Chapter 20 – Ideological Discussions … Better Over Lattoids Than During Firefights

As the firefight waged around her, Amelia reflected on the battle which had come upon them most unexpectedly. Replaying the events leading up to it, she should have realized the tell-tale signs on a rebel offense. But to her credit, she had been distracted by the somewhat startling accusation Wellington's possible foray in to treason. She'd really have to let Delbert have it, assuming they emerged from this heated encounter unscathed.

Forgoing their previous use of skiffs, the rebels wisely had chosen to operate off small speeders now. Zipping in and out of the Legacy's formidable masts, they were making themselves a hard target lock to secure. Amelia had immediately launched her own small fleet of speeders – a nice addition to her arsenal courtesy of the Royal Navy – and allowed herself a smug smile as she saw her crew shoot down yet another rebel soldier. They were slowly whittling down their numbers, shot by shot, and if that's what it took to quell this rebellion, that's what Amelia would do.

She moved swiftly across the deck, taking care to not be seen by the forces scattered across the starboard bow. A nearby particle storm was doing wonders to create a hazy cover for her movement, but unfortunately not enough cover. She heard the unmistakable sound of a blaster powering up. Ears perked, Amelia turned her head slightly to gauge precisely where the high buzzing was originating. She had just pinpointed it when the sharp wail of its discharge rang out across the deck. She jumped to remove herself from its path, but was a second too late, her howl ringing out across the deck as the shot caught her on the left side, dropping her to the deck.

Grunting, she moved a hand to clutch at her injured rib. What was it with her and her torso? Have a gunfight - injure an abdomen. It was beginning to become something of a regular habit for her, she thought grimly. She was going to have to change that habit and take up something less painful.

She caught sight of the rebel leveling his blaster at her again and, ignoring the pain lancing through her side, Amelia unceremoniously dove behind a pallet of oak crates just as the shot crackled overhead.

"This cat and mouse game between these rebels and I has got to stop," she muttered dusting the dirt off her breeches. A dull pain spread through her ankle. 'Wonderful,' she thought with a wry smile. 'I twisted the blasted ankle as well.' She rolled her eyes; another injury she could add to her ever-growing list. She looked around, seeing Delbert just to her right and young Roderick and Wellington crouching behind the next pallet over. "Gentlemen," she nodded.

"Captain, so nice of you to join us," Wellington drawled.

"Sorry I couldn't join you earlier," Amelia replied offhandedly. "Reports to file, rebels to quell – you know how it is." She slid a hand over the top of the impromptu crate fort and moved her blaster from side to side, peppering the opposition with plasma fire.

"Captain, you've been hit!"

While the young cadet's concern was touching, Amelia was in no mood to deal with it. "Indeed Mr. Roderick, but it's merely superficial. Nothing for you to concern yourself with."

"Perhaps it's not his place, but it is certainly mine and don't think I didn't know notice your ankle when you landed," Delbert was quick to inform her in a low voice, which earned him a sharp glare.

"That's apt for debate, Doctor, but now is neither the time nor place for that particular discussion." Her tone brooked no argument, and Delbert knew better than to force the issue – especially under these circumstances.

Roderick rolled to the side as a shot sizzled between two planks of wood, narrowly missing the young man's ribs. "Bags! That shot almost got me!" He peered around the corner, assessing the enemy's location. "I don't understand these guys," he complained while noting their position. "All the Empire wants to do is come in and outsource Ronan's natural resources. They're getting loads back in exchange. Our technology, military protection, citizenship. What's their problem?"

Delbert slid a glance to the young man crouched a few feet away and grunted, his frustration at Roderick's apparent inability to fathom the rebels' motivation evident in his tone.

"These ruffians, whether right or wrong, truly believe they're fighting to retain their independence and culture." He lined up his target and fired, hitting the rebel squarely in the hand, causing the fighter to drop his pistol and fall to the deck. "Take that you scalawag!" Doppler yelled triumphantly before turning back to address young Roderick. "And I completely respect their devotion to principles."
Roderick looked at him incredulously and opened his mouth to reply, but Amelia beat him to it.
"Gentlemen! In case you have forgotten, we are in the middle of a firefight! Now is neither the time nor place for an ideological discussion. Take it up when we're back on Montressor safe from harm and far away from me so I don't have to put up with your blather." She gave them a hard look. "Do I make myself clear?" she asked taking down yet another rebel with her trademark precision.
"Aye, Captain. "Roderick turned his attention back to his targets, squeezing off rapid shots.
Doppler frowned and leaned in closer to Amelia whispering, "Of course, darling. But I really don't see--"
"Not now, Doctor."

"Of course."

"Oh and Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Remind me to give you a good tongue lashing when we get out of this, Doctor. "
"Um ... yes dear. "

To be continued …