Chapter 2
Volleys of blaster bolts fly ceaselessly. Peeking out from behind a doorway, the Grand Commander blasts one pirate, then another in the shoulder, causing him to collapse. Agent Windsor finishes him with a headshot. Iona and Gary hold off a second wave behind them.
"We're caught in a crossfire!" Windsor warns. "We're pinned!"
"We're near the last lift," the commander reassures them.
"It's a pincer attack!" Gary adds as blaster bolts pass through the hallway. All four of them hide in the corners of the section, using the blast door junctions as cover.
The Grand Commander peeks over his shoulder, spotting a pirate charging Gary, using a corpse as a shield. He turns, blasting the pirate's exposed hip. Windsor yells before shooting, and the commander discovers a massiff racing at him. The reptilian hound crosses the gap instantly before lunging. Its head tilts as its jaws open wide, frothing, saliva dripping from its fangs.
The commander jams his carbine into the beast's mouth before he's bitten. The weight of it presses him against the wall. The massiff snarls, yanking its head side to side, as it tries to tear his carbine free. Windsor blasts it in the back, but even this beast has crude metal armor. She misses the second shot but Gary blasts its exposed hip, causing the hound to trip. Stubbornly, its jaws remain locked on the carbine, tearing it from the commander. Using the wall as leverage, he kicks the hound away, allowing Iona and Windsor to blast it. It shudders before collapsing.
"Sir!" Gary aims and fires.
A junk droid approaches with janky steps; its mismatched robot parts poorly welded together create a vaguely humanoid shape. A protocol droid's bug-eyed head tops a laborer's torso, with unmatching legs and arms forming the mechanical monster. Its bulk loader's arm doubles as a shield, blocking Gary's shot, and protecting it and the pirates lining up behind it.
The Grand Commander slams into the bot, but its weight and power easily match his and throws him back. Without another option, he pulls his ax.
A pirate darts around the droid and lunges at Windsor. She dodges a dagger and grabs his arm. He counters her by seizing her wrist before she can shoot him. The larger, heavier pirate quickly pins her against the wall but exposes himself to the commander. Ignoring his armored back, the commander swings overhead, hacking through his skull and crushing the pirate.
Suddenly free, Agent Windsor shoots the junk droid, who shields itself. Then drops as more blasts strike near her. Using the dead pirate as a barricade, she shoots the enemy's legs beyond the droid. Startled by the assault, many pirates jump aside or back up.
The junk droid swings a jagged blade attached to his other arm, which the commander easily ducks. He swings his ax, but the droid deflects it with his shield arm.
Behind them, Gary blasts another massiff, while Iona shoots at the closing pirates. Unable to hold back the tide, in seconds both are fighting hand to hand against the swarm too.
"Wither, behind us!" He orders. Instantly, Agent Windsor rolls over, blasting rapidly.
The junk droid thrusts awkwardly and the commander sidesteps. He raises his ax, and the droid protects itself. Instead of swinging, he hooks the blade on the shield arm and yanks it, exposing its head. He thrusts, barely slicing a bug eye. Sparks fly and the droid stumbles. Still, it presses closer. The robot's remaining eye flickers red as well as its vocabulator. From the hole imitating a mouth, it unleashes a deafening shriek, a sonic scream.
Friend and foe alike cry out and flinch in pain. Incredibly close and unable to resist, Windsor drops her blaster and covers her ears. Gary, Iona, and the pirates are equally debilitated. The commander collapses against the wall, struggling to stay upright. The piercing scream blurs his vision and makes it impossible to think, or even stand straight.
Focusing his will, the commander launches forward and swings low. He severs a leg, halting the scream, then rolls aside to avoid the falling droid who slams into the deck next to him. For a heartbeat, everyone remains stunned. A burly pirate reacts first, turning a repeater in their direction. Wauuuh, it spins up. Instantly recognizing it, the commander jumps up and charges. He cleaves through armor and flesh, driving his ax deep, where it becomes stuck.
Pirate, ax, and the Z-6 rotary blaster bang against the deck.
Their assault foiled; the pirates resort to blasters again. Unarmed and unable to free the ax, the commander dodges aside as the hallway fills with energy bolts. What they lack in skill, they make up for in savagery. Many of their shots strike their own men in the hallway behind the commander. Utterly unconcerned, the Thalassians maintain their barrage in both directions.
Unbelievably, behind him, the pirates press the attack even as they're hit by crossfire. Windsor grabs her blaster and tries to drive them back. A pirate with a metal shield reaches the hallway and slams into Gary, knocking him down, and laying him out with a kick. Iona fires, but his armor absorbs it. Another one is shot entering, but a third tackles Iona. The shield pirate raises his guard as Windsor shoots at him, she adjusts, blasting his foot. With a scream, he falls.
The savage mounting Iona pins her arms and begins choking her with both hands. Her eyes widen as she gasps helplessly. Startled awake by the screaming pirate, Gary calls her name, but more arrive and begin pummeling him. Only faintly, the Grand Commander feels a chill run through his spine, and tension growing in his chest.
Windsor shoots Iona's enemy in the face but he collapses on top of her, trapping Iona. One of the aliens beating Gary turns on the agent and charges, only to be shot in his armored chest. He throws himself forward, falling on her even more pirates press through the doorway.
Gary screams, thrusting his hands outward. The Thalassians fly straight up and one snaps in half on the connecting doorway. The chill in the commander explodes, seizing him. The pirate trapping Iona flies off while another slams into the wall nearby with bone-crushing force, many more fly out the door. For an instant, a maelstrom ravages the hallway and everyone in it. Then it ends just as suddenly. Startled by the display, the pirates yell, stare, and run. Simultaneously, Gary collapses as they begin firing again. Iona grabs him, yanking Gary out of the center.
The pirate on top of Windsor slugs her hard, stunning her, but the storm throws him off-balance. The imperial agent thrusts, driving her scalpel through his ear and into his brain.
The pirates stalled, the Commander shoves off the wall and seizes the rotary blaster.
Whuuaahhh! The gatlin gun spins up, te-te-te-te-te-te! His first shots nail the wall uselessly, but he corrects and cuts through the aliens as they panic. Te-te-te-te-te! Several flee only to die running. Suddenly, a blast hits the commander's shoulder, driving him to a knee. His team down; the pirates on the opposite side refocus on him. His shoulder screaming in pain, he jerks the weapon in that direction. Windsor rolls behind the door and Iona covers Gary with her body. His barrage cuts through those still trying to stand before piercing the shooters behind them. Rogue bolts nail the walls nearby, the inaccurate autofire sending shots in random directions as it floods the hallway. One hits the the lighting, causing it to explode, and plunging the hall into darkness. Windsor watches the commander flaring crimson, lit solely by the autofire, as he shreds the pirates.
Abruptly it's over. Smoke rises from the barrels of the rotary blaster as it slows to a stop, with the Grand Commander the only one left standing. Their ears ring, fading slowly as the commander's labored breathing replaces it. He hunches over but refuses to lower the weapon. Windsor emerges from the corner, retrieving her scalpel and wiping it off before approaching him. The commander holds the blaster by the stabilizing bar while rotating his arm slowly. She reaches for her diagnostic scanner, only to have him wave her off.
"Check Gary first, he's worse than me."
"Gary's not the one that's going to save us," she argues, moving closer.
"We'll see," he laughs. "I wish these pauldrons covered more."
It's not the time but she cautions, "He puts us all at risk using his powers publicly."
"If he didn't use them, some of us might be dead, maybe all of us."
"In essence, you're saying, whatever it takes?"
The star destroyer shakes violently, forcing both to brace themselves against the walls. Once it normalizes, they spot Iona dragging Gary to his feet.
"I think we're past whatever it takes," the Grand Commander declares. He steals a filthy strap and hooks it on the Z-6 rotary. Then swings it over his shoulder with a wince, and gathers his carbine and ax. "We're close to pleading for divine intervention."
Agent Windsor nods, scanning Gary quickly. Despite his protest, she injects him causing the stormtrooper to squeak. Then the commander declares, "Gary, Iona, switch to stun."
"You want to capture the pirates?" Gary asks in surprise and Iona's eyes widen.
"Sir, that's insane," Windsor begins, then sighs. "What are we going to do with them?"
"Nothing," the commander replies calmly. Nearby, a wounded pirate groans. Without hesitation, the commander shoots him in the head. "In close quarters, the stun rings have a wider spread, making it easier to hit. Just remember, stun has no effect on droids."
"Yes, sir," both switch immediately, and Windsor can't deny she's jealous of their fidelity.
"Sir, that violates protocol," Iona points out. "The manual labels it a waste of ammo."
"Technically, yes," he replies as he motions for them to continue to the lift. Together they push further down the hall, passing wounded pirates, who he executes. "We must adapt and overcome, accounting for the enemy and the resources on hand."
"What about me?" Agent Winsor asks after considering it. "Should I switch?"
"No, you're a crack shot," he answers sincerely."But you need something heavier, hold-out blasters are accurate but lack punch."
"I've carried this blaster since before Endor," she comments softly.
"Whatever it takes," he reminds her as they arrive at the turbolift. "Right?"
Ten years ago…
The pair lying in bed, laughing intimately, couldn't possibly be more of a contrast. The gentleman is fit, blond, and shirtless. Confident and soft, he's unquestionably used to luxury. Lying contentedly, he runs his hands through his long hair, pulling it away from his face.
"Sylvia, no, I mustn't," he tells his companion. "Tomorrow begins a series of long days."
She's equally stunning, dark, with sleek black hair and flawless brown skin. Her shimmering silver nightgown is tauntingly revealing despite its opaque material.
"Prince Highstone," she feigns shock as she pushes another cup of wine into his hands. "Heir to the throne, defeated in cups by a mere commoner?"
"Ha-ha!" He laughs heartily, eventually taking it. "You? You're a doctor, a surgeon born and raised on Coruscant. You won my parents over and they hate coreworlders. My mother fumed when she discovered your homeworld and your heritage. I pity anyone who mistakes you for a common. Graceful as a queen, but you choose a life of service. How could I not love you?"
She bites her lip, glowing from his compliment. Then she leans forward, kissing him deeply, with her hand pressed against his sleek chest. Slowly, she pulls away, staring into his eyes. Then whispers, "I know my work has kept me away. Let's have dinner tomorrow."
His joy disappears and he looks away. "I can't, not tomorrow-"
"We'll dine as late as you need," she presses. "When you conclude your business, I'll draw you a bath, and begin cooking. I promise I'll make you as happy as you make me."
"My love," his charm returns swiftly, his uncertainty disappearing. "Even a prince has responsibilities, and mine may last till morning. I couldn't ask you to wait up for me."
"We always seem to meet in passing, your royal duties occur during the day. The last time you went out all night, you returned with scratches and bruises. What are you doing?"
"Nothing, nothing," he looks away, brushing off her argument.
"Are-are you seeing someone else?" His gaze jerks back to her. "Am I not enough?"
"I love you," he insists as he rushes to take her in his arms but she turns away from him.
"You come and go at all hours. Mysterious communications that you hide from me, I know you think I'm sleeping but I hear you talking. You never explain where you're going or what you're doing. Then you return and rush away again. What have I done?"
"Nothing, you're perfect in every way."
"Then why won't you talk to me? Maybe I can help but don't shut me out. Please, if it's someone else, just…tell me. I can't bear discovering it. A-a clean break heals quickest…."
He closes his eyes, obviously arguing internally before they open again. Gently his hand cups her face, turning her back to him. "I couldn't imagine my life without you in it."
"Then what-!"
"I joined the rebellion," he whispers intently.
She jerks out of his hands, gasping, "What? The Empire, they're so strong. Do you know what they'll do to your house? What they'll do to your world?"
He pursues and wraps his arms around her, smiling, "Sylvia, I'm not alone. I've aligned myself with the nobility and the only holdouts are the naval admiralty. They want assurances we'll remain a constitutional monarchy, which I'm happy to give. The guilds, the scholars, and even the commons stand with us. I've helped create a network stretching across the sector and beyond, supply and hidden trade routes, and industrialists willing to provide materials off the books. The galaxy yearns for freedom, as a noble, as a prince, how could I refuse?"
She closes her eyes and rests her head on his shoulder, "I'm scared, I can't lose you."
"Don't be afraid," he assures her. "The Empire won't face one house, they'll face a united sector. They'll find no cracks to divide and conquer us this time."
"T-then," she stutters uncertainly before recovering. "Then you'll need rest and the alcohol purged from you. If-if, if this is your only path forward, then I'll support you. Let me prepare breakfast, and gather a cleansing agent. I need my prince at his best. I'll return soon."
He kisses her again before climbing back into bed. Unfortunately, without her rest eludes him, and she doesn't return. Realizing it, he rises from his bed and moves to the doorway.
Stormtroopers appear, with white-uniformed ISB, "Imperial forces! Hands up!"
"Have you lost your minds!" The prince roars. "I am the heir to the throne!"
"Indeed, you are," a grey-haired gentleman steps through the imperials. "Your majesty."
"Partagaz, I should have known you're involved. When my parents hear-"
"Major Partagaz," he corrects calmly. "The ISB knows everything, your highness. As a prince, you have certain protections…protections your mistress does not share."
He motions to a closed door, where she shrieks, "No! Please, no! NOOOOOOooooo!"
"No! Sylvia!" The crowned prince cries out, "Sylvia, I love you! Let me go!"
He lunges for the door but stormtroopers seize and drag him away. He howls and fights every step but they overwhelm him with their numbers, dragging him into a prison transport.
"Agent Windsor," Major Partagaz calls. She emerges from the room in the same tantalizing nightgown. "Your service is no less than exemplary. We knew of his sympathies, that his family has Separatist links, but the speed with which he built this organization is startling."
Her jaw tensed, she asks, "Major Partagaz, did I not graduate at the top of my class?"
His eyes narrow, "Yes, third I believe."
"My training, my probationary period, how was my service?"
"Excellent," he hisses suspiciously.
"Acknowledging that for six months you reduce me to being a prince's paramour!"
His lips peel back, as the tension rises in the room. The major snaps, "Leave us!"
Everyone evacuates as if their life depended on it. Then the major snaps, "You may have grown comfortable, but make no mistake, you're ISB! If your vanity as a noble is too much to bear some discomfort, then maybe you aren't the agent I trained."
"I am a lady and a doctor; yet, you determined this is the best mission for me?"
"I placed you where you could be most effective!" He snaps venomously, before demanding. "How many lives could you save in a hospital? In six months?"
The subject change surprises her, she quickly does the numbers and rounds up, "Several hundred, maybe a thousand in the OR. More if I was coordinating the other doctors and droids."
"If he succeeded, it would have taken tens of thousands of stormtroopers to occupy this planet and many others. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers to stabilize it and an armada to crush their fleet, lock down the sector and keep his uprising from spreading. Billions of lives would have changed irrevocably, commerce disrupted, and there is no guarantee the initial assault would succeed. Instead, with surgical precision, we ended it. With their sole heir detained and the irrefutable evidence you provided, the Highstones will sign whatever agreement we put forth. In an hour, the prince will surrender the names of his co-conspirators to save you. They will give more names and in a month, this world, this sector will be purged of traitors."
"So my disgrace serves the Empire," she grumbles.
"If you wanted to feed your ego, join the navy with the rest of those pretentious fools." He scoffs. "If you want applause shake your hips and sing on the holonet. If you genuinely want to make a difference; if you want to improve the galaxy and save lives, it is as an agent. Today, your service saved hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of lives. I watched worlds burn and cities crumble during the Clone Wars. Curse the Jedi and the fools who ignored the rising threats. Today, you singlehandedly removed a tumor from the galaxy's soul. As a noblewoman, an assassin, or a common whore the ISB does whatever it takes…"
"Whatever it takes," Agent Windsor mutters. She holsters her hold-out blaster and picks up a pirate's heavy pistol. The bulky weapon forces her to use both hands. Then she nods to the Grand Commander. Together the four get on the turbolift leading to the bridge.