The fiery ball the size of a small meteor flew above the Aargau city, entering hard into the atmosphere. The flaming ball of mass was coming in faster enough to level a building or two if it kept its current path. The citizens of the Aargau night craned their heads upward, eyes wide open in panic.
“We’re coming in too hot, Cap!” The co-pilot of the fiery CRF-78R Fast Courier exclaimed to his pilot in the seat next to his own.
“I can see that, Jules. Just keep her steady, we may come out of this alive,” the pilot announced hopefully.
“I hope so, I’ve got that hot date tonight,” Jules stated.
The pilot, Keiji Dyson, let out a deep, smooth chuckle. His deeper voice balanced that of his co-pilot, Julius Xerxes, whom carried higher pitched vocal cords. The CRF-78R courier, the two smuggler’s favored ship, had hull damage all around; the interior of the craft was plagued with loud screams from the escaping air that was sucked out of the Courier.
“I still can’t understand why those Star Destroyers fired on us like that, I mean dayum, what in the kriffing galaxy did we do?” Jules asked, having to raise his voice as the hull grew louder.
Dyson put all his effort into guiding the Courier above the skyscrapers, trying to make it over the Aargau Ocean that lay past the city, “We’re smugglers in an unidentified craft rushing into a fortress world planet garrisoned with hundreds of Imperial warships.”
“Oh, well, yeah man, when you put it like that,” Jules stated, half embarrassed that he should’ve figured that.
Dyson pulled back hard on the yoke, trying to convince the Courier to head starboard where the misty blue ocean lay. The Courier, other wise known as the Moon’s Fury, began to tumble away starboard, thudding along as it continually descended, a mere ten meters from scraping across the tall Aargau buildings. Dyson struggled to keep it airborne as long as he had, and prayed to keep it up for just ten, maybe fifteen seconds longer. The escape pods were damaged once the Star Destroyer shot its turbolaser into the Moon’s Fury, and the only way they could survive was to crash land in the ocean and work their way from there.
C’mon, give me five more seconds, Dyson pondered.
The Fury’s engines came to a complete halt, utterly shutting off from all the damage they incurred. The craft began to freefall downward on its starboard side. At this current state, it would successfully land in the Aargau Ocean, though closer towards the shore than Dyson would have liked. The impact could very easily injure both of them, potentially fatally.
“Ay, Cap, think we’ll pull out of this one?” Jules asked.
Dyson tightened his crash webbing, “One would hope. Strap yourself in as tight as possible, this won’t be pretty.”
Jules grinned at that statement, “It always is with us.”
The Courier hit hard against the watery substance Julius and Dyson now used as a landing pad. The two pilots were protected by their crash webbing; without it, they would undoubtedly be severely injured at the very least. The Fury floated atop the calm waters as the two unstrapped themselves and climbed out of a hole created in the ceiling towards the aft of the ship.
“Look at that,” Jules pointed towards three boats making their way toward the crash landed Courier, “our own welcoming committee.”
As the three boats rapidly came closer, Dyson suddenly realized that they weren’t being welcomed, at least not in the friendly way. “Patrol skiffs!”
“Coming to check up on us, make sure we’re all good,” Jules assumed.
“No, they’re not equipped with medical assistance,” Dyson realized. “They’re not even security officials.” Dyson reached his right hand down to his hip holster, where his DL-44 hung loosely. “I don’t like this.”
The patrol skiffs halted within two meters from the wrecked Courier, “Ahoy!” One of the leaders called out, “Make one move and you’ll be blasted up worse than that ship of yours.”
Dyson and Jules stood atop the floating wreckage, confused, and none too willing to give themselves up. Until they witnessed as the side hatches of the three skiffs open, revealing ten men per skiff, all armed with a Devastator Acid Launcher, a more than deadly weapon outlawed on most planets, including Aargau.
“They’re certainly not security forces,” Dyson whispered to Jules.
The men, looking as though they were pirates or mercenaries of some sort, raised their weapons. “Now, or suffer a great death,” the apparent leader threatened.
Each of the pirates were dressed out in black tactical uniforms, most of which bore bright green half stripes on their left shoulders. Two of them sported light blue half stripes, while the apparent leader sported a red half stripe on each shoulder. Dyson raised his arms, knowing that there was no safe way out of this, much to Jules’ surprise.
“We giving up?” Jules surmised.
Dyson shot him a lowered brow glance, as if to say he was disappointed in his thinking that Dyson would give up so easily.
“May I ask what we did?” Dyson spoke towards the leader.
“You’ve smuggled from us, the Gah’Tah clan, and no one lives to reap the goods,” his words were slimey, not surprising due to his Barabel hailing.
“Oh, yeah, we did do that,” Jules said half jokingly.
The leader warned again, “So you did. I am Tesar, leader of my clan of Barab I, and I suggest you board our skiffs before trouble is made, and death becomes imminent.”
“Whaddayou think, Cap? This guys scarin’ you enough?” Jules asked sarcastically.
Dice let out a brief chuckle, “The invitation is kind, Tesar, but we’ve got our own transportation off this wreck.”
In no longer it took to speak those words than it did for Dyson to leap nearly a meter into the air, with help from his two cybernetic legs, and gripped tightly to the pointy head fin of an M-31 Airspeeder, flying over and beyond the three pirate skiffs. Dyson turned his head around, facing the canopy of the airspeeder and witnessed luckily as Julius was able to do the same, clinging as tight as he could a foot or two from Dyson, closer to the canopy. The airspeeder climbed upwards and entered into the nearby Aargau capital of New Escrow, the banking capital of the galaxy as well. It took a dip over the Garden of Butterflies, flying around two or three meters above the grassy mid-level of the Garden. Dyson peered over to Julius and gave him a nod. Jules let go of the speeder, landing in a tuck and roll to decrease the pain and to prevent from his knee caps popping. Dyson followed suit, and landed a meter away from Jules.
The two sprung to their feet, “Nothin’ like a free lift,” Jules remarked.
Dyson patted him on the back as the exited the Garden, “Nice work, let’s get some food.”
On the other side of the Garden, unbeknownst to the two smugglers, stood a tall Amani, his skin a yellow and green, his height nearly reaching three meters. His indented eyes stared through a pair of binoculars, targeting the two smugglers. He glanced down at his Fwit guardian, or more so his pet.
“Come Fwee, we must follow.”
-Dazza’s-A few blocks from the Bank of Aargau, Mustafa, B-1, and sat in the most elegant of restaurants, Dazza’s. The on the walls hung brilliant artistic work of landscapes, varying from the sparkling seas of Manaan, to the grassy plains of Maridun. In between each piece of art work was a holonet viewer, displaying holodramas to the latest game of Grav-ball. The soup bowls were made of pure gold with silver trim. The utensils were heavier than average, due to the fine craftiness and pure gold they too were made of. It was a bit overwhelming, and Phineus felt more than a little out of place there.
Mustafa managed to score the three their own personal table in the far corner of the restaurant. Just as they did in Mustafa’s office, Phineus and B-1 sat side by side, with Mustafa across from them. Mustafa was halfway through his tail soup, as was B-1- he may have been ninety-percent droid, but he still hungered- though Phineus had barely eaten himself. It’s not that he wasn’t hungry; as a matter of fact he hadn’t eaten since before he dueled with his father, but he had no appetite.
The discussion that occurred over the last fifteen standard minutes, centered mainly around stories and memories Mustafa and B-1 had of Kaydee Gage. Phineus was incredibly interested in hearing tales of his mother, but knew that they were just telling them to stall.
“Why haven’t we resumed our previous conversation?” Phineus finally butted in.
B-1 and Mustafa both looked at him unexpectedly with B-1 chipping in, “We’ve been spied on.”
Mustafa nodded, curling his fingers, “Since we left the bank. Casual conversation has driven the spy’s attention span away for now, but she’ll be checking in soon enough.”
Phineus was flabbergasted, “Spy?”
Mustafa nodded once again, “The female Twi’lek, in the corner, near the kitchen doors.”
Phineus slyly glanced across the room, and caught the eyes of the most beautiful Twi’lek he’s every seen in his short life. Her skin was a light blue, her eyes as well. Her twin lekkus hung off her shoulders. She was dressed in a modest, beige tunic. The only thing Phineus knew what to do was smile his trade mark smile. She shied away at first before ultimately returning an embarrassed smile.
“How can you be sure she’s spying?” Phineus inquired.
B-1 turned his head towards Phineus, “My scanners pick up a spy equipment hub placed underneath her table, not to mention how much she looks over here.”
Phineus kept his eyes on the Twi’lek, “Maybe she simply thinks I’m good looking.”
Both B-1 and Mustafa scoffed at his remark, Mustafa added, “Good joke, Lord Gage. Shall we finish up our soup, and then depart back to my office? It will be safer there.”
Phineus stood, “If you’ll excuse me, gents.”
B-1 sounded confused, even for a droid, “Sir?”
“I’m gonna go check her out, I’ll report back,” Phineus stated with a sly wink.
He started over to the Twi’leks table, smiling as to make sure she didn’t grow nervous. He placed his hand on the chair across from hers, “May I?”
The Twi’lek’s blue face reddened, “You may.”
Phineus sat, and extended his hand, “Name’s Phineus Gage.”
The Twi’lek extended hers as well, shaking Phin’s, “Mine’s Paka Tun.”
Paka swelled with embarrassment, and that made Phineus smirk. He never would have imagined he would have such an effect on someone so beautiful, so elegant.
“It’s certainly my pleasure to meet you, Paka,” Phin said with a grin. Phineus’ right hand slid slowly down to his thigh, landing lightly on his Mustafarian blaster. “You wouldn’t happen to be spying on me and my odd group of friends there would you Paka?”
Phineus kept his smile wide and his jets cool, and Paka began to redden more, “You noticed?”
Phineus removed the blaster from its holster, “I did. Now please, tell me why.”
“Because I was sent to protect you,” Phineus replaced the blaster, but still kept his hand on the butt of it just in case. “You’re being hunted.”
Phin’s brow narrowed in uncertainty, “I’m sorry?”
Paka nodded, “Your Muun banker friend, his agenda ends with your death tonight.”
Phineus didn’t entirely doubt Paka, he had suspected something was off with Mustafa, but his information was getting crossed, and he didn’t like not having a clear truth to mull over. Before he could even begin to make total assessments on the muddled situation, a loud explosion sounded from behind him. The bright light clogged Phineus vision; the loud buzzing disrupted his hearing. He felt a strong tug on his left arm and some sort of worried shout as he was lead in some direction his mind couldn’t quite tell yet. Each one of his senses were playing catch up with his physical body as he was lead deeper into the direction unknown.
As his sight finally returned, Phineus witnessed the howling night life of the banking region on Aargau. The only reason it was howling, and not taking a break from its usual mathematician ventures was due to the explosion from the restaurant. He also noticed Paka running as fast as she could, pulling Phineus along with her. She made an abrupt right turn into a deserted alleyway. The sharp turn was too much for the unexpecting Phin as his legs tangled up with Paka’s. Phineus fell flat on his back, with Paka falling on top of his chest.
Phineus opened his eyes, and stared in the Twi’lek’s blue crystals that seemed to put him into a trance, “Who are you?”
Paka beamed, “I’m your new friend, Paka.”
The two shared a small laugh before coming to their feet, “I need to find my friends…”
Paka dusted herself off, “No need for them anymore, I know where your ship is.”
Phineus cocked his head slightly and narrowed his brow, “You know about my inheritance?”
“I told you,” she began, punching in commands on her data pad, “I was hired to protect you, like that B-1 droid was. I know all about you.”
Phineus understood now how she would know, but was still unnerved by Mustafa’s deception, “Are you sure the Muun was planning my demise?”
The alleyway was dark, damp, and a place Phineus would rather not be in. He figured Paka felt the same as he noticed her rapidly pressing in codes on her data pad.
“I’m positive. I’ve been staking him out for the past week. He’s planned it quite well, I think.”
Phineus shook his head in unbelief, “Impossible. A week ago I wasn’t planning on coming here.”
Paka bore an innocent smile, “But he did. You can’t possibly believe that the events of the past week have happened by chance.”
Phineus ran his fingers through his hair, “I did, yeah. So the Muun hired the Rodian raiders?”
“No, silly,” Paka said playfully, “that was your father as you believed. Your battle droid was in fact hired by the Muun to help you,” she paused, “more likely ensure you took out your father, so that once all that was left of the Gageus clan was you, he could soon kill you as well.”
Phineus didn’t like it, but it certainly made sense.
“My speeder’s auto piloting itself to our position, I can take you to my place, you’ll be safe there.”
“You have room for a droid?” Phineus asked as he opened up a comm channel to TK whom he had left to guard the Flyer, “TK, make your way to my position double time.”
Paka grinned, “More droids?”
“Ah, this one’s trust worthy, built him myself.”
“I see,” Paka’s J-12 Twin Pod speeder droned by overhead, “Hope he can wheel over here soon, your assassins will be coming.”
“He’s here now,” Phineus said, pointing to the wheeling T3 droid.
“Hop in brown eyes, I’ll set your droid up in the cargo hold.”
Once they strapped themselves in, the J-12 speeder quickly ascended into the skylanes and departed to their ultimate destination.
-Streets of Aargau-The night air was crisp and cold, albeit cooling and refreshing. Julius and Dyson were dressed in their usual smuggler’s bests. Jules fit nicely into his plain black t-shirt and bantha-leather vest, brown pants and red boots. Dyson was dressed in his usual black doublet over a white t-shirt, completed with matching black pants and boots. The two walked through the un-crowded Aargau streets with a purpose as they tried to lose their tail.
“He still on us?” Dyson asked without peering back to look.
Jules, walking at Dyson’s left side, casually looked back, “Nah, I think we lost him somewhere, he’s…”
Their tale had jumped out right in front of them, much to the smugglers astonishment. The Amani stood out even in the dark Aargau night, with his tall frame, his Fwit guardian, and his green hide and yellow front side. Around his neck hung a necklace sporting the bones of a small creature’s foot. The loosely hanging belt around his thick waist carried a canteen near his right hip, and to his left a small skull. In his left hand he held a wooden staff, thick at the body and slimming to the top, where it was carved into the sharpest point possible. A simple brush against its tip could slash open a Taun-Taun’s stomach and it stood about eleven feet high. Strapped to his back was a satchel carrying four more deadly staffs, though these were around half the size. His neck was strong, his gaze murderous, and his mouth sharp. Menacing barely described this Amani.
“You!” The Amani pointed his long, thick finger at the two smugglers.
Dyson reached slowly for his blaster, “Look, whatever you want, I’m sure we can work something out, right?” Dyson said with a nervous smile.
The Amani chuckled, even his laugh was extremely deep, “The price on your heads is too high to pass up.”
“Ah, shoulda figured,” Jules began, “a regular man of class bounty hunter.”
Dyson grunted, “One had to catch up with us eventually.”
Before another word could be spoken, the ground shook, a loud rumble thudded through the city, and a fiery mass erupted in a nearby restaurant. Dyson and Jules nearly lost their balance, almost falling flat on the concrete walkway. The smoke rose from the restaurant over one-hundred meters above the ground. Dice and Jules turned back in the opposite direction, when ten Acid Launchers pointed at their face.
“You won’t be escaping this time, you smuggling scum,” the pirate Clan leader announced. “And we’ll be hauling in your Amani friend too.”
The two smugglers had no choice but to surrender, their minds were still hazed from the unexpected explosion, and the Amani, whom was closer to the blast, was on the ground, knocked cold. The pirates embraced stun-cuffs around their hands and loaded the three into their shuttle.
“Where are you taking us?” Dyson asked as they hooked his stun-cuffs to the shuttle’s overhead grip bars.
The pirate boss scoffed at the question, “You don’t want to know.”
“Humor me,” Dyson said with disdain.
“You foolish, smuggling scums. You will be taken to our Clan’s warlord, in orbit aboard our ship,” the Kaleesh clansmen noted venomously. “And he is not as forgiving as I,” he said with a deep spited laugh.
The shuttle loomed over the Aargau atmosphere without any resistance from the vast amount of Imperial Star Destroyers. Above the planet’s vast ISD cloud, and was heading toward an MC30c Frigate, in a burnt red-brown looking as though it had been through one too many battles. The faces on Jules and Dyson were glum, but they certainly wouldn’t give up without a fight.
-Back on Aargau-Paka’s safe house was damp and confined, the roof had a steady dripping leak, and the windows were colored a dark orange with dust and mold. The walls were cracked, and the furniture- consisting merely of two couches and a chipped wooden table- were as well ridden with their fair share of holes and collection of dust that seemed to pile up every where. Phineus swiveled his head from side to side in the tiny room barely fit for a gizka.
“Nice place,” Phineus said without glowing sarcasm, but with a minor bit of discomfort.
“It serves its purpose,” Paka said, darting her eyes from side to side as well as if she was even uneasy about the small apartment.
The apartment complex itself was thirty stories high, each story filled with twenty apartments. Out in the hall, the two heard the familiar sound of boots click clacking against the cold ground.
“Expecting company?” Phineus asked.
“Not me; must be another apartment’s party or something.”
“No,” Phineus shook his head. “These apartments can barely fit five people.”
Paka’s face began to redden and her lekkus startled to cringe, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I’m not so sure,” Phineus said as the foot steps grew louder.
They could now here the chattering of Kaleesh language, spoken fiercely as though they were meant to issue military commands.
“We need to get out of here,” Phineus claimed urgently. “Is there another exit, some sort of escape route?”
Paka shook her head, “Well, no. No, there isn’t. But, maybe it’s nothing.”
The door to Paka’s apartment blew open, blinding Phineus. The ringing in his ears pierced through his ear drums, but he could still make out the sounds of boots clambering in the room yelling orders. He then felt a strong, blunt object smack against his skull. The crack of his head was the last thing he heard.
-Aboard the Izvoshra-The MC30c Frigate had entered the borders of Kadok space in the Outer Regions. Julius and Dyson were side by side, a meter apart, their arms tied together above their heads, attached to the overhead dura-steel grip bar. On the opposite side of the torture chamber’s interior, the Amani bounty hunter was tied up as well. Aft of the interior- to Jules and Dyson’s left, and to the Amani’s right- were Phineus and Paka, tied as well, three meters apart. The door of the torture chamber slid open as a menacing Kaleesh- decked out in tribal coverings, and sported a beige cape, torn and tattered, most likely from the skin of a predator on Kalee, as per Kaleesh usual- walked into the room holding a sharpened spear. He bore a tribal mask, with a red tribal painting over the left eye, and black hair stemming from both sides. He gazed through the chamber, cackling to himself, and then stepped up to the two smugglers.
“Ah, my two fearless, albeit very naïve, smugglers,” The Kaleesh warlord spoke in a deep, venomous tone.
He grazed his sharp nails against Jules’ chin, much to Jules’ chagrin.
“Get your filthy hands off my partner,” Dyson said antagonistically, “you damned dirty Kaleesh.”
The warlord chortled, “Yes, Keiji Dyson is it? The captain of the wrecked Moon’s Fury. Your one mistake was not informing the Star Destroyers of your identity, which confused me. You were born on Aargau, why didn’t you handle things with more precision?”
“You think they’d let a known smuggling ship pass without raiding my goods?” Dyson offered.
“Ah, maybe you are smart. Then again, you are left without any goods, without any ship. In other words, you are left without the precious artifacts you stole from me and that does not bode well for you.”
The warlord, Huk jah Namorous, waltzed across the room to the Amani.
“Zaxis Oombozi, I’m sure you are surprised to be in the situation you are currently in.”
The Amani, Zaxis, grunted, “You alien slime! You set me up.”
“In a way, yes. You are the best money can by, Zax, you can sniff any putrid thing out. However, I simply would not pay as much as you asked, so instead, I hired you to track down our smugglers positions, report back in, and voila. I know where they are, and I don’t depart with any credits. Ingenious, is it not?”
Zax grunted once again, “I’ll kill you.”
“And how do you purpose that will come to pass?” Huk asked.
“With my hands around your neck.”
Huk cackled, “Humorous indeed, my tall, savage friend.”
The Kaleesh warlord moved in front of Paka and the indisposed Phineus Gage.
“Paka, my dear, a sad sight it is to see you tied up like that, my apologies,” Huk bowed.
Paka’s lekkus reddened with rage, “You Chuff sucking leech!”
“Easy,” Huk stated. “Is this the man of the hour? Phineus Gageus himself?”
Paka’s eyes grew sharp and fierce, “I won’t let you get away with this!”
Huk took a step began and addressed all five prisoners, “You all are quick to threaten, yet who here is strapped to the grip holds? Who here is in charge of this ship, and who here has the weapons?” He waltzed to the door, and as it lifted open he turned back and spat on the ground, “I do hope the rancor takes his time with you, all of you.”
The door lifted, and he walked out, his cape blowing close behind. The four conscience prisoners all shared gazes at each other. Some where angry, as was the case with Dyson and Zaxis. Some where of acknowledgement, as was Zaxis and Paka.
“That scum hire you too?” Zaxis asked Paka.
“We do unfortunate business together, and I’m quickly regretting it,” the blue Twi’lek replied.
Julius leaned as much as he could to Dice and whispered, “They got a rancor, how the kriff are we getting outta this one?”
Dice looked up at the stun-ties placed around their wrists, noting that escaping from them was a practical unfeasibility. “It won’t be easy,” Dice whispered back. “I don’t even know if it’s possible.”
The chamber was one hundred meters wide and fifty meters long. The only dim source of light came from the overhead bulbs, barely brightening the entire chamber. In the center of the chamber was a square outline in yellow painted dura-steel. The foundation began to lower with a loud chugging, and when the platform rose back up to its normal position, it was now standing ground for the rancor.
“I’ve got one bad feeling about this,” Paka stated, struggling against her stun-cuffs.
The rancor growled loudly, the sound reverberated off the dura-steel walls, shaking the chamber, and awaking Phineus. His eyes popped widely open at the sight of the growling rancor and the quick realization of the pain in his arms right before they began to go numb.
“Did I miss something?” Phineus asked quizzically.
Dyson glanced over to the newly awakened prisoner, “Easy, kid, we’re in a bit of a situation here, as you can clearly see.”
“Um, have we thought up a plan about getting the frak out of here?” Phin asked in desperation.
Paka shook her head, “Not at the moment, though I hope someone can think of something.”
Zaxis let out an exasperated scream as he landed to the floor. He had used his Amani strength to rip free from the stun-cuffs, albeit causing him much pain. The rancor headed in Zaxis’ direction, snarling and dripping phlegm from the corners of its mouth.
“Trying to get yourself eaten?” Pakka exclaimed.
Zaxis withdrew one of his sharpened wooden staffs from his pack pouch. The rancor opened its mouth wide as it let out another growl; its teeth were sharp and vicious. Zaxis took the second of opportunity to stab the rancor’s belly with his staff. The rancor’s skin was too tough, breaking the staff and its point.
“That didn’t work,” Phin said.
“Got another plan?” Zaxis asked, paying more attention to the rancor than to Phineus’ statement.
Dyson looked down at his hip and noticed that his weapon wasn’t discarded. The Kaleesh warlord either forgot, or more likely, was too cocky and arrogant to think they’d be able to escape.
“My blaster!” Dyson shouted to Zaxis.
As the rancor drew within meters of the Amani, Zaxis took the opportunity to dive away from its jabbing jaw. He rolled end over end to reach Dyson and withdrew his DL-44 blaster from his hip holster, and aimed it at the rancor’s head. The rancor turned back around and darted for Zaxis, mouth wide open. Zaxis took the opportunity and fired fifteen squeezes of the trigger into its mouth. The rancor began to choke its own blood and crashed hard onto its knees. Zaxis shot five more laser bolts into the rancor’s hide as it fell flat on its face in death. Zaxis stood from his knees, wiped the cold sweat from his sunken eyes, and turned toward Dyson.
“You’re going to fulfill your contract now?” Dyson asked skeptically.
“You kidding? Huk wanted me dead as well, you were a job, nothing personal. Huk is personal, and we all have our own reasons to kill him. All I ask is that I get his neck.” Zaxis said with fire in his eyes.
“It’s a deal, just get us down from here.”
Zaxis un-cuffed the other four prisoners and walked to the center of the dura-steel floor.
“Where do we go from here?” Paka asked.
Jules offered his idea, “Man, I know this type of ship like the back of my hand. All we gotta do is get to the operations deck, take out anyone up there, and take command of the ship.”
“We don’t want to take over this entire ship,” Dice pointed out, “we’d be cut down quicker than you can say kriff.”
Phineus interjected, “But any escape pods or starfighters in the hangar bay would be shot out of the sky the moment we fired them up.”
“So what do you suppose we do, kid?” Dyson asked with a bit of an unnerved attitude.
“Well, I think if we can manage to make it to the command deck, we should be able to lock every thing down, it will give us some time to set up a vantage point.”
Dyson laughed at the thought, “A vantage point to do what? To try and take out an entire capital ship crew? There must be at least three hundred, four hundred crazy Kaleesh.”
Zaxis shook his head, “Kaleesh don’t travel in numbers that big. There’s most likely a small clan of twenty, thirty most.”
Paka scoffed, “Then why have a ship so big for so little?”
Phineus thought deeply about it.
Why would such a small crew operate such a large ship? What would be the point? Firepower?
“It’s not theirs…” Phineus whispered to himself.
“What?” Jules asked.
“Julius, you said you know this ship?”
“Well yeah, recognized the model when we were shuttled aboard. An MC-30, classic Mon Calamari star cruiser.”
“Exactly. Why would a clan of Kaleesh cruise around in a Mon Cal ship?”
Dyson through in his opinion, “You can buy one of these, you know, not that hard.”
“But would it make sense for the prideful people of Kalee buy a Mon Cal ship? They would prefer something less species oriented; something to showcase their beliefs. Otherwise, it doesn’t add up.”
The light began to brighten in the room as Phin’s words began to make sense.
Dyson, however, was still incredulous, “And how do you propose we go about our way to the command deck?”
“Don’t we all have blasters?” Phineus asked with a grin.
“Kid, you’ve got a lot to learn about fighting an entire clan of crazed Kaleesh’s.”
Dyson continued to add on to the already have load of discontent for the young nineteen year old. The tension between the two was palpable, but Phineus seemed unaffected by it.
“Then what do you propose? Let’s hear your genius plan. As far as I know, you have nothing.” Phineus through his words out sternly.
Dyson seemed to gain a small ounce of respect for the kid, “Alright, kid, we’ll do things your way. But you’re in charge; from this point on, what we do is all your call.”
“Good,” Phineus said with a smirk, “wouldn’t want it any other way.”
The five moved over to the chamber’s lone door which happened to be security locked. Dyson reached his hand out to Zaxis, whom returned Dice’s blasted and withdrew another one of his sharp spears. Dyson took aim and fired at the control panel, which let out an amazement of electrical sparks. The door raised two inches from the ground and came to a stop. Zaxis crouched by the door and raised it up inch by inch with all his strength until it finally was high enough for them to exit out of.
The MC-30c cruiser was dead, a total lack of life. The entire clan of Kaleesh were most likely up on the command deck, but what bothered Phin was the lack of Mon Cal aboard. The Kaleesh somehow hijacked the ship, and Phineus felt that many a life was lost during the process. The Mon Cal were an amazing species, but fighting up close was not their strong suit. Unfortunately, it was for the Kaleesh.
“There,” Phineus pointed towards an elevator. “We ride the elevator to the command deck, take it over, seal it off, and voila.”
“Voila?” Dyson snorted.
“Yeah, voila, simple. Now c’mon, they’ll be sending someone to check up on us soon enough.”
The party of five entered into the elevator and hit the button for the command deck. Nothing happened.
“What a piece of junk,” Jules pointed out. “Blasted elevators don’t even work.”
“They’re password protected,” Dyson nodded toward the elevator’s control panel.
“So we’re stuck on this floor? Aw, dayum,” Jules complained.
“Well, there’s more than one way out of here,” Phineus claimed as he opened up a comm channel with his T3 droid. Upon being captured and brought onboard, little TK was taken to the droid pit, where he would be cut down and sold for scraps. “TK, you still alive little guy?”
On the other end of the comm, Phineus heard the weary beeps and whistles of the very much alive, yet even more scared, T3-K1 utility droid.
“Good to hear your chimes, TK. Look, I have a mission for you, are you up to it?”
TK whistled elatedly.
Phineus chuckled, “I’m not surprised. I need you to break out of that pit and make your way to a computer terminal, or find some still working droid wandering about and download the key codes for elevator 6-1-4. Get back to me as soon as you have them.”
TK chimed in affirmation.
“So what now?” Jules asked.
“We wait. TK will be along any moment with those codes, and then we’ll be on our way,” Phineus replied.
“And what if he gets blasted, or can’t find the codes?” Paka asked.
“Well, in that case, we’ll have to take our chances up in the shafts,” Phineus drew some tired faces. “No one ever said escaping would be easy.”
“No,” Dyson admitted, “but you did say it would be simple.”
-Droid Pit-T3-K1, or TK as his master referred to him as, began to wheel out of the droid pit. The pit itself was mainly a small room filled to the brim with malfunctioning droids, or those that needed severe repairs to continue to operate correctly.
Luckily TK was shoved in the front of the pile, and splicing into the control panel on the door was as easy a task as any. The door rose open with a hiss, and TK slowly wheeled out of the pit, his scanners searching the proximity as to make sure no enemies were present. Once his scanners read that everything was clear, TK appropriately exited the pit, and headed for the computer terminal nearly twenty yards to the left of his current location.
As he drew closer to the terminal, TK’s scanners picked up something directly behind him. He rotated his cheese-wheel head and noticed a Kaleesh extending his arms. TK extended his own firearms, his electro-zapper, and threatened the Kaleesh.
“You dare threaten me? Zurr el Himedi? Foolish droid, back to the pit with you,” the Kaleesh made the mistake of saying.
TK immediately commenced shocking the Kaleesh, whom began to yelp in pain. TK, with his shoulder mounted mini-flamethrower, began to simultaneously spit balls of fire towards him. The Kaleesh began to turn and run, not being armed with any blasters himself, and his screams of pain and agony grew louder. TK let out his laugh, which sounded like his joyful whooing was broken up in pieces. He continued on his path to the terminal as loud glaring alarms began to squeal. He sounded a worried “whoo” and spliced into the terminal, disabling the old codes for the elevator, and inputted some of his own.
-Back at the elevator-The uncomfortable silence that inundated the compact elevator was unnerving and palpable. Comm chatter from TK luckily broke the silence.
“Nice work TK, we’re ascending now,” Phineus said as he thumbed the button for the command deck. “You changed the codes as well? Excellent job, TK.” Phineus lowered the comm unit and whispered to Dyson, “See, he pulled through after all.” He replaced the comm back up to his mouth, “Now work your way to the command deck, according to the elevator schematics here, there should be one directly behind you. I’ll see you soon, buddy.”
Phineus closed the channel, tucked the unit back into one of the pockets of his Mustafarian garb, and withdrew his blaster.
“They’re most likely only be equipped with spears and other such close combat weaponry; if we keep our distance, this should be quite easy,” Phineus planned.
Jules interjected, “Nah man, the command decks are pretty undersized. We won’t have enough distance between us for that.”
Zax smiled at the corners of his wide mouth, “So we over power them?”
Paka shook her head, “I don’t think we can, they’re Kaleesh. Deadly in even small numbers; Jules, how many do you think will be on the command deck?”
“’Bout ten, at the most, like I said the deck is pretty undersized,” Jules answered.
The command deck was merely four floors up, and the elevator ascended quickly, “Hope someone has a plan,” Phineus muttered, “Time’s running out.”
Dyson let out an irritated sigh, “Into the shaft we go, gives us a boost, Zax.”
The elevator dinged with an alert that they had reached their wanted destination. As the doors split open, the command deck was revealed. As Jules noted, it was certainly undersized for such a large ship. It featured a sunken leveled style, with each of the three levels being lower than the last. At the right of each level were three seats each for pilots, the gunners and readout personnel took to the left, with three seats per level as well. The seats were positioned accordingly; one facing toward its respective side on the level, two others facing ahead at the view port. All of them had computer terminals in front of them, glimmering with readouts of various craft in their proximity, coordinates for their current and ultimate location, and information on each craft around them, the system they were in, and multiple readouts regarding the ship itself. To each level, on each side, sat one Kaleesh, with the Kaleesh warlord and his second in command standing at the view port, making for a total of eight Kaleesh. Kaleesh were warriors, not pilots- giving a clue as to why the ship bucked and vibrated during turns- which made it even more questioning as to how and why they took over the Mon Cal ship.
When the elevator pinged, the entire staff turned their heads back towards it, cocking their heads in suspicion once they noted no one was inside. Huk, the warlord, turned his entire body around, completely facing the elevator, narrowing his brow behind his mask.
“Check it,” he ordered, staring straight ahead.
His second in command readied his spear and stepped up the levels towards the elevator. He stepped up to the highest and final level, standing approximately three meters from the elevator doors. The blasts came so quickly, the Kaleesh could do nothing to prevent from being charred with holes. Dyson had lowered the upper half of his body down from the shaft, and used his dual DL-44’s to blow scorching holes through his target. He the then aimed and fired for the two Kaleesh sitting at the first level.
The other four Kaleesh at the next two levels jumped to their feet as the warlord ducked behind a terminal. Dyson muscled himself back into the shaft completely, repositioned his body, and then dropped into the elevator. He took a step out and aimed the DL’s to each side of the second level.
“Surrender now or all your lives belong to us,” he said unsympathetically.
“Lord Huk,” one of the other Kaleesh on the third level cried out, “shall we surrender?” He asked as the others hopped down the elevator, each holding a blaster and having a spear from Zax strapped to their backs, looking as menacingly as they could. “He has warriors.”
“My dear Ka’tiq, warriors are our speciality,” Huk reassured.
The stakes were an even five on five, though the blasters that Phineus and others carried were a certain advantage. However, if they weren’t careful, a stray shot could severely damage one of the terminals, making flying the ship increasingly difficult.
“They won’t dare chance another shot, they’ll have to fight us up close and personal,” Huk scoffed. “And that, my fellow clan, is a battle they cannot win.”
The team strapped away their blasters and equipped their spears, each of them at least a half meter taller than them.
“Your move,” Phineus challenged.
The five remaining Kaleesh readied themselves as Phineus’ team marched down the first level. Paka took to the Kaleesh on the left, Jules to the right, of the second level. On the third, Zax took to his left, Dyson to the right, leaving Phineus to duel with the frightening warlord.
“You fool,” the Kaleesh warlord began, “you surely realize you are doomed. I will slice through your pale flesh, and my men will annihilate yours quite easily. We are born for this, my dear Gageus, and bread to be the ultimate warriors.”
Behind him, Phineus heard the grunts of pain and strain coming from those of his teammates and their respective enemies.
“You underestimate me, Huk. I’m afraid you are taking my age into too much consideration, I assure you this won’t be easy on you,” Phineus replied with a sneer.
“I doubt it. Age has nothing to do with my assumptions, your arrogance does however.”
“Then you shouldn’t mind fighting me.”
Huk readied his staff, “It will be your last.”
“We will see,” Phineus said smirking, bringing his spear up in a defensive position.
Dyson and Zax had made easy work of their Kaleesh enemies; Jules and Paka had a harder time. Both Jules and Paka had minor cuts along their arms and torsos, but nothing life threatening. Jules defended himself against an onslaught of punches and kicks. His Kaleesh through his staff high over his head and swung it down with a speed Jules had never seen. Unfortunately, for the Kaleesh, Jules was still fast enough to somersault backward away from the strike, and Dyson had leapt over his smuggling partner, his spear pointed forward, and slice the Kaleesh’s head clear off. The blood trickled down its neck, dripping down onto the floor boards creating a red puddle.
For a girl, Paka impressed the others. She moved with grace and agility, looking as though she glided on the warm, stuffy air. Her spear met with her Kaleesh’s staff with every strike though she appeared to be overpowered, and grew tired. As her staff met with the Kaleesh’s, he pulled her in close and sneered through his tribal helm.
“My dear worm head, did you even expect the betrayal?” He asked in a hounding tone.
“I didn’t expect you to be such a fool, Lepik.”
As her words retreated from her mouth, she pushed him back away with her remaining strength, rolled beneath his legs, and delivered the sharp spear into his groin. His screams of pain tempered throughout the command deck. Dyson, Zax, and Jules all seemed to wince in unison as the Kaleesh’s pain was more than palpable for them.
Phineus’ spear connected with Huk’s with each offensive blow. Phineus spun the spear in his hands as he turned three-hundred-sixty degrees around, bringing the tip of the spear right at Huk’s neck, but merely scratching it. Huk swung his spear at Phin’s stomach, gashing it open.
Huk chuckled as Phin clutched at his stomach, the blood seeping through his hand, “You pale skins never do understand just how powerful we are. It is a mistake you will not make again.”
Huk brought the sharp tip of his staff to Phin’s neck, “Goodbye fool.”
“Not so fast!” Dyson yelled out, marching down behind Phineus, blaster aimed between the Kaleesh’s eyes.
“What’s the matter? Afraid to let this mere, undeserving, lower-class filth fight his own battles?” Huk’s anger flooded the deck.
Dyson was always serious, but this time, he took offense, “I’d put that weapon down if I were you, Huk.”
Huk cackled, “You may be right. Killing him won’t be anymore satisfactory than killing his
bugslut mother…”
Beneath the pain, beneath the blood, beneath the tears, Phineus managed to look up at the Kaleesh, “What did you say?”
“That’s right; I was there with your father. We both took our
turns with her, if you will.”
Hatred channeled through Phin’s blood shot eyes. Before Phin could even think, his spear- which had fallen from his hand- was being gripped tightly as he brought it up through the Kaleesh warlord’s stomach, protruding out from his spine. The growls of agony rippled throughout the room as Phineus un-holstered his blaster, stood, and took aim at Huk’s head.
“Now who’s the bugslut?”
Phineus pulled the trigger, once… twice… a third time, sending blood and brain scattering across the viewport. Phineus’ blaster dropped from his loosening grip as his eyes began to flicker.
“Get him to the medbay!” Paka screamed.
“No, we barely were able to take these Kaleesh out. Twenty more are out there, at least,” Dyson proclaimed. “It isn’t fatal, but we need to get off this ship.”
Dyson and Jules took a seat at two pilot chairs; Jules yelled from across the way, “You know how to fly this thing?”
Dyson replied sarcastically, “Don’t think we’ve got any other choice.”
A muffled, audible droid chatter came from inside the elevator, and as the doors opened, TK wheeled out.
“How’d his droid survive the scrap heap? Paka snickered.
TK beeped and whistled proudly.
“He says he’s taken care of the Kaleesh, got ‘em in the droid pit… as he calls them, ‘bastards.’” Jules translated.
“How the…” Dyson’s jaw dropped.
“Said there’s a Jeragium-class in the hangar bay, perfectly flyable. Hot dayum, this droid is good.”
“We can sure fly that, Zax, help carry Phin; Paka, set this ship on a hyperspace lane heading towards Dac, time it to take off in ten standard minutes. Once it arrives, have the beacon read, ‘We’ve returned to enslave you all, courtesy the Kaleesh Clan of Huk.’”
“Too bad we won’t be around to watch that one,” Paka admitted. “It’s set and ready.”
“Good,” Dice replied, “Now let’s get off this blasted ship before we end up somewhere we don’t want to be.”
TK whooed in sadness once he saw his u
