"Captain Nub," the hologram of a Mandalorian warrior said in an icy cold voice. "I will ask you one last time. Who was working with Professor Meld'an."
Captain Nien Nub was a proud Sullustian. His uncle had fought at the battle of the second Death Star. He had served with distinction through the Vong War, earning command of the Dauntless, a Republic-class cruiser, as well as the command of his own taskforce of three other ships. He was a decorated sailor of the New Republic Navy. He did not know fear in the face of the enemy.
But he did know guilt.
Floating several hundred meters away in the void of space was a black Skipray Blastboat designated the Bes'bev. Half a year ago, he had played host to it, its captain, and several others who had been part of a New Republic University archaeological expedition. An expedition that had ended in betrayal, terror, and death. Of the original expedition, it seemed perhaps a quarter had survived at best. Unfortunately for him, five of those who had survived were Mandalorians. Even more unfortunately, one of those who had died had been Mandalorian as well.
"Captain," the Bes'bev's owner, a man named Adenn Skira said, "you remember what I did to one of your men when he so much as injured my kinsman. Now one of them is dead and you have information as to why. Give it to me. I do not want to blast your vessel out of the sky, but I will."
"This is a Republic-class cruiser," Nub said harshly through his translator droid."We have you out gunned and out classed. Stand down and I will forgive your threats against my ship and my government."
"This is a Skipray blastboat," Skira replied. "It is fully armed and operational, Captain Nub. Even if your ship is capable of blowing me out of the sky, I will cripple your ship to the point it will be nothing more than fodder for the pirates you have spent the last six months harassing. You will die, your men will die, and your ship will rot in the void of space for eternity. Now give me what I want, or I will use you as an object lesson to those who dare hurt my kin and think they can get away with it. The info I desire or the lives of your men, Captain. I am willing to die for my people. Are you?"
Captain Nub sat in his command chair and felt the guilt gnaw away at him as he stared at the gold and black painted Mando on the holo. NRI, New Republic Intelligence had come to him months ago. Told him he was to take this expedition to the world of Swedlan in the Pimbrellan League while he was being deployed to deal with the piracy issue out there as the Republic attempted to get the local star systems to join. A good will mission of learning, they'd said. When they arrived, the head of the expedition, a Professor Meld'an, informed him he was to leave the planet alone, to not return regardless of any distress calls from the planet for any reason, under orders from the highest authority.
There could only be one reason for that. Yet, despite everything he had joined the New Republic to fight for, despite the gutworms that devoured him at night, he had obeyed his orders. Now people were dead and his ship hung in the balance.
"I wish I could help you," he said softly, "but I cannot."
"Very well, Captain," the Mandalorian said, the acid in his voice harsh enough to eat through durasteel. "Bes'bev, out."
"Deploy the fighters," Nub said with a heavy heart. "Target that ship and bring it down."
"Yes, Captain," several of his officers chorused. The bridge jumped to life as men and women of the New Republic Navy leapt to their duty. From the hangers below a squadron of B-wing bombers and a second squadron of A-wing interceptors screamed out into the void of space. The ship shook as heavy turbolasors pounded away, joining the over dozen laser cannons in filling the void with orange death.
The Bes'bev was about the length of two standard star fighters and was classified partially as such, but Nub knew it counted as a capital ship in its own right. Though armed with a fraction of the armaments of his ship, it was still a deadly weapon in the hands of a competent crew. As the ebony vessel twisted out of the way of the first salvo, Nub knew he was facing just that.
The first hint things were going wrong came when his gunnery officer's voice gave out a shocked cry.
"Sir, they've vanished from our sensors!" The young woman shouted.
"Did they got to hyperspace?" He asked, cursing the delay his translator droid caused in communications with his crew.
"Negative sir, their transponder cut off, then they vanished from our screens." She replied.
"Fighters, get me a visual," he snapped.
"Blue leader, copy." The B-wing's leader said.
"Yellow leader, copy." The A-wing's commander replied.
A shadow passed over the stars in front of the bridge's windows, and the world was filled with fire from laser and ion cannons. Nub felt his heart sink as he realized the reason for the matte black paint on the Bes'bev. Not only would it render it nearly invisible to the naked eye in the void of space, it was likely a stealth paint as well, capable of resisting detection by most sensor arrays.
The comm screamed as several pilots vanished in balls of fire and scrap metal. The remaining fighters converged, filling the air with return fire. For a moment, the gunboat was illuminated as several shots struck its shields.
"Fire!" Nub yelled, "take it down!"
The ship twisted, rolling out of the lines of fire, letting the Dauntless's shields take the blows instead. The b-wings, powerful but slow, struggled to keep up. The A-wings reacted better, but then the Bes'bev jerked to a stop, twisted, and dove under the Dauntless, causing her fighters to over shoot.
The Dauntless shook as heavy explosions rocked his ship.
"Damage report?" he ordered.
"We were hit point blank by two proton torpedoes!" the DCO shouted. "Shields are heavily damaged. I've lost contact with Hanger One, and long range communications is out!"
"Captain!" his sensor officer shouted. "Multiple incoming contacts!"
"Report!" Nub shouted.
"I'm showing four, six, no, ten enemy contacts sir!" his officer shouted. "Sir, it's the pirates! I'm showing six VCX-700's, two VCX-820's, and two VCX-300's!"
"Damn it!" Nub swore. "Damn it he planned this!"
The pirate fleet descended upon the Dauntless. The new ships each measured between twenty to thirty meters in length, hardly a threat to his nearly four hundred meter long cruiser by themselves. But ten of them, along with a Skipray did present a threat, especially the heavily armed 700's and 820's, the former with its ion cannons was perfect for disabling ships, while the latter was built to fight off pirates and raiders who had their own capital ships.
Blue, green, and orange fire filled the void as the pirate fleet he'd been hunting with his task force took revenge for their fallen comrades. Concussion missiles screamed across the sky, targeting his starfighters. The B-wings turned to face the new threat, but as soon as they got a hundred meters away from the Dauntless, the Bes'bev appeared from the void like a Mon-Calimarian shark and fell upon them with vicious cruelty. Half the squadron was gone between the blastboat and the pirates before anyone could react.
Nub swallowed. His ship was meant to have a crew of nearly one thousand people, along with two hundred and forty marines. However, the New Republic was still recovering, having pumped out ships and losing world from the Vong War. It meant he was at half his complement, and why he only had two squadrons of fighters rather than three.
His large black eyes focused on the true threat, the two VCX-300's. They were lightly armed, compared to their fellow pirate ships. Originally designed as bulk freighters, capable of carrying three hundred and fifty cubic tons of cargo, they made excellent troop carriers and were the heart of the local pirate fleet. Who knew how many blood thirsty pirates waited in their holds, armed and ready to kill.
"Issue orders for all personnel to arm themselves," he said. "Have Captain Marlock get his marines ready."
"Aye, Captain," his first officer, a Rodian named Du'shan said.
A massive explosion rocked the Dauntless from the rear and he didn't have to ask for the damage report. That would be the main drives being taken out.
"Order the A-wings to form a defensive perimeter," he said. "Then order the remaining B-wings to retreat. They're out matched, and I need them to inform the rest of the group what has happened here."
"Aye, Captain," his flight control officer responded.
"Crew of the Dauntless," Nub said, pressing a button on his chair to open up ship wide communications. "This is Captain Nub. We are about to be boarded by the very pirates we came here to hunt. It has been an honor to serve with you as this ships Captain. You are the finest crew in the Republic, and I know you will do your duty. These scum think they have what it takes to stand against law, order, and peace. Show them they are wrong! For the Republic!"
He stood up from his chair and accepted the pistol Du'shan handed him, along with a vibro-saber, the belt of which he slung across his chest.
"Captain Nub," Du'shan said. "It has been an honor, sir."
"It has, Dushan," Nub replied. "I could not have asked for a better first officer."
They watched as their shields fell, the ion cannons of the enemy disabling weapons and defenses. One by one, the A-wings fell to enemy fire, though they did manage to claim a 820 and two of the 700s. Heavy losses, for the pirates, but not enough. The last A-wing fell under the Mandalorian's guns.
The 300's docked. Normally, his crew could have held off the invading pirates long enough to break their spirits, making them turn tail and run. Pirates like to strike fast, loot, and flee before a real challenge appeared. But as the steady report of casualties and lost ground game in, Nub was forced to realize that his ship was truly lost.
He and his bridge crew took defensive positions as the blast doors shook from explosive charge after explosive charge. They would hold, he knew, though he dreaded the moment when the pirate captain began threatening his crew and he would have to let them be executed rather than surrender.
Then the explosions stopped and he waited for the inevitable comms signal.
It didn't come.
Instead, the blast door began to glow. It was small at first, just a point near the bottom. But slowly, the metal heated up and began to melt, drawing itself clockwise in a circle big enough for a man to fit through, filling the bridge with unbearable waves of heat. Nub licked his lips, wondering what manner of cutting torch the pirates had brought.
The circle completed itself, and the metal fell inside the bridge with a tremendous bang.
"Fire!" Nub yelled. Blaster bolts ripped through the air into the hole as desperate men and women fought to stave off the inevitable melee and slaughter. They stopped, only when their energy cells ran empty. The mechanical sounds of weapons being reloaded filled the air.
Then came a familiar snap-hiss.
For a moment, Nub thought he was saved. Holo-programs for decades had played that sound at moments of terrible crisis. He'd heard it on the battlefields, when all hope seemed lost. It was the sound of a lightsaber activating, the clarion call of a Jedi Knight's iconic weapon, which had meant salvation to countless damned souls. He didn't know how a Jedi had come here, how it was one of them had gotten on his ship without them noticing, but he didn't care. It meant they were saved.
He let out a cheer, as did several of his crew.
A cheer that died in his throat as the blade appeared through the smoke. It was not the green, blue, or violet the Jedi were known for. No, this blade was crimson, the color of fresh blood. The weapon of a Sith.
Held in the hands of a Mandalorian garbed in black and gold armor.
Nub swallowed, his throat dry.
"F-fire!" he screamed in terror, squeezing the trigger on his pistol. His crew followed his orders, bless them.
Unlike a Jedi or Sith, the warrior didn't bother to block the bolts with his blazing weapon. They struck him, pinging off his armor. Nub had heard legend that Mandalorian armor could resist even lightsabers. It certainly seemed to resist blaster bolts.
Then the warrior fell upon his men. Flames shot from his wrist, the saber cut men and women in half, and he chewed through the Republic's best like a scythe through Alderaanian wheat. Till, at last, only Nub remained.
Nub stared up into the terrifying T-shaped visor of the Mandalorian's helm as Skira's icy, acidic voice purred from its speaker.
"Now, Captain," the man said. "You're going to tell me everything. One way or another."