Episode II: The Rising Empire
Blindsided! Taking the Galaxy by surprise, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine ordered the execution of all the Jedi in one fell swoop and declared himself Emperor. The citizens of worlds all over the galaxy are now facing his cruel, totalitarian threat.
However, there are still some Jedi at large, and the forces of the GALACTIC EMPIRE will not rest until their fire has been put out for good. There are bounty hunters as well as elite Imperial agents and Jedi defectors out for the glory of a Jedi kill.
Jedi sympathizers are also threatened by this JEDI PURGE. Many have retreated to neutral worlds, such as Mandalore, others have let themselves be captured, and still others have fled to the wretched hive of scum and villainy that is Hutt Space….
The kite-shaped Kamino Storm floated around an asteroid belt in a remote system. It was a good tactical position, out of all the hyperspace lanes, and away from major population centers.
The Storm was running on minimal power, with just life support, communication systems, and the lights turned on.
Bardan had been talking in his quarters to Clan Skirata back on Mandalore when he exited the spartan room for the lounge. The rest of the crew were watching Rho play Dejarik holochess with R3. The droid was fairly dominant in the match, and seemed to be winning by a fair margin.
But Rho had set him up with a feint. Two moves after Bardan started watching, she won the game.
"Damn meatbags," the droid grumbled.
"Hey, I won fair and square," Rho protested. "Don't beep at me like that."
"But it's no fun when I lose," R3 contested.
Bardan looked on, bemused.
"Don't be a sore loser," the bounty hunter warned. "I can disassemble you."
R3 readied his shock prod. "You take that back, sleemo."
"No," Rho refused shortly. "Somebody needs to teach you some manners."
"Let her be, R3," Riashan warned.
R3 rolled closer to the bounty hunter, keeping his weapon ready. "This is your first and last warning."
Rho laughed in his little droid face. "I'd like to see you try."
The astromech rolled off to his stolen red fighter, dubbed the Scarlet Valkyrie.
No one had noticed Bardan enter the room. They started to chatter between themselves about weapon modifications, getting training from Bardan, and the latest HoloNet news.
The Jedi cleared his throat. "We need to talk," he said.
"I don't like the sound of that," Rho said.
"Don't worry, it's nothing bad," Bardan reassured. "I was just talking to my clan, and they said that the Empire has pulled out most of their operation on Mandalore."
"Most?" Storm wondered incredulously. "I really don't want to go there if it's going to wreck my ship or get me shot at."
"It's a risk," Bardan replied, "but they're not leaving completely anytime soon. The Imperials are puppeting a civil war. They finally got a clan under their control, the Saxons, so they pulled most of their resources out. They still have one Venator in the system, from what I hear."
"It's better than five," Riashan suggested.
Storm shrugged, unconvinced.
"We can give you a pretty well guaranteed safe haven from the Empire," Bardan pleaded. "I'm sure there's also some extra funding in the clan treasury."
"10,000," Storm demanded, without hesitating.
"Done." Bardan shook the pilot's hand.
"That was easy," Storm remarked. "All right, time to power up the hyperdrive. Assuming your droid repaired it right…" she glared threateningly at Riashan.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Riashan defended herself. "Jeez, let it drop already."
Storm stalked off to the cockpit, and Riashan went off to the airlock to her Scarlet Valkyrie.
"Why do I get the feeling the pilot is still pissed the fuck off at you?" R3 wondered as soon as Riashan had slipped into the Valkyrie's pilot seat.
Riashan sighed, and answered, "Because she is."
"You know, if that bitch didn't take things so personally—"
"Hey, now," Riashan admonished. "We've talked about this. You shouldn't refer to people that way."
"And why the fuck not? She certainly deserves it. I mean, seriously. It's been what, two months?"
"More like three. And while I might agree that that's way too long to be mad, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her."
"Right. Because not all of you are the best damn pilots in the Galaxy."
"You aren't, either."
"Maybe not, but I'm better than most of the idiots they give pilot's licenses to."
"I'm sorry, have you seen the way you fly? You go way too fast, break all the rules, and don't seem to give a damn about your passengers."
"Well, yeah, but I don't crash, like most of those other idiots."
Riashan sighed frustratedly and gave up. It was no use arguing with that stuck-up astromech, anyways.
The comm crackled with Storm's voice. "Can you get off my ship? I'm jumping to hyperspace, and I don't want you to scratch my finish by being attached."
"Sure thing, asshat."
"Okay, what the fuck did that little domehead just call me?" Storm exploded.
"Nothing," Riashan quickly lied. "He just said he was going to do as you asked."
Storm's tone softened. "Oh. Well, thank you."
R3 didn't reply, he just quietly undocked from the Kamino Storm and primed his own hyperdrive.
Riashan turned off their comms and berated R3. "Did you see how pleasant she was when she thought that you hadn't insulted her? That's the power of not insulting people every time you talk to them."
R3 beeped some equivalent of a shrug. "All my life, I've been insulted. It's just how I deal with things. I insult people because it's the only thing I've ever known."
"We'll work on this more later," Riashan promised. "But this is a good start. Have you got those hyperdrive calculations ready?"
"Yep. Ready to punch it?"
"Absolutely. Let's go to Mandalore."
The Kamino Storm disappeared shortly before distant, white stars lengthened to become the blue streaks of hyperspace.
When the pair of ships exited hyperspace, they saw a white planet. There was no vegetation on its surface, nor was there so much as a lake.
The planet was Mandalore, its surface ravaged by centuries of interminable wars. In orbit was an Imperial Venator-class star destroyer, the Vengeance. It was a part of the Emperor's personal fleet.
"That doesn't look good," Rho commented. "I'm getting a bad feeling."
"Alright, get in the dorsal turret," Storm commanded. "I'll aim the fore guns."
Rho scrambled out of her seat into the turret.
The comm crackled. It was Riashan. "So, are we going to blow anything up yet?"
"Both of us are itching to shoot something," R3 added.
"Was that an insult?" Storm reflexively wondered.
"No," Riashan answered. "He was just confirming that we want to blow something up."
"Oh, okay," Storm said, somewhat distracted. "Bardan, are you in the shuttle yet?"
"Yes," the Jedi replied, completing preflight routines and uncoupling the shuttle from the Storm. "I'm on my way out."
"Don't shoot them yet," Storm warned. "They might let us pass."
"Copy that," Bardan replied.
The Storm's comms crackled. An Imperial Officer, with a thick Core accent, declared, "Unidentified freighter, you have entered Imperial space. Transmit your identification codes immediately or you will be fired upon."
Accompanying the threat was a squad of three V-wing starfighters launching from the Vengeance's ventral hangar.
"The Empire has tightened security procedures," Bardan commented. "It's sad to see that their fall is so complete."
Riashan murmured agreement, and R3 beeped sorrowfully.
The Imperial Officer spoke again. "Attention, Kamino Storm. You have been identified as harboring Jedi fugitives. Prepare to be boarded."
"Rho, that's your cue!" Storm yelled. "Take out those turbolasers."
"My pleasure," Rho replied, a grin crossing her face. "They're going to feel this." She took aim at the nearest turbolaser and fired, destroying the big gun.
"Not too bad," approved Riashan. "R3 and I are going for the fighters. Bardan, just stay out of the way as much as you can."
"If you keep the fighters off my tail," the Jedi replied. "They start shooting at me, and I will shoot back. What they did to my people—"
"We know," Storm said threateningly. "We were there, too, okay? I get it. You want to get back at them for what they did. There will be chances. I've seen my fair share of karma and revenge. I know how the Galaxy spins. You'll get back at them. Just be patient." She took her freighter into a corkscrew, spinning in close to the Venator's hull, too close for the turbolasers.
R3 also pulled some tricky maneuvers, leading the Imperial V-wings away from Bardan and away from the Storm. Riashan took a few shots, clipping the lead fighter and taking out its stabilizers with a proton torpedo.
"Wicked," commented R3. "I love this ship. Never thought I would see this kind of military tech again. Now I remember why I didn't just eject one day."
The Imperial fighters took a shot at the Valkyrie, scoring a bit of its wing, but doing no serious damage.
The Vengeance's point defense cannons then turned to shoot at Bardan. The blaster shots either missed him completely or glanced off his hull.
Rho took another shot at a turbolaser and vaporized it along with some of the crew inside. A feeling of slight guilt crept into her.
Keep it together. They were all ready to kill you, she reminded herself. She prepped herself for shooting the third turbolaser, and took the shot after collecting herself. Again, she destroyed the gun. "One to go," she announced.
"Great! Keep it up," encouraged Storm, keeping close to the massive, wedge-shaped ship.
R3 kept dodging blaster fire, leading the Imperial fighters away from his friends. Riashan returned fire as often as she could, blasting the V-wings one by one.
When the Imperials saw their fighter contingent failing, they launched another squad, two ARC-170s and a V-Wing in the lead.
"Blast," Riashan pronounced upon seeing the launch. "They just keep coming."
"I sure as hell am not surrendering to these wimps," Storm said. "Rho, let 'em have it."
Rho took out the final port side turbolaser, turning her guns on the fighters.
"Bardan," ordered the pilot, "get back in here. They can't kill us."
"Got it," the Jedi responded. He took his fighter into a loop and docked without a problem.
Storm flew right over the Vengeance's prow and dived sharply for the planet below. R3 and the Imperials followed, until Riashan got a fix on the lead V-wing and fired.
The three Imperial fighters pulled out. The Storm had already taken down three of their fighters. They weren't worth it. The Jedi could be hunted down on the surface.
Bardan took the controls once Storm had entered the atmosphere. He went almost to the northern pole of the war-scarred globe.
They passed over cities and towns before finally setting down in the far north. On a barren expanse in the middle of tall mountains, they found the moderately-sized biodome of Kyrimorut, the Clan Skirata home.
Bardan pressed a few buttons, activating hangar bay doors in the top of the dome. Inside the grey dome was a landing pad and several smaller structures.
A figure in golden beskar'gam limped out to greet them, a bantha hide jacket draped over his armor.
Bardan sprinted down the loading ramp and pulled the mandalorian into an embrace. The warrior returned it.
"Partner?" Jesper wondered. "Brother, maybe?"
"Jedi don't have blood relatives," Riashan reminded the sith.
The crew looked on as their trainer released the man, who removed his helmet to reveal a wizened visage, with hair nearly as white as the Mandalorian landscape.
"I would say father," Jesper corrected herself, "but if Jedi don't—"
Riashan held up a finger to shush the Dathomiri.
Bardan spoke to the older man, "It's good to see you, Kal'buir."
"Kal'buir?" Jesper repeated.
Storm pitched in. "It means father Kal. I learned to speak Mando'a in all my dealings with them."
"So how can this be Bardan's—" Jesper started to wonder.
"In Mandalorian culture," Rho answered, "it's pretty easy to adopt people. Since so many are killed and they're a race of conquerors, it's the easiest way to grow one's clan."
"Ah," Jesper replied in understanding.
Kal's voice took on a somber tone as he talked with Bardan, who seemed to get a tear or two in his eyes. The tears were easily wiped away.
Bardan soon began telling his own stories and introduced the Storm crew one by one.
Kal gave a suspicious look to Jesper, almost as if he could see the lies and treachery lurking behind her eyes.
The old warrior then introduced himself: "I'm Bard'ika's adoptive father and the patriarch of Clan Skirata. Please, allow me to welcome you to our home and invite you to stay for dinner."
Jesper replied nervously, "I don't know if that's a good—"
Riashan punched her in the arm. "That would be lovely, thanks." She whispered, "Never refuse a Mando'ad when they invite you into their home."
Jesper whispered back, "Got it. Thanks. It's just that he gave me—"
"I saw the look. Don't expect him to trust you. That's all to read into it."
"Oh, okay."
Kal looked amused. He couldn't exactly hear what they were saying, but he could guess. He really didn't trust the Sith any farther than he could shoot her.
Nonetheless, they were his son's friends, and his guests. So despite the mistrust, he would allow them into his home.
"Step this way, then, if you please," the patriarch directed. "Just one condition: leave your weapons outside."
The five mercenaries and Bardan followed Kal into the largest cubelike structure under the biodome, the clan's living space.
The veh'yaim bustled with activity. Mandalorians of all armor color walked through each hall. Most of them, Riashan noted, were the same height and build as clone troopers. Quite a few of those without their buckets shared Jango Fett's face.
A few were even wearing Republic-issue commando armor, the colors on which Riashan immediately recognized from Kashyyyk. The three clones were Phi Squad.
"Ajax," she greeted. "Ka'rta, Buckler. Good to see you're still alive."
Ajax chuckled. "Barely. All hell broke loose on Kashyyyk shortly after you blew that bridge. Order 66 was issued, and our sniper got compelled to comply. How were things for you, Commander?"
"I wasn't an officer," Riashan explained. "But things were pretty good. All of us survived, as you can see."
"I don't know if we met the rest of your team," the former sergeant remarked.
"Oh. Well, in that case," introduced Riashan, "let me introduce Storm, our pilot; Rho, our sniper; Jesper, a former Sith; and Omney, a Grey Jedi."
R3 bleeped his own number for an introduction, but had his shock probe ready to strike. He didn't like clones after all he had been through.
"Nice to meet you all," Ajax returned. "I think Riashan mentioned each of us, but I'm Ajax, the leader; that's Ka'rta, the medic; and he's Buckler, the explosives expert."
The nine shook hands and exchanged more greetings.
"I see you brought Bardan home," commented Ka'rta. "It'll be good to have him back for the operation tomorrow."
"Who's having surgery?" asked Jesper.
Buckler laughed. "Not surgery. Unless a surgical strike behind enemy lines counts."
"Oh," the Sith replied.
Ka'rta explained, "We're going back to Coruscant so we can pick our sniper back up and bring him here. He said he wanted to desert back when he was in his right mind."
"Is there anything we can do to help?" offered Riashan.
"Well, we have enough disguises," Buckler considered. "We could use all the hands we can get."
"It's settled, then," Ajax decided. "You can come with us on the mission."
"All right," Riashan declared. "We'll go with you and help get your comrade back."
"Wait a minute, don't I get a say?" Jesper wondered, outraged.
"You don't have to come," Rho answered. "But I'm in."
"Is there a payment?" Storm asked.
"We can give you 10,000," replied Ajax.
"Sold," Storm said. "I'm in."
"I'll take a 2,000 credit payday," Omney offered.
"That doesn't sound too bad," Jesper remarked, begrudgingly. "I guess."
A woman's voice drifted out from the kitchen, saying, "Dinner! Come get it!"
Clone voices all around cheered in jubilation, and the entire clan flocked around the dinner table of absurd length.
The Kamino Storm crew sat between their old Jedi friend, Bardan, and their new clone friends, Phi Squad.
When everyone was seated, Kal'buir stood and declared, "Haili cetare!" Fill yer boots!
The clacking of serving utensils and plates being passed around permeated the air as everyone started to comply with the patriarch's mandate.
As dinner progressed, the five guests engaged in the lively conversation, discussing everything from their lives before the war to Order 66 to tomorrow's mission to Coruscant.
R3 patrolled the table with his shock probe ready. He asked Storm if he could repair her ship. After Rho translated the request, the pilot denied.
Riashan beckoned the droid and told him to go modify the Valkyrie a little more. The droid rolled off, still uneasy around this many clones.
After dinner, the five stayed to map out the mission and fit their stormtrooper armor.
Jesper couldn't get used to the limited range of motion. Loose robes allowed for so much, and this armor was quite restrictive.
"Ugh," commented Riashan. "Smells like this guy pissed himself. What'd you do to him?"
"Just a stun blast," Ka'rta said. "But it smells like piss? That should have been caught by the filtration system."
"Apparently not."
"Well, sorry about that."
Riashan put on the helmet and was shocked. "Wow. You can't see a thing out of this helmet. No heads-up display."
"Yeah," Buckler added. "I'm used to having a full 360 view. This has nothing."
"All right," Ajax commanded. "It's time to turn in. Big day tomorrow. Target practice at 0900, we depart at noon. We'll take your ship, Storm."
"Sounds good," the pilot replied. "I'll patch her up for you."
"I can help you reprogram your transponder so the Empire doesn't recognize you," offered Buckler. "You had quite the time getting in past the blockade, I hear."
"Yeah. They knew who we were immediately. Thanks."
"You're welcome," the clone tech specialist replied.
The crew went off to their ship, to sleep and to fix it.
The next morning, the crew woke up to a great commotion outside the ship. People were running every which direction, scrambling to get their ships and speeders out of the way.
Jesper had already woken early to make some pancakes for breakfast.
The others wandered into the galley and ate what had been prepared, before strapping on their uniform white armor plates.
They had made their way out of the dome to a makeshift shooting range in the vast, white landscape.
"Glad you could make it," said one of the clones, probably Ajax. When they were wearing the same white armor, it was nearly impossible to tell them apart.
Riashan looked down the range through the narrow eye holes of her helmet. She saw some broken battle droids about a hundred yards away.
Ajax handed her an Imperial-issue E-11. Riashan took the gun, trying to look down the scope.
"Blasted thing," the former bodyguard said. "There's no way to aim it. The scope can't be seen through this stupid helmet, and the stock gives no way to stabilize it. How am I supposed to shoot this kraffing piece of junk?"
Ka'rta had a suggestion. "Try the folding stock," the medic said. "You might be able to see through the sights that way."
Rho took the weapon out of Riashan's hand. She unfolded the stock from under the barrel, shouldered the crappy gun, and jumped a little when it fired.
"I barely tapped the trigger!" the sniper complained. "Piece of junk offers no resistance at all!"
"I'm having some trouble with that, too," Buckler admitted. "It takes a bit of remembering to keep my finger out of the trigger guard before I aim."
Rho squinted down what she could see through the scope. Buckler had scored a headshot on his droid mark.
"Clearly you've gotten used to it," the sniper remarked.
"Beginner's luck," the demoman shrugged. He took another shot, echoing his previous success. "Maybe not."
Ajax handed everyone else blasters, leaving them to shoot.
Omney and Jesper stared, confused, at the weapons.
"Can't we just use lightsabers?" the Sith wondered.
The clone sergeant replied, "Sure, if you want to blow our cover and get us all killed."
Jesper opened her mouth to speak, but found herself speechless. After a moment, she followed up by asking if she could be taught how to use a blaster.
Ajax spent the better part of an hour teaching the two Force users the rules of safety, and how to aim and fire.
After everyone felt comfortable with the weapons, the clone commandos invited their new friends to a game of meshgeroya, the beautiful game.
The crew graciously accepted the offer.
After long hours of brutal play by both sides, the crew of the Storm emerged victorious.
The eight strode back into the biodome, almost but not quite exhausted. They walked into the Corellian freighter parked close to the entrance and all save one collapsed in the lounge.
Storm called from the cockpit with a report. "All systems nominal. Ready to leave when you are."
Omney slipped her helmet back on. "Let's do this."
Riashan declared, "May the Force be with us. We're sure as hell going to need it."
Various cheers of "Hear, hear!" erupted in the ship's lounge, followed several moments later by snoring. Hyperspace travel was an excellent time to catch up on sleep.
The boarding ramp closed behind them, making the ship shudder slightly. It was very final-sounding.
"I hope they can't track us back to Mandalore," Ka'rta admitted.
"They won't," promised Storm. "Bardan gave me instructions to go to Alderaan and borrow Senator Organa's personal shuttle. We'll be flying from Alderaan to Coruscant, and back there once we're finished."
"Great," replied Riashan. "Is there anything else we should know?"
"Nope. I think Bardan covered most of it. He'll call us if he needs anything," Storm grinned.
"That's a relief," commented Ajax. "Just hope he doesn't come to us halfway through with a grocery list."
Bardan chuckled after hearing the conversation through his conlink. "Nah. We have all we need in Keldabe. Well, I take that back. How about a meiloorun fruit?"
Ajax laughed in response. "That's a good joke, Commander."
"It wasn't a joke."
"Oh, are you shabla kidding me? A meiloorun on Coruscant?"
"Yes, I am kidding." Bardan erupted with laughter. "I really had you going there, didn't I?"
Everyone on the ship—including Storm, joined in the mirth.
The Storm shuddered slightly as it jumped into hyperspace. Omney hadn't even felt the vessel leave the ground.
Bardan's comlink fizzled out due to interference from the jump.
"The Force is with them," he told his adoptive father. "They'll be back."
"I know," replied the geriatric patriarch. "I'm still not sure if that worries me."
Bardan regarded the older man with cool suspicion. "They've earned my trust. Isn't that good enough for you?"
"Bard'ika, nothing is 'good enough' for me anymore."
"Right, right. 'If I can't prove it's trustworthy by poking it with a stick, it's best kept at arm's length.'"
"That's no way to address your buir, ad'ika."
"I'm sorry. I just wish you would see past your cynicism once. That's all I'm asking. Trust somebody new once."
"You know that almost got me killed last time."
"It was under different circumstances."
"Oh, right. This time, the whole shabla clan is at stake."
Bardan sighed. "All right. You win."
Kal huffed indignantly. "I thought so. Now, about that meiloorun…"
"I'll run to Keldabe immediately."
"Good boy. You might make a Mando'ad yet."
"What's our ETA?" Riashan wondered.
Ajax laughed wryly. "They didn't have you calculating travel times to Triple Zero since you joined the GAR?"
Riashan shrugged. "They never gave me pilot training."
"It'll be about two hours," replied Storm, no-nonsense tone once again obvious in her voice. "One hour to Alderaan, and another to Trip Zip."
"I can't believe we're doing this," Buckler said. "Tracker isn't our brother anymore. Why are we going back?"
"Because we need to," Ajax said simply, staring blankly at the blue and white streaks through the viewport. "He might not act like the man we know, but he is our brother. We just have to free him from the prison those gihaale created in his mind." Fish-meal. Ajax's feelings about Kaminoans had gotten steadily worse, it seemed. Maybe it was being reminded of their arrogance and superior attitude by Hali Ke on Onderon.
"We'll come back," Ka'rta reassured him. "All of us." Maybe none of us. Maybe I'll die. Would I sacrifice myself for the safe escape of my squad? Am I ready to die?
It was a question on all of their minds. Even the Storm crew's. Now that they knew what peacetime was like, none of the eight took death as a given anymore.
"We might not come back," Jesper commented.
"Whatever the case, we're getting Tracker out," Ajax says. "And if one of us gets killed, we keep moving. Understood?"
Everyone in the room nodded.
Buckler was a little slower to react, still having reservations about the mission. Some part of him knew, though, that Tracker was still in there, locked somewhere inside IC-9726. The mission wouldn't be a complete failure, as long as they could get him back to Kyrimorut. As long as Mij Gilamar didn't mess up with the surgery.
"I hope Jusik helps with the healing, using his Force tricks like he did with Fi," Ka'rta announced. Before the end of the war, Bardan had performed something of a miracle for Clan Skirata. He loved his clan, and they loved him right back.
"With everyone in Clan Skirata helping," Ajax mused, "Tracker'll be back to himself in no time."
"Assuming we get him out of there," Rho mumbled. "If we all get killed on this mission…"
"Why did you volunteer for this mission, Rho?" wondered Ajax. It was a question he'd been wanting to ask for ages. "This isn't personal for the five of you. Also, I don't like that kind of talk. We might not come back, but that's always something we have to worry about."
"Sorry," Rho said, accepting Ajax's authority on the mission. "I guess I volunteered because I needed the money. We all do."
Her four companions nodded and murmured in agreement.
"I need the closure," Ajax said after a long silence in the room. He noticed the recycled air was beginning to get a bit stuffy.
The remaining half hour to Alderaan was spent in various phases of preparation. The soldiers were cleaning their blasters, the semi-Jedi were planning the mission, and it seemed like things would go off without a hitch.
The first thing to go wrong happened right as the team landed on Alderaan. The Storm landed, on Senator Organa's private landing platform, to be greeted by none other than a squad of stormtroopers. Ajax observed their welcoming party from the viewport.
"I count one squad, eight men," the ex-sergeant announced. "This isn't good. They're probably here to perform a routine contraband check. Make sure we're not carrying any Jedi."
"This ship can't be blacklisted," Storm said. "I have a Trade Federation transponder code."
"Maybe they know Neimoidians don't fly Corellian vessels," Ajax suggested. "Form up, everyone. We don't want them discovering we're not the real deal. Don't look so relaxed."
Right as the six got into a convincing formation, a loud banging was heard on the back hatch, accompanied by a muted "Open up."
Storm opened the hatch, revealing the three clones and the crew to the Imperial squad. "Good luck," the pilot said over their private comlink. "We're going to need it."
Rho added, "We make our own luck."
Omney whispered, "There's no such thing as luck."
"What's your operating number?" asked the stormtrooper with a red pauldron. He was the commander of this squad.
Phi and the other three descended the ramp, marching perfectly synchronized. They stepped off the ramp, and Storm promptly closed the hatch.
Buckler had worked his magic behind the scenes, and somehow got past the Imperial comlink encryption without anyone noticing he'd only just linked into the stormtroopers' comm. He must have programmed some kind of hacking algorithm.
Ajax swiftly replied, to help maintain the illusion. "We're squad LC-365, sir." He hoped he'd read his armor tally right. Not having a HUD to read it off of might have been a problem.
The commander scanned his tally, confirming what Ajax had said. "Proceed," he commanded simply.
The armor the strike team was wearing was armor from a unit that was attached to the Imperial Security Bureau. The ISB was allowed clearance to any Imperial installation, anytime. Without questions. Usually when they showed up at your office, you could expect an arrest for treason.
Ajax and the rest proceeded through Aldera until they found the shuttle promised by Senator Organa. Storm sat in the pilot's chair, and began hotwiring the vessel. Ka'rta sat next to her, helping with the process.
"I hope they don't have security safeguards," the pilot announced. "We're going to have a hell of a time if I can't get this ship running."
Luckily, she was quickly able to bypass the weak security of the vessel's computer. If they could just make it to Coruscant, they'd be in the clear. ISB access was extremely useful.
"I don't think this op would be working without this armor's ISB clearance," Riashan noted. "I could get used to 'no questions asked.'"
Their shuttle took off soon after that remark, and they were on their way to Coruscant.
Ajax took a moment of remembrance. It was fitting in the pre-mission tension. "Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Ca'ad." It was the traditional daily Mando remembrance rite for those who had died. I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. Then the names of those no longer with the living were recited.
"Mando'ad draar digu," said Ka'rta in response as they jumped to hyperspace. It wasn't exactly traditional, but it fit. A Mandalorian never forgets.
Buckler decided to respond. "Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." Not gone, merely marching far away.
Several long moments of silence, of aay'han, followed. The perfect, bittersweet mix of grief and joy. It was a somber trip to the planet they once called home.
The Storm exited hyperspace above the capital ecumenopolis of the Empire.
"Here we go," its pilot announced. "Strap yourselves in and get ready for some fun."
A feminine voice came through the ship's comlink. "Transmit your transponder code and operating number immediately."
Ka'rta pressed a few buttons on his copilot's console, giving Command the data they wanted.
"I hope to Manda'yaim this works," Ka'rta admitted.
"I'm ready for a fight," Buckler commented, loosening his extra pack of grenades. "In case it doesn't," he explained. To say nothing of the others, the slicer was having some misgivings about going into the heart of the Empire. Since Order 66, their home had ceased to be Coruscant, and had become Mandalore. For years to come, that final day of the Clone Wars would be the darkest day of all. But the war had ended so abruptly that none of the eight felt it was really over. In their minds, they were still fighting.
"Blast," Ka'rta swore. "I can see two TIEs inbound. I don't think our codes checked out this time."
The female traffic controller's voice came back through the comlink. "Welcome to Coruscant, Squad LC-365. We hope your inspection goes well."
The TIE fighters took up formation two hundred meters away from the Lambda-class shuttle, at Storm's two o'clock and her ten o'clock.
"Phew," the pilot said, relieved. "The TIEs are our escort. They still think we're VIP-status ISB agents."
"This mission is going much smoother than I ever expected it to," remarked Ajax. "ISB really does get luxury treatment."
The shuttle landed at Arca Company Barracks, as planned. It looked the same as ever, with the exception of a stormtrooper guard on either side of the main entrance and red Imperial banners hanging everywhere.
The six-man squad debarked from the shuttle, and proceeded to the door. They flashed their ID badges, and the guards let them through without hesitation.
Ajax hoped it would all be downhill from here. "Jusik, we're in."
"Good," replied their commander on the other side of the comlink. "I trust you know where to find Tracker?"
"Down the hall to quarters 1711, right?"
"Correct."
"Let's go, squad."
Eight figures, wearing armor that belonged to the ISB, moved to follow Ajax. The Storm's crew may have followed none, but Ajax had the lead on this mission. After all, it was Ajax's brother they were after. The freighter crew didn't know what it was like to lose a squadmate. They'd lost family, but those ties could never be as deep as those shared by clone commandos.
A squad of Imperial commandos was walking down the hallway towards the team, different from the other stormtroopers because of their armor. It looked similar to the old Katarn kit, except it was colored a far darker shade of charcoal grey.
Buckler quickly hacked into their comms, by tapping a button on his belt. He had written a script that allowed him to decrypt any Imperial communications frequency without anything more than a simple tap of the button.
The dialogue of the squad they were passing was uninteresting to say the least.
"Look sharp. ISB," one of the commandos said.
"They don't look that tough to me," another said. The newly cloned units all seemed to have identical voices, Riashan noted. No minute variation like she was used to.
"Regulation 9.2623," Ajax snapped. "Keep the public comm channel clear." He hoped that Imperial regulations were no different from the old Republic rules, or their cover had been blown. In other terms, Ajax hoped that these units didn't know the Big Book, Revised Edition, by heart.
The commando in front, whose voice hadn't yet been heard, finally spoke, adding a salute to his statement. "I apologize for the conduct of my squad, sir. It won't happen again." He was apparently the sergeant.
Ajax nodded authoritatively. "See that it doesn't. Dismissed." The ex-sergeant returned the salute and led his "inspection team" on their way.
Buckler disconnected from the Imperial comm. "You've still got the leader's authority, boss," he said, impressed.
"Thanks, Buck," Ajax laughed. "I haven't been that long out of practice with giving orders."
Ka'rta laughed. "That's for sure. You've been ordering us all around back on Mandalore."
Ajax glared at him. "We have a job to do here, eighty."
"Right, boss," the medic said, quite apologetically.
The eight proceeded to their target: Quarters 1711. They passed several other commando squads, but didn't stop to chat. They were, after all, just an ISB inspection team. And what they'd seen so far wasn't particularly impressive. Some latent comm chatter, a few games of Dejarik and Sabacc, but nothing earth-shatteringly different from Arca Barracks before the New Order. All except for the 501st guards and the uniformity of everyone's armor. Riashan in particular found it disturbing.
"The whole army seems to have changed overnight," she commented.
"Quiet," Ajax snapped. "Let's just get this mission over with."
The eight fell into silence, an old habit from the thick of battle. This time, though, there might not have been blaster bolts whizzing past their ears, but they were deep into enemy territory.
"Bardan, I've got a sitrep," reported Ajax. "We've made it to the quarters and are ready to enter and get what we came for. Please advise."
The Jedi's voice crackled slightly due to the distance of the transmission. "Go ahead, Ajax. Be advised, though, that there's a reason the 501st is in so many places. There's an Inquisitor there at Arca right now."
"Great," Ajax breathed. "Just what we needed."
The six were approaching Delta's quarters when Bardan hanged up. Ajax promptly snapped back into no-nonsense mode.
"We're here," the leader announced. "Be ready to carry out an inspection."
"Aye," the other five replied in quick unison, proceeding to form up behind Ajax. Buckler hacked into the squad comms.
Ajax tapped the door control and announced, "Inspection. Get up off your bunks and stand away from the door."
Delta Squad didn't need to be told twice. They immediately complied with the order.
Phi Squad and Riashan stepped in, leaving Jesper, Omney, and Rho to guard the door. They began casually moving things around, as Imperial inspections could get quite aggressive.
Scorch, Delta demolitions specialist, figeted as Buckler rooted around his explosives cache. "Be careful! Those are very delicate."
Buckler smiled underneath his helmet. "And also very against regulations. I'll have to confiscate them." He was just looking for an excuse to gather more ordinance.
Scorch made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. He didn't like the development.
Ajax walked towards Boss, thinking it was high time to reveal their "true" purpose, carefully crafted to fit the archetype of an ISB inspection. "We're here for IC-9726," he declared. "You're under arrest for treason." Just not treason against the state.
Tracker took the charge without so much as a flinch. He really wasn't the man who had served with Phi Squad. The old Tracker would have been questioning the charge and seeking the counsel of his sergeant. This Tracker was ready to go to prison without so much as a peep in protest, as long as it served the Empire.
Ka'rta took the binders from his belt and slapped them on his squadmate's wrists, hauling the compliant soldier away.
Ajax turned to Boss. "Now that we have that taken care of, I'm Ajax, that's Buckler, and that's Ka'rta."
Boss staggered back in shock. "Ajax? Have you come to take us back to Kyrimorut?"
"Only if you want to," came the ex-sergeant's measured reply. "We came mostly for Tracker."
Scorch looked scornful. "At least you could come back for him."
Buckler patted him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you understand, ner vod."
Scorch turned away. He didn't want to talk about what had happened to his brother Sev.
Fixer spoke up. "We're perfectly fine here. Take your squaddie home, and be grateful that you can."
"Thank you," Ajax smiled, turning on his heel to exit. "Come on, squad. We've got a mission to complete."
Buckler and Riashan turned to follow their squad leader, not ready for what would come next.
Tracker was thrashing in Ka'rta's grip, yelling about something. "You lied to me! You're deserters, all of you! I'm not the one who should be punished like this! You're the real traitors here!"
Ka'rta was having a hard time controlling the other. "Remember the promise we made before the end of the war? The promise to desert?"
Tracker continued thrashing, driving his captor close enough to a wall panel that he could sound the alarm. Needless to say, the next few moments were filled with sheer terror for the squad.
Klaxons blared throughout the hall. The lights dimmed to red, and blast doors began to block the exits.
Jesper and Omney shivered, as a terrible, piercing cold shook them through the core. A darkness descended over them in the Force, a terrible disturbance.
"Fierfek." None of the squad knew who else had said the curse, and none of them cared. They needed to move if they were going to get out of there.
"Get through that blast door, on the double," Ajax commanded. "I'll cover you."
First, Ka'rta wrangled Tracker through the closing door, then the rest followed, with Ajax shoving Riashan through in the rear. The door clanged shut just behind her, but in front of Ajax. The sound had been very final.
Buckler started trying to slice through the blast door security to open it. "It's no good," he declared. "The panel's been fried."
"Ajax, what are you trying to do?" wondered Ka'rta, frantic. Why would he lock the door shut? What's on the other side?
"What I did on Sullust for that… wretched Nightbrother Maul," Jesper mumbled softly. "He's buying us time. We have to move!"
"Jesper's right," Ajax replied. "I won't tell you again. Go. Just go."
"But…" Ka'rta faltered. He loosened his grip on Tracker, just enough to let the sniper escape.
Rho picked up his blaster, quickly set it to stun, and fired at Tracker. The commando stopped struggling.
"Let's make sure we don't have to stun him again," Rho advised. "Don't let your grip loosen."
"Agreed," Buckler said, slinging his stunned comrade over his shoulder. "You heard the boss. Move it," he said, mustering none of the commanding tone he'd hoped to.
"We can't just leave him!" Ka'rta shouted. "He's our sergeant!"
"Well, then, as your sergeant," Ajax replied, "I'm ordering you to leave. I can only buy you so much time." He had committed to the sacrifice, and there was no turning back now.
Riashan grabbed Ka'rta's arm and practically dragged the commando out of the corridor. There was a reason they had brought Riashan and his comrades along. They would feel less attached, and would have clearer heads because of it.
Buckler was sprinting towards the facility's exit, and the landing pad beyond, Tracker still slung over his shoulder. The rest were running behind him, trying to not get blocked behind one of the closing blast doors. They were conveniently closing one at a time, and not all at once. The ISB should get on that, Buckler thought. This is too easy.
A horrible yell, in a voice that could only be Ajax's, came through the comlink. Their sergeant had been killed. Ka'rta felt a somewhat familiar heaving in his chest, the same as he'd felt that day on Carlac. But now was not the time to grieve.
Soon enough, the five clones and the incapacitated Tracker were almost out of the building. If not for Ajax's sacrifice, they wouldn't be even close to the landing pad.
Their trials weren't over yet, though. A squad of stormtroopers blocked their exit, blasters ready.
Riashan Force pushed the soldiers to the side, effortlessly ridding them of that problem.
The squad blocking the exit door fell to their stomachs and knees, none able to get a shot off. Their training had made them hesitate at the sight of friendly stormtrooper armor; they might not have been so brainwashed after all.
The infiltration squad made their way to their shuttle quickly after that, ready to leave Arca for the last time. They bounded up the boarding ramp, blaster fire once again whizzing by their ears.
Storm moved to the pilot's seat and hastily started the engines so they could extract. As TIE fighters closed in, she made the hyperspace calculations, hoping the shields would hold under the barrage. The navicomputer was soon prepped for their jump, and Storm began to navigate out of the gravity well.
A Star Destroyer appeared in the shuttle's path, turbolasers charged. This next maneuver would require a lot of skill. Flying out of range of the cannons on a Star Destroyer meant you had to go in close. Needless to say, that was a hard task.
Storm took the appropriated shuttle as close to the Star Destroyer's hull as she could, making sure the innumerable turbolasers wouldn't get a lock. She flew across the longest dimension of the fearsome vessel, that being the fastest way to get out of the gravity well. The moment she was free and clear, she activated the hyperdrive, sinking down into her seat out of relief.
The clones had some time to properly grieve with the rest of their squad, once again including Tracker. But Ajax's absence was still stronger.
Five minutes earlier, on the other side of the blast door
Ajax glanced back to see if there was anything that could kill him before he crawled through the hole, which was now barely large enough for him to fit through. Sure enough, he spotted a black-clad humanoid, with armor around his shoulders and the face of a fierce lizard, cape flowing behind him. The rhythmic sound of reptilian hissing menaced Ajax from ten meters away.
The figure ignited a red lightsaber blade, threatening Ajax implicitly and explicitly revealing his identity as the Ninth Brother. After a few threatening moments, he spoke with a long 's' and a scratchy voice, "Now we will finish what was started six months ago." The Inquisitor would wait a while for a response.
Ajax knew what he had to do. He turned his blaster towards the door control panel, and fired once. He didn't want his squad to rescue him, not when he could still buy them time.
Buckler had apparently started trying to slice through the blast door security to open it. "It's no good," he declared. "The panel's been fried."
"Ajax, what are you trying to do?" wondered Ka'rta, frantic.
Hurry up and leave, Ajax thought. I have to buy you the time to make an escape.
"What I did on Sullust for that… wretched Nightbrother Maul," Jesper mumbled softly. Ajax could hear it clearly over the helmet comm. "He's buying us time. We have to move!"
"Jesper's right," Ajax replied. "I won't tell you again. Go. Just go." I have to do this. They need me to.
"But…" Ka'rta faltered.
A few moments passed before Buckler broke the silence. "You heard the boss. Move it," he said, a command that didn't convince even Ajax.
"We can't just leave him!" Ka'rta shouted. "He's our sergeant!"
"Well, then, as your sergeant," Ajax replied, "I'm ordering you to leave. I can only buy you so much time." There could be no turning back now. Ajax turned to face his attacker, and fired at the oncoming black figure as if he could actually kill the Inquisitor. It was the response the Ninth Brother had waited for. Come and get me, you stinking di'kut. I'll either kill you or get killed.
The Ninth Brother deflected his every blast. As he did so, the Inquisitor drew closer to Ajax.
So much for that idea.
"How noble," the Ninth Brother's reptilian voice sneered. "Sacrificing yourself for the squad. Very Jedi-like."
Ajax threw aside his helmet, raising his blaster once more. This was Ajax's private conversation to have.
"I'm not a Jedi," Ajax replied. "You were a Jedi once."
The Inquisitor was taken aback by the audacity of the statement. This truth angered him.
"What may have been no longer matters," the Ninth Brother declared, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of that. "There is only what now exists, and I am the Hand of my Emperor."
He's not so sure of himself after all.
Ajax glared. "I'm not afraid," he returned. "Of you or my impending death." What am I saying? Of course I'm afraid. I'm afraid they won't make it out of here, or that Tracker won't get back to himself, or… or that he won't forgive me for dying.
"You would do well to be afraid," sneered the Inquisitor. "Courage does not mean absence of fear." How far this Trandoshan had fallen.
My name is Ajax. RC-3608. I am afraid, but not of death. So long as the others escape and continue to fight the Emipre's evil, my sacrifice will not be made in vain. "Live to fight another day," Ajax whispered aloud. "Live to resist the Empire." The sergeant knelt before the superior power before him, not frightened of death, but of what the future held for those he knew.
At this gesture, the Ninth Brother raised his saber, ready for a downward slash. He looked at the bare head of his prey; Ajax's helmet still laid on the floor.
"Any last words?" the Ninth Brother taunted.
Ajax looked his executioner in the lenses and smiled. "What good execution is complete without them?" I always get the last word. No matter the situation.
"With every person you kill, you lose another part of yourself. I lost so much of myself during the war, I barely know who I am." The smile had faded from Ajax's lips, replaced by a slight frown and punctuated by a downward nod of submission.
the Ninth Brother looked the clone straight in the eye, listening to the statement. It only ignited a fire in his eyes, hidden by his skull-shaped helmet. He let the blade down, to score through Ajax's chest. Surprisingly, the flesh offered no resistance to the sword.
The intense heat of the blade as it struck Ajax made him cry out in pain, a loud, grueling death scream that could surely be heard through several bulkheads. His helmet, a few meters away, picked up the sound and transmitted the scream to the others.
The last thing Ajax noticed was the sharp smell of ozone produced by the plasma blade. The smell was vaguely like the air on Kamino when lightning struck the parade grounds.
He was almost surprised by the quickness with which death took him. And then… nothing. No more thoughts, no more smells, no more sounds, no more feeling. Just nothing. Nothing at all. Everything had faded in less than an instant.
The Ninth Brother looked on as his victim's body sank to the floor, in one of the longest moments of the Inquisitor's life. What little good was left in him soon realized the truth of Ajax's last words. That truth was quickly buried again by the Dark Side.
Out in the next hallway, the others were busy escaping. But all seven who were conscious heard the death yell come over the comm. It fueled a kind of animal rage, the knowledge that a "good man" like Ajax was dead. Their anger would last until they were out of danger, and free to grieve. Anger would return months later for the squad, but in a different form. That anger would be less intense and more healing, a natural part of the grieving process.
As Ka'rta sank into his chair after they jumped to hyperspace, hot tears began to fall down his face, covered by the helmet. His sobs could be heard over the helmet comm. It had been painful to lose Ca'ad all those years ago, but losing Ajax was much, much harder. Ca'ad had been separated, both physically and emotionally. Ajax had been a sergeant and a friend since before the war. Ka'rta and Buckler had always seen him as a shoulder to cry on. It was always hard to lose that. They still had each other, though. They'd have Tracker, too, once he was back to himself.
Buckler strode into the cockpit where Ka'rta was sitting. He intended to console his friend, with little success. He just couldn't find the right words. Buckler still hadn't even totally come to terms with Ca'ad's passing. His hand was firmly clasped on the sniper's tally. Buckler found the talisman quite soothing, especially now.
Sometimes, all you needed was for someone to be there. It was all Ka'rta needed right then.
After a few long, sorrowful moments, the pilot finally said, "I can't believe he's gone."
"Neither can I," Buckler admitted. He held up the tally and examined it for several moments. "Ca'ad always seemed to keep to himself. Ajax was always right there with us, laughing along."
Ka'rta nodded, tears returning to his eyes. "It just isn't fair. We shouldn't have to lose Ajax just to be with Tracker again."
Buckler grasped his brother's far shoulder and pulled the other close in a kind of half-hug. "I know. Still, it makes you wonder… if he could possibly be alive here with us."
Ka'rta heaved an especially heavy sob. "I've already replayed it in my mind. There must have been something we could have done."
"We tried," Buckler said. "But he didn't want us to."
This made Ka'rta break even more into tears, knowing that Ajax had wanted to die. It didn't feel like a heroic sacrifice just then. It felt like a needless loss.
Buckler continued to hug his brother, knowing it was the best he could do. A gesture to show him there were still people there for him, even if Ajax was gone.
Ka'rta threw himself into the arms of his friend and took the proffered shoulder to cry on. The embrace would last until they returned the shuttle to Alderaan.
"Thank you," said Bail Organa. "This shuttle has been missing for several days. You have my gratitude for returning it."
"You're welcome," replied Riashan.
The Senator whispered, "Get rid of it. They know it was stolen. I don't want to to look like I'm supporting a rebellion here."
"What should we do with it?" the bodyguard breathed back.
"Crash it into a mountain, or a lake—just do something with it, will you? I can't have it around here. The fact that you came back to me is even a little suspicious. Listen, I'm a busy man. I'm sure you'll figure something out, but I must be going. My infant daughter needs my attention. I'm sure you understand."
Riashan nodded covertly, and the Senator turned, his ornamental cape flowing behind him as he left.
The fighter turned back towards her companions. "We have to crash this thing," she explained.
"And exactly how will we do that?" wondered Storm. "It's not as if I can just fly it into a mountain."
"No, but we can lift it with the Force," Jesper offered. "Or you can bail halfway up, and I'll catch you before you fall."
"Is there a way we can fake them out using the first way?" Storm asked. "I like that one a lot better."
"Well," Jesper said, "I can try to manipulate the wings so it looks like it's really flying, but it might take some doing."
"Just do it," Riashan directed.
Jesper shut her eyes, raised a hand, and the Imperial shuttle rose off the ground, its wings folding down as if it were taking off with a pilot inside.
The ship flew out from the Aldera skyline, and straight into a mountain. Upon hearing the explosion, people flocked into the city streets to see what had happened.
People gasped, wide-mouthed, after they saw what had happened.
"Come on," directed Riashan, under her stormtrooper helmet. She readied her blaster to look more convincing.
The others followed suit, stepping into formation. Buckler had Tracker bound by the wrists, and his E-11 in his brother's back, ready to stun the commando.
After walking a semi-conspicuous patrol route, the eight people reached the Storm's parking place. Riashan quickly scanned the docking bay. No one else was there, and security cameras were stuck in a loop. R3 had made sure of that.
The infiltration squad made their way into the freighter, ready for exfil. The crew made their way to battle stations, just in case. Buckler and Ka'rta secured Tracker in what had formerly been Bardan's quarters.
As she sat in the cockpit to assist the pilot, Jesper felt darkness creeping up on her. It was a presence, probably on the edge of the star system. She shook the feeling off.
The Kamino Storm lifted off, its elegant kite shape soaring into the skies above Aldera.
Bail Organa watched the departure, whispering, "May the Force be with you, Rebel scum."
"I'm about to punch it back to Mandalore," Storm announced, cutting the sublight engines. "Any stops we need to make?"
A general murmur of "No" floated over the comm.
"Next stop, Mandalore."
Back in the lounge, tendrils of darkness invaded Jesper's mind, slowly overwhelming her senses.
"Stop," the Sith entreatied. "Don't make the jump, or we'll all be killed."
Storm faltered, letting her hand fall from the hyperdrive control. "What—"
A proximity alert flashed on the control panel. Storm looked up to see a single V-Wing Starfighter cross her flight path.
"Force. Okay, Jesper, I owe you one. I think we all do."
Jesper collapsed, unconscious, from the overwhelming darkness.
The starfighter flew closer to the Kamino Storm, attempting to dock.
Storm worked furiously to turn the engines back on, but the ship seemed to stall.
"Fierfek. Okay, get ready to be boarded," Storm announced. "I've got an incoming V-Wing. Don't know who or what."
"Jesper just passed out," Omney reported. "Seems related. I'm sensing something cold and black coming from out there. That's probably your guy. Strong Dark Side vibes."
"All right, get out in the hallway, Omney, Jesper. Does somebody want to wait by the airlock and blow up his ride back to the Empire?"
Buckler volunteered almost immediately. "I picked up some materiel from Delta back on Coruscant. I can sneak some aboard his ship."
"Get ready," Storm commanded, "Because he's going to be boarding pretty quick."
The three shuffled out into the hallway connecting the two airlocks. The door to the cockpit was sealed tightly, but the door to the lounge was wide open. As the docking ring hissed, the lounge door shut, the panel releasing a few sparks as it was broken.
Into the hall stepped a tall, scaly humanoid, clad in black armor. In his hand was a round-hilted, twin-bladed lightsaber. The Trandoshan hissed.
"I am the Hand of the Emperor, and you will die by my blade."
Riashan, with characteristic arrogance, laughed in the Imperial's face. "We'll see about that."
Buckler sidled along the wall towards the airlock where the Inquisitor had parked. The imposing figure took no notice.
Omney rushed forward to take a swing at the interloper, and only struck on her second attack.
"I am the Ninth Brother, and you can show me no real threat."
Buckler gasped in shock as he realized this was the thing that had killed Ajax. He focused himself so he could plant the explosives, sneaking behind the Inquisitor and towards the airlock behind the lizard.
Riashan rushed forward, slicing at the monster in front of her. The Inquisitor took the blow as if it had been nothing more than a scratch from his sharpened talons.
The lizard hissed in reply.
Omney let rip with her double-bladed saber, landing three hits on the wearied Inquisitor. He doubled back in pain, slashing with his sword at Riashan and clawing Omney, who winced.
Riashan deflected one of the blows, while the other fell squarely on her shoulder. She taunted, "Is that the best you can do?"
Riashan again attacked, slashing across the Inquisitor's chest, leaving a nasty cut through his black armor and scaly skin.
The Ninth Brother again hissed, turning tail towards the airlock, where Buckler was ready to send his fighter into oblivion.
As he sent the clone plummeting to the floor, the Inquisitor declared, "This is not the end of our relationship. I will perform my duty to the Emperor."
Helping Buckler to his feet, Omney spat at the airlock.
"Thanks," the clone said graciously.
"No problem," replied the grey Jedi.
"Well," Riashan supposed, "I guess we should help the others open that door."
The three went over to the broken portal, and tried to pry it open. It peeled open with some help from Jesper using the Force on the other side. Rho walked through to help heal Buckler.
Storm came out of the cockpit, took one look at the panel, and swore viciously.
"Woah," R3 bleeped, rolling away in shock. "I had no idea she could talk worse than me. I curse more than anyone I know!"
Riashan held up a hand to silence the impetuous droid.
Storm turned to face everyone in the room. "Who broke it?" she demanded. "I'm not mad yet, I just want to know."
Riashan piped up. "I did. I broke it."
"No. No, you didn't," Storm negated. "Jesper?"
Jesper's eyes went wide and she recoiled in surprise. "Don't look at me. Look at Omney. She was on the right side of the door to have broken it."
Omney nearly punched Jesper in the face. "I didn't break it," she affirmed through gritted teeth.
A glint caught Jesper's eye. "Well, that's weird. How did you even know it was broken?"
"It's right in front of us and it's broken!" Omney screamed at the Sith.
Jesper narrowed her eyes. "Suspicious."
Omney clenched her fist again. "No, it isn't!"
R3 wanted a piece of the fighting, beeping, "If it matters, probably not… Rho was the last one to use it."
Rho turned away from her patient to set the droid straight. "Liar! I wasn't even on the right side of it!"
"Then what are you doing standing there next to it?"
Rho lowered her tone and explained, "I use the door to get to my room and the lounge. Everyone knows that, R3."
RIashan stepped back in, to help mitigate the damage. "All right, let's not fight. I broke it, let me fix it, Storm."
Storm shook her head, voice rising slightly. "No. Who broke it?"
Omney leaned over towards Storm and whispered, "Buckler's been awfully quiet…"
Buckler crossed his arms and snorted, "Really? I just lost my stinking pod brother and you're going to accuse me?"
The Ninth Brother had been listening through a bug, and he recorded over the next few seconds of heated debate for the benefit of his superiors.
"I broke it," he declared. "They were all going to come through to kill me, so I dismantled the door with the Force. I predict ten minutes from now, they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a lightsaber at each others' throats. Good. They might just do my job for me."
Storm stalked off to the cockpit, angry that her ship had been broken and no one wanted to own up to it. She shoved the hyperdrive lever to the "engaged" position and jumped off to Mandalore.
When the Storm exited hyperspace, it flew directly to Kyrimorut, where the crew dropped off Phi Squad and their borrowed armor.
After Buckler told him what had happened with the Ninth Brother, Kal told the crew, "You can't stay here. If they're tracking you, I can't risk you giving away our location here. I'll pay for your rent in Keldabe, but you can't keep your ship here. It might already be too late…
"I'm sure you understand."
The five comrades-in-arms nodded a confirmation and boarded their ship solemnly, flying to the nearby town of Keldabe.