Intro: I wrote this because I felt a few supporting characters in NJO were being given little page time. This story takes place between Destiny's Way and the Force Heretic booksso reading these might help a little bit. This is my first story so feel free to criticize as much as you like, as long as its useful.
Disc: I own none of this stuff, besides the title, which I think is cool. Although it would be nice to own Star Wars.
Mon Calimari. The jewel in a necklace of planets. The world was one immense blue ocean, dotted by small outcroppings of land and enormous floating cities. One of these cities, the massive Heurkea, accommodated the Senate of the Galactic Alliance, which until recently had been the Galactic Republic. The reorganization of the government, led by Chief of State Cal Omas, was inaugurated by officially changing the name to something more fitting a galaxy-wide regime. A full scale constitutional adaptation was in progress, although recent celebrations had certainly not helped the project.
Less than a week had passed since the stunning victory at Ebaq 9, an obscure world in the deep core. Three Yuuzhan Vong fleets had been completely obliterated largely due to a misinformation campaign formulated by the newly created Jedi Council. The victory reversed a string of Yuuzhan Vong victories in which hundreds of planets had fallen victim to their disastrous methods, including pristine Ithor, rugged Dantooine, and most grievously, the capital planet of Coruscant, now renamed Yuuzhantar. Rumors had circulated that Ebaq had also cost the Yuuzhan Vong of the leader of their warrior caste, Warmaster Tsavong Lah. These reports had been corroborated by the removal of a majority of the Vong fleet in formerly Hutt Space, commanded by Nas Choka, who was suspected to be next in line to the title of warmaster. The celebrations were still going on as many worlds, which had withdrawn from the Republic during the calamitous last two years, petitioned for readmittance.
The spacelanes around Mon Calamari were choked with ships, both refugees and government officials. Although not as crowded as Coruscants had been, the amount of traffic had many native Mon Calimarians worried that the ships would cause harm to their precious natural ecosystem. Many of the ships were family of refugees, until recently unknowing whether or not their loved ones had survived in the chaos following the loss of Coruscant.
A ship materialized out of hyperspace and set off at a dangerously fast speed, sweeping right through a group of outbound ships and leaving a few of them tumbling in its wake, their captains coughing obscenities under their breath. It was clear from the first moment that this was no refugee ship. Its four engines, mounted two per wing, pushed it forward at a dangerous pace, slightly tumbling the larger ships, and flipping the smaller ones end over end. It resembled a giant wing, plated in a chrome silver, with a small extrusion toward the back which visibly held the cockpit. The doubts that this ships passengers were here for haven were silenced when four yellow small ships, each looking like a climbers pick with a large upward extrusion to the back, exited hyperspace and assembled in escort formation around the wing-ship. The ship and its escort flew through the line of a refugee convoy and angled toward the Capital.
"I really hate this job" thought Jarlen Storlis of the Heurkea Spaceport Authority. With the record number of ships going in and out, the veteran controller had precious little time for his family. The Quarren sighed. A ship, one which he couldnt recognize from the small screen, had just blown through a group of smaller ships, classified as refugees, and was apparently headed for the spaceport, although it had yet to contact the control center for landing instructions. AJust another idiot merchant ship he muttered as he reached for the scanner system board.
"Hey Storlis, is something up?" Darvin, his human coworker, had apparently noticed his skull tentacles start to fidget, a sign that he was nervous.
"Theres a yacht heading for the spaceport without clearance or an assigned dock"
"Damn. Too many of those these days. I think we should just start blasting them with the defensive cannons." She added, attempting to pantomime shooting down a starship while laughing at her own joke. Storlis just shook his head and turned back to the console.
He opened a channel to the ship. AUnidentified starship, this Jarlen Storlis of Heurkea Spaceport Control. If you intend to dock, you need to transmit your ship ID and cargo manifest to me for approval
The ships captain commed back "Transmitting manifest and ID now."
Jarlen ran the data through all the checks. The yacht was a Nubian J-type Starbarge, unarmed and perfectly clear. But, the ships escort were N1T Nubian design starfighters, and the armament on these well exceeded the legal limits for civilian craft of their size. However, they were listed as starfighters in the defense fleet of the planet of Naboo, which Jarlen had never heard of.
"He leaned back so he could see Darvin. AHave you ever heard of a planet, Naboo?" he asked.
Darvin thought for a second, then said "Sorry, Jarlen, never heard of it"
"Well theyre using Nubian-built ships"
"Nubian huh?" Darvin prided herself on her knowledge of shipbuilders, and tended to flaunt that knowledge to the point of annoyance. "Heard they built beautiful ships, but I didnt think they were still in buisness. Heard they were bought out sometime during the Emperors reign"
"Well I guess we just found out by who" Jarlen turned back to the comm board.
"Ok Captain, your data appears legitimate." He quickly scanned for an appropriate sized dock "You may proceed to sector 17 dock 42. Your escort however will need to remain in orbit. Military spacecraft are not allowed to dock in the spaceport"
There was silence on the comm, until a gruff older voice spoke "Port Control, this is Royal Navy Senior Admiral and diplomatic envoy Hevias Falachor." He spoke in a accent reminiscent of what Jarlen had seen on history vids of the Old Republic Senate. "My pilots are weary from the long journey and require rest. I hope, for the sake of any future alliance between my world and your government, you dont discourage my men"
Jarlen sat straight up in his chair. He had never had to deal with diplomats before. "A...Admiral Falachor" he stammered "Im s...sorry to sa...say that your es...escort must remain in orbit"
"My pilots deserve shore leave" Falachor returned "and they will have it. I hope the Republic doesnt show this little appreciation toward their own fighting men and women. Its in your best interests to find a suitable hanger near mine for my pilots to land in."
Jarlen was about to argue that Mon Calamari, or Dac, as his species called it, was most definitely civilized, when a light started to blink on his comm console, indicating an incoming message. He pressed the button and a gravelly Mon Calamari voice issued.
"Port Control, this is General Onieda of the Mon Calamari home defense squadron. Please explain why four armed starfighters are heading for the spaceport."
He quickly replied, still stammering from the conversation with the Admiral "Theyre p...part of an escort assigned to a diplomatic en...envoy who demands they accompany him to the surface, sir"
"Patch me through to them" The Mon Cal commanded. Jarlen followed the orders quickly and then noticed, for the first time, that all of the eyes in the spaceport control room were on him. The Generals voice issued from the speakers, as it was also doing on the bridge of the envoys ship.
"Diplomatic envoy, this is General Onieda of the Mon Calamari home defense fleet. You are in direct defiance of Mon Calamari Spaceport Authority. I demand that your starfighters return to orbit immediately. Continued defiance will result in a declaration of war against your system."
There was silence from the Naboo ship. Jarlen almost thought that the envoy was ignoring the Generals orders. Then the escort ships slowed, turned around and headed for space.
"My pilots are heading toward the nearest docking platform, where I hope youll let them refuel and take one of your shuttles down to the surface. I will be relaying this event to your Chief of State when I see him tomorrow, so you had better hope that hes more accommodating than you are" A click sounded from the comm board, signaling the ending of the transmission.
Jarlen turned, and was about to get up and retire to the nearest lounge for some relaxing caf when the gravelly Mon Cal voice issued once more from the speakers. "Port Officer Storlis, I expect you to go deliver a full report of this to the Dockmaster." Then his comm clicked off too.
"Yes, sir" Jarlen stated into empty space. He noticed that everyone had returned to their normal duties. He headed towards the dockmasters office. "Looks like Ill be doing overtime again" he thought to himself "I really hate this job"
I'll be uploading Chapter 2 soon, itll be about Cal Omas