CHAPTER 3: Ashes to Ashes
Raa'chel stepped into the outskirts of Kaldonia. She had only ever been to Kalaador's only starport once before. Then, she was only six years old, and that had been as part of a royal motorcade. At that time, she was surrounded by several bodyguards and the people were cheering for her family's continued reign. That seemed like a point outside of history now.
Now, she looked upon the city. It looked as if it had gone thru the mill. The people were different from that parade day. Whereas they were happy and cheerful, now there remained a dead husk of a city. All around her were the walking wounded and the living dead. She seemed terribly out of place, there in her royal vestments of lavender and bronze. Everywhere she looked, the same person appeared, just with a different face. Downcast. Beaten. Drab.
Raa'chel lowered her head for a moment. She was saddened at the sight of her people looking so defeated. She raised her head back up, her resolve to save Kalaador stiffened. It was fortunate that she looked up just then, for coming down the lane were a squad of Imperial stormtroopers.
Raa'chel looked around for a hiding spot. Quickly, she ducked into a nearby alley and crouched low behind some plasteel boxes. The troopers drew near, a breath away from her hiding spot. If she wished, she could have reached out and touched one of the white-armored soldiers. And then, she would be very dead.
They were speaking to one another in a militaristic tongue. "Lord Von Rubin's orders were very specific, trooper. Alive."
One of the other faceless troopers answered his superior, "Yessir! But what if she resists?"
"She won't. This girl is a royal princess, unsuited to combat. If she's smart, she'll come willingly. And if not? Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. I'm sure our Lord would be very upset if we brought back a corpse. So that means, stunning bolts only! Understood?"
All of the others chimed in, "Crystal, sir!"
With that they continued walking down the street, away from their quarry.
Raa'chel emerged from her hiding place and watched the troopers go. "So I'm to be taken alive," she thought, "Not a chance." She turned to head in the opposite direction and ran straight into someone.
Raa'chel fell down onto her royal posterior. Quickly, without thinking, she blurted out, "Do watch where you're going! Don't you recognize-!" She quickly shut her mouth. She was supposed to be incognito, and yelling that she was the princess to the whole street would be a very bad idea."
The man whom she'd ran into extended a gloved hand to help her up. "Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't see ya there." He was a large man, especially around the middle. Filthy too, covered from head to toe in axle grease. Raa'chel took his hand and allowed herself to be lifted up. She took one look at him and was immediately struck with the sudden thought, "A pilot?"
She brushed herself off, her anger at being knocked over forgotten in light of the possibility that this man was the very thing she was looking for. Namely, passage off the planet. "The fault was mine," she said, "Forgive me, but are you by any chance a pilot?"
The large man was staring at Raa'chel. She wasn't sure she liked the look. She was about to ask what he was looking at when he quickly said, "Er, Yea! I'm a pilot, alright. Call me Ratchet. You need help, Miss-?"
He was aking her name. Thinking for a moment she said, "Marina." Marina was her mother's name.
"Marina. Pretty name." He looked at her for a moment again. Raa'chel was right, she didn't like that look. "Pretty girl, too," he continued, "Let's, uh, let's go discuss business."
Raa'chel hesitated. She was liking the man less by the minute. But still, he was a pilot. "Very well." Ratchet then motioned to her and she followed him down the street. Raa'chel had suddenly wished that she had invested in some different clothes and perhaps a hood, because now, she was attracting a lot of attention. Finally, Ratchet had pointed to a seedy looking tavern at the end of the row.
"The best place to talk without being inturrupted," Ratchet explained. Raa'chel apprehensively followed the man inside the bar.
Inside the bar, it was smoky and hard to see. Once Raa'chel's vision had adjusted to the darkness, she could make out that fact that this bar was patronized by more than just humans. There, she recognized, was a Klatoonian. At the bar, a pair of Weequay. Three Duros talked animatedly at a booth nearby. And finally, a shadowy figure regarded her and Ratchet as they passed.
Ratchet led the Princess to a corner booth at the back of the bar. Ratchet plopped his considerabe girth down, and the princess sat tentatively beside him. Ratchet smiled a yellow, foul-smelling smile at her and said, "So, in need of a pilot, eh?"
"Yes, and there's something else as well, I need-" It was then that Raa'chel noticed that Ratchet's hand had rested itself on Raa'chel's knee.
Ratchet drew himself closer to her. Raa'chel knew what this man wanted. "Oh don't worry, sweetheart. Ol' Ratchet knows what you need." He stuck out his lips, and pulled Raa'chel forcefully to him with his other arm. Raa'chel let out a quick scream. "Stop! Stop it!" she yelled.
"Call it payment for the trip, Marina. Be a good girl now." Ratchet's grip tightened around Raa'chel's shoulders, and she felt Ratchet's lips graze her neck.
Suddenly, he stopped. Raa'chel felt his grip loosen. She opened her eyes and looked.
Ratchet's face was frozen in fear, and he was staring off to Raa'chel's right. Raa'chel then noticed the red pinpoint of light on Ratchet's forehead. Following the beam back thru the smoke, she could see what Ratchet was so afraid of.
Holding what was easily the largest hand-blaster Raa'chel (and Ratchet too, it seemed) had ever seen. The black weapon's targeting laser had Ratchet cold. Raa'chel looked up the black leather glove, past the ash-grey sleeve of her savior's longcoat. The muscular arm ended in a broad shoulder, and finally, Raa'chel saw his face.
Several peircings ran thru the right eyebrow of the man's sharp green eyes. His forehead was knitted in anger, and Raa'chel saw the thin sneer that his lips were pursed into. A heavy stubble covered his square jaw, and Raa'chel could see another spike jutting thru the man's lower lip, a lebrets piercing. On his chest, he wore only a black leather vest, and underneath it, Raa'chel could see a tribalistic tattoo.
Ratchet scuttled away from Raa'chel. The red pinpoint moved with him. Ratchet stood up and out of the booth to face the man in front of him. "This isn't your business, Jerjerrod," Ratchet said.
The man, Jerjerrod's, voice came out in an almost- whisper. "I'm making it my business."
Ratchet was dripping sweat now. His forehead glistened under the red light of the targeting laser. Ratchet was breathing quickly. It was then that she saw his hand edge toward his own blaster.
"Don't go for it," Jerjerrod said.
Ratchet drew in a sharp breath and pulled his blaster. Jerjerrod's finger squeezed the trigger. Ratchet didn't even have time to scream as he was shot back against the bar wall. With a sickening crunch, Ratchet collided with the wall headfirst. He slumped down along the wall, half missing his face.
The bar immediately quieted. The patrons turned to look at Jerjerrod, though he did not look back. After a moment, the bar went back to its normal state of drinking and carousing. Apparently, the people were used to this sort of thing.
Jerjerrod sighed, but his arm still held a bead on Ratchet's smoking body. Next to him, Raa'chel gasped. She had never seen someone gunned down like that before. Slowly, Jerjerrod lowered his sidearm. He took a look at Raa'chel and asked, "Did he hurt you?"
Raa'chel didn't answer. She was staring at Jerjerrod as if someone could never do what he just did.
"Are you alright, Princess?"
That woke her up. "Yes. How did you-"
Jerjerrod thumbed over his shoulder. Raa'chel edged herself out of the booth and looked. "On the wall, near the entrance," he pointed out. Raa'chel saw an electronic bulletin board on the wall, displaying her own face back to her. The caption underneath read, "Princess Raa'chel Kalaador. If seen, please report her whereabouts to the nearest Imperial Officer, so that she may be safely returned to her home. Do not attempt to apprehend, yourself. -Lord Sabre Von Rubin."
Raa'chel leaned against the wall and turned her face back to Jerjerrod. "I'll never get out of here, now. My face is probably all over town," she said, mournfully.
"It is," Jerjerrod replied, "and where exactly are you going?"
Raa'chel paused. "Why should I tell you? You're no better than him," she said, motioning to Ratchet's limp form. Jerjerrod's face went from concerned to impassive.
"Fine. Take your chances with the stormtroopers." With that, he turned from the princess and walked away.
Raa'chel watched him leave. She suddenly felt very ashamed of how she just acted toward the man who saved her life. She made up her mind and ran to catch up with Jerjerrod. "Wait!"
Jerjerrod turned back to her with an impatient look. "What is it now?" he said.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" she sighed for a moment. "I mean, I-"
Jerjerrod cut in, "I get it. Look, next time someone saves your ass you might try to be a little more grateful, and not call them murderers, in so many words. Got it?"
Raa'chel nodded. Now she felt really awful. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jerjerrod. But if you could, please, direct me to a reputable captain-"
"You already found one. And call me Ash."
For the first time since meeting him, Raa'chel smiled. And for the first time, Ash smiled back.
Raa'chel stepped into the outskirts of Kaldonia. She had only ever been to Kalaador's only starport once before. Then, she was only six years old, and that had been as part of a royal motorcade. At that time, she was surrounded by several bodyguards and the people were cheering for her family's continued reign. That seemed like a point outside of history now.
Now, she looked upon the city. It looked as if it had gone thru the mill. The people were different from that parade day. Whereas they were happy and cheerful, now there remained a dead husk of a city. All around her were the walking wounded and the living dead. She seemed terribly out of place, there in her royal vestments of lavender and bronze. Everywhere she looked, the same person appeared, just with a different face. Downcast. Beaten. Drab.
Raa'chel lowered her head for a moment. She was saddened at the sight of her people looking so defeated. She raised her head back up, her resolve to save Kalaador stiffened. It was fortunate that she looked up just then, for coming down the lane were a squad of Imperial stormtroopers.
Raa'chel looked around for a hiding spot. Quickly, she ducked into a nearby alley and crouched low behind some plasteel boxes. The troopers drew near, a breath away from her hiding spot. If she wished, she could have reached out and touched one of the white-armored soldiers. And then, she would be very dead.
They were speaking to one another in a militaristic tongue. "Lord Von Rubin's orders were very specific, trooper. Alive."
One of the other faceless troopers answered his superior, "Yessir! But what if she resists?"
"She won't. This girl is a royal princess, unsuited to combat. If she's smart, she'll come willingly. And if not? Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that. I'm sure our Lord would be very upset if we brought back a corpse. So that means, stunning bolts only! Understood?"
All of the others chimed in, "Crystal, sir!"
With that they continued walking down the street, away from their quarry.
Raa'chel emerged from her hiding place and watched the troopers go. "So I'm to be taken alive," she thought, "Not a chance." She turned to head in the opposite direction and ran straight into someone.
Raa'chel fell down onto her royal posterior. Quickly, without thinking, she blurted out, "Do watch where you're going! Don't you recognize-!" She quickly shut her mouth. She was supposed to be incognito, and yelling that she was the princess to the whole street would be a very bad idea."
The man whom she'd ran into extended a gloved hand to help her up. "Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't see ya there." He was a large man, especially around the middle. Filthy too, covered from head to toe in axle grease. Raa'chel took his hand and allowed herself to be lifted up. She took one look at him and was immediately struck with the sudden thought, "A pilot?"
She brushed herself off, her anger at being knocked over forgotten in light of the possibility that this man was the very thing she was looking for. Namely, passage off the planet. "The fault was mine," she said, "Forgive me, but are you by any chance a pilot?"
The large man was staring at Raa'chel. She wasn't sure she liked the look. She was about to ask what he was looking at when he quickly said, "Er, Yea! I'm a pilot, alright. Call me Ratchet. You need help, Miss-?"
He was aking her name. Thinking for a moment she said, "Marina." Marina was her mother's name.
"Marina. Pretty name." He looked at her for a moment again. Raa'chel was right, she didn't like that look. "Pretty girl, too," he continued, "Let's, uh, let's go discuss business."
Raa'chel hesitated. She was liking the man less by the minute. But still, he was a pilot. "Very well." Ratchet then motioned to her and she followed him down the street. Raa'chel had suddenly wished that she had invested in some different clothes and perhaps a hood, because now, she was attracting a lot of attention. Finally, Ratchet had pointed to a seedy looking tavern at the end of the row.
"The best place to talk without being inturrupted," Ratchet explained. Raa'chel apprehensively followed the man inside the bar.
Inside the bar, it was smoky and hard to see. Once Raa'chel's vision had adjusted to the darkness, she could make out that fact that this bar was patronized by more than just humans. There, she recognized, was a Klatoonian. At the bar, a pair of Weequay. Three Duros talked animatedly at a booth nearby. And finally, a shadowy figure regarded her and Ratchet as they passed.
Ratchet led the Princess to a corner booth at the back of the bar. Ratchet plopped his considerabe girth down, and the princess sat tentatively beside him. Ratchet smiled a yellow, foul-smelling smile at her and said, "So, in need of a pilot, eh?"
"Yes, and there's something else as well, I need-" It was then that Raa'chel noticed that Ratchet's hand had rested itself on Raa'chel's knee.
Ratchet drew himself closer to her. Raa'chel knew what this man wanted. "Oh don't worry, sweetheart. Ol' Ratchet knows what you need." He stuck out his lips, and pulled Raa'chel forcefully to him with his other arm. Raa'chel let out a quick scream. "Stop! Stop it!" she yelled.
"Call it payment for the trip, Marina. Be a good girl now." Ratchet's grip tightened around Raa'chel's shoulders, and she felt Ratchet's lips graze her neck.
Suddenly, he stopped. Raa'chel felt his grip loosen. She opened her eyes and looked.
Ratchet's face was frozen in fear, and he was staring off to Raa'chel's right. Raa'chel then noticed the red pinpoint of light on Ratchet's forehead. Following the beam back thru the smoke, she could see what Ratchet was so afraid of.
Holding what was easily the largest hand-blaster Raa'chel (and Ratchet too, it seemed) had ever seen. The black weapon's targeting laser had Ratchet cold. Raa'chel looked up the black leather glove, past the ash-grey sleeve of her savior's longcoat. The muscular arm ended in a broad shoulder, and finally, Raa'chel saw his face.
Several peircings ran thru the right eyebrow of the man's sharp green eyes. His forehead was knitted in anger, and Raa'chel saw the thin sneer that his lips were pursed into. A heavy stubble covered his square jaw, and Raa'chel could see another spike jutting thru the man's lower lip, a lebrets piercing. On his chest, he wore only a black leather vest, and underneath it, Raa'chel could see a tribalistic tattoo.
Ratchet scuttled away from Raa'chel. The red pinpoint moved with him. Ratchet stood up and out of the booth to face the man in front of him. "This isn't your business, Jerjerrod," Ratchet said.
The man, Jerjerrod's, voice came out in an almost- whisper. "I'm making it my business."
Ratchet was dripping sweat now. His forehead glistened under the red light of the targeting laser. Ratchet was breathing quickly. It was then that she saw his hand edge toward his own blaster.
"Don't go for it," Jerjerrod said.
Ratchet drew in a sharp breath and pulled his blaster. Jerjerrod's finger squeezed the trigger. Ratchet didn't even have time to scream as he was shot back against the bar wall. With a sickening crunch, Ratchet collided with the wall headfirst. He slumped down along the wall, half missing his face.
The bar immediately quieted. The patrons turned to look at Jerjerrod, though he did not look back. After a moment, the bar went back to its normal state of drinking and carousing. Apparently, the people were used to this sort of thing.
Jerjerrod sighed, but his arm still held a bead on Ratchet's smoking body. Next to him, Raa'chel gasped. She had never seen someone gunned down like that before. Slowly, Jerjerrod lowered his sidearm. He took a look at Raa'chel and asked, "Did he hurt you?"
Raa'chel didn't answer. She was staring at Jerjerrod as if someone could never do what he just did.
"Are you alright, Princess?"
That woke her up. "Yes. How did you-"
Jerjerrod thumbed over his shoulder. Raa'chel edged herself out of the booth and looked. "On the wall, near the entrance," he pointed out. Raa'chel saw an electronic bulletin board on the wall, displaying her own face back to her. The caption underneath read, "Princess Raa'chel Kalaador. If seen, please report her whereabouts to the nearest Imperial Officer, so that she may be safely returned to her home. Do not attempt to apprehend, yourself. -Lord Sabre Von Rubin."
Raa'chel leaned against the wall and turned her face back to Jerjerrod. "I'll never get out of here, now. My face is probably all over town," she said, mournfully.
"It is," Jerjerrod replied, "and where exactly are you going?"
Raa'chel paused. "Why should I tell you? You're no better than him," she said, motioning to Ratchet's limp form. Jerjerrod's face went from concerned to impassive.
"Fine. Take your chances with the stormtroopers." With that, he turned from the princess and walked away.
Raa'chel watched him leave. She suddenly felt very ashamed of how she just acted toward the man who saved her life. She made up her mind and ran to catch up with Jerjerrod. "Wait!"
Jerjerrod turned back to her with an impatient look. "What is it now?" he said.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" she sighed for a moment. "I mean, I-"
Jerjerrod cut in, "I get it. Look, next time someone saves your ass you might try to be a little more grateful, and not call them murderers, in so many words. Got it?"
Raa'chel nodded. Now she felt really awful. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jerjerrod. But if you could, please, direct me to a reputable captain-"
"You already found one. And call me Ash."
For the first time since meeting him, Raa'chel smiled. And for the first time, Ash smiled back.