Hellooooo everyone! I'm finally back after being gone about a week or so. Had a gig in Cincinnati. It went magnificently. I'll have my vlog posted on my Youtube soon if any of you want to see it. I was so busy there, and in the two days since I returned, that I haven't had time to post anything. But here we are...entertain us. I hope you enjoy this latest chapter, my loyal readers.

"So…that about sums it up." Drakken said, standing before his entre team on the bridge of The Princess Latania. "We can't run away. If we stay, we can't fight them ship-to-ship. If they board, they'll kill everyone." He sighed. "But we aren't leaving. We have our orders…and besides, we owe it to these people to try to protect them."

"Unable to stay, unwillin' tae go." Freya whispered. "Cannae ye jes call up an escort fleet for us?" Tharcourt shook his head disappointedly.

"I asked. They can't spare so much as a cruiser unless there's clear and present danger." He stated. "The gut instinct of a lowly commander isn't good enough reason to waste their time, I guess."

"So what do we do?" Thorne asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Gallen observed. He heaved a sigh. "As much of a drag as it is, I guess we're fighting to the last on this one, right sir?"

"Come on Gallen…" Mets argued. "We haven't ever not made it before, right? So we're gonna tear through the rebs and win this one too."

"Troopers…" Drakken began, then looked at the two men who had spoken. "First of all, shut up. I never said we're all gonna die. I never said we're gonna win either. I said we're going to stay and we're going to fight. If that means we're all going down…" He glanced at Freya, and she saw a barely concealed look of resignation cross his face. "…we're going down doing our duty."

"Yes sir." The eight troopers said in unison. Tharcourt's eyes moved along the line of his teammates, and the left side of his lip twitched. He didn't want to ask this of any of them. It felt too much like some of the missions back on Garos where he just knew he was going to lose at least a few of his friends. There were no other options though. He'd had an hour to think the whole thing through. If any of them had any chance at all of surviving what he believed was coming, if they had one shot at halfway salvaging their mission parameters, it would all have to play out perfectly.

"Captain, I want you to start prepping the escape pods." Tharcourt said.

"Wh…we're evacuating?" Furmer shot back.

"No…not evacuating...not yet. Just get them ready to go. I want every one of your officers armed with blasters from the enemy. You too, Kopish. They're likely still after the cargo. That means they might not just blow the Hell out of this ship until they loot it first. When they board, I plan on keeping them distracted down in the cargo hold. I want the passengers to get out then in the pods. A complete evacuation of the ship. How many pods is that?"

"One hundred…eighty escape pods, Commander." Lights spoke up. "One hundred and twenty sixty-man pods. Sixty one-hundred-man pods." He thought for a moment. "Oh yes, and we have the two Englehardt collapsible pods up on the weather deck. Those hold sixty each."

"Good." Drakken said. "They can't blast them all. Most will get away."

"I will…ready the pods." Captain Furmer said defeatedly. "Men, tell any passengers that ask…that it is merely a crew drill. Nothing more."

"Yes sir." Hefford nodded.

"Daraay, I want the crates emptied of whatever is in them, and the contents placed in civilian containers." Tharcourt continued. "Fill two of the Imperial containers with thermal detonators, power cells and whatever explosive materials and fuels you can get on this ship. If you can find any liquid fuels, fill a third half-full, then put in as much polystyrene packing material as you can get from the hold and the gift shop. The other three, fill with canisters of hyperspace fuel. They want those crates, I'll give them the karking crates." He looked around the bridge. "Well, what are you all waiting around for? Let's do it."

Tharcourt led his team into the cargo hold personally. He opened the hatch and stepped into the space where two hours earlier, a fierce battle had taken place. He stopped and looked down at a ruddy stain on the otherwise clean deck, and frowned. What was the point of any of this, he thought to himself. What did these terrorists really hope to accomplish? On the other side of the coin, what was the reasoning behind using a ship full of innocent people as a shield anyway? It all seemed so evil and desperate for both sides. He shook his head at the blind stupidity of the entire situation he and his team were in.

"Alright, let's get those containers emptied." He ordered, gesturing to the row of crates sitting by themselves in the hold. They approached the large metal boxes, and Freya slowed her pace, then finally halted, her head cocked to the side and a curious expression on her face. Tharcourt caught her reaction and halted his men with an upraised fist.

"What? What is it?" He queried.

"Dunnae ye hear that…" She said, and looked around. She narrowed her eyes. "Huh. It's gone now. T'was a funny sort a' sound, love. Like a real quiet singin' or a musical hum or somethin'. Lovely sound for some reason." Drakken looked back at his men. Daraay shook her head as if to say she'd heard nothing, and Felain shrugged.

"It was probably something shipboard…something mechanical or hydraulic." Dall offered. "I didn't hear anything though." Drakken nodded.

"Yeah. That's probably it." He smiled at Freya. "You must have a crazy good set of ears, love." She smiled innocently. Drakken grabbed the top of the nearest container and hefted himself up on top of the durasteel box. He held out a hand, and Ekks tossed him a mallet. The top was hinged on the sides, with a split down the center, forming two doors used for loading and unloading. Drakken promptly knocked loose six locking lugs on the top of the shipping container, and threw open one of the half-doors. He had to stare into the container a moment to make sense of what he was seeing.

The box was filled with some sort of large, semi-opaque gemstones of a crystalline structure. He reached in and pulled one of the smaller crystals out to examine it more closely. The size of his forearm, the pale green stone seemed somehow light and heavy at the same time. It refracted the dim lights of the cargo hold, and almost shimmered iridescently despite the rough way it looked to have been mined. He held up the gem for his men to see.

"Huh. This is what all this damned mess is about." He stated. "No wonder the rebels want this. Dunno what it is, but these things have got to be super valuable or something. Probably part of the Imperial Treasury from the look of it. Void's sake."

"Sir?" Felian asked.

"Sergeant, I'm probably standing on more credits than this ship and everyone on it is worth right now." Tharcourt said with a nod. "Why would they be moving this much wealth?" Daraay's head turned slightly to the side, and underneath her black helmet, she wore a guilty countenance. She knew what the crystals were, and had seen shipments like this before. It was still classified, what the stones were and what they were used for by the Empire, and she felt she could not divulge either that readily. Still, she felt it almost a wrongdoing to keep it from the rest of the team, especially her commander.

"I believe sir…" She began, choosing her words carefully. "That those crystals are for clandestine Imperial research…and you are correct. Their scarcity renders their relative value incalculable." He shook his head in acknowledgement.

"Not sure what we're doing with a bunch of pretty rocks, but power to them." He said glumly. "Let's get these unloaded." He pointed to a few similar-sized crates marked as electronic components. "Put all this in those. Then fill these with explosives and some fuel cells from the engine room. Daraay, Coleth, you two rig them with remote detonators. I want the switch."

"Yes sir." The Death Trooper said dutifully.

"Freya, with me. I wanna make a call."

"I'm sorry, Commander Tharcourt…" Captain Liagri said unhappily over the holoscreen. "…as I said, I can't just break away from my patrol to shadow your ship unless you're actually in danger. It's not that I don't believe you, I have my orders, the same as you."

"I know that, Captain." He returned. "And I'm not asking you to disobey those orders. I'm just wondering if you can do me a favor." The blonde-haired woman cocked her head inquisitively and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh…hm. You know, I looked you up on personnel records, commander." The captain returned with a certain amount of intrigue to her tone. She smiled a little. "Coming from someone like you…I am very…very amused to hear what that favor would that be."

"How about you go ahead and ready a wing or two of fighters for immediate action…maybe call it a readiness drill." He explained with a smirk. "You know, that way if something did happen in your sector, you'd be able to respond in a hurry." He shrugged. "I could give you my coordinates and bearing as well. Just a check in with the local patrol, you know. Whether or not you kept that information by the nav computer is up to you." Captain Liagri's eyes shifted back and forth a moment, and her lips turned up a little more.

"It has been a while since we conducted a readiness drill." She finally said. "I think I should keep a couple squadrons on a rotating combat posture for a little while." Liagri brought a gloved hand to her chin. "Now, if you would be so kind as to report your current position and destination, civilian vessel…I like to think I take my duty very seriously."

"I'm sure you do, ma'am." Tharcourt said. "And I'm thankful that you do." She winked, the rest of her expression remaining stern. "I'll let you know if I run into trouble, Captain." Drakken advised. Liagri threw up a salute, and Tharcourt returned it. The screen went dark, and he turned to Fryea. She narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Oh, ye jest flirt yer way intae getting what ye want, don't ye?" She quipped.

"What?" He returned, feigning indignity. "I don't know what you're talking about." Thorne grinned.

"I betcha if that there captain was some ol' geezer, ye couldnae 'ave sweet-talked im into helpin' like that."

"Send our coordinates and heading to the carrier." Drakken ordered the navigator, then turned back to Freya as they began to leave the bridge, Lights and all of the crewmen there staring at the two officers antics as they exited. "And I bet you I could. All I did was formulate a good working relationship with Captain Liagri…based on a shared dislike of stupid orders…and a mutual desire to get rid of these rebels."

"Ohhhh…" Freya replied with knowing smirk. "An' the fact that she was hot and was reeaaaal busty-like didnae cross yer mind, did it?" He rolled his eyes, and she giggled.

"If she was, you're the one who noticed." He commented as they stepped into a turbolift. "Wanna tell me something, sweetheart?"

"Wh…no!" Freya choked, her cheeks turning a light pink. Drakken chuckled.

"Oh stars," He said. "Here we are, probably about to get scrubbed, and we're laughing." She smiled and shook her head.

"This life we live, love." She remarked. He held up a hand, and she clapped hers into it.

"This life we live." He returned.

…...

They sat side-by-side on a shipping container, looking out over the cargo hold. Everyone else but Daraay had been sent to salvage and equip themselves with as much weaponry and power cells as possible after he had briefed them on what their duties would be once the ship was attacked. The Death Trooper stood silently below them, her large blaster resting on her shoulder as she stood watch. Freya, her toeless boots sitting beside her on the box, gently kicked her legs, her bare heels drumming rhythmically against the side of the container. She glanced over at Drakken. He was slowly drawing from a cigarra. He stared at the cherry-red tip for a moment, then blew out smoke.

"So…" She began, trying to lighten the mood. "What do ye wanna do when all this is o'er?" Drakken scoffed.

"If we survive?" He reminded her. Freya's smile dropped.

"We'll survive." She stated, and slid her left hand over to his right. He changed his cigarra into his left and took hold of her's. He squeezed gently as a sad smile gently broke across his face. Freya then saw something rarer than snow in summer back home. A tear rolled down Drakken's cheek and hung desperately from his chin before falling onto his trousers.

"You think we will?" He asked quietly, staring ahead. "Tell me you believe that, Freya…because I…" He took a final drag from the cigarra and tossed it carelessly to the deck. "I've been in a lot of situations where I just knew…you know?" She nodded. "And I always somehow made it through. My troopers…my friends…Tay…" He sniffed. "Hell…I guess in the end it catches up to you, huh? You have a good run, then you end up in something like this, and you wonder how. How did I get this far."

"Because you're the best." Freya said softly, and pressed her head against his. "Yer th' best warrior…the best soldier, th' best officer…the best friend I e'er knew, Drakken Tharcourt. If this is t' be me last haroo, I'm right pleased to be there aside ye when it 'appens."

"I'd rather you not." Drakken grumbled. "Can't you just…" He looked at her and sighed. "Nah…you wouldn't leave me, no matter what I said."

"Aye. That's right, darlin'." She nodded.

"Love you." He said.

"I love you too." She returned. He leaned forward and looked down.

"What about you, Meeka?" He called down to his bodyguard. "I can't guarantee safe conduct once the battle opens. I'm sure they hate Death Troopers almost as much as officers. You want to fall back with the others and help man one of the escape pods?" Daraay looked up.

"I am not leaving your side either, Commander Tharcourt." She stated. "My duty is to protect you." Daraay took off her helmet. "Besides, even if you ordered me to the contrary, my place is here." Tharcourt reached down and held out a fist. The woman stared at it a moment, then bumped it with her own.

"Then I guess the three of us are going to take on the whole damned partisan fleet." He sighed in a resigned tone. "Guess I couldn't ask for a better couple of soldiers." Freya put her arm around him.

We ain't dead yet, me darlin'." She said. "An' I still don't think it be quite air time jes yet."

"And why is that?" Drakken asked. He glanced down to see Daraay holding a handheld remote detonator pad. She tossed it up to him. Freya grinned.

"Yer a whirlwind in a thorntree, an' I don't think them sotting rebels is ready t' deal with the likes of ye."

…...

"What is it, Captain? Sitrep." Tharcourt asked briskly as he jogged onto the bridge. In the back of his mind, he already knew the answer. Thorne and Daraay stopped just inside the hatch. Captain Furmer turned from the panoramic viewport, the man's face whiter than usual.

"We picked up a vessel…it just…appeared out of nowhere, commander." Furmer said, his voice quick and nervous. "I sent the communique as you said…right before our comms were jammed by the ship. That's when I sent for you. In the last couple of minutes, they finally hailed us." Thorne came up beside Drakken.

"What did they say?" The commander asked. Furmer gulped a breath of air.

"Resist and die…" The captain said. "…or surrender…and die." Tharcourt nodded. "What do we do?" Drakken pulled his commlink.

"It's time." He simply stated into the device. "Good luck men…and happy hunting." He looked back up. "Show me the ship." At that, a crewman brought up an image off the immediate port side of The Princess Latania.

The enemy ship was bigger than Tharcourt thought it would be, and it had a peculiar piecemeal look that he found strange. It looked as though someone had taken the body of a CR90 corvette, and added the cockpit and part of the fuselage of some bulk freighter. He counted at least six double laser turrets on the ship, all aimed at the cruise vessel. On either side of the partisan band's mothership, there were three Incom Headhunters and two old Y-Wings that looked barely functional. He sized up the enemy fleet for a moment more, then made his decision.

"We need to buy time." He stated. "Captain Liagri will be a couple hours away, and we need to get ready. Lights, start gathering the passengers at the escape pods. Start loading, but don't launch them until either me, Thorne or your captain says." Lights nodded, and left the bridge to round up enough crewmen to start the evacuation.

"Who's best on our dorsal gun?" Drakken asked next. A young man at a terminal on the bridge raised his hand.

"I…I'm qualified to use the turret." The young quartermaster explained. "I think I'm pretty good, sir…at least I was in training.

"Well son, think of this as practical target practice. I want you to target one of those Y-Wings out there. Get a good lock on it. When I say, I want you to blast the Hell out of that damned ship, then fire on that flying scrapyard until you melt the barrels or they blow them off."

"Yessir."

"Captain, put all power to the shields, moreso to the port side. On my word, run the engines full ahead."

"As you say. Prepare to increase engines to flank speed!" He ordered.

"Now…" Drakken said, cracking his knuckles. "Hail that ship and bring them up on the viewscreen." A few buttons were pressed by the comms officer, and the large screen illuminated. Tharcourt studied the man for a second before either spoke. The enemy leader was a broad-shouldered, bearded human man of about fifty. Wearing some kind of pelt or fur tunic and a visorless black helmet bearing a blood-red handprint, he looked more like some primitive warrior than a space-faring marauder.

"Yeah…" The man growled upon seeing Tharcourt. "I thought so…Imperial soldiers. I take it my men on the inside are all dead then."

"Dead as a neutron star." Drakken returned coldly. "You feel like joining them?" The raider laughed.

"With or without them…" He stated, then gave Commander Tharcourt a look like an angry father would a child. "The bravado and…arrogance of an Imperial officer is one of the few constants in this galaxy. I will look forward to cutting off your head myself."

"Then at least give me the privilege of knowing who's decapitating me."

"They call me Decoja. I am captain of this company."

"Company of what?" Drakken asked bitterly. "All I see is a band of thieves and murderers, killing women and children, and plundering ships to satisfy their bloodthirsty urges. I see no soldiers." Decoja smirked.

"Like looking into a mirror, isn't it?" He chuckled madly. "Blood for blood. Death for death…and death to all Imps."

"Any way we can convince you to just take the cargo you're after and just…fly off into the depths?" Tharcourt said in a more diplomatic tone.

"I mean, it would be hospitable for you to just hand it all over." The partisan leader shrugged. "But we're still going to tear that ship into atoms. But don't worry…" Decoja snarled an animalistic grin, and he held up a chain of Imperial rank plaques. "You give us what we want, I promise your experience in captivity will be relatively…short." His eyes drifted up to the two Imperials by the hatch. "I can't say the same for the Death Trooper and the Imperial whore. She especially will have a nice long stay." Tharcourt clenched his teeth, then forced himself to focus. Too much at stake to get riled now.

"Well therein lies the problem." He said calmly, his eyes fixed on the deck. "Because I will not allow that to happen to my people…" He looked up and met eyes with Decoja. "And I will not enter treaties with a fat, pretentious, murderous crikking coward like you. So you can come and get that cargo, you mother-kriffing pirate, and I will be happy to shove my blaster up your arse and pull the trigger until is says 'click'." Decoja's face was red, and the enemy leader was shaking with rage. Drakken smiled. "Do we have terms?"

"You are a dead man!" Decoja bellowed, and the transmission was cut.

"Fire on that Y-Wing! Fire!" Drakken yelled. "Fire up the engines!" The quartermaster hit the fire control button on his joystick, and one of the Y-Wings to the right of the enemy ship exploded. The young man held the button down, strafing the ad-hoc battlecruiser with laser fire, the ship's upgraded shields shedding the hits like they were droplets of rain. Drakken felt a lurch as the ship quickly picked up speed, but the enemy vessel began firing on the engines as soon as they began to pull away.

"Port-side engines are taking a beating!" A woman at a terminal reported.

"Keep going." Tharcourt urged. "And you, keep firing!" The bridge gave a shudder, and the lights flickered momentarily just before a pair of Headhunter starfighters arced into view in front of the bridge from their pass over the ship.

"Port side engines are at twenty percent…they're overheating!" The young woman called.

"They took out the gun!" The quartermaster cried out.

"Gods damn it, Firmus. You should be here, old man…" Drakken cursed. "Throw the engines in reverse. Now! Go backwards, right at that big ship!"

"Commander…" Furmer began.

"Do it!" Without waiting for their captain to give the order, the navigators threw the engines into full-astern. This did three things. The first was that The Princess Latania stopped abruptly, sending Drakken, Freya and a couple of the bridge crew to the deck. The second was that the engines strained under the load of trying to pull the ship from full ahead to full astern. As soon as the massive liner was propelled backwards, the energy condensers for the main thrusters ruptured and the ensuing high-pressure BLEVE shattered the directional cones at the rear of the ship and the blast vaporized one of the enemy Headhunters. The third thing the maneuver managed to do was to propel the liner directly toward the enemy ship. The raider vessel juked quickly to port and upwards to avoid impact. Drakken got to his feet and pressed a button on a comms panel.

"Lights, are all of the passengers and crew in the escape pod areas?"

"Very nearly, commander." The second officer reported. "We're rounding up the last of them now."

"Good. Be quick, and call down to the engine rooms. Get everyone to the pods now!"

"I will, sir."

"All of my men have access keys for the hatches?"

"They do. They can get through any locked hatchway on the ship." Lights answered. Drakken felt the keycard in the pouch on his own belt.

"Enemy ship is docking with us." The quartermaster advised. "They…they're pulling alongside the third-class gangway hatch. Starboard D-Deck."

"Boarders approaching at D Deck Starboard hatch." Tharcourt repeated into his commlink.

"Understood." Felian replied.

"All passengers and crew are in escape pod areas." Lights reported. "The pod on B-Deck Starboard, just aft of the Gymnasium awaits your team. Fifth Officer Vroll will meet them there. Best of luck, commander."

"And you." Drakken returned. He looked about the bridge. "All of you get to the escape pods. You can do no more." He placed a hand on Captain Furmer's shoulder. "And captain…I'm really sorry for what's about to happen to your ship." Furmer nodded solemnly.

"The pride of the Hydian." He said sadly.

"That she was, captain. Now get to a pod. Freya, Daraay, let's go to work." He marched off of the bridge. Furmer looked about.

"You've done your duty better than any crew could." He announced. "You can do no more. To the escape pods. It's every man for himself. That's how it is in times like these." The crew slowly abandoned their posts, leaving the bridge for the safety of the emergency escape modules down the hall. The young quartermaster, the last to leave, turned back to see his captain standing at the nav terminal, staring out into the blackness ahead of the vessel.

"Captain?" The young man called. Furmer slowly turned, stared at him a moment, then rendered a parting salute. The quartermaster returned the gesture, and stepped out of the bridge, the hatch closing behind him as Captain Furmer threw the switch sealing off every airtight bulkhead hatch throughout the vessel and electronically locking every crew passageway door.

The six partisans stood by the docking hatch, their weapons at the ready. Wearing an odd mixture of rebel, Imperial, and civilian clothing, they all had a rag-tag but fierce appearance. One wore a chain of five Imperial rank plaques dangling from his belt, trophies from Imp officers he'd killed over the last year. Another bore even more macabre spoils of war. Around his neck was a necklace of human teeth, and hanging from his belt were three human scalps. The one with long, brown hair was an especially treasured possession. It had come from a female Imperial lieutenant he had tortured and mutilated for five hours before finally killing her and getting his scalp. Now the six men, the best and most enthusiastic boarders in the crew, were ready to collect even more trophies. Somewhere on this starliner, they had been told, was a small contingent of Imps who had murdered their brethren sent aboard to make the operation easier. Now was their chance to get revenge.

"We're locked." The leader of the band, a bald and bearded man named Kreg stated. He gave a sadistic grin and motioned with his homemade blaster/axe weapon. "Let's wreck the shop!"

"Wreck the shop!" The man with the rank plaques yelled.

"Kill 'em aaaaall!" Another called out.

"Fire it up! Fire it up!" A third man chanted crazily. The hatch opened, and the small group ran aboard the passenger vessel screaming in an adrenaline and anger-fueled frenzy. Not waiting for the next group of raiders, they charged up the corridor, kicking walls and banging on stateroom doors. It seemed mildly strange that no passengers or crew were in the hall, and that no Imperial soldiers had met them at the entryway, but they just assumed everyone knew they were coming and had fled further up into the ship. They finally came to a large hatch. Pressing buttons did nothing, and the door looked too thick and imposing to try to shoot through, so they all let out a collection of battle cries, and turned down a nearby corridor leading amidships.

"First contacts approaching…" Felian said over his commlink. "We're preparing to engage them."

"Copy." Tharcourt replied over the device. "Remember sergeant…no prisoners." Felian looked down the hall the team was set up in. The lights had been shot out, and the only illumination came from the direction the enemy would be moving from.

"Yes sir." He said with a nod. Felian put the commlink away and signaled to the rest of the unit, who were all kneeling and laying prone behind durasteel boxes and piles of metal machinery they had positioned in the hall. Down the corridor, they could hear the marauders before they saw them. The group of pirates where whooping and hollering as they rounded the corner about twenty meters distant. In the darkened hallway, they couldn't see the Imperial soldiers lying in wait for them. It looked as though the crew had left piles of items and discarded containers behind as they ran for their lives.

Felian could see the men more clearly as they neared. The partisans sprinted up the passageway, pumping their blasters over their heads. One man even had an axe blade and spike welded to his weapon. The troopers all froze in their positions, awaiting the perfect moment to reveal themselves. It didn't take long, as the men ran right into the midst of them.

The first to go down was a fighter wearing a wookie-pelt tunic bedecked with blaster cartridges in bandoliers. Mets simply sprang from behind his crate and plunged a vibroknife into the raider's throat. Lago threw himself onto his back and dumped six rounds into the first man to make it to his own position just as Ekks threw a thin wire around another man's throat and pulled, his knee in the bandit's back. The final three finally realized something was horribly wrong, but before they could react, a shot from further down the hall pegged one between the eyes, and Coleth opened fire on another from point-blank range. The man with the axe-blaster roared and spun about. Standing before him was a tall scout trooper with a red pauldron upon his black armor, the barrel of the soldier's E-11 pointed at his nose. Felian pulled the trigger, and the raider's head snapped back. His lifeless form fell to the deck, and Rix Felian again pulled his commlink from his belt.

"Six down." He reported, then turned to the team. "Alright. Grab their weapons and move. Fall back to position Bravo." Without a word, the troopers hurriedly sized whatever ordnance the raiders had dropped and beat a hasty retreat down the hall.

Drakken leaned against the cargo container, dragging the last bit of tabac smoke from a cigarra. His light gray undershirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and he had taken off his tunic. His belt was now buckled about his waist, supporting both of his SE-14r's, a pair of spare power cells, and a vibroknife. He threw the butt to the floor, and drew his twin blasters. He spun the right one, then the left, then both in unison. Then he cast a glance at Freya, standing by the small ship nearby.

She had taken off her own tunic, as well as her boots, and was now wearing only a black tank-top and her gray skirt. She stood with her staff at full extension, and a DL-44 taken off of one of the dead stewards from earlier swung from her left hip, showing which weapon she was putting her faith in. Freya ran a gloved hand down her staff, her fingertips lightly trailing along the weapon lovingly. She looked up at Drakken and gave a confident smile.

"Reckon' they be comin'?" She asked. Drakken spun his blasters and holstered them. He glanced up at the ceiling disappointedly.

"Yyyyep…" He grunted. "Doesn't look like they plan on leaving…"

"Good." She stated matter-of-factly. "I was startin' t' worry." Drakken let out a short snicker.

"Glad you're ready for this." He said.

"I was born ready, love." She replied. "A Breoh'an idn't scared a' dyin' in a good fight…" Her eyes stayed locked on his. "E'en if it means an end t' the things they love most." He sent a nod her way.

"At least you're fighting beside your clan." Drakken said softly. Freya struck the deck with her staff and it sent a bell-like ring throughout the hold.

"The way it ought t' be." She stated. Drakken couldn't help but smile.

"How's it going on your end, Daraay?" He called.

"Everything prepped and in place, Commander." She answered. A moment later, the black-clad Death Trooper emerged from the shadows in the cargo area. "I added some elements of my own. Call it…operational prudence."

"Good to know, sergeant." He acknowledged. Drakken pulled his commlink. "All units standing by?"

"Roger that, sir." Felian answered. "Preparing to engage second boarding party at location Bravo. We're gonna give them Hell, sir."

"Security team is in position, Commander." Kopish stated. "There's one way to the cargo hold, and that's through us."

"Murrnurr-nurnurmur-nur-nur-hurnnnurnk."

"Glitch says he's standing by, sir." Lago clarified over the net. "And he says you owe him an oil bath after this."

"We survive this, he can have full-synthetic." Drakken quipped. "Ready to launch the pods?"

"Yessir." Both Lights and Hefford announced.

"Good. Everyone standby." There was a clang from somewhere on the deck above, and the three of them looked up at the ceiling. Tharcourt inhaled deeply and huffed. "Well…for the Empire, for Garos…for Breoh'lar, honor, pure kriffing meanness or just to get the Hell outta here, let's do it."

What a chapter to post on my return, eh? Looks like the storm clouds are about to break. I know you can't wait to see what happens next, so I'll have the next riveting chapter up soon. Until then, please tell me what you thought in the reviews, or just drop me a PM. Until next time loyal readers, Cheerio! -Drake