Chapter 51: Lir Sey'les
MGX-93776
Over the next three weeks, surprisingly, things in Azagor calmed down in the wake of Ekos's rescue operation. Fortunately for the Republic occupations forces, none of the Koorivars that Ekos hacked to bits happened to be popular.
Another factor was that, with Sey'les sitting behind the wheel in preparation for her driving test, the face of the Republic the Koorivars saw everyday was Wulf's. While belligerent and blunt in his own way, Lieutenant Razal Wulf was a playful, far more patient, and far more agreeable garbage handler.
If Sey'les did not know any better, she would have thought that being a garbage handler was Wulf's true calling. Her ears were perked up, fur swirling nervously as she looked out the passenger door enviously. Being stuck in this dead-end job after being left on a hill for days, made the Bothan's aspirations in life sink much lower.
"All right, you know the drill, just stand—thank you!" Wulf said cheerfully as he scanned a group of Koorivar teenagers for bombs. "Oh, I remember taking the garbage to the street when I was your age."
"Must have been easy with four arms," a Koorivar girl said in heavily-accented Basic.
"Yeah, actually, I took out the garbage and the recycling," Wulf said humorously.
None of the Koorivars laughed, but they smiled as they overturned their bins into back of the speeder truck.
Captain Lir Sey'les's fur twitched with annoyance. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about all the attention these Koorivars gave Wulf, but never gave her, made her jealous. The Bothan had half a mind to swap places with Wulf, desperate for locals' attention.
I can be a very friendly garbage handler too! If I only I could take these Koorivar to the shooting range—they'd be really impressed with my marksmanship, Sey'les thought with a scowl. Her fur continued twitching as she thought of even more implausible ways to bask in their attention. Or—or swimming! Yeah, swimming. Hell, I could race them and use my implants. Leave those kids in the dust! Shtak, what's the drinking age around here? I bet—
—Wulf hopped back into the speeder.
"All right, Muun Leader here," Sey'les said into the comm. "RCV 1 has finished collecting refuse in collection site 11, moving on to site 12. How do things look up there, Bearcat?"
"Things are under control up hear Muun Leader," a Clone's voice said through the comm. "Bearcat is ready to provide overwatch on your mark, over."
Sey'les muted the comm and turned to Wulf. "Wulf, would it be all right if you drove to the next site?"
"Uh… sure?" Wulf said in a question scratching his head.
"Thank you," Sey'les sighed in relief. Her fur danced with excitement as she anticipated the Koorivars being friendly to her at the next site.
"But… well, Captain, you have your driver's test tomorrow."
Sey'les swore under her breath. "You're right. Gotta get this driving thing down pat," she muttered, drumming the steering wheel with her fingers. Her fur twirled unhappily at the prospect of Wulf once again getting all of the attention.
o.o.o.o.o
Vasa Ro'val
Coruscant
Ro'val's fur swirled nervously as she dialled Major Ursi Ek'fon on her office's holonet terminal. Ursi owed Ro'val numerous favours and, in the aftermath of the Thellus Attack, even Kothlis and Thoran Bothans wanted blood. Numerous Alyas, Alabs, Ilyas, Ojias, and Afons had been murdered alongside the Spacers on Thellus.
The challenge for Ro'val, however, was to control the flow of information. If too many Spynet members found out that the Tarkins were involved in the attack, and that they hired the Mandalorians, then some Bothans would naturally wonder how it was that Tav Mi'zya's investigation was quashed. On the other hand, if Ro'val did nothing, then Gavin Azi'skar might very well target her—even with only circumstantial evidence of her own inaction. In their own right, the Askars could be dangerous. Even if they did not expose Ro'val, the Askars could hypothetically fly to Coruscant on the Yu'tor and send a couple of near-feral shiny-toothed ex-pirates to her apartment.
A third concern, however, was keeping Wilhuff Tarkin unaware that she was now working against his family. Her actions, whatever they were, had to be so pin-point and piece meal that only a Bothan would know she did it, yet substantial enough for her to point to them if Gavin Azi'skar ever came knocking on her door looking for blood.
"Director, this is highly unusual," Ursi's holopresence growled, her fur flat in fear.
Ro'val relaxed herself. "Does your team still have eyes on Mok Tarkin?"
"Yes Director, but the Mid Rim is beyond your jurisdiction. This is inappropriate—"
"—I am sending you telemetry captured from the Ovesk, moments before it was destroyed," Ro'val snarled. The kriffing Tarkins. Couldn't even cover their faces during the attack!
"The Ovesk!" Ursi gasped. "Is this confirmed?!" she yelped. Her holopresence leaned over, pressing some buttons on a terminal.
"We have a 99.98% match to Mok Tarkin's profile," Ro'val growled. "An image of Mok Tarkin was captured by the Ovesk's astrometric's lab moments before he killed 3,000 Bothans."
"But the Ovesk was an Otrek ship," Ursi stammered. "This is unbelievable!"
"We need to keep the information on this tight," Ro'val sighed, licking her lips nervously. "We cannot allow this to expand into a wider conflict against the Tarkin family, however, a message must be sent…" Ro'val then switched to Bothese, "erz ba pa Edzhen Vishkul mid uswu?" ["Is Agent Lime-green still under your command?"]
"Kiz. Berita pa Edzhen Vishkul jov." ["Yes, Agent Lime-green is ready."]
["Excellent,"] Ro'val snarled, her fur standing up in rage. ["Make Mok Tarkin and anyone who is with him suffer! A ground op—extreme termination. No bombings, but I want collateral casualties. We need to send a message."]
["Very well, I will keep this between us and those necessary to carry it out,"] Ursi responded. A single photograph and an order from a Bothan of Ro'val's stature was all it took for the Spynet Major to follow that order.
["Thank you, Major,"] Ro'val said more calmly.
["I'll send you confirmation when it is complete. Ursi Ek out."]
o.o.o.o.o
Ro'val sighed, staring out the window into the rain. That Afternoon call with Ursi had caused Ro'val to stay past 1500 when the scheduled Coruscanti rain-day intensified. Now rain was pouring down outside of the COMPOR Arcology Hospital.
She finally resolved to stand up. It is only going to rain harder the longer I wait. As Ro'val slipped her datapad into her bag, three firm knocks echoed from her office door. Who could that be? It smelled like a human, but well over 90% of the beings in the Arcology were human.
Walking around her desk, Ro'val grabbed the doorhandle and twisted it, opening the door. Immediately, her fur fell flat, eyes dilated, and she swore under her breath. "Tarkin, kriff it! Don't scare me like that!"
"Commander Ro'val," Wilhuff Tarkin said with a smirk in the corner of his mouth.
Shtak. He knows. He must have tapped my comms. He has come here to kill me. He—
"—You look like you have seen a ghost," Tarkin said smugly.
Ro'val laughed nervously, then began growling. "You just, surprised me. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Why yes there is," Tarkin said, handing Ro'val a datapad. "The Supreme Chancellor has ordered you to accompany me to MGX-93776, where we will collect Captain Lir Sey'les, her team, and a division of the 12th Army.
"Me?!" Ro'val yelped, looking down at the datapad, scrolling through the orders. "Why me?"
"I had a feeling you not be particular to accompanying me," Tarkin said gruffly. "Even a brief trip to the front is too much for you Commander? Is that why you were trying to escape your office before I came? I presume your Spynet has all of our channels compromised, and that this is why—you know what you are? Like so many of your wretched species, a coward! A complete and utter—"
Ro'val wore a scowl across her face. At least he thinks this is about MGX-93776. Kriff it! I didn't even know about that. "Commander," she snarled, fur standing on end. "Being rude gains you no allies."
"My apologies," Tarkin muttered. "I allowed my anger to get the best of me."
"I will accompany you, as ordered," Ro'val muttered, straightening her white tunic. "When do we depart?"
"In fifty minutes," Tarkin said sternly. "We have changes of Naval uniforms in your size already on board," he said consolingly in response to Ro'val's shocked expression.
o.o.o.o.o
Lir Sey'les
MGX-93776
"Well ma'am, if you do pass your test," Itoll explained, "I will only be able to give you this flimsiplast certificate with my signature. You will then have to take this into Coruscant Skies and pay the fee."
Sey'les scowled. If I pass my test—but I am a great driver! "But I will be allowed to drive by myself with that certificate?"
"Yes ma'am," Itoll said, pulling out the blank flimsiplast card. It had no photograph on it, said TEMPORARY at the top, and had numerous blank squares for Sey'les's demographic information.
"All right," Sey'les said, her fur giving one nervous twitch. "Let's get this show on the road."
"I can't believe this is actually happening!" Fojo snorted, unable to contain his laughter. "Captain Sey'les, learning to drive at age 30! Holy—"
"—Ensign!" Sey'les snarled, completely unamused. Her fur stood straight, twirling stiffly in anger an embarrassment. You Rodian little stinker. Why did I even let you come?
Wulf glared at Fojo, looking very much like he wanted nothing more than to thump his antennas in.
"I am sorry—"
"—If you disrespect me again, I won't let you come," Sey'les growled.
"Fojo," Itoll snarled fur twitching impatiently. "If you disrespect Captain Sey'les again, I will have to reprimand you."
Itoll and Sey'les sat in the front seats of the Z-24 Heavy Speeder Truck. Crammed in the back, were Wulf, Fojo, Grath, Knot, Dub, and Dubs. They had all come to watch Sey'les take her driving test. It was the most exciting thing to happen in town since the Republic rescued Roarer of Yowls.
"I am sorry ma'am," Fojo said again, playing with his uniform cuff.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Sey'les said, beaming to Itoll.
"No problem, ma'am," Itoll replied.
Dub shook his head at Fojo, then turned to Sey'les, "I am sure you are going to do marvellously ma'am!"
The other Clones all murmured in agreement.
"All right," Itoll said, "so, Captain, let's begin with the safety check."
o.o.o.o.o
Prococia Olgar'kla
While Sey'les continued her driving test out into the cratered streets of Azagor City, unbeknownst to her, on the opposite side of the planet, more than 150,000 Republic troopers were advancing on the last Corporate Alliance stronghold on the planet, a massive Lucrehulk core.
Ahead of the ground forces, in an LAAT, flew General Prococia Olgar'kla, Captain Hopper and the other specialised ARC Troopers, and an engineer—Lieutenant Commander Ophelia Fodor. Down below, a line of AT-TEs were cut down by turbolaser fire as they emerged from a ravine.
We have to give the ground forces more room to manoeuvre, Prococia thought at first, opening his thin Caamasi snout to bellow an order to the pilot. No! There's no time. We have to keep going.
From deep within the crater surrounding the Lucrehulk, the ominous alarm that had been blaring for nine minutes was now joined by a second, this one sounding off at a faster rhythm.
"What is it?" Prococia asked.
"That's the second alarm!" Fodor yelled over the noisy engine. "We—we need to already be there!"
The Lucrehulk core contained megatons of Hypermatter—it had been converted into one of the most powerful reactors in the Galaxy. For the last ten years, it had been used to power the sub-crust drilling operations which extracted the Doonium directly from the mantel. Thirty minutes ago, an alarm for a power imbalance blared from the Separatist lines, so loud that it could be heard across the battle-zone.
In the fog of war, it took fifteen minutes for a member of the Corps of Engineers to reach the Caamasi and explain what the alarm was, and what it could mean. Fodor had explained that creating a cascade imbalance in a reactor that size would take time. It could take hours, perhaps less, but she was emphatic that they had to go now.
One of the largest Hypermatter reactors in the Galaxy just happened to be overloading at the same time Republic Forces advanced on it. The explosion from a reactor that size would punch all the way to the planet's core, vaporise everything on the surface of an entire hemisphere, and likely split the planet to pieces.
More ominously, none of the droid fighters were bothering to attack to the LAAT. The Separatist transports all around the Lucrehulk were beginning to take flight. Everything about this appeared intentional.
"Where should we set down?" Prococia asked in a yell as the LAAT flew over the edge of the crater, quickly approaching the Lucrehulk.
"We need to get the power distribution centre! Right behind the control tower!"
"Pilot, set us down by—"
—Flak exploded outside. While Prococia monetarily lost his balance, the other beings standing in the LAAT fell onto the floor with oofs, yells, and groans.
"Setting you down behind the control tower sir!" the pilot yelled before Prococia could resume speaking.
"Thank you!"
o.o.o.o.o
Like many Jedi, the last decade and a half of political in-fighting had caused Prococia to become disillusioned with the Order. In fact, he was planning on leaving the Order as soon as his second Padawan, Ekos, attained knighthood. I'll just remain in the order three or four more years, he had told himself. I shall pass on one more Padawan to carry on my legacy.
His primary concern at the time was abandoning his Padawan, forcing his Padawan to find a new teacher. The relatively balanced Caamasi, even for Jedi standards, was wracked with guilt at the thought of quitting before his new Padawan had passed his trials; the Jedi phrase honour your Padawan chanted in his head.
Then the Clone Wars broke out.
Despite only having had experience as a teacher and diplomat, the middle aged Caamasi was placed in charge of a Sector Army and sent into the Mid Rim. Somewhat surprisingly, he did not find killing other beings in combat to be all that bothersome.
The war did not bother him. Yet, amidst the diverse set of beings under his command, he found another reason to want to quit the Jedi Order: Lir Sey'les.
He found all three of the Bothans under his command to be utterly repellent. They not only conducted themselves like the anthesis of how Caamasi morality would dictate they behave, but they were also often in a constant state of fear—fear that Prococia could always sense. Pathetic miserable little beings.
The fear he could ignore. He could also ignore Itoll and Oryon's level of immorality. At least they controlled their impulses.
Lir Sey'les was another story. She was the most immoral of the lot. In her, he sensed impulsiveness, narcissism, ridiculous competitiveness, and general lack of concern for those around her. On the one hand, this disgusted him. On the other however, the Caamasi found himself ogling her trimmed figure, shiny dark-grey fur, and remembering her steely light blue eyes—all very exotic to a Caamasi, most of whom were plump with soft light fur and not very muscular. He then decided to reach out to her, but did so cautiously, very weary of the Bothan.
The evening Prococia did, his first surprise was the discovery that she was Force sensitive. His second was when, not ten minutes later, he sensed her commit three disciplinary violations and two illegal acts. Illegal acts while on my ship! He was utterly appalled as he sensed her break into the contraband storage locker and remove confiscated items. Then, she not only consumed contraband alcohol, but shared it with a subordinate and engaged in improper fraternisation with him!
Rather than sending her back to Coruscant in an orange jumpsuit however, Prococia found himself deeply jealous of that young Ardennian. The following morning, when he interrupted her mission briefing, the Caamasi told himself I am making her into a better officer. I must show her that these casual misdeeds will no longer be tolerated. However, he found himself taking great efforts to impose his presence in her life.
Prococia came to realise that, like the great Caamasi philosopher Proculus Hespes, he had fallen for a sleek and utterly immoral Bothan temptress.
As the military conflict moved to the ground, the Caamasi began having force visions of a firestorm around the city shields. A simple solution presented itself: let the universe decide if it wants that Bothan temptress to remain a part of it. If it doesn't, nature will take its course. The Caamasi philosopher Komodia Rex once put it in a way only she could have: 'Nature always seeks an end.'
Rather than bringing him back into balance, Prococia found himself dealing with the worst sleep disturbances of his entire life. After multiple nights of dreams where Sey'les was screaming, being roasted alive, a viscous burning substance clinging to her fur, the Caamasi came the conclusion that he could not just let her die. I cannot just get her out of my life that easily… No, no. I must shape events so that she remains safe, but inevitably will be driven by her Bothan ambition straight back to me. Next step? Leaving her as a garbage handler and promoting Itoll to Lieutenant Commander.
Being on the Northern Continent, an entire hemisphere away from Lir Sey'les, helped the Caamasi focus more on the war effort. However, Sey'les remained an obsession in the back of the Jedi's mind.
o.o.o.o.o
Lir Sey'les
When the traffic beacon changed to green, Sey'les cautiously pulled into the U-Turn lane and hooked around, heading back to Joint-Base Golshten-Myyydril as Itoll instructed. The Captain's fur swirled nervously as Itoll continued taking notes.
The hulking speeder truck drifted gracefully over the craters in the street. By now, all of the debris from the battle had been cleared, but the roads themselves had yet to be repaired.
A few Koorivar stood curiously on their front porches, staring at the speeder truck, likely thinking to themselves: What is the Republic doing? Today is not a garbage day.
"Knot," Sey'les growled, "how are things looking up there?"
"No problems yet ma'am," Knot said, aiming the turret forwards.
Sey'les scowled as she looked out the front window, squeezing the steering wheel tighter. Come on Itoll! Say something! I am going crazy over here!
Five minutes of silence later, Sey'les's fur was twitching.
"All right, let's park it over here," Itoll said calmly.
Sey'les steered the speeder to the right, slowing down behind a parked TX-130. She opened her snout, and yelped "DID I PASS?!"
Itoll flinched, glaring at her. "Yes ma'am. You passed," he growled, handing her the scoresheet.
"I am sorry Lieutenant," Sey'les stammered. "I was just worried… Oh this is so rogue!" she yipped. Then she read the scoresheet and snarled furiously. "WAIT! Eighty-two! How could you give me an eighty-two?!"
Fojo started guffawing.
"I have itemised all of your points," Itoll said calmly, but his fur twitched in annoyance.
"I am sorry," Sey'les sighed again, then began beaming. "I PASSED!"
"Congrats," Wulf said, reaching towards her shoulder and giving it a pat. The pat quickly evolved into a massage.
Sey'les frowned at him. No PDAs.
Wulf recoiled his hand. "Sorry ma'am."
"Huh," Sey'les said, holding the certificate in front of her snout. "What now?"
"We could see how fast this thing goes?" Wulf suggested.
Rogue. "Yeah!" Sey'les yipped. "I wonder how fast this thing goes!"
"Uh…" Itoll growled. "Well, I suggest we go out of the city if we are going to really do that."
Out of the city… Sey'les began dialling Captain Sack in Air Assault Command. "Hey Captain, this is Sey'les."
"Captain Sey'les, how can I help you?" a Clone voice asked cheerily from the comm.
"So, I was planning on doing a…" routine op? Training run? Situational Training Exercise? Race? Situational Training Exercise. "…I was planning on doing a Situational Training Exercise outside of Azagor and was wondering if you could provide me with some air support."
"Sure, Bearcat will be ready to provide overwatch in ten minutes. The boys are itching to get out there!"
"Thank you, Captain," Sey'les said in a professional tone.
"And thank you, Captain," the Clone replied.
Sey'les's fur danced with excitement as she sat in the driver's seat, ready to leave Azagor City for the first time in a month.
o.o.o.o.o
Prococia Olgar'kla
Blasterfire flew down the well-lit grey hallway. While Prococia deflected it, Fodor and the Clones stood behind him, returning fire. Opposing them, down the hallway, were four Droideka. Their shields remained despite impacts from the reflected blasterfire.
A foreboding tremor rumbled, shaking the floor slightly.
"SIR!" Fodor yelled urgently. "WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!"
"Very well Commander," Prococia said, somewhat serenely but much less serenely than he normally would. "Hopper," he said, deflecting shots, "I am going to throw my lightsaber. While I do, we will be—" a shot he had failed to deflect nearly hit the Caamasi's ear. His ear batted itself defensively, as if warding off an insect, feeling touched by the heat. "While I do," Prococia continued, "we will be vulnerable to enemy fire. You will all need to duck."
"I UNDERSTAND SIR!" Hopper yelled, panic in his voice.
"Very well," Prococia said, sensing the fear all around him. "Ready?"
"READY!" Hopper and the Clones yelled.
Perhaps if I sounded less balanced, they would be less frightened, Prococia thought to himself. He threw his lightsaber forwards.
Fodor and the Clones took cover, lying prone as they aimed their blasters down the hall.
Reaching out with the Force, Prococia steered the lightsaber, urging it on. It hit two Droideka directly on the first run. Prococia pulled back, forcing the blade to return. On its return journey, it sliced through the remaining two Droideka, which crumpled to the floor.
Holding out his hand, Prococia elegantly grabbed the saber by the handle. Such a nasty business.Without saying a word, he began jogging once more down the hall.
The humans stood up from prone and followed.
"It's in just thirty meters!" Fodor yelled, now running briskly behind the Caamasi.
The Caamasi pondered, for a moment, how time and space often conflate themselves in moments like these. Thirty meters to go. Thirty meters to prevent a catastrophe.
A dozen B1 battle droids stood immediately around the corner. With a quick flourish, most of them were down before they could give a robotic yell. His blade only met minor resistance is it diced the droids to smithereens.
"In here!" Fodor yelled, stepping into a doorway.
"Wait," Prococia urged, his danger sense still active.
"The console has been been slave-rigged!" Fodor screamed, ignoring the Caamasi and stepping inside. "The only way to deactivate it is to remove… ugh!" she exclaimed in exasperation, slamming her fists on the console.
"What is it?" Prococia asked as he cautiously stepped into the room, glancing around at all of the empty terminals. From several consoles, alarms were blaring.
Without being ordered to, Hopper and the other Clones closed the door and formed a perimeter.
"Containment failure in two minutes!" Fodor shrieked, pulling a toolkit out of her bag as she stood at a console next to a window. Beyond the transparisteel, the massive Hypermatter Reactor was sparking. "I need to cut this rig from the console!" she stammered. "Can't to do it simply though, have to eliminate the connections in a certain order…"
As Prococia's danger sense intensified, he wondered what it could be that was setting it off. The imminent doom of this facility? The imminent doom of this planet? The—
—Blasterfire emitted from the southeast ceiling-corner of the room. Fodor was hit squarely in the back, the blast slicing through the back of her chest plate like plastisheet.
"TURRET!" Hopper screamed.
Prococia leapt across the room, using his saber to deflect further shots heading for Fodor, but he knew it was too late. Prococia could sense the life slip out of her.
Within seconds the ARC troopers shot the turret down. It collapsed onto the floor with a metallic crash.
"MEDIC!" one of them screamed. Another rushed forwards with a medkit.
Prococia began dialling the Polycaste.
"Captain Dunnbur here," a voice came from the Caamasi's wristcomm. "Is everything all right General?"
"No," Prococia said regretfully. "We have lost our engineer, the Hypermatter reactor is going to detonate in a minute and a half and has been slave-rigged. Do you have any advice?"
Frantic voices could be heard barking orders from the comm.
"Sir," Hopper said, "if I may, Fodor said we need to remove the wires in a specific order."
"Yes," Prococia agreed wearily, "but I have no idea what order that could be."
"General," Dunnbur said, dread in his voice. "My chief engineer says he would need to be on site to see the contraption. He says your only hope is to guess correctly in this short a period of time. All of the tests would take far too long."
"Guess," Prococia said grouchily, "a Jedi does not believe in luck."
"Very well sir," Dunnbur said. "I suppose then, may the Force be with you."
"May it be with us all," Prococia muttered, stepping over Fodor's body on his way to the rig.
"I am sure you got this sir!" Hopper yelled, his voice wavering with uncertainty.
The Caamasi reached his hand from his robes, extending it over the device. He then reached out to it, as if it were a lifeform. He could sense warmth, metal, energy, but had no idea at all what each component did. If only I had studied a bit of engineering, he thought regretfully.
All of the power flowed much like a winding series of streams. At the right side of the rig, atop the console, the rivers merged, forming what the Caamasi conceptualised as an electric river. He reached out to the Force: show me the way!
Prococia felt an odd tingling sensation near his right pinkie, towards the right side of the device, he thought elatedly. Yes, that makes sense, sever the river! Stop the streams!
He reached his hands around the widest cord, feeling the surge of energy. Then, he recoiled his hand, pulled out his lightsaber, and sliced.
Sparks shot through the room the lights flickered. Prococia looked expectantly down at the console—the slave-rig has been broken. Depowered. Then realised, with dread, the console itself had powered down. The cord he cut was not to the rig at all, but to the console itself.
Hopper swore under his breath. "That's it then! We're going to die. It's been nice serving with you sir."
"Not just us," the Caamasi said, "the whole planet." I have only a minute, maybe less. He thought of calling his Padawan, to tell him he would have made a great Knight, but a greater regret stabbed at his soul.
o.o.o.o.o
Lir Sey'les
Zipping by at a not-too-exciting 90 km/h, the garbage truck speeder soon left Azagor City in the dust. After a few minutes, under the bright blue sky, they reached the edge of the burned-out savannah and were now hovering on the highway over the unburnt greener part.
"I can't believe driving is so exciting!" Sey'les yipped. This is awesome.
"Yeah, it really is!" Dub yelled, himself giddy with a grinning wide-eyed human-style of excitement. "I remember my first time driving on the sim. It was breathtaking seeing the dunes of Tatooine!"
"Yeah sir, in the BARCs? Those are just marvellous!" Grath exclaimed.
"Marvellous!" Knot agreed.
"Remarkable!" Dubs added.
"All right, yeah this is exciting," Itoll said, a bit annoyed at their ear-piercing enthusiastic human yells. "Just remember, stay in your lane."
"Oh right! Sorry," Sey'les growled, cautiously edging the truck off the grass back onto the ferrocrete.
Suddenly, the comm turned on. "Lir Sey'les? I am told I can reach you here," Prococia's voice emitted solemnly.
"SHTAK!" Sey'les yelped in terror, applying the airbrakes. The speeder truck rapidly decelerated, coming to a stop in the middle of a straightaway.
"Oh, you aren't in trouble," Prococia muttered. "Well, I suppose we are all in a trouble of sorts."
Well, isn't this kriffing weird. Sey'les suddenly noticed the alarm sound coming from the background of Prococia's end. "What is it sir?" she growled cautiously, her fur swirling with nervousness.
"Long story short, I have failed. The Hypermatter reactor is going to explode. The entire planet is going to die."
"We need to evacuate!" Itoll yelped. "Shtak, can Bearcat—"
"—There's no time for that my Bothan friends," Prococia said sadly. "We are all going to be dead in about a minute and fifteen seconds."
Sey'les felt numb. Her fur fell flat. This is it. I am going to die on 5-digit planet. We are all just going to die. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I have a confession to make," Prococia said, an odd nervousness his voice. "And, a question. Captain Sey'les, you are the most appalling servant of the Galactic Republic I have ever encountered. I find your behaviour utterly repellent. You are self-absorbed, corrupt, arrogant, stupid, and, if I may say so, completely irrational."
Itoll gasped in shock.
You kriffing bastard, Sey'les sniffled, a snarl forming on her face. We are going to die, and you can't even say anything nice to me! You have the nerve to call me appalling!
"Yet, I find myself unable to clear you from my thoughts," Prococia said quickly. "I left you on that hill to let you die when I foresaw the Separatist bombardment. I just felt so guilty leaving you up there, Sey'les. I feel like you have so much potential, so much you could have become, at my side—perhaps as a partner… perhaps… eh, well I digress. Sey'les, if we weren't going to die, I must ask. Would you have shared a Memnis with me? Would you have shared a bed?"
Now it was Wulf and the Clone's turn to gasp in shock. Fojo swore under his breath.
"Well…" Sey'les started, still feeling numb. She blinked the tears out of her eyes. "I suppose you have a nice wooden smell, but…" but this is completely inappropriate? Surprising? Appalling? Disgusting?
"Thank you Sey'les," Prococia said, sounding quite pleased with his wooden smell.
"You son of a bitch. No," Sey'les growled, fur beginning to stand on end. "You just… you don't have my back. I can't trust you. You are like so many other Jedi. You don't really give a shtak about me. You had no problem…" No problem leaving me to die… Her fur spiked up as the realisation became more solid. "NO! NO, I WOULD NOT HAVE SHARED A BED WITH YOU IN A MILLION KRIFFING YEARS! YOU SON OF A BITCH! IF WE SURVIVE THIS," Sey'les snarled, angrier than she had ever felt in her life. "I AM GOING TO SHOOT YOU IN THE KRIFFING FACE! YOU ONLY SAVED ME BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO KRIFF ME! YOU DIDN'T GIVE A SHTAK ABOUT WULF, DUB, DUBS, GRATH, KNOT! YOU WOULD HAVE JUST LET THEM DIE JUST TO GET RID OF ME! KRIFF YOU! YOU JEDI PIECE OF SHTAK! SON OF A BITCH!" Before she knew it, she was yelping and snarling, punching the dashboard in fury.
"I am sorry—I—I can explain," Prococia's voice stammered desperately from the comm.
With a snarl, Sey'les punched the comm. His voice was still coming out. "SERGEANT!" she yelped, "GIVE ME YOUR BLASTER!"
Knot leaned down from the ladder, handing Sey'les a blaster pistol.
Sey'les aimed it at the comm and pulled the trigger. On the dashboard, the comm exploded, kicking the smell of smoke and burning plastic into the air. Prococia's voice was no more.
"Son of a bitch," Sey'les sniffled. "So manipulative! Just doing all that shtak to me! To us. Manipulating events just to kriff me because he wasn't brave enough to ask. Completely fine with us all just dying!"
Itoll's fur twirled with unhappiness and suspicion, tears in his eyes.
Jazal, Sey'les thought with a sigh. She might have done the same thing. Manipulating shtak to—
"—Kriff it!" Sey'les yelped, terminating that line of thought. "I do not want to die like this. I don't want to go out so angry," she sighed, unbuckling from her seat.
Knot stepped down the ladder.
Fojo stepped up from his seat, his green skin looking several shades paler.
Itoll stood up from the passenger seat, standing next to Sey'les.
Sey'les then stepped forward, hugging Fojo and Grath first, then Wulf.
Itoll stepped up, hugging the group. The four Direct Action Operatives and four Clones hugged in a massive embrace in the face of certain death.
Blubbering, tears in her eyes, Sey'les started stammering. "I love you guys. All of you. I know you have my back. That—that piece of shtak, that—"
"—Forget about him," Itoll snarled, tears in his yes.
Then the ground outside began rumbling. Sey'les yelped. An eerie ghostly blue, bluer than the sky, with a hint of electricity, descended down from all directions.
The electronics in the speeder truck began frying as trace amounts of Hypermatter made contact with the unshielded electronics.
Sey'les and Itoll yelped in pain, electricity sparking from their bodies. The rest of the group recoiled, yelling and swearing in shock.
To Sey'les, it felt like her brain was being zapped. Falling backwards into the cockpit, the electric sizzling stopped, but a familiar voice went off in her head. "Adrenaline levels increasing by 30%. To deactivate or abort, move your tongue in movement Resh." Shtak! My implants! They are malfunctioning!
"Holy shtak!" Itoll yelped. "My implants… they—they"
Laying on her back, staring up at the window, the LAAT fell from the sky sparking. The daylight itself was suddenly replaced with streaking stars.
"Implants malfunction!" she yelped. "Adrenaline… Hyperspace… hyperspace planet…" Her ears suddenly popped from a change in atmospheric pressure.
Wulf and Fojo rushed forward to help Sey'les, then looked up at the sky with a gasp.
o.o.o.o.o
Vasa Ro'val
Aboard the Bisectrix
Aboard the bridge of Tarkin's command ship, a Venator-class Star Destroyer, the Bisectrix, MGX-93776 loomed into view through the spacious windows. The Republic seemed to be winning the battle.
Grouped over the Northern Hemisphere, the Republic fleet had the Separatist fleet surrounded. Every second now, Separatist ships were jumping away. Within thirty seconds, there were no more—only Republic ships in orbit.
"Well, this seems like auspicious timing," Tarkin said with a smirk.
"I agree," Ro'val said, standing next to the human. She took a sip of caf from her mug, then added, "perfect timing to retrieve them. General Olgar'kla would be—"
"—Governor!" one of the Clone Navigation Officers yelled urgently. "Priority 1 transmission."
"Put it through," Tarkin said calmly, holding his hands behind his back.
"This is General Olgar'kla. All ships, evacuate orbit immediately. The reactor is about to—"
—At this point, Prococia's transmission ended.
A series of events unfolded that were nearly beyond Tarkin's or Ro'val's ability to comprehend. First, a planet-sized hyperspace window opened directly above MGX-93776's North Pole. Second, the entire planet lurched forward towards the hyperspace window. Third, the Republic ships in orbit collided with the Northern Hemisphere of the planet at near-luminal speeds—each impact so large and powerful the blasts were visible from space, lights as bright as stars shining from the Northern Hemisphere. Finally, the planet itself jumped into Hyperspace, leaving some ejecta from the spaceship impacts, as well as 8% of the planet's atmosphere atmosphere behind. They were now the only ship in the system.
Ro'val dropped her mug onto the floor. It shattered, spilling caf everywhere.
