  found a homing beacon--" "And we've found who's tracking it," Arboga

  cut him off. "Take a look aft."

  Taryn glanced at the scopes and stifled a groan. The cruiser they'd so

  recently escaped had appeared behind them. Jabbing the drive up to

  full, she mentally cursed as the sudden thrust shoved her back in her

  seat. She and Del had been so close to going home. Now here they

  were, stuck in the middle of another battle between the Empire and the

  New Republic.

  "It's no match for the entire fleet," Del said, sounding surprised the

  cruiser continued to follow them.

  "But it's more than a match for this scow, if we don't get out of

  range," Bremen added tightly. He glared at Taryn. "Can't you get a

  little more speed out of this thing?"

  She clenched her teeth. Enough was 'enough. "Just shut up," she

  gritted. "If you'd done your job and found that damn beacon when they

  planted it, we wouldn't be in this mess."

  Bremen opened his mouth, but a thunk to the rear cut off whatever he'd

  been about to say. The deflector indica

  tor flickered weakly, and Taryn glanced down to see a diagnostic message scroll across the

  display. She looked at Del. His face was tense as he, too, summed up

  the shields' sorry state. The Messenger shuddered with another hit,

  and the diagnostic message turned red and began to flash. Del looked

  grimly resigned.

  Leaning forward, Taryn tapped a button and a previously dark section of

  the board lit up. "The backup shield generator," she said shortly at

  Del's astonished expression.

  "I finished it while fixing the main after we got away from

  Coruscant."

  "But, we didn't have all the parts," he said.

  "You just have to know where to look," Taryn said, thinking of how

  she'd cannibalized the main generator to jury-rig the backup.

  Redundant shields were a precaution she'd learned from her father, and

  she'd installed a backup generator in every ship she'd worked on.

  Seldom needed, she hadn't hurried to get the Messenger's up and

  running. But the retreat from Coruscant had changed her mind. "It

  won't hold up for long," she added, as another hit rocked the ship.

  "But maybe it'll last long enough."

  Nursing all the speed out of the freighter she could, but still

  painfully aware it wasn't enough, Taryn drove for the distant safety of

  the Hope's bulbous bulk. Lured into finishing off the tempting target,
/>
  the cruiser followed.

  It followed too far.

  Just when the shields' diagnostic message was scrolling past in red

  again and Taryn despaired of lasting much longer, suddenly, they were

  there.

  The Hope's turbolaser punch was joined by two other Mon Cal cruisers,

  and the Carrack cruiser abruptly gave up the chase as its commander

  realized they'd strayed within firing range of the New Republic

  fleet.

  Flames danced along scorched sections of its port side, and a small

  explosion briefly illuminated the hull above one of its dorsal exhaust

  ports. Apparently deciding retreat was

  the prudent course of action, the cruiser banked away, its powerful sublight engines driving for deep

  space.

  But it wasn't fast enough.

  The brilliant flare from the exploding cruiser lit up the Messenger's

  canopy. Out her port window, Taryn caught a glimpse of fast-moving

  specks--X-wings, returning to escort formation around the fleet after

  pumping deadly proton torpedoes into the ship's damaged areas. The

  fireball began to fade as she approached the Hope's hangar bay.

  Behind her, Bremen was silent. Cycling back the repulsors and gently

  setting the ship down on the deck, Taryn waited expectantly for a

  critique.

  "You didn't tell me we had extra shields," he said instead.

  "You didn't ask."

  "Yes, well--" He hesitated so long that Taryn half-turned to look up at

  him. The habitual frown was still there, but his eyes were direct as

  he admitted, "When the main generator went, I figured we were done

  for."

  "We almost were," she said. "Credit my father--he's the one who taught

  me how to get things up and running on practically nothing but hope and

  air. After Coruscant, I thought we could use an extra set of

  shields."

  "They certainly came in handy," Bremen agreed. He paused again, even

  longer this time. "Look," he finally said, "I know I objected to you

  two being on this mission, but . . . all in all, it's worked out

  okay."

  Okay? Taryn stared at him, disconcerted. They'd been shot at, yanked

  out of hyperspace and boarded, and had eluded an Imperial cruiser to

  successfully deliver the data-card.

  Was this his idea of a compliment?

  Bremen flushed slightly at her expression, but added, "We're always

  looking for good pilots, and if you've a mind for a career change, the

  New Republic could use someone like you."

  She didn't know what to say.

  "Think about it," he said. "I'll leave you some contacts

  to get in touch with, if you're interested. You, too," he told Del.

  "Not me," Del said. "I'm retiring."

  Taryn glanced at him in surprise. That's right; after 30 years of

  hauling mail to the same old ports along the same old route, once they

  finished this run his piloting days were done.

  Was that really what she wanted to look forward to?

  "Thanks for the offer," she told Bremen. "I'll think about it.

  But right now, I've got a route to finish. Not to mention, figure a

  course back to Coriallis."

  Bremen leaned over Del's shoulder. "This ought to help," he said,

  punching up a chart on the nav computer.

  Before leaving, he handed her a datacard and urged again, "Think about

  it."

  As Taryn cleared the Hope's hangar bay and headed toward the first of a

  short series of hyperspace hops that would take them back to the Core,

  she tried to imagine what her father would say if she gave up

  delivering mail and started flying for the New Republic instead.

  Would he say something patronizing---or would he be pleased? She

  considered it a minute, then shrugged. Gazing out at the stars, she

  realized she no longer cared what he said.

  Taryn smiled as she pulled back the levers and the stars streaked, then

  faded to the swirling sky of hyperspace.

  She was back on course.

  A Certain Point of View

  by Charlene Newcomb Heh, heh, Lieutenant, I think he's got you this

  time!" engineer Dap Nechel chuckled.

  Lieutenant Celia Durasha ran her hand along the barrel of her blaster

  and glanced at Nechel. She knew how much the short, bearded alien

  enjoyed these ritual match-ups between the Kuari Princess' navigator

  and Detien Kaileel, the security chief. Their banter enlivened the

  luxury liner's routine passage along the Relgim Run between Endoraan

  and Mantooine.

  "Just wait a minute now, Dap," she said, holstering the blaster and

  leaning across the holo gameboard to study her farangs and waroots.

  Celia frowned, her emerald-green eyes narrowed. The chief's last move

  had indeed given him the advantage.

  Seated across from her, Security Chief Kaileel wore a grin--at least

  Celia thought she detected a grin. The Kabieroun's long snout hid most

  of his mouth.

  "Come now, my dear crimson-haired friend," Kaileel said, his Basic

  heavily accented, "shall we try another game?" Dark intelligent eyes

  twinkled, reflecting the yellowish-green light of the gameboard. He

  sat back, his giant frame obscuring the overstuffed pillows that

  decorated the sofas on the Kuari Princess' observation deck.

  Shaking her head, Celia rolled her eyes. "Why is it, Dap," she kidded

  the engineer, "that I seem to lose every time you're around?"

  Dap smiled at her mischievously, then winked at Kaileel. "I bring the

  Chief good luck!"

  "I don't think I'm going to invite you to any more games!" Celia

  laughed, falling back onto the sofa. Sighing, she stared out the

  viewport at the mottled lights of stars rushing past them as the ship

  travelled through hyperspace.

  "Wish I had time for another game, Chief.

  We'll be coming up on Mantooine soon, and I'm supposed to be on the

  bridge."

  Chief Kaileel nodded, muscles rippling along his elongated neck.

  "I imagine the captain would appreciate the presence of his best

  officers at their respective duty stations."

  "Indeed," Dap agreed.

  "I'll have some free time after we make orbit. Shall we get together,

  say, at 19307" Celia asked.

  "No good," the Chief replied. "I have some things to take care of on

  Mantooine. I won't be back until much later."

  "Things to take care of, eh?" Celia kidded him, picking up her nav-aid

  datapad from the seat. "All right, Chief,

  when do I get to meet this new girlfriend you've been harboring on Mantooine?"

  "And what about the ones on Aris and Vykos?" Dap added.

  Kaileel blushed a darker shade of green than normal and straightened in

  his seat. "No girlfriends," he told them, tugging at the earhoop

  hanging from his left lobe.

  "Just . . . friends."

  "Okay, if you say so," Celia replied, a sly smile tugging at the corner

  of her lip. Standing up, she brushed a stray red hair off the silky

  white sleeve of her uniform and carefully adjusted the blaster

  holstered around her hips.

  "Well, time for work, gentlebeings."

  Dap took one last gulp of his drink and bounced down from the sofa.

  "Ah, yes," he said, "an engineer's wo
rk is never done. Vetoosh,

  friends."

  "Vetoosh," Celia replied as Dap headed down the corridor.

  "Chief I" "Yes, Lieutenant?"

  "Any progress on finding those missing blasters?"

  Kaileel swung his massive head. "No," he said. "I'm afraid the

  captain will be unhappy with my report. I've been over this a dozen

  times with my security people. It's hard to believe one of them might

  be lying. But this is the third incident. All those blasters were in

  secure lockers in our offices. I just don't see how anyone else could

  have taken them."

  "And they haven't turned up anywhere on the ship?"

  "I've had scanning teams searching every centimeter of the Princess,

  though I don't expect to find them here," he said. "No, I'm afraid

  this last batch may have been smuggled off the ship at one of our port

  stops and will turn up in Rebel hands like those the Imperials

  discovered on Mantooine."