retrieving the second blaster rifle.
"Good old Dap. You think the turbolift's the best way down to the
hangar bay?"
"Should be all clear, Chief."
"Amazing."
"You've got a lot of friends on board the Princess, old man!"
"Is there a barge--" "Already prepped. I disconnected the robot pilot
and did a little rewire job so I could fly it out of here."
"And into the Maelstrom," the Chief added.
"We'll be safe there."
Thirty seconds later the turbolift doors opened onto the luxury liner's
dimly lit hangar. Two barges which were used for piloting passengers
to and from the ship occupied the high-ceilinged room.
Peering into the bay, Celia motioned for Kaileel to follow her.
They were halfway across the bay when Adion Lang walked down the ramp
of the nearest barge. His blaster was pointed toward Chief Kaileel,
but his eyes were transfixed on Celia.
"Put your blasters down," he ordered them.
Celia stared at the blaster in her hand. "Adion, please," she said,
her voice trembling, "let Kaileel go."
"I was afraid you'd try something like this, Celia. You always were
rather impetuous. But I think you know I can't let him go," he told
her. "Now, please, put your blaster down. You don't want to kill
me."
Celia searched Adion's eyes. There was no emotion there, no spark of
life. It can't end like this, she thought. There's got to be
something I can do.
Chief Kaileel moved slowly to lower his blaster. "I'm sorry, little
Crimson," he said, suddenly jerking the rifle up to fire at Adion. His
first shot went wide. Half a heartbeat later, a blast from Adion's
rifle caught him across the
chest. Kaileel managed to get off a second shot, but it ricocheted wildly, bouncing off the hull of the
barge.
Kaileel collapsed, mortally wounded, onto the cold metallic floor of
the hangar bay.
Celia dropped her blaster rifle and rushed toward her fallen friend.
"You didn't have to kill him!" she screamed at Adion. Tears
threatened to blur her vision. But she forced them away as she knelt
beside Kaileel's body.
Adion approached her cautiously, kicking both blaster rifles across the
hangar floor. "Why, Celia? Why were you helping him escape?" he
asked her. "You're no Rebel."
"He was my friend," she said quietly, ignoring the contempt she heard
in Adion's voice. She wondered what had happened to the young man
she'd once admired, the man she had loved.
"You'll have to come with me, Celia," Adion said.
"Don't make me, Adion," she told him, her eyes still fixed on Kaileel's
body for fear they might betray her true feelings. "Won't you let me
leave?"
"It's my duty, Celia," he said coldly, his blaster trained on the back
of her head. "You're under arrest for treasonous acts against the
Empire."
Celia picked up Kaileel's limp hand, tenderly running her fingers
across it. "Looks like this game's going nowhere, Chief," she told
him. "How will I ever get my rematch?"
Adion moved a step closer, his tall frame casting a dark shadow across
Kaileel's face. His leg brushed up against Celia's back and she
cringed at his touch.
"Get up, Celia."
A tear trickled down her cheek. Slowly, she turned and looked back at
Adion. Her hand slipped unnoticeably toward her boot. Her fingers
clamped around the handle of the knife.
"Get up," Adion repeated, grabbing her left arm, dragging her up so
that their faces were barely centimeters apart. He shook his head, and
for one brief moment Celia thought she detected a hint of regret.
Then his blue eyes
narrowed. Blinded by his own hatred, Adion never
noticed the flash of steel until Celia slashed him across the arm.
His eyes grew wild as he cried out in pain. The blaster slipped from
his hand and skittered across the floor as Celia lashed out again.
Trying to protect himself from the attack, Adion lost his grip on
her.
She fled across the hangar and up the ramp of the barge.
As the hatch slid shut she could hear Adion shouting her name.
"Celia, don't do this!"
Seconds later, the barge lifted off the floor of the hangar bay.
The small transport slipped quietly outside into the swirling Maelstrom
Nebula.
From the viewport, Celia watched the Kuari Princess fade as the barge
moved away from the luxury liner and deeper into the nebula.
"Stalemate, Chief," she nodded to herself. A bitterness crept into her
voice. "Nobody wins this round."
Blaze of Glory
by Tony Russo "Every mercenary wants to be remembered." Lex "Mad
Vornskr" Kempo paused a moment as the jungle browns and greens of
Gabredor III rose up toward their diving freighter. With a sardonic
smirk, the spacer twisted around in the pilot's seat and gazed at
Brixie.
"A mercenary doesn't retire gracefully. There's no such thing as an
Old Mercs Home either. What a real mercenary wants is to go out .
. . in a blaze of glory."
"Really?" Brixie Ergo shifted around nervously in one
of the acceleration chairs situated behind the co-pilot's station. Space was
tight in the modified Corellian light freighter, especially up front.
The craft rattled and shook as the vessel plunged deeper into the
planet's atmosphere. Kempo smiled a toothy, wicked grin.
"Absolutely."
What sounded like a cross between an order and snarl came from the
fur-covered being currently occupying the co-pilot's seat beside
Kempo.
"Leave the rook alone." Sully Tigereye was a Trunsk, a stout alien
species well known for their fighting ability and equally legendary
short temper. Bristly brown hairs covered the length of Tigereye's
body except for his face and the palms of his hands. As if emphasizing
his displeasure with Kempo, two shiny, sharpened tusks protruded from
his lower lip. Brixie recalled stories her parents had told her as a
child, about Trunsks being the showpieces of many a carnival show as
gladiators and ring fighters.
If Sully Tigereye had ever been part of such a show in the past, he
never let on. What she did know was that he had once been a highly
decorated member of an elite New Republic infiltrator unit. No longer
with the New Republic military, he continued to serve with his former
colonel in a band of mercenaries called the Red Moons. It was Tigereye
who had been appointed as team leader for this mission, and it was
Tigereye who had chosen Brixie to come along as combat medic, although
it was for a mission that Brixie still did not quite understand. JUst
sitting close by Lex Kempo and Sully Tigereye made the former medical
student uncomfortable, as if she was part of a group she did not truly
belong to.
The mercenaries' target was a Karazak Slavers Guild operation lurking
in the jungle swamps and dense foliage on Gabredor III. Like the few
Red Moon operation files she had a chance to study during her training
period, any furthe
r information on the exact target and their reason
for assaulting it would not be explained in detail until they landed.
That protected not only the Red Moons, but
those who hired them. All of this secrecy just didn't make any sense to Brixie. What could they
hope to accomplish against an entire camp of slavers? Who thought up
this brilliant strategy, anyway? Then again, she chided
her-self--joining a mercenary force like the Red Moons so she could
find her parents was not exactly a brilliant strategy either.
Tigereye continued to berate Lex Kempo. "I didn't ask her to be part
of this team to keep you entertained. Just fly this junk pile, if you
don't mind."
Unlike Sully Tigereye, who looked naturally forceful yet showed a
surprising concern for others, "Mad Vornskr" Kempo easily looked like
he had just fallen out of a grim entertainment holo. He claimed to
have served with over a dozen different private armies and militias,
even a brief stint in the Imperial Army as a scout, as evident from the
customized suit of scout trooper armor he wore. The normally
eggshell-white armor pieces had been carefully dulled and
therma-painted with a camouflage scheme that matched Gabredor's jungle
environment. Extra holsters and pockets hid a variety of throwing
blades, holdout blasters, power packs, grenades, medpacs, glow rods and
other necessities. With his closely-cropped hair, thin blaster scar on
his right cheek and gray eyes, Kempo acted a lot like the intimidating
walking arsenal he appeared to be. Still, Tigereye had touched a
nerve. Kempo turned defensive as the ship shook again.
"I'm just trying to let our combat medic in on the mysteries of the
merc psyche, oh fearless leader."
Brixie sensed almost immediately that Tigereye simply hated that
expression. The Trunsk settled for turning his baleful face on
Kempo.
Trunsks were not known for their cordiality, especially under stressful
conditions.
"Can we have a little less talking please?" The fourth member of their
group spoke up in a whiny voice. Of all who called themselves members
of the Red Moons, Hugo Cutter was the last person Brixie would probably
think of as a mercenary. An escapee from a psychotrauma ward
maybe,
but never a soldier. Cutter's hair was as wild and unpredictable as
the stares that came from his eyes. Before the start of the mission,
Lex Kempo had remarked to her that Hugo Cutter had once been enrolled
in the prestigious Imperial Engineers Academy, only to be disbarred
after he found it more interesting to blow things apart than put them
together. Then again, Kempo always did have a knack for
exaggeration.
Especially when he talked about himself.
The ship dipped again. Cutter, sitting beside her, inhaled sharply.
She reached out a hand to calm him. Cutter reacted by clutching the
satchel bag in his lap even t ighter.
"Don't touch me!"
"I'm sorry," she faltered out an apology. "I just thought . . ."
"Thought what?" He began to laugh hysterically.
"That I would need help from the likes of you?"
"Don't knock it," Kempo murmured quietly with a twisted smile.
"Quiet. All of you." Tigereye warned as he checked the pocket
navigator he carried in a special pouch as part of his weapons
harness.
Huge yellow eyes glanced up and caught the reflection of the Human with
the unkempt hair in the forward cockpit screen. They locked on Cutter
like targeters. "Especially you. Stop fidgeting. We're almost
down."
Cutter's nervousness was wearing even his own patience thin.
Their craft shook again. He closed his eyes tightly.
"You know how much I hate insertions!"
"Relax. You clutch those shaped charges any harder and you're likely
to set them off."
"Doubtful." The freighter dipped sharply in the thickening atmosphere
of Gabredor III. He gulped. "It takes a detonator firing at triple
frequency intervals to properly set off a Mesonics focalized
explosive."
"I'll make a note," the fur-covered Trunsk growled as
he glanced over at Kempo. "How much longer till we reach the landing point?"
Kempo checked the navigational readings as they flashed by almost too
quickly for Brixie to keep up. "A few more minutes. Sensor masking is
holding up so far. A Z-95 patrol upstairs didn't even bother to sniff
our con-trail."
"I'll feel better when we're down. Brixie, get your gear ready to
go."
"Right" she tried to keep her voice steady as she unfastened her
restraint harness. The freighter suddenly lost power and began a steep
dive. Brixie was immediately thrown into a wailing Cutter, who was
positively revolted by her close proximity. Kempo wrestled the
controls back.
Regaining her footing, Brixie tried to ignore Cutter's expression and
his tightly closed eyes.
"What was that?" Tigereye asked.
Kempo shook his head. All business now, he was fighting to bring the
ship back under control. Red lights broke out all over the engineering
panels. Alarms hooted noisily.
The freighter abruptly rolled right and pitched down hard.
Tigereye began flipping switches--the ship's starboard maneuvering
thrusters were not responding.
Kempo quietly cursed between clenched teeth. "Where did procurement
pick up this piece of Corellian crud anyway? I've seen better hulks
from Socorro!"
"Can you land?"
Kemp looked directly at Tigereye. "You want an honest opinion?"
Brixie could tell that, this time, Kempo was no longer joking.
Systems were failing all over the vessel. Beside her, she overheard
Cutter whimpering. Some mercenary he made.
Tigereye unsnapped his own seat belts. "All hands to the lifepod
now!
This is no drill!"
The others spilled out of their chairs, rapidly grabbing equipment and
supplies in emergency order and tossing them into the lifepod. For
only a moment during the
chaos, Brixie found herself watching Lex
Kempo almost curiously. The Corellian pathfinder was still standing
before the controls of the battered, falling freighter, gesturing with
his hands locked together in an odd sort of way. Perhaps it was a
ritual known only to spacers and their ships, she thought. The last
thing she saw before the interior lights failed was him grinning at her
as he usually did. Their fates and the ship's were about to part ways
in a most violent fashion.
"Hope you signed up for the duration, Lady Brix. From now on, it gets
nothing but interesting!"
Ten thousand meters later. Straight down.
"You know," said Hugo Cutter. "If you were Han Solo or Wedge Antilles
or any one of a hundred other pilots I know, we wouldn't be here right
now."
"Shut up," Lex Kempo snapped back. "I didn't see you help land the
pod." Of course, it was difficult for the pathfinder to make an
argument considering that the Red Moon assault team was dangling inside
an escape pod caugh
t in the thick canopy of Gabredor's jungle.
"Would it help if I did this?" Brixie's voice called from deeper
inside the pod. A secondary hatch blew off, slicing vines and
branches. Without means of further support, the pod fell the remaining
40 meters until it landed in the thick bough of an ancient swamp
tree.
Tigereye scratched his bruised head as he and the others spilled out of
the pod and hit the dirt.
Kempo was the first to pick himself up off the jungle floor. He
quickly checked the small arsenal of weapons he carried. Content, he
turned and mock-saluted Sully Tiger-eye.
"The Red Moons have landed."
"Thanks for the update. Brixie?"
"Yes?" The rookie pulled herself over. She had joined the Red Moons
only two months ago, training at a distant
unforgiving world, enemies all around them. No relief forces. No help. No remorse. She shook
her head slowly.
The shriek of a snubfighter engine high over the tree canopy suddenly
broke the silence. After a tense moment, it finally passed.
Tales From The Empire Page 23