Chapter Eight
Emergency sirens were blaring on all sides around Moabis, a deafening crescendo that nearly nauseated the klatoonian. Sweat poured from her forehead and her body, the exertion from carrying the unconscious pirate nearly causing her to collapse. Fortunately, she only had a few meters left to traverse before she reached the Hutt dropship, which was still sitting upon the smoke-filled street. She turned at the sound of blaster-fire, which reverberated from the next block over.
"Sleemo trandoshan," she swore in huttese. Trandoshans were famous for their hot temper, and clearly Lomagar wasn't above the stereotype. She only wished she were in a position to give orders. If she could she wouldn't allowed the rest of the squad to get distracted from their mission. Their master hadn't sent them to the surface to kill security officers, regardless if they were fired upon.
Moabis was well aware of the pain that Poualiac was sure to inflict upon the pirate she carried. But she also knew that if the nautalan did not reach the Hutt gangster alive, horrible tortures would be directed at her instead. She labored up the transport's boarding ramp and deposited Half-Stock upon one of the benches. After restraining the prisoner she then retrieved a medical kit from the ceiling of the transport. From it she removed a flexible band, which went around the nautalan's wrist. The band transmitted her life signs to a datapad inside the kit. She removed the datapad and turned it on, and discovered that the pirate was in critical condition. Without the immediate medical attention available on Poualiac's flaghsip she was sure that the nautalan would die.
She quickly moved from the passenger compartment into the cockpit, where the pilot was still seated. The rodian, wearing a flight helmet more common when flying a fighter, was monitoring his sensor station.
"Take off, koochoo," Moabis barked at the pilot in huttese. The rodian jumped in his seat, apparently oblivious that Moabis had boarded with the prisoner.
"Not without Lomagar's order...he's in charge," the rodian said with a shake of his head. He stared at Moabis despite increasing fury, which apparently he was unable to discern on her klatoonian face.
Moabis exited the cockpit and returned a moment later, carrying her heavy repeating blaster rifle. She shoved the barrel up against the pilot's neck. "If pilot likes head, fly home, fly now."
"Right, we'll be off then," the rodian said after a pause.
"Na yoka, peedunky, " Moabis said.
The dropship lifted off, affording Moabis a good view of the city as they ascended high into the atmosphere before she returned to the passenger compartment. Formos' capital city almost appeared as if it had been bombarded from orbit. Thick columns of black smoke still poured into the sky. Emergency vehicles were flitting about like panicked insects, fleeing from a burning hive. Moments after Moabis' transport returned to Poualiac's flagship an Imperial-class Star Destroyer and two Gozanti-class transports jumping into the system from hyperspace. Poualiac didn't stick around to gauge the Imperial's disposition. He immediately ordered his ship into hyperspace, leaving Lomagar and the handful of surviving mercenaries behind.
Normally the sight of an Imperial ship would have filled the inhabitants of Formos with dread, but today they were saviors. Imperial tie fighters roamed the skies, ensuring that no further battles could break out, even if there had been any willing participants remaining. The Gozanti transports descended through the atmosphere and landed on the street outside the wreckage of the spaceport. Each transport lowered its ramps, depositing a steady stream of Imperial stormtroopers. They established a perimeter around the transports as civilians gravitated towards them. Soon technicians from the transports began distributing care packages, which consisted of rations and supplies transferred from the orbiting star destroyer. The strong contingent of stormtroopers around them ensured the lines leading to the technicians remained orderly.
At the remains of Formos' security force headquarters a team of emergency workers were sifting through the wreckage, searching for survivors. One of them called out, drawing the attention of a floating lifter droid. The droid carefully shifted some debris, revealing Thom Gorono battered form. The building had completely collapsed after Koravin's transport had collided with it, but somehow the security chief had survived. The worker pulled him out and transferred him to a medical professional, who looked him over quickly and then gave him an oxygen mask. Gorono sat there for half an hour, staring absent mindedly as the rescue crew gave up on pulling any further survivors from the headquarters and moved on to the next ruined building. A few minutes later noticed an Imperial officer approaching, flanked by a squad of stormtroopers.
"Thank the stars you've arrived," Gorono said, removing his mask. "What took you so long?"
The officer appraised Gorono for a moment, a look of disdain on his face. "The Star Destroyer Dark Frost mobilized as soon as command received your high alert distress call. We traversed three subsectors in two hours, all the while mobilizing our garrison. I'd watch your tone if I were you."
"My tone?" Goron asked, a sudden fit of anger arising from within him. "There was a bloody war going on here. My force is not equipped to handle this sort of thing!"
"Your force?" the officer asked, clearly skeptical. "Are you Security Chief Thom Gorono?"
"Yes, clearly," Gorono answered, shaking his head angrily. Which hurt his neck, causing him to wince in pain.
"Right. You're under arrest," the officer announced. He motioned to the stormtroopers, two of which stepped forward and hauled Gorono to his feet.
"Under arrest? What's the meaning of this?"
"I know for a fact you take bribes," the officer said, a malicious grin playing across his face. "There are also the charges of gross incompetence, tax evasion, general embarrassment to the Empire, off the top of my head...we're going to make an example out of scum like you."
Gorono began to protest loudly, but after a shock from a stormtrooper's stun baton, calmed down considerably.
The officer looked over the crushed remains of the security station and spat onto the pile of debris before following the stormtroopers down the street.
oOoOo
The swamps of Ando were hot, humid, and stank with the fetid smell of rotting vegetation. It was the summer months near the equator, and likely the time of year that the mid-rim received the least amount of tourists. Not that it received very many any other time of the year.
The Blackpool Flier sat hidden beneath the safety of its underwater cave, which could only be accessed after a quick dive through the shallow sea. The ship had taken on water after submerging, which was only a problem for Lokil, being the only non-aquatic inhabitant of the ship at the time. The breather the others had given him didn't work quite right, but he hadn't quite needed it. The water only rose to his chest before the ship rose out of the water once they had entered the air bubble their lair was built within.
The ship lowered and the surviving crew, exited their battered ship. Lokil emerged to find that they had built their home berth out of cargo containers and spare bits of durasteel. A power generator sat above the compartments on durasteel stilts, which looked liked it had been pulled out of a starship. They led him through the maze of compartments until they reached a central meeting area. He was about to sit upon a rather moldy looking divan when Pleff grabbed him by the shoulder from behind.
"You're the first outsider to see this place. If it weren't for the captain last wishes we would've thrown you out the airlock on the way home. If you speak about this place to anyone we will find you and gut you like a fish," the mon calamari threatened.
"I...I don't even know the coordinates," Lokil said, raising his hands in a signal of surrender. "What world are we on?"
Pleff narrowed his large bulbous eyes in suspicion but decided not to push the issue. "Stay put. I will tell you where to stay after I talk with the crew." Lokil noticed the rest of the crew filing into a double story container, or rather two containers stacked atop one another and welded together.
Lokil lay down upon the couch, the stench of which he was sure would permanently rub off on him, and closed his eyes. His emotions were a mix of rage, exhaustion, and a dull ache he could only describe as fear. One moment he had been conducting business as usual, the next his entire world was crashing down around him. He didn't know if his apartment on Formos had survived the battle, but the small outer rim world was not his permanent home of course...he had bank accounts and property across the galaxy. But he was sure that very few, if any, of his employees had survived the destruction rained upon the Black Spike Cantina.
He sat up and gazed toward the large structure the pirates were currently meeting within. He was small fry compared to Poualiac, but he had a lot of resources to draw upon. And he had close personal friends with resources of their own. Including the Coruscanti gangster by the name of Kal Romaan who owned the Black Spike. He owed it to him, his dead employees...not to mention Koravin. Lokil bowed his head for a moment. He had none of the qualities possessed by that pirate, not his bravery, ferocity, or daring. He, more than anyone else, had gotten the feeorin killed.
Pleff emerged from the meeting room, followed by Opuk, Kellash, and both of the Elarza twins. Lokil noticed the blaster in his hand.
"Wait, you can't kill me," Lokil pleaded.
"I'm more than capable of it," Pleff said, his voice a mix of anger and grief. "And we've decided that you are the one who got half our crew killed. Not to mention our captain...you got him killed, it's only fair that you join him in the afterlife."
"That is fair, completely reasonable," Lokil agreed. "But killing me won't bring you revenge upon the one being that is truly responsible for all of this. Poualiac the Hutt."
Pleff raised his blaster, pointing it directly at Lokil's face.
"Wait," Opuk said, placing one of her many hands upon Pleff's blaster.
"I have credits, and powerful friends to go with them. Poualiac has made a lot of enemies with his clumsy attack on all of you. Let me help you make that karking sleemo pay for Koravin's death. Let me help you make him pay with his blood."
Pleff stood as if transfixed, his eyes closing for a moment. When they opened his voice was even more watery and guttural than normal. "You'll give us resource you have. And you aren't leaving my sight until Poualiac…" Pleff spat upon the ground, "is dead."
"Deal," Lokil said, raising his hand. After another tense moment Pleff lowered his blaster and shook his hand.
"Let's bury the captain now," Kellash said.
They led Lokil to an empty compartment room and locked him. While he was secure Pleff organized the others. They emptied every belonging Koravin owned, as well as the belongings of the other lost crew. They carried the belongings through the disorganized array of compartments until they reached a shallow pool on the other side of the cave, opposite of the Blackpool Flier. Item by item they deposited the loot into the pool.
"Go get the devaronian," Pleff ordered. One of the Elarza sisters departed and soon returned with Lokil, who looked on the sight of the gathered crew and the floating debris drifting in the pool with solemn interest.
"We say this prayer for Walaa. Chobasa e backa bunko bootana. Mee jewz ku, pateesa," Pleff said aloud, his head bowing for a moment.
"Mee jewz ku, pateesa," the others repeated. Lokil bowed his head but remained silent.
Pleff repeated the prayer for each fallen member they had lost; two of the Neelabi family, Cutter, Saruush, and Half-Stock. He saved Koravin for last. "We say this prayer for Koravin. Dread Pirate. Chobasa e backa bunko bootana. Mee jewz ku, lorda."
"Mee jewz ku, lorda," the others repeated. With that Pleff nodded towards two of the neelabi, one of which carried a large fuel container and the other a plasma torch. The one emptied the container into the pool, spreading the thick liquid atop the drifting belongings, while the other igniting the torch. Once the fuel had dispersed throughout the water the neelabi brought the torch down.
The fuel ignited, and a bright blue and orange fire erupted into life. The flotsam was immediately consumed. The pirates drifted off to their own containers, silence, except for the sound of the fire, filling the cave.
Lokil was the last to turn from the burning pool. He assumed they would want him to confine himself in the container they had earlier left him in. His gaze was at his feet, and he didn't realize he had taken a wrong turn until he smacked into a container wall. He winced in pain and grabbed one of his horns, which was especially sensitive to head trauma. He looked at the container which he had struck, and realized the entrance was more ornate than the others. It had belonged to Koravin.
Lokil looked around and noticed that a pool of water, which lead back into the deeps, wound itself around Koravin's compartment. A pair of cables wound through two holes in the side of the container and travelled into the pool. Lokil walked over and gazed into the water, discovering two hand built nurseries. His eyes widened at the side at two incubators, within which, to the devaronian's untrained eye, grew two healthy opee sea killer embryos.
He knelt down beside the water, placing a hand into the water above one of the incubators. "You little guys are his legacy...and I think I know just what to do with you. Poualiac is going to be creespa bitey fish food. Karking sleemo."
oOoOo
Authors Note: Thank you for reading Space Pirates: The Blackpool Flier. I hope you enjoyed it. To find out what happens next, please read Agents of Imperial Intelligence.