Chapter 31: Gavin Azi'skar
Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System
"Thirty seconds till boarding action," a posh Eriaduan accent yelled into the shaky cabin.
In a dim boarding pod, were ten beings, two Bothans and eight humans. The humans and Bothans both wore lightweight rounded helmets with no face coverings, more to offer protection against a particularly hard impact than against blasterfire.
The eight humans each wore sharp navy-blue tops with green trousers. The bright red and yellow sigil of the Outland Regions Security Forces was emblazoned on their shoulders. The two Bothans wore black jumpsuits with the white sigil of Clan Askar.
"All right Lieutenant Wilhuff Tarkin, this is your op," a young Azi'skar grunted gruffly, adjusting his helmet. "Remember, doors and corners."
"Prepare for impact!" Wilhuff Tarkin yelled. "Curzon, we—AHHH!" The human yelled in shock as the cabin shook under the loudest bang yet.
Ten voices cried out, groaning, yelping, and grunting as they were slammed suddenly against the bars and belts holding them into their jump seats. For a few seconds, everything became quiet.
"Rom, you said it was thirty seconds," Azi'skar gasped, breaking the silence. He patted down his vest to make sure all of his gear was where it was supposed to be.
"Rom, you asshole. I nearly pissed my pants!" a Corellian accent drawled.
"Sorry gentlemen, I meant thirteen seconds."
A much younger Olanir, but one who was still quite scarred and missing a chunk of her ear, flashed her teeth.
"Gentlemen, present company accepted of course," Rom, a brown haired human smirked, nodding curtly in the direction of Olanir.
"Thirteen seconds," Wilhuff scoffed. "Did not both the Grum and Admiral Gyar'trek teach us to call out these intervals of ten? Gervas, you have point."
The humans clambered out of their jump seats, lining up along the door, all wielding Bothan Bola Carbines.
Gavin Azi'skar and Olanir Krit'skar then climbed out, lining up at the rear behind Wilhuff Tarkin.
Once Wilhuff gave a stiff nod, one of the paramilitaries towards the front of the breaching pod spun a wheel. A mechanical clicking noise echoed through the pod. The hatch opened inwards, revealing a sealed pocket of air between their pod and the inner hull of the ship they had slammed into.
The two nearest to the door immediately began sawing at the hull, slowly cutting a square-shaped hole into it. When the saws nearly touched each other, the two Outland Security Forces personnel pulled their saws back from the hull and the boarding team parted ways.
Azi'skar and Olanir walked between them, holding a large breaching ram. After one slam into the hull, the square-shaped cut fell outwards into the hall. They then stepped back, allowing for the humans to rush forth.
Wilhuff screamed "GO! GO! GO!"
Another voice yelled "FREEZE! DROP IT!"
Panicking voices yelled back, "WE SURRENDER!"
Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Wilhuff, Azi'skar, and Olanir stepped through the breach, coming upon the scene.
On the bridge of this vessel, seven members of the Outland Security Forces had a group of a dozen brightly coloured Twi'leks surrounded. The adult Twi'leks and adolescents, wore yellow and blue flight suits, while youngest children wore tattered rags.
"You had plenty of opportunity to surrender before you forced us to chase you across the solar system," Wilhuff said with a few more tsk tsk tsks.
"Take whatever you want, just please don't hurt us!"
"Rom, Samuel," Tarkin spoke quickly, "search the ship for the missing Dolomite."
"Did better this time," Azi'skar growled approvingly, sniffing the air. "But, your men missed something."
With a snarl, Olanir grabbed one of the terrified Twi'leks roughly by the elbow, squeezing his sleeve.
He cried out in terror, struggling.
"KRIFFING DROP IT!" Olanir screamed, Bola Carbine slung over her shoulder. Maintaining her grip on his elbow, she began punching his gut furiously.
After taking several blows, the Twi'lek relented, grunting in pain as he dropped a sack to the ground.
"Well, what do we have here?" Wilhuff asked rhetorically, approaching Olanir and the bloodied Twi'lek.
Several of the children were now crying.
"It esh Sassana Spice," Olanir giggled excitedly, releasing the Twi'lek and allowing him to drop to his knees.
"That's not fair!" one of the humans protested. "I couldn't smell anything! You Bothans can't expect us to just be able to smell spice!"
"True," Wilhuff sighed. "We must simply endeavour to be more thorough. As for Sassana Spice… Sassana Spice is illegal on Eriadu."
"This isn't Eriadu," the Twi'lek spat.
"Our jurisdiction extends to the Seswenna Sector," Wilhuff retorted.
"Sir," a voice spoke breathlessly from Wilhuff's wristcomm. "We found three kilos of Dolomite. Chemical traces show it was mined on Eriadu."
Tarkin smirked, turning to face the group of Twi'leks. "We have found the missing Dolomite in your cargo hold. We know your ship was in the general vicinity of the Merciless. We know you had contact with Q'anah—"
"I want a lawyer," an orange Twi'lek female, standing towards the back of the crowd, said stoically.
A few of the humans laughed at that, until Tarkin held up a hand. "I am afraid you are confusing Eriadu for a world with Queens, Parliaments, and lawyers."
"What are you going to do if we don't talk? Beat us?" snorted a blue Twi'lek with a scar around her left eye.
"Oh, nothing so quaint," Wilhuff said with a smirk.
The camera turned off, but the audio continued for a few seconds. The bloodcurdling sounds of screaming Twi'leks rang out from Azi'skar's HoloNet terminal, interspersed with the sound of electric sparks.
"HOLY SHTAK!" Azi'skar yelped, fur flat in fear. He pulled out his datapad, trying to see if any of the news commentary had picked up on this yet.
The darkness was suddenly replaced by a clip of an older Azi'skar—a clip of an answer to an interview he remembered giving a few years ago. A holorecording of his face spoke in a wise tone. "Beliya ko, yag zon tona woks ar korm agkaroswask 'vasht ta erz hari-thikisk. Klo-awanoda za korn droga 'betho ta."["I believe that your formative years are very important. They set the course for the rest of your life."]
Bright white letters suddenly appeared on the screen.
"In 2 GrS, while Thellus and Tawa were still in ruins, Grum Gavin Azi'skar and his gang of former pirates ventured to the Seswenna Sector. While the rest of us were rebuilding, they took time off, making a fortune committing torture, murder, and other unspeakable crimes. This is how Grum Azi'skar spent his formative years. Can we trust him representing us in the Senate?"
A translation of the text in Basic flashed across the screen in Bothese.
Groaning in exasperation, it all suddenly made sense. Azi'skar swore under his breath, vowing to find whoever created this advertisement and—
"—I am Zerir Vri'skar, and I support this message." Zerir's smiling face replaced the wall of text.
o.o.o.o.o
"Thank Golm for floating recorder droids," Eshka yipped excitedly, smashing her wine glass against Zerir's in a celebratory toast.
Zerir flashed a wry grin as her glass collided with Eskha's, then she scowled, plugging her nose as she gulped down a glass of Toniray, gagging dramatically when the wine cleared her throat.
Zerir and eight of her most trusted crew sat in the Yu'tor's mess hall. Several of Zerir's campaign staff moving about busily in the background, sifting through plastisheet, typing on datapads.
"Nokiz can believe it still," Ben growled, fur twirling unhappily. "The Grum… All my life—"
"—You esh young," Zerir growled consolingly, clucking her snout at the taste. "You weren't aroun' when things were rougher. Thellus was a warzone when I firs' moved here."
"One thing is for certain," Raskyer sighed. "We are gonna be fired."
"Fired? Who gives a shtak about what Azi'skar does? When I'm Senator," Zerir yipped, "I'll pay you all to fly me to Coruscant."
"Kiz," Ben growled with a smile, then frowned. "Still, would have liked to have flown that Bothan Cruister the Grum esh buying."
Zerir hmm'd at that, then tried taking another sip of Toniray, balking at the liquid.
"Well, it's settled then," said the Alderaanian reporter, Clahra Fair, settling down into an empty chair between Ben and Eshka. She ran her hand through her braided hair, straightening it out. "Bothans have no sense of taste at all."
Regarding the human, Zerir scowled. "I dunno why I agreed to this for Toniray. Your Toniray smells like rotten fruit."
"Maybe I should get you an Adumari Beer then," Clahra scoffed. "Still, a deal's a deal. I get access to the unredacted version of that tape. I want to see exactly what Wilhuff Tarkin did."
Zerir gave a reluctant Spacer nod with her left hand, then growled cautiously. "Maybe you don't wanna know." Withdrawing a hand from her flight suit's front pocket, she slid the datadisc across the table to Clahra.
"Thank you," Clahra said brightly. "Now, about Liska Gyar'trek. I—"
One of the campaign aids yelped loudly across the mess hall. "Zerir! You gotta see this."
"What esh it?" Zerir sighed, getting up from the table.
Unnervingly, Clahra followed closely behind Zerir, accompanying her to the source of the commotion.
The campaign aide sat behind a terminal. On the terminal's screen, a video was paused. Something about the scene looked eerily familiar.
Zerir's fur swirled nervously. "Play it."
It was a scene Zerir had no idea had been recorded. An event she still suffered nightmares from.
Zerir and her crew were corralled in the terminal of a spaceport on the moon Ohma-D'un. Battle droids moved about, taking defensive positions.
Leading them, a crazed Mirialan stood before the crowd of Bothans, screaming. "YOU STUPID BOTHANS! YOU JUST HAD TO BE HERE! HAD TO—AHHH! I AM A GOD TO YOU! I AM DEATH! YOU DON'T GO ON A HUNGER STRIKE!"
Fur standing on end, Zerir looked away from the screen, unable to bear watching it.
Furious snarls and pained yelps erupted in the background. Zerir tried to tune it out, but then she heard her own voice screaming. "YOU TWISTED SHTAK! YOU DID KILL EVERYONE! DID KILL THEM ALL! YOU COULDN'T EVEN LET HAYDEN OR TERUKA LIVE! JUS' COULDN'T LET US KEEP THEM! COULDN'T EVEN LET US HAVE THAT! HAD TO TAKE IT ALL! TAKE THEM ALL!"
A moment later, from the recording, she heard Dr Selatti's terrified bloodcurdling screams for the first time. When Zerir had killed him, somehow she had either not heard his cries or had forgotten them.
Looking around the room, Eshka, who had been there, had tears in her eyes.
Most of the Bothans on her campaign staff, however, looked completely terrified.
"Holy shtak," Zerir croaked. "Holy—"
"—My question to you, Bothans and humans of Thellus—and Tawa," Azi'skar's voice said suddenly in the background. "Would you vote for a cannibal? I am Grum Gavin Azi'skar, and I support this message."
