"She's the largest, most luxurious passenger ship built by humans in all history." The well-dressed shipping magnate boasted. Tharcourt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He and Freya were seated at the extravagant dinner table, surrounded by the captain, the owner of the ship and several high-class passengers neither of them knew or really cared to know. "Yes, the Princess Latania is the paradigm of strength, size and luxury in the galaxy. Though I am afraid she will not hold that title much longer…" Mister Jaybruse continued. "The sister ship of this vessel is nearly completed, and will steal the prize. Twenty meters longer, and far more luxurious." A few of the women socialites gasped dramatically. Drakken couldn't help himself.
"It's tough being top dog." He stated, and all of the passengers looked toward him as they did every time he'd spoken. "You only have yourself to fight with." The male diners at the table chuckled properly and the women tittered daintily. This is how the whole of dinner in first class had gone. Appetizers had been crudités and talk about finances and stock prices. Soup was bisque made up sellfis, with a side of small talk about what various social and political figures were up to. First course had consisted of fish and boasting about who each person was related to. By the time the third course had arrived, the talk had shifted to the war, and attention had shifted toward Drakken.
"You must know a great deal about the troubles, commander." A banking mogul had said. "Any word on when we may see an end to this conflict? It has interfered with my holdings in the Outer Rim like you would not believe."
"Well…I can only say we're doing our best to end the war as quickly and…efficiently as possible." Drakken said with a polite nod. "Beyond that, I'm afraid command and control of the Imperial military is sort of…above my paygrade." That resulted in a few more guarded laughs around the table. An elderly female socialite from Coruscant spoke next.
"You must be connected with some affluent persons, Commander Tharcourt." She said. "Tell me, do you know anyone on Imperial Center?"
"Not particularly, ma'am." Drakken answered truthfully, and the wealthy dowager made a disappointed face. "I operate directly under Lord Vader, in Imperial Special Operations, so my work doesn't leave much time for fraternizing in the core worlds."
"Lord Vader…my stars." A real estate tycoon muttered.
"Goodness!" The dowager commented. "To have someone so close to the Emperor's ear at our table." Jaybruse smirked.
"Indeed." The industrialist stated. "Perhaps in the future, I will have to include on my ships a suite of rooms for the Emperor and his retinue!"
Drakken picked at his food, trying to ignore the stupid posturing that had once upon a time begun driving him from his home long before the Clone Wars had even started. These people didn't just lack situational awareness, he thought, they didn't have a care in the world. They were flying through a civil war, and gave no thought to danger or humility. He felt out of place in this mockery of civilized society, and it only reminded him of how remote someone like him really was from the very people he had so long fought to protect. Freya caught his glum expression and lightly kicked his boot underneath the table. He glanced over and she gave him a warm smile. His lips turned up momentarily, and he went back to insidiously dissecting his roasted porg.
After desert came what Drakken always thought of as the ancient ritual of rich old twits locking themselves in a room and smoking cigars. He excused himself from this duty, and he and Freya took a walk on the promenade deck, a long walkway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the depths of space. As they walked side by side on the mostly empty deck, Tharcourt lit a cigarra and paused to stare out into the black emptiness.
"Somethin' botherin' ye, love?" Freya finally asked. He blew out a cloud of smoke.
"I dunno…" He sighed, then motioned around the deck. "All…this, I guess?" She cocked her head. "We're supposed to protect this…these people…and it just…" He found a deck chair and sat down. Thorne sat next to him as he took another long drag. "You ever think that sometimes, people bring it on themselves?"
"Wot do ye mean?"
"Here we are, in the middle of a conflict where people are dying…travelling through a bloody warzone, and some of these people act like the worst thing that can happen is being late for their hair appointment." Freya rolled her green eyes and huffed a sigh.
"Aye…but that's 'ow most people is. Like the silly bampot ye read about what sat there an' let a freighter land on 'is heid. To 'stracted tae e'en look up." Drakken raised his eyebrows as if she'd just made his point for him.
"Yep. And here we are…guarding whatever's in the cargo hold of this flying deathtrap, surrounded by people who somehow found themselves all rich and famous…" He took a final drag before smashing out the cigarra in a nearby receptacle. "...despite the fact they ain't smart enough to know how to shine their own shoes." He lay back in the comfortable deck chair, and gazed out at the distant stars. "And I know what you're thinking, sweetheart…what could be in those crates that's worth all this trouble."
"Nae…" Freya returned. "I wasnae thinkin' that. I was jus wonderin' if ye thought we'd e'er be that rich an' famous." He turned his head to see her giving him a humorous smirk. "I mean, we're brainier'n that lot." Drakken chuckled.
"They're better at playing with credits, Freya." He said. "Nobody ever got rich slinging a blaster."
"Aww. Tis a pity." She cooed. "If ye could, you'd be a baron, me love."
"Mm." Drakken hummed. "Wouldn't have it. Credits…that much at least? They can keep them." He looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then took Freya's hand. "I think I got all I need."
"Mmhmhmhm…" Thorne giggled. "Och…when did ye become such a smooth talkin' devil, Drakken?" He gazed into her eyes, and his pessimism melted away, if only for a brief moment. Drakken gave Freya a sly grin.
"Maybe now that I have a girl to be a little charming for…" He offered, and kissed her hand elegantly. She giggled again and snorted.
"Aw, yer a wee bit late in tryin' a' win me o'er, darlin." She said sweetly. "Oh ye done did that." She bit her lower lip. "But ye can keep on with the sweet talk, Drakken." He smiled, sat back in the deck chair, and they watched space drift by for a few moments.
"So, what's the lowdown on the escape pods?" He finally asked. Thorne frowned.
"Now that's not very honied talk, melove." She mock-chided, then sighed. "Right. E'ery passenger deck has a couple a' escape pod stations. One on each side…uh…port n' starboard, right?" He nodded. "Aye, well…looks like they got enough, just in case. Lights said they 'ave another four sets up on the main deck too."
"Good…" Drakken muttered. "What did you see in the cargo hold?"
"Cargo." Freya replied. She watched his eyes slowly drift to her, a lack of amusement on his face. "Lots a' passenger stuff, crates being shipped here and there along the route, an' somebody e'en has a small ship stored down there, if'n ye can believe it. Brand new, all shiny an' chrome. Just sittin' there with the dealer stickers on the cockpit windae."
"Rich people." Tharcourt huffed. "See the shipment we're babysitting?"
"Aye. A dozen big ol' crates in th' forward hold. A 'alf dozen stormtroopers an' a mean ol' lieutenant guardin' 'em. He knew we was comin' and said we do our job, they'll do theirs. Not a bloody clue what lies in them crates, but it must be somethin' real important…or dangerous."
"Yeah…" Drakken growled. "Why wouldn't it be? Probably a bomb that could supernova this whole ship…a virus that could kill us all in five minutes…"He scoffed. "More than likely, it's a bunch of tiny novelty flags for next year's Empire Day, and all this is a load." He stood and walked to the window, his eyes scanning the void around the vessel. "A load worth wasting us on. Ugh…why do you listen to me gripe?" Freya made her way over and unabashedly put her hands on his hips from behind.
"Aww. I kinda like when ye go on a big speech." She said softly. "E'en if yer ranting all rebellious things. And I ne'er said I don't agree with what you say." He turned back to her.
"Just tired." He said simply. Freya gave him a little smile. She took his hand in hers in a fraternal grip.
"Ye can run away with me anytime you want." She stated. He squeezed his grip on her hand.
"Not yet." Drakken said with a resolute tone. She nodded.
"Then I'm with ye till then." She replied. Drakken's commlink pinged. He pulled it from his belt.
"Delta-7 Actual." He stated rotely.
"Commander Tharcourt, this is Second Officer Lights. You're needed on the bridge, sir."
"On my way." Drakken answered, his mind already turning over what the problem could be this early on. "C'mon. Let's see what's going on."
"What's happening?" Tharcourt barked, entering the bridge of the starliner. Second Officer Lights turned from a large screen where he and a quartermaster were busily observing something.
"See for yourself, sir." Lights remarked, and gestured to the screen. Drakken and Freya moved closer, and Tharcourt found himself looking at a three-dimensional display of the space around the vessel, probably for many kilometers around. A blue blip in the center no doubt showed the location of The Princess Latania. A red blip ahead and to the right gently strobed in intensity. "Transponder declares it as an Imperial cargo vessel, Commander…an um…Rowe?"
"Gozanti, sir." A communications officer clarified. "Still no reply to our hailing signals either."
"Try them again, on all emergency frequencies." Lights ordered. He turned back to Tharcourt. "She entered our sensors about ten minutes ago. She's not moving, Commander. All signs point to her being dead in space…"
"But it's still transmitting a transponder signal…" Drakken surmised. "…meaning it has at least some power."
"Quite right, sir." Lights agreed. "What do you make of it?"
"I don't know what to make of it." Drakken returned, staring at the blip on the scanner. "You call Captain Furmer?"
"He's on his way." The Second Officer answered. "Should we make ready to dock?"
"No." Drakken stated, a little severely. "If anything, give that ship a wide berth and put on some speed."
"But sir, regulations require that we render aid to any vessel in distress…" Drakken shook a finger at the scanner screen.
"Mm." He hummed. "That's bait."
"Sir?" Lights pressed.
"Could be a trap." Thorne offered.
"It could be a trap." Drakken parroted. "If it's not, then something's awful suspicious about it anyway."
"I must agree with the commander." Captain Furmer stated, arriving on the bridge. He nodded to Drakken, and stared at the screen. "It could very well be a ploy by these pirates. Though we must err on the side of caution. Commander, would it be alright with you if we approached near enough for our long-range cameras to perform a cursory inspection?" Drakken thought it over.
"Yeah, go ahead." He answered. "But be ready for attack." His eyes darted about as he tried to conjure up some strategy. Tharcourt knew little about ships or how to conduct battle with them. "Wait. Let me get one of my men up here." He drew his commlink. "Corporal Ekks, to the bridge ASAP."
"On my way, boss." The Corellian answered.
"Hold here, Captain." Drakken said. "I need to confer with my pilot." It took just a couple of minutes for Ekks to make it to the bridge.
"You called, sir?"
"Yeah, we might have a problem." Commander Tharcourt explained. "There's a Gozanti that's not answering any calls, and just floating there. It could be a trap, or it could be an Imperial ship in trouble. Captain Furmer wants to check it out, and I agree, but what do we do if it's an ambush?" Ekks looked around the bridge.
"How's hyperdrive on this thing?" He asked the captain outright.
"Rated for Class Three, but we usually don't go that fast…" The captain replied. Ekks whistled.
"Class Three on a liner? This really is a smokin' fast ship, cap."
"Corporal." Drakken scolded. Furmer smirked.
"Alright, you wanna go in for a closer look at this ship, what you wanna do is ready the hyperdrive." Ekks began. "Set coordinates on the nav computer for a few thousand klicks down our route. Go in, and see what's up with the freighter. If the rebels attack, hit the hyperdrive right then and there. Jump, and we'll pop out of hyperspace in a second or two. They won't have a clue what we're up to, and if they try to jump, they'll either shoot past us in hyperspace, or nail our shadow and get smoked."
"Reverse…hyperspace ramming?" Lights inquired. "Hyperspace ramming is a myth." Ekks shrugged innocently.
"Yeah, well…whatever he said, do it." Tharcourt said, thumbing a finger toward the pilot.
"Ready hyperdrives." Furmer ordered. "Set coordinates for zero-three-thousand kilometers. Then bring us in closer to our mystery ship." He nodded to Drakken. "Sir, I am beginning to understand why you and your men were stationed aboard." He nodded. "You have command. I defer to you in this, Commander."
They drew closer to the Gozanti, and the starboard bow cameras of the large luxury liner zoomed in on the Imperial ship. Immediately, the men and women on the bridge were met by an image on the viewing screen of the Gozanti. Hull, pockmarked with hits from energy weapons, the ship listed lazily to one side like some hulking but mortally wounded beast. The engines were dark, but tendrils of vapor spread from them, creating a thin, hazy cloud at the stern of the stricken vessel.
"That doesn't look…good." Ekks muttered.
"No corporal, it does not." Tharcourt said indifferently.
"You think this the work of pirates, commander?" Lights asked, a hint of nervousness in the rigid officer's tone.
"Well…it wasnae no accident what caused that damage." Thorne answered. The starship drifted past the Gozanti at a slow crawl, and the starboard cameras and sensors continued to send their grizzly information to the bridge screens.
"Her hull has been breached, sir." A bridge engineer stated. "Scanners are indicating no life…no electronic signatures either."
"Not a droid left alive." Tharcourt muttered. "Any ships in the area?" The bridge crew of Princess Latania rechecked all of their computers.
"In the immediate vicinity, no sir." A quartermaster replied. "It is a busy shipping lane though. Outside of hyperspace, we're reading a Brayl-Class freighter named The Esquaton'i at around a thousand kilometers ahead…a B-7 behind us at fifteen hundred, and a Secutor-Class carrier The Servitor at twelve hundred off the port bow." Drakken nodded solemnly.
"Contact The Servitor." He ordered. "Bring them up on the comms." The communications officer on duty pressed some buttons on her terminal. A few moments later, the large screen switched to an image of a middle-aged woman in an Imperial Navy Captain's uniform, standing at ease. Her curly blonde hair was bound in a bun at the back of her head, and her brown eyes stared into the lens of the long-range comms transceiver.
"Captain Liagri of The Servitor." She greeted. "What is your emergency?"
"Commander Drakken Tharcourt, ma'am. Imperial Special Forces, currently on assignment aboard the civilian Starliner Princess Latania. I wish to report a possible rebel attack on an Imperial ship." At that, Captain Liagri's lips pressed into an even more dissatisfied line.
"I understand." She stated. "Send me the coordinates, Commander Tharcourt. I will have a squadron there within a few minutes. What is the nature and status of the Imperial vessel?" Drakken nodded to the young communications officer, who sent their ship's current location to the Imperial ship.
"Your people should have the coordinates." Tharcourt said. "Mm. And take your time. The rebs are long gone, and the ship is dead-in-space. I'm afraid I can't stick around and wait for your people, Captain. My orders are to escort this ship to its destination." He sighed. "Nothing we can do anyway, captain…" There was a dull thump as the body of an Imperial pilot banged against the transparasteel of the bridge viewport. A chorus of gasps and groans resounded through the bridge as the cadaver slowly slid up along the curved window, finally disappearing over the bridge. A young woman working at a navigation terminal clamped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to arrest the bile that had risen. She failed, and Drakken looked away.
"Commander?" Captain Liagri inquired curiously. Tharcourt's eyes flicked back to the screen.
"All Imperial personnel are dead." He stated with an angry frown. "The ship's likely been looted, and your quarry is probably in the next system by now." Liagri's composure relaxed a little, and the carrier Captain exhaled and closed her eyes for a brief moment.
"Understood." She said. "Don't worry, commander. We'll scour the area." She was silent for a few seconds. "Good luck, Commander."
"And you, Captain." Tharcourt nodded. The screen switched back to feed from the hull cameras in time for a shot of the Gozanti's forward viewport. The windscreen was cracked, and the high-resolution cameras made the blood on the inside of the cockpit window seem all that more visceral. Tharcourt shook his head.
"You have the ship, captain." He said. "Let's get out of here."
"I agree fully." Furmer grunted. "All ahead full. Let's put some space between us and this mess." The Captain scowled. "Terrible…terrible."
"Yep." Drakken whispered.
"This what you people have to see every day?" Captain Furmer asked.
"More or less." Tharcourt said stoically.
"I do not envy you, Commander." Furmer said. Drakken lightly shook his head in agreement.
"That's because you are a smart man, Captain." He returned. "Call me if anything else comes up. Come on Thorne…Ekks, nothing more we can do here." He led them off the bridge and down a deck. They walked out onto the promenade. There, the three of them stared out into space for a few moments.
"Think they're gonna try and hit this barge, boss?" Ekks finally asked.
"Dunno. Maybe." Drakken answered truthfully. "Would you?" The Corellian shrugged.
"With enough men, maybe." He said. "Anything short of a corvette and pretty big gaggle of scoundrels…I'd say it's too big to kriff with." Ekks huffed. "You?"
"You mean back in my day?" Tharcourt returned, raising an eyebrow. "Probably not. I never hurt civilians." The pilot made a small scoff.
"One of the reasons I like you, bossman…" He commented. "…you sure got your priorities straight." Drakken stared out the window as the ship passed by some orange-colored planet.
"May it rub off on all of you." He said in a low voice. Ekks smirked and made a cynical jerk of his head. He took out a cigarra and lit it.
"You have a habit of doing just that, boss." He stated.
"Aye. Ye do that too well, darlin'." Freya agreed. Tharcourt smiled a little.
"What are you guys up to down in the bilge?" He asked.
"Enjoying a little R and R, Commander." Ekks replied. "The crew pretty much gives us what we want when we're not patrolling around. There's a party in third class tonight, and a few of us are going...except for Daraay, Dall and Glitch. They decided to volunteer for guard detail." He grinned. "You guys get to be up here with the bigwigs, but the lower classes know how to party."
"Huh. Count yerself lucky, Ekks." Thorne said. "These rich people's 'bout as fun' as a fun'ral." The Corellian rogue laughed and almost choked on the smoke from his cigarra.
"Good one, Hellcat." He returned, and Freya flashed a toothy grin. A small group of socialites came down the deck from somewhere forward, talking among themselves. The trio of Imperials moved closer to the promenade viewport to give them room, but the wealthy passengers stopped in front of them. A woman in some sort of fur coat waggled a finger at Drakken, then motioned toward the back of the ship.
"I was just commenting that you people should be doing something about this sort of thing." The middle-aged woman stated tersely.
"I'm sorry, ma'am?" Drakken said, confused.
"We saw that ship back there." The passenger declared in an accusatory tone. "All beat up like that. Decent people should not have to see such things, young man. You people should be out there stopping those people from doing things such as that." Drakken frowned.
"Ma'am, there's a war going on right now to stop those people." He stated. "And I can say that the Imperial military is doing everything they can to…"
"And why aren't you out fighting those terrorists right now?" She demanded. "What are our taxes paying for anyhow? Terrorists…attacking ships right out in the open, and you three are lollygagging on this ship…talking and…" She glowered at Ekks. "…smoking."
"I'm assigned to this ship." Tharcourt stated tersely and slowly. "By my superiors. To guard its cargo…and you…from Rebel attack."
"Pah!" The woman exclaimed, throwing up her had dismissively. "My husband is a holonet producer! What danger am I in from rebels? The only danger here is incompetent army people being given free vacations instead of winning this war." Tharcourt was now inwardly fuming.
"My orders are to guard this ship." He stated. "And my orders come directly from Lord Vader, and not from passengers, and If it's all the same to you, I intend to follow my orders. Now you folks please move along and let us do our jobs." The socialite huffed.
"Well, I never!" She declared. "Nobody talks to me that way. I'll make sure the right people hear about this, sir. What is your name so that I can lodge a formal complaint." Drakken cast a sidelong glance at Ekks.
"Certainly, madam." He acquiesced. "My name is General Yo'momma the Hutt." The rich passenger made a self-righteous smirk.
"Then General Hutt, you will be hearing about this." She stated, and marched off indignantly, her retinue following like a drill team. Drakken narrowed his eyes as they disappeared aft, then he turned back to the window as he took out a cigarra and lit it. He let out a frustrated grunt.
"What a witch…" Ekks remarked. Tharcourt turned his head enough to glance at the pilot from the corner of his eye.
"You have a good night, Ekks." He said with a nod. "And…thanks for the tactical advice back there." The Corellian caught his true meaning, and gave his commander a less than decorous but friendly slap on the shoulder.
"Anytime boss." He said. "You two have fun…try not to let these stiffs ruin the mood, huh?" Freya gave him an affable nod, and Ekks left through a nearby hatch into the massive ship.
Thorne watched Drakken for a moment as the man stared silently out the window, smoking his cigarra, his hand shaking ever so slightly. He was brooding again, she thought, and he now yet again seemed to her like some massive, powerful battle station suspended mid-air by a gossamer thread, or an impenetrable fortress built upon the shifting sands of a wave-battered beach. As always, she was more than willing to try to throw his psyche a lifeline.
"Love?" She called softly. He took a long drag, and blew out the smoke without turning.
"Yeah…sweetheart?" He sighed.
"Ye alright?"
"Mm. I guess." He answered. She scoffed.
"That nasty ol' bird get to ye that bad, darlin'?" She asked tiredly.
"That's who we're protecting, Freya." Drakken stated. "That's what we're fighting for."
"Not e'eryone is like that though." She offered. He finally turned partially toward Freya.
"We're soldiers. It's always the same story." He said bitterly. "The common people hate us for doing too much. The aristocrats like that hate us for not doing enough. Our superiors treat us like we're dogs or droids or…or worse." He shook his head and took an angry drag from the cigarra. "That's how it's always been. That's how it is now, and that's how it was…"
"Back hame…" She concluded, speaking in a sympathetic tone. "…right?" She put a hand in his free one. He squeezed it and nodded.
"The people who need to fight the most never do it. Too afraid. Too weak." He said sourly. "The ones that could really do the most good in this Hell-hole of a galaxy are the ones who make it worse. People with money…power…" He gestured in the direction the wealthy passengers had gone with fingers to his chest then quickly flipped them outward, what Freya took to be a not so kind gesticulation from his home planet. He then looked into Freya's kind green eyes, and his softened. "Just wish they'd leave us alone. Everyone. Just let us do what we have to do and mind their own damned affairs…"
"Dunno if it 'elps." She said, "But me people treat soldiers like they 'ave a right real important job, and need a' be left tae it. Think we're raised tae respect 'em…look up tae 'em."
"No offense, but you're from the Outer Rim, sweetheart." Drakken countered. "You'd may as well be from another plane of existence. I think the developing worlds, those people with no ties to the rest of the galaxy like you are the only ones with any sense."
"Och. No offense taken." Freya remarked. "I'm still confused as tae why things is done the way they are in the wider ol' galaxy." She snorted. "Seems kinda back'rds t' me."
"You have no idea…" Tharcourt grumbled. He spied a cigarra receptacle and crushed out the smoldering stump.
"We could go t' Breoh'Lar." She suggested. "Ye know, relocate there an' just…live?" He made an uncertain expression. "C'mon. Ye'd fit in like an old neighbor, Drakken. Me clan'd adore ye." He took her aside, and embraced Freya in a gentle hug.
"I believe you. I do." He whispered. "But…It's your home. I still haven't found mine." Drakken pulled back and gave her a short kiss on the lips. "I just…I know it's with you. Home is with you. I haven't figured out anything else yet."
"I know." She sighed, holding his head to her shoulder and gently rocking the man.
"You…wanna go back to our rooms?" Drakken asked finally asked, pulling away enough to put some proper distance between them in case any passengers happened by. "It's getting kind of late." Freya smiled.
"Aye. Well, why don't ye come to my room? Or I can spend the night with you." She returned. "Ye know, we been together for more'n a fortnight now, and we havenae 'ad a sleepover yet." Drakken gave a dry laugh. "I'd fer one like tae 'ave somethin' warm t' hold ontae whilst I sleep."
"Hm." He mused. "You think it'd be alright?"
"Och. We're on a bloody cruise vessel, ye bawheid..." She bantered. "About forty-bazillion parsecs from Laird Vader, an' anyone else who'd wanna bitch aboot it. Ye wanna be there t' smooch me first thing in th' marnin', now's the time." He chuckled.
"Damnit…how do you always make me feel better, love?" He asked.
"I can ask the same thing of ye." She said. "Now c'mon. Ye wanna be a gentleman and invite me o'er, or do ye wanna just crash in me stateroom." She added with a playful grin. Drakken made a bashful smirk.
"Well…uh…do you want to spend the night?" He asked awkwardly. She lightheartedly slapped his chest with the back of her hand.
"I'll go grab me things!" She said excitedly.
Derelict ghost ships aside, it looks like the team is having an interesting time on this mission. Hanging out on the grandest starliner in the galaxy, eating crudités and having sleepovers...this may well be the best mission ever, right? Am I right? I mean, it's not like rebels would attack a ship like that or anything, so it's probably going to be smooth sailing aaaalll the way to Eriadu. Heheheh...I suppose you'll all just have to wait for the next installment to see. Fortunately, I'll be updating tomorrow evening. I leave for my big show the morning after, and so I may not get to post for a few days. I'll try go give you a couple of chapters to gnaw on in my absence though. So until next time loyal readers, Cheerio!