Chapter 31: Shiptar Tovrak

Skor II

Six Morseerians wearing bulky environmental suits repelled from the bulbous transport overhead. A spotlight illuminated the entire clearing, exposing the handcuffed forms of Wulf and Sey'les, as well as Shiptar and his three droid commandoes. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon, but the dark sky was becoming progressively brighter.

"Admiral Hill," Shiptar growled worriedly into his wrist comm, "where did these Morseerians come from?"

"Morseerians?!" Hista's voice echoed in alarm. "I'm not picking up any Morseerian vessels in the system."

No vessels in the system. What if they were already on Skor II then? What if— "The embassy!" Shiptar gasped.

"Checking…" Hista muttered, "you're right. They blasted off from the MetroBig City embassy into low orbit thirteen minutes ago."

Thirteen minutes… Thirteen minutes during which you were, no doubt, playing Demesne and distracting the tactical droid. "Get another transport down here," Shiptar snarled furiously, staring up worriedly at the descending Morseerians.

Landing on the snow with a crunching thus, the Morseerians untethered themselves from the ropes, holding their blasters at the low ready.

One Morseerian, slightly taller than the rest and wearing a shoulder camera, waved his hand in a tactical gesture. Secure the area. Turning to Shiptar, his authoritative voice echoed through the filter of his environmental suit. "I wanted to congratulate you, on behalf of the Morseerian government, for a well-executed capture. We are prepared to pay—"

"—I am General Shiptar Tovrak of the Corporate Alliance," the Shistavanen growled gruffly, standing taller as he held the blaster pistol, careful to keep his finger off the trigger. We can probably take down these Morseerians without shooting them if need be. "As you have, no doubt, detected, we are working with the Banking Clan to capture these fugitives ourselves."

"Good morning then, General," the mysterious figure said, now with more cheer. "I am Major T'zania of the Morseerian Protection Command. We were—"

"—Morseerian Protection Command," Shiptar snarled. "So you have no authority outside of the Morseerian embassy?"

"Under certain, exigent circumstances," T'zania shrugged, "we may need to venture slightly outside the embassy grounds on matters that threaten Morseerian security. For example, evacuating our citizens from a combat zone, or capturing terrorists who killed 30,000 beings on our home world." At that note, he glanced to his right, staring Sey'les and Wulf.

Sey'les gasped, then squirmed uneasily. Wulf sighed, looking down at the snow.

"As you can see," Shiptar noted, stepping between Sey'les and T'zania, "I captured them."

"And I said, sir, congratulations are in order. From what I observed, you really didn't even need those droids to help, did you?"

"No," Shiptar shrugged, smirking slightly. Don't get distracted. Ears perking up, Shiptar looked into the dim sky, hoping to see any sign of the other transport. I might just have to grab Sey'les and Wulf after Itoll gets back and walk to the parked transport. There's no way the Morseerians would shoot at me. Where is my Bothan?

Hearing a crunch of snow, Shiptar spun around and snarled. One of the sneaky Morseerians had grabbed Sey'les by the elbow and was pulling her up. "LET GO OF HER!" the Shistavanen howled.

The Morseerian slowly let go, his posture looking somewhat uncertain and worried. "Sorry about that, General," T'zania sighed. "Some of the troops can get a bit… Overzealous."

"As I said," Shiptar snarled, stepping next to Sey'les and Wulf, "I am taking them into custody."

The three BX droids stepped in closer to Shiptar, raising their blasters as they formed a triangular perimeter around the prisoners.

"Would you be open to my counterproposal?" T'zania asked curiously.

"You have the authority to make a counterproposal?" Shiptar growled cautiously.

"You take two of the prisoners and tell us where the fourth and fifth terrorists are. We take one of these prisoners, and the fourth."

Shiptar locked his jaw, thinking it over. Pax would kill me… Possibly. On the other hand, I could give them Fojo and Wulf, and take Itoll and Sey'les. Itoll seems to be the one Pax likes the most anyways Wait… A fifth terrorist? Team Muun has just four… He raised his wrist comm to his snout. "Admiral, I need you to relay a message. The Morseerians want—"

—A loud pulse rang through the air, close to the sound of a turbo laser, but high pitched and much smaller. Shiptar shrieked, howling in agony as a pain cut into his shoulder. He felt his collar bone shatter as blood gushed from his back, raining onto the snow.

As he collapsed onto the snow, he tried to raise his blaster pistol and shoot T'zania, but his arm would not move. With an agonized yelp, he grabbed his right shoulder with his left hand, squishing it as hard as he could to stop the squirting blood.

T'zania began barking orders, waving his arms around, trying to get his men into the right positions. The Morseerians regrouped, closing in around Shiptar and the BX droids' positions, aiming their blasters outward into the darkness.

The Morseerians are kriffing insane! They're going to—

—Another loud pulse cut through the sky. T'zania's chest plate exploded. Blue blood rained down in both directions like a fountain as he collapsed onto the snow. The air suddenly smelled like rotten eggs and burned matches.

That's an NT-242, Shiptar realised, recognising the sound of the sniper rifle as he got his bearings. An NT-242… Like mine… Itoll!

Gasping to himself in a horrifying realisation, the Shistavanen laid back on the snow, gargling on the blood that was now coming up into his throat.

As far as Shiptar had been concerned, Itoll was far in the process of being pair-bonded to him. It never occurred to the Shistavanen to view the Bothan as a potential enemy combatant, even though he was working for the other side. The thought of not only being betrayed, but shot, had been completely unthinkable.

Looking around, he realised how disadvantaged their position was. The Morseerian ship shined a spotlight onto their position, illuminating the entire field. There was no nearby cover at all. And Wulf…

"Oh no," Shiptar slurred. Lying on his back, he looked at the Ardennian.

With a determined grimace, Wulf stooped over T'zania's body, trying to grab the blaster rifle lying on his body using just his lower arms. He was slowly, but surely, overcoming a slight problem—the weapon was still attached to the heavy Morseerian by a synthleather shoulder sling.

Somehow, the BX series commando droids had forgotten to put Wulf's lower hands into binders.

o.o.o.o.o

Itoll Oc'skar

Until a few seconds ago, Itoll had never gasped in surprise at the power of his own weapon.

Steadying the rifle, he aimed carefully at Shiptar's shoulder blade. A nonlethal spot that would give the stubborn Shistavanen an opportunity to drop his weapon. It was completely against everything he had ever been trained to do, but the Bothan convinced himself they needed Shiptar alive.

The shot however had torn through the Shistavanen's shoulder like an explosive. This was visible even from Itoll's vantage point in the lodge. Blood had spattered everywhere, and Itoll worried for a moment that the wound may be un-survivable.

Swearing under his breath, he changed targets to the most authoritative-looking Morseerian, who was waving his hands around, pointing at various buildings and trees. Aiming centre mass, Itoll squeezed the trigger.

The Morseerian's chest exploded. Under the spotlight, blue blood was coming down like rain.

Itoll did not have a plan beyond shooting the hostiles surrounding Sey'les and Wulf. He had no idea how he would possibly handle the aircraft but having seen what happened to the rescued POWs on Praesitlyn, he had no intention of allowing them to fall into Separatist clutches.

In spite of the loud noise of his own blasterfire, Itoll's ears perked up at how utterly destroyed the Morseerian had been, now seeing a pattern. What is going on? Why are these shots so powerful? SHTAK!

The BX series Commando Droid standing closest to Shiptar's lying from was now looking directly at Itoll. It raised its blaster, aiming right at Itoll through the window.

Fur flat in fear, Itoll aimed the NT-242 up, directly at the droid's glowing eye. With how heavily-armoured a BX commando droid was, he knew this was only chance he had. He squeezed the trigger as quickly as he could. The droid's entire head exploded in a bright flash of sparks, debris raining down on the snow.

Once again, Itoll gasped in surprise, ears perked up in amazement. His fur relaxed. Huh. Armour piercing rounds, he surmised. That makes this easy! Sliding the rifle a little to the right on the mattress, the Bothan aimed quickly at the chest plate of one of the other droids.

In yet another micro-explosion, the droid's chest plate popped off completely, internal components ablaze. Soon after, the last droid was down, cut in half by an armour piercing round in its abdomen as it squatted into a tactical position.

A squeaky terrified scream from next door told Itoll that the other occupants the lodge were now waking up from the blaster fire.

Ignoring the screams, Itoll snarled to himself. "Why don't we just use these against the droids?" He gazed over the battlefield.

Through the scope, it was obvious that the five surviving Morseerians had no idea where Itoll was. Shiptar was lying down in a puddle of blood, appearing to be dead. Sey'les was still kneeling down, handcuffed. On the other hand, Wulf had somehow freed his lower arms, and was now having a tug-of-war over a blaster with a fallen Morseerian's body. He was now trying to cut the blaster rifle's shoulder sling off with a dagger.

Upon noticing this, two of Morseerian's suddenly raised their blasters at the Ardennian.

With two squeezes of the trigger, Itoll sent one of them down in a puddle of melting snow and blue blood, and the other soaring through the air, propelled by the now flaming methane, sulfur dioxide, and hydrogen sulfide of his environmental suit's backpack.

More screams from next door distracted the Bothan as he continued providing overwatch for the Ardennian. At the bottom of Itoll's view, Wulf had now cut the blaster rifle free from the Morseerian body and was firing it at the remaining three Morseerians who now ran towards the lone tree for cover.

Sliding the sniper rifle to the left on the mattress and lifting it slightly, Itoll aimed towards the remaining Morseerians and—

—The light over the field disappeared. All Itoll could see was the muzzle flash of blaster rifles. Unable to distinguish friend from foe, the Bothan gave up with a sigh, looking up from the scope. We might actually win this, he thought with a sad smile. Wait…

The spotlight from the Morseerian vessel was still turned on. It now shone directly through the window, onto his mattress.

Grabbing the sniper rifle with a pained groan, Itoll leapt off the bed, running across the room towards the refresher.

A laser turret at the bottom of the Morseerian craft let off a hail of rapid blasterfire, shattering the window in front of the bed. Itoll yelped as all around him, walls, furniture, and some of Shiptar's personal effects were blasted to bits. Feathers from the mattress and pillows soared in increasingly smoky air. As he turned around, shutting the door of the refresher, he witnessed his brand new hover skis shatter into several pieces on the opposite wall.

Trying to keep calm as shots began penetrating the refresher wall, Itoll dove into the durasteel bathtub with a noisy clunk. Soon, blasterfire began punching holes in the shower and mirrors, sending shards of glass and chunks of plaster raining down. A burst of three blasts hit the toilet directly, sending a mixture of plaster and toilet water into the sky, raining down onto yelping Bothan's back. He closed his eyes, burying his head as more things began falling from the ceiling, blasts now cutting through the roof of the lodge too.

When the blasterfire seemed to end, Itoll cautiously lifted his head, hardly able to hear a thing. Water continued spraying into the room from busted pipes in multiple directions, the wall in the shower was riddled with so many holes that Itoll could slightly see into the neighbour's room. A few wooden beams had fallen down from the roof, landing on the tile floor.

This is why we don't just hold weapons capable of firing anti-tank rounds. They are kriffing heavy. Itoll whimpered as he stepped up from the bathtub. His legs shook as he tried carrying the sniper rifle again.

o.o.o.o.o

Lir Sey'les

The Morseerian vessel increased its altitude over the lodge, then flew away, cutting up into the cloudy dawn sky as quickly as it could.

"Okay, they're going," Sey'les growled cautiously, patiently kneeling on the snow as Wulf undid her bindings. The clouds overhead were now growing much brighter as Squab, Skor II's sun, crested the horizon in the distance.

Unlike Wulf, Sey'les had not had the opportunity to move around during the firefight. She was freezing. Her ungloved hands hurt from the cold, even under her fur, and her ears felt numb. Snow had squished its way into her boots while she was kneeling, and her socks were beginning to freeze.

All of the Morseerians on the ground were dead. The air stunk with the smell of burning flesh, rotten eggs, and burnt matches. One of the Morseerian bodies still ablaze with tiny flames on its back, sizzling dramatically as it sunk deeper into the melting snow.

Shiptar was another matter. Somehow, Sey'les knew he was still alive. Her fur twitched as she stared at his bloody body. The familiar sirens of emergency vehicles, ambulances, perhaps police interceptors, drew nearer in the distance.

"Wulf, Shiptar's bleeding badly," Sey'les stammered the moment she was uncuffed. She ran over to the Shistavanen's side, reaching into her rear pocket, brandishing the sole gauze pad she had. This is thoroughly inadequate, she thought, getting all sorts of Antar flashbacks.

Around the lodge, some of the Squibs were stirring. The engine of one of the speeders in the parking lot started.

"Shiptar's hurt," Sey'les growled more loudly.

"Yeah?" Wulf sighed, shrugging.

"And we are going to keep him alive." Kneeling beside Shistavanen, Sey'les put her hand on a spot on Shiptar's shoulder that was bleeding particularly profusely, pressing the already soaked gauze pad down firmly.

"Move your hand," Wulf grunted.

Sey'les moved her hand.

Disconcertingly, the Ardennian started moving the barrel of the Morseerian blaster he was carrying, poking it onto Shiptar's wound.

"Wulf!" Sey'les gasped, fur swirling nervously. "Don't hurt him—He's a high value—"

—Shiptar's blood sizzled as the hot barrel of Wulf's blaster jabbed into his shoulder. "Just cauterizing it, ma'am," he reassured.

"Oh," Sey'les sighed in relief. "Well, we need to get Itoll, haul Shiptar to a transport of some sort, and get the kriff out of here. And—Oh, scratch that on Itoll." She looked in the direction of her fellow Bothan, sniffing the air. "Itoll?"

"Good morning, ma'am," Itoll groaned, coming down from the wooden stairs in front of the lodge. He was heaving the largest rifle Sey'les had ever seen.

Sey'les's fur swirled with slight suspicion as she stared at Itoll. Wulf snorted, shaking his head.

"No, I didn't know Shiptar was a Separatist," Itoll growled sternly. "There's no way—No way I would have… Well…"

Wulf chuckled, then coughed, groaning in pain as he massaged his ribs.

"Wulf's hurt," Sey'les said to Itoll. "We are going to have to carry Shiptar. Leave the weapon if you can't carry it and help me." She began tugging under his armpits, trying to pull the Shistavanen up. How much does he kriffing weigh? Do we have a stretcher?

"Shiptar's alive?" Itoll growled, a ripple travelling through his fur as he came closer.

"Yeah—He's unconscious, seriously bleeding might not make it."

Itoll dropped the sniper rifle and tried helping Sey'les life the Shistavanen. Blood began to smear onto Sey'les's jumpsuit as she gripped Shiptar's shoulder tighter. He still wouldn't budge.

The sound of ambulance sirens drew nearer in the distance. Well, maybe we could turn him over to the Squibs. They have stretchers… But how would we get him back into Republic custody?

"Uh, is Fojo on the way?" Itoll growled worriedly. In the dim light, Sey'les could see that Itoll's bloodied snout was covered in scabs. "We could use transport."

"Didn't you have—Shtak. Fojo!" Sey'les pulled out her datapad and began dialling the Avaricious Snaltowg.

Fojo answered on the first buzz. "Look, Sey'les," he sighed.

"Fojo, this is urgent," Sey'les stammered. "There was—"

"—I haven't really had the courage to tell you this," Fojo interrupted in a shy voice. "But, effective immediately, I am relieving you of duty Captain. After seeing you walk around the ship naked, I think your mental health—"

"—YOU KRIFFING IDIOT!" Sey'les snarled. "WE SO DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS ENSIGN!"

"This is exactly what I am talking about, Captain," Fojo voice spoke from the comm reluctantly. "This is… You are going to have to undergo a full examination before you can be cleared—"

"—FOJO!" Sey'les yelped, sobbing with frustration. "THIS IS SO KRIFFED! YOU NEED TO LISTEN. THERE IS—HEY!"

Without saying a word, Wulf grabbed the datapad from Sey'les's hand. He looked Sey'les in the eyes, firmly shaking his head no, then began speaking calmly, but quickly. "Fojo, Wulf here. We got into a firefight. I have broken ribs, Itoll's kriffed up, probably concussed. Shiptar is a Separatist. Itoll shot him. Shiptar is alive but needs immediate evac. Tell Trajan that we need somewhere… Well, Shiptar's gonna need bacta cuz he's kriffed. I don't think we want to turn him over to the ambulances, but they're… They're near."

"Holy—Whoa," Fojo gasped in shock. "I am sorry. Sey'les, forget what I said, we need—"

"—Wulf," Sey'les growled in a slightly calmer voice, fur twitching in annoyance. She held out her hand, flashing her teeth.

The Ardennian plopped the datapad into her open palm.

"Fojo," she growled cautiously. "Get here as fast as you can on the interceptor."

"There's a slight problem, ma'am," Fojo croaked.

"What?!" Sey'les snarled.

"Trajan and Nebhir took it around fifteen minutes ago."

"SHTAK! Fojo, we need to contact them. We need evac and…" Sey'les's voice died as three Serwald police landspeeders hovered over the snowbank at the side of the parking lot, drawing nearer. Painted blue and white, their sirens blared loudly.

"Uh…" Itoll growled.

"Kriff it!" Sey'les yelped. "Fojo, it's too late. The police are—"

"—FREEZE!" a tiny grey-furred Squib female yelped, holding a blaster pistol like a carbine shakily. "Drop your weapons!"

"Drop it Wulf," Sey'les grunted.

With a sigh, Wulf set the stolen Morseerian blaster rifle onto the snow.

"We have a Separatist general here. He's badly hurt," Sey'les stammered, reluctantly kneeling back on the snow, holding her hands on her head.

Six tiny Squibs hopped closer through the snow. They wore navy blue uniforms and white helmets that looked comically serious for how tiny and unintimidating the Squibs were. Soon after, five ambulances and a police van pulled to a stop in the parking lot in front of the lodge. Dozens of tiny Squib police and paramedics began closing in from every direction.

"Are you hurt?" an orange Squib female cop asked, gingerly patting down Sey'les with a gloved hand.

"No, this is his blood," Sey'les growled, pointing with her snout to the fallen Shistavanen. "Two of my men are hurt though."

A mixed group of cops and paramedics surrounded Shiptar, rolling the giant Shistavanen onto a stretcher with a strained heave. Soon after, the stretcher hovered gently off the ground, floating over the snow back to the ambulances.

"Your men?" a red furred male Squib asked sternly.

"Yes," Sey'les sighed. "I am Captain Lir Sey'les of the Galactic Republic. We were taking shore leave when these Separatists attacked us." Her fur did not show one guilty twitch. It was close enough to the truth.

Itoll and Wulf each reluctantly sat down on a floating stretcher, laying down with protest.

"I'd like to go with my men to the hospital," Sey'les growled nervously.

"Later. You're going to have to come with us to file a report at the station," the red furred cop squeaked, gesturing to his cruiser.