Chapter 14

Pantora – in atmosphere

Being born on Kashyyyk had meant that Commander Altinrose Attibungle had experienced a lot of different, and more likely than not, dangerous things. He had grown in the northern regions, where the icy winters blew through his village, a smaller than normal logging community called Torruga. He had been through winters where the cold had blocked their trade routes, and rations had dwindled to near nothing. He had watched as the Trandoshans had taken his friends and neighbours for their slave auctions. They had never been seen again. He had seen a Wyyyschokk capture and eat his wife. He had seen his children burned at the stake by Zygerrian slavers who had attacked Torruga thirty years ago. Therefore, the young Wookiee, at only 145 years of age, had decided to join the Republic Voluntary Navy to defend those that he still could.

He had experienced a certain success. Admiral Yularen was usually assigned to a specific number of sectors in the Mid and Outer Rims, including the Dustig sector, the Tashtor Sector and the Mytaranor Sector. He had been on board the Reborn, Lieutenant Lawell's Acclamator cruiser above Malastare, where they had routed enemy forces. Before that, he had helped the Kashyyyk mountain villages against a Trandoshan assault, leading his team to defend his people. The Commander had even been present during the Siege of Dorun IV, when an entire battalion of faulty droids had gotten loose and taken a village hostage.

But now he sat in the Eta-class shuttle that the Jedi had brought with them, staring across the small compartment at the one who was supposed to be leading his team, his new family, into combat. He was not impressed. She was a short human woman, sitting straight-backed in her chair, eyes closed. She was young too, with no lines on her face yet and no scars across her skin. Her breathing was deep and rhythmic, and if not for the fact that she was holding a small crystal in the air with her Jedi magic, he would have thought she was asleep. Her Jedi robes were neat and crisp, worm with pride. A long, single braid of hair the shade of midnight was woven with strips of red cloth and beads of colourful design. He glanced down at the plain, metallic lightsaber hilt she held across her knees, and then at the leather bracelet clinging stubbornly her wrist. Both were utilitarian, he noticed, meant for a specific purpose and worn with an air of confidence. Overall, at first glance he had thought she was a pacifist who had never left the comfort of the Coruscant Temple. Then he had looked again.

The hilt of the lightsabre was worn down, the metal's chrome finish duller around the grip than at either end. Years of constant use and practice had stained it; had branded it with her unique markings. Her robes were thicker than the other Jedi he had crossed paths with while on the Resurrection. They could have been made of karma, known to protect against shrapnel and heavy debris. He would need a better look to determine if that was indeed the case. The end of her braid was held in place by a brass clip emblazoned with the mark of the Jedi Temple, the strange blazing blade with two long wings extending from either side of the base. Likewise, the bracelet held a crystal that glowed with a dull greenish light; almost unnaturally as though alive. Definitely unnerving. This was not a simple pacifist. This was a warrior, though one who hadn't been tested recently.

He hefted his own weapon now, glancing down at the modified version of his old, traditional bowcaster. He had stripped down the older weapon that used to belong to his grandfather and replaced the wooded frame with Doonium, reinforcing the weapon. He had rewired the magnetic tips, strengthening their pull, sending each of the weapon's deadly quarrels flying at even faster speeds. It greatly increased the damage, surpassing the usual, yet powerful, blasts expected from the weapon. He had also added a bayonet to the frame, which could extend with the flip of a hidden switch near the trigger. The huge, hairy behemoth also had a razor-sharp longsword and Wroshyr wood shield slung across his back, and a traditional, wooden slug-thrower pistol hung from his bandolier. The traditional Wookiee armour covered his hairy shoulders and chest, but they were enhanced with strips of plastic blasterpede threaded into the leather. Two heavy plates of metal were bent over his shoulders to guard against snipers and lucky shots. He had a long red scrap of cloth tied to his right bicep. It had been the only surviving part of his daughter's belongings, after he had found their corpses on Zygerria.

"You seem ready for a fight, Altinrose."

The Wookiee looked up into the eyes of the woman before him and curled back his lips into a toothy, yet fierce grin. He spoke in Shyriiwook, knowing that the Jedi could understand him. "The people you look for are murderers. I simply look forward to avenging their victims, Master Swan."

"Please, my dear Wookiee.", she shook her head, ginning back at him with genuine warmth, "I am not yet a Master. Call me Jedi Swan if you must, but I believe that Bultar will do just fine."

Altinrose bowed his head in recognition, shaking some fuzz from his blackened fur before he looked back up at her, "Where are we going then, Jedi Swan?"

"The Harshplains.", she answered. "I have reviewed the attacks and there seems to be a pattern. It has led me here, to the only place that is so far undiscovered."

She grabbed her holodisk and brought up a flickering map to show him. Sure enough, a series of red lines marked a single position to the north of the plains. Altinrose frowned at the hologram, studying it carefully, "What was the pattern?"

"A speeder.", she tapped at the disks controls and brought up an image of a city's entrance. "This is footage from outside Silaria, where one of the bombs took out the Gossom Ministry. As you can see, there is a speeder that exits the city not long afterwards."

Indeed, a red Gillent NT-78 speeder sped past. Altinrose let out a quiet growl, slightly perplexed at the speeder's appearance and what it meant.

Bultar tapped at the controls again. Seven more images flickered to life. "It's also here in Ruuna, Small Hutt Town, and three times here in Fortress. It's a pattern, and that means they are getting sloppy. Each leave the city headed on a direct course that will lead to here", she pointed to a tiny red dot on the map, "and there just happens to be a few small settlements in the area. Quinlan and I hope to find the arsonists in the area."

Altinrose bared his teeth into a vicious grin, "And take them out!"

The smoke cleared slowly, dissipating as a gentle breeze blew across the atmospheric platform. The explosion set off earlier had drawn in a rather large crowd. Ship pilots, passengers and docks workers all stared in wonder at the blackened soot, but their attention was quickly stolen by the far larger explosions that painted the sky below them. They hurried to the railings, on the edges, leaning over as far as they could to watch the dazzling display of destruction occurring below them. Red, orange and yellow bursts blurred together as flames erupted from two of the Medical frigates that had passed by the platform a few minutes ago.

Off to the side, unnoticed by the crowd, Caloc appeared from the smoke, his robes smouldering as he lugged his master's unconscious body in his arms towards the two Jedi starfighters. Gingerly, he lay her across the wing of her angular ship, then stared pointedly at the maroon droid in its socket. The astromech twisted to look at him, and he nodded at the unconscious figure. "Arfive, look after her until I get back. No one but a med-droid touches her, understand?"

The droid beeped affirmatively, a shock prod extending from his dome, and the padawan hurried over to his own starfighter, vaulting into the cockpit again. He grabbed the yoke, flicking a few switches to open the tiny satellite in the wing. Looking up at the astromech in the wing, he gestured at the small, semidome spinning around beside the cockpit, "Deesix, are we still linked to the fleet's comm system?"

Deesix clicked the fighter's scomp controls for a minute, and the tiny satellite spun around twice before it locked onto the Resurrection's transmitter signal. Immediately two voices could be heard, fizzing in and out of static. Two voices he recognised well.

"That looks… devastating.", Telle watched the explosions rocket across the clouds. "That's the Gonzaliz and the Neutron. Dad, are you seeing this?"

The admiral's stoic voice answered calmly from beside her, "I am. I'm moving the Resurrection into position over the city. We'll blockade any escaping ships. No one in or out. We need to send down more security forces to try and stabilise the situation. The Jedi are going down too."

"Woah!", another voice suddenly hissed across the speakers, "Stand down, Admiral. If you put troops on the surface it could be seen as a show of force. Pantora is only so close to declaring hard independence, or possibly joining that Confederacy party. Send only four shuttles, and put Master Fisto in one of them. I'm already on the orbital platform and am far closer to the ground. Let me assess the situation and get back to you."

"I'm sorry but no, Caloc.", the admiral answered the padawan's transmission without even batting an eyelid, "We need to show the Pantorans that we are in control of the situation."

The commlink clicked off before he finished, a burst of static slipping across the channel. Telle tapped at the controls, trying to reconnect the signal, knowing that she wouldn't be able to. Still, she activated the microphone anyway, "Caloc? What happened?"

"That did.", Yularen was pointing out the viewport at a dome-like satellite hovering nearby. It had not been their moments before, and Telle assumed it had been cloaked. She listened as her father explained what it was, "It is an illegal device that can block all comm signals on command. Only the terrorists will have clear comms to the surface now. We can't reach them. I've faced off against one before. They have heavy shields and Vulture droid defences."

"So… we are destroying it, right?", she asked.

Yularen clicked the ship-wide comm. "All pilots to their ships. I repeat, all pilots to their fighters. We have a single target, dead ahead. Aim to destroy by any means necessary.", then he turned to the men in the well below them, "Prepare all batteries. We fire as soon as possible."

"Hello?", Caloc knelt beside the ship's wing and tapped the tiny satellite roughly. There was no answer. A loud beep caught Caloc's attention and he realised his short-range commlink was flashing on his belt. He grabbed it and tapped the single round button, "Go ahead."

"Caloc? Is that you", Mace's voice yelled over the comm. He sounded both desperate and distracted, both emotions that Caloc had never seen or heard from the Jedi Master before. The sounds of blaster fire and explosions echoed in the background, "We are in need of assistance here. The Helios is under assault. Master Fay and I are protecting the crew at this moment, but we need someone else down here to take out the terrorists attacking us. Are you able to assist?"

"I'm getting into my ship now, but Stass is out of commission.", he replied, "Last I heard, Admiral Yularen was going to be sending a team of his security forces to stabilise the situation. Comms are down between us and the Resurrection, so I don't know if they actually sent them out.I'll see what I can do for you when I get planetside."

Hello again, my fellow Star Wars enthusiasts.

Hope you are enjoying this book so far. I realise that the Republic Volunteer program was is not something many have really considered. Don't worry though. This is basically just individuals who decide to serve the Republic. There aren't any conscriptions. There aren't any large planetary deals funnelling men into an army. Hence why Yularen has only a Venator's worth, compared with the four or five ships he has during the Clone Wars.

Anyway, just wanted to clear that up. Other than that, please continue to enjoy.

Signed,

Phillip