11 - Departure
Falker paced back and forth across the floor of the open bay pit. Overhead, melted metal pipes hung precariously from the top rim of docking bay 94’s blackened pit wall, charred by the main engines of the departing Millennium Falcon. He confirmed with the crews of the Star Destroyers Conquest and Tyrant that the ship in question had been engaged and run from them, escaping into hyperspace before they could acquire a good fix.
0600 and Rogue carried Taka’s
lifeless body out of the bay, leaving the corpses of Tyrell and his troops
lying in the sand. They knew there would be an inspection team here soon,
but Taka deserved a better fate than to be picked apart in the official
investigation process. Ddraig found a cargo repulsor sled in the upper
hallway and met them at the top of the stairs. The bloodied, broken body
of their brother was gently lowered to its surface. Everyone stood silent
for a moment, staring down at what could easily have been any one of
them. Without a word, the sled was slowly and reverently moved down the
hallway, past a silent Garindan, toward bay 98.
Any thoughts Rogue and 0600 may
have had about Taka buying his way out of prosecution for the Belliran V
Massacre were now gone. In the darkness of our shuttle flight from Kessel,
he said he thought they were dead in the med lab when he was released. Even if
he had bargained his way out, he had now sacrificed his life for Rogue, erasing
any debt he may have had, real or imagined. Felth walked a bit behind the
group, somewhat preoccupied.
4120 fell back beside him,
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m just going
over what just happened, you know, making sure I did what I should
have.”
4120 reassured him, “I’m sure we
all did the best we could, given the circumstances. I’m sorry about your
friends.”
Felth was going over the
firefight in his head, “Oh, they weren’t really my friends. I had just
transferred in, and I didn’t know anyone yet except Tyrell, and I couldn’t
stand him.”
He was glad no one had seen him
shoot Tyrell in the back during the hail of gunfire. It had been a
gut-wrenching decision, made in a millisecond, and one that had absolutely
surprised him, but he now felt that the Rebellion was doing the right
thing. In his heart he felt the Empire had been wrong for some time. The
Ghorman massacre was the final straw. He had worked so hard to locate the
missing data and prove himself, and now, he knew he was trapped in that role of
dedicated Stormtrooper. The Empire would find him if he deserted and jumped
sides, and he knew he could now be of much more value to the rebellion by
remaining within the Empire, funneling information to their cause.
This newly assembled unit seemed
to be a smart group though. He would need to be vigilant at all times
until he was allowed to be reassigned.
4120 turned and looked back, making
sure they weren’t being followed, “I understand that. Tyrell was irritating for
sure.”
* * *
The interior lights of the
sealed meditation chamber were dimmed to near absolute darkness; its occupant
in a deep meditation. Anakin Skywalker, fed on the energy attracted by the
Midichlorians coursing through what was left of his bloodstream, and each
deepening layer of consciousness gave way to yet deeper and deeper levels. He
felt the warm pulse of his human heart in his upper arms and the trunk of his
body. His heavy cybernetic limbs, however, still felt foreign and
cold.
At first they had been ungainly
and awkward, forcing him to re-learn standing and walking all over again. During
those hazy, dark days following his defeat at the hands of his master, he had
worked endless, grueling hours in his private chambers; practicing with one,
and building to several seeker remotes and assassin droids to master his new
limbs.
His ravaged body and blistered,
deformed skin ached and burned beneath his suit and helmet, but not nearly as
hot as the hatred that burned in his heart for his former master. He
repeated painful motions over and over again, learning the new subtleties of
moving through fight stances on cybernetic legs he could not feel, and
regaining the dexterity and masterful control of his dominant lightsaber
hand. He allowed himself to feed off the intense pain, focusing it,
channeling it, bringing the Force to a constant, controlled boil around him, continuing
to burn away anything but the all-consuming darkness.
The dark side energy was murky
with fluid thoughts as Vader lost
himself in its inky, warm liquidity seeking answers to questions that had
plagued him since discovering Obi-wan still among the living. He allowed subtle
drifting, closer to the light side Force energy than he had since yielding to Palpatine,
needing to sense others from his lost order in the quest for his former master.
Suffering cries of the Jedi he had slaughtered now reverberated in his ears. He
heard the urgent, pleading warning from Qui-gon calling out to him, “Anakin,
NOOO!”
In spite of all distractions, he
remained focused, searching for answers, awaiting the revelation of clues. He
opened himself to any reason for Obi-wan to have possibly been on Tatooine with
a new apprentice. Obi-Wan hated Tatooine, and would not have been there
willingly.
He remembered the damaged,
leaking hyperdrive engine compelling the fateful emergency landing, forever
entwining his destiny with that of Padme, Qui-gon, and Obi-Wan, who had been
concerned that they would be stuck on the desert planet for a very long time.
It made no sense that he would have willingly returned. Perhaps that was
exactly why he did so.
His meditative trance then became
not only disjointed and bizarre, but unsettling as well. At first, images of an
asteroid field with millions of rotating and tumbling planetoids silently appeared
in the mind’s eye of the dark Lord. One of them shifted, and became master
Yoda, which then tumbled off into a thick fog that hung low over the surface of
some unknown bog. Rain fell from dense clouds above. There was endless mud, and
the cries of unseen animals hidden among the shadows of colossal vine-draped trees
that disappeared into the mist. Then, the cloudy haze parted slightly, and he
saw Obi-Wan holding an infant in his arms as a faint voice call out,
“Luke”. It was the shallow, but unmistakable sound of his wife’s
voice.
His heartbeat increased,
pounding in his ears now as the images became fragmented, fast-morphing flashes
in his mind as he suddenly ascended toward the surface of his unconscious state
too rapidly. Padme lay on a table, falling silent as the life drained from her
face. Her still body spontaneously transformed into a mound of sand, which blew
off the table in a strong wind across the Tatooine skyline at sunset. A hooded
Obi-Wan now stood within that blowing sand, shielding his face and holding the
child close as he walked into the setting suns.
The blowing sands swallowed him,
giving way to more twisting, crashing asteroids which then became two furiously
engaged combatants wielding lightsabers. He was fighting someone dressed in
black, whose movements were aggressive, attacking, and Sith-like. His ascension
continued as he saw himself throwing a dark-robed figure over a balcony amid
tangled, flashing streams of Force-lightning raining down on him, killing
him.
Abruptly, he emerged from the
trance, his eyes fluttering open wildly in the darkness of the dim meditation
chamber. His chest heaved and he gasped as his mechanical lungs quickly
adjusted, cycling air in and out at twice their normal pace.
* * *
4120 piloted Tyrell’s shuttle across
the rippled sand toward the heart of the Dune Sea. The captain and his men were
dead, and wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon. In back, we troopers of the
104th MFP were seated silently in the jump seats along both side walls. The
repulsor sled with our dead friend was secured to the deck between us. Taka was
the first to fall in the line of duty in this new post, and Rogue now prepared
him for his final resting place. We watched without a sound as he gently wiped
the blood from the around the hole pierced through the chest armor. Then he drained
the energy from the blaster clip and snapped it back in the magazine well, placing
Taka’s E-11 in his hands. He carefully positioned one hand on the grip, and the
other under the barrel, then lay its’ weight across Taka’s chest as if he were
standing at the ready.
Etz nodded knowingly, “You can
have my blaster when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.”
Rogue turned to him, nodding,
“Exactly.”
It was a cocky phrase that had
been uttered by virtually every trooper, in every session on Carida when
sidearms were issued to a new class.
4120’s hands moved over the
controls as he cut the main engines and fired the braking thrusters, bringing
the ship to a hover before carefully lowering us to the ridgeline at the top of
a large dune. Topolev and Blade opened the rear hatch and extended the boarding
ramp as the rest of us unclipped. A warm wind whipped past us as we pushed
the sled down to the blowing sand. The afternoon light was fading fast as
the twin suns sat just above the horizon, bathing us in a dark orange glow.
0600 walked away from us, facing
the two giant fireballs, then stopped and looked down at his feet, kicking at
the sand a bit, “This is a good spot.”
We moved the sled over to him
and lifted our dead from it, placing him gently in the sand on his back, staring
up into the stars, blaster held across his chest. We all stepped back a pace
and respectfully removed our helmets, with only the gusting wind daring to make
a sound in that solemn moment. Sand carried by the breeze began to collect
around Taka’s body, mounding up against it as we watched silently.
He gave his life to save mine,
this new Sandtrooper”, said Rogue. “And as a Sandtrooper, we offer up his body
to become one with it.” He knelt down and grabbed up a handful of sand,
and spread his fingers, streaming it across Taka’s chest. “Pleasant journeys,
my friend, pleasant journeys”, then turned and walked away silently with his
helmet in hand as the wind continued to lash around us.
0600 followed, placing a handful
of sand on Taka’s body. One by one we each followed suit while still observing the
somber silence. The evening winds were picking up now as we walked back to the
shuttle, drifting even more sand around the one we were leaving behind. Topolev
and I were the last to board, taking a final look back as we ascended the
inclined ramp. We had all seen troopers fall in battle, many of them friends,
we just didn’t think it would be happening this soon after arriving. The
white of his armor had almost been swallowed entirely by the time we lifted
off.
* * *
Far out on the horizon of his
beloved Alderaan, the sun was setting, saturating the palace veranda in a fiery
orange glow as Bail Organa stood pensively at the railing. The devastation at
Jedha had been covered up as a ‘mining accident’, but his sources told him
Jedha City had been explicitly selected for destruction. Although only the city
itself had been the target of the station’s test exercise, at minimum the
entirety of the planet Jedha would be so atmospherically devastated for the
next century, that Krennic’s Death Star might as well have destroyed it all at
once.
Bail’s concern was for his
daughter, and the mission he had hurriedly given her. There had been no
communication from the Tantive IV directly in days. The urgent,
secret nature of the mission demanded silence in order for successful
completion, but he worried for her safety nonetheless.
As the ‘public face’ who
secretly championed the cause, her presence on Yavin IV had remained a
well-guarded secret. Bail had to keep her safe if access to supplies and
intelligence was to remain viable. She had jumped at the chance to find
General Kenobi, and with the Tantive IV already undergoing
repairs onboard his warship after the events on Ralltiir and Toprawa, Admiral
Raddus was the perfect escort to see her safely to him on Tatooine.
All that fell apart with the
unsanctioned covert rebel incursion on Scarif. Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor, and
their ‘Rogue One’ team had infiltrated the Imperial vault there successfully stealing
and transmitting the Death Star plans before being killed. If the data
transmission from Bria Tharen and the ‘Red Hand’ on Toprawa had successfully
completed without corruption, none of this would have been necessary, and
Obi-Wan Kenobi would have already been with them.
When the news of events unfolding
on Scarif were verified, Admiral Raddus deemed it more imminently important
that he and his ship join the fight, inadvertently taking Leia and the Tantive
IV with him.
The last news Bail had was that
the plans were successfully uploaded to Raddus, and that while under attack,
the encoded hard copy of those plans was hastily delivered to a crew member on
the Tantive. Leia’s ship then made an emergency launch, narrowly
escaping Imperial agents led by Darth Vader.
Leia had to succeed. The mission
to find Kenobi was even more urgent now. He would make sure she was safely escorted
back to the Alliance with the plans. He would take care of her, as he had when
she was a child. He had to, or all was lost.
Bail’s paced across the balcony,
and his gaze wandered across the darkening sky as he noticed something moving
in front of the setting sun. It wasn’t a ship, or anything within the
atmosphere. Something of enormous size was moving through the heavens, slipping
between Alderaan and her star; eclipsing the setting sun as he watched. His
mind raced. None of the small moons orbiting Alderaan had the size for this,
and they were flattened, irregular rocks, more like asteroids. This obstruction
was round, perfectly round. He rushed back to the railing, clenching it tightly
as a corona of starlight finally broke around the edge of the obstruction,
revealing an inset dish in its surface. His eyes grew wide as the
realization of what was about to happen washed over him.
* * *
The bluish-white haze of the
afternoon sky had given way to the amber and bronze tones of the early evening,
which now yielded to the suffocating blackness of a moonless Tatooine night.
4120 bypassed the spaceport protocols and set our shuttle down in the open
courtyard behind our new barracks. I stepped off the bottom of the ramp and
mentally ran through the events of the day.
Rogue opened the armored rear
door of the barracks, and we entered through the storage area, stepping around
our supplies still piled high on the repulsor sled. I secured the door after
Topolev and Etz came through, and was about to make my way through to the
bunkroom out front when I noticed a lever on the armored wall behind one of the
crates. There were no labels as to its function. I looked around, and no one
was hanging back, so I reached over and pulled on it. It rocked to one side
after a bit of resistance. As it did, I felt a rumbling under my feet and the
supply sled began to lower into the floor. The entire recessed center of the
room was a lift system that was now lowering to a sub-level. I watched as it
slipped out of sight below the floor and came to stop several meters below.
I leaned over the edge and saw
lights flickered through a doorway leading away from the platform below. The
others had come back to watch. I looked back over my shoulder, “Check this out”. With buckets off, 4120
and Rogue were first through the door to inspect my discovery, closely followed
by the others. Topolev whistled as 0600 and Ddraig walked to the edge.
Falker spoke up, “It looks like
a supply cache. We used something similar on Talasea while I was there training
on their orbital platform.”
Rogue turned to me, “I see
another control lever down there. Call it back up. Let’s see what’s down
there.”
I stepped over to the lever,
giving it another pull in the opposite direction. The lift rose and everyone
stepped on, crowding around the supply sled. I threw the lever again and
stepped on as it descended. We came to a stop on the lower level, and the
open doorway ahead revealed a dark room with a flickering, malfunctioning
luminary. We all stepped through the door into the relative darkness of the
next room. The air here was stale, and the only active luminary hung flickering
from a wiring harness, twisting and swinging as we moved past it, sending
sporadic, rocking shadows across the room and up the walls. Making out what
was in this room was difficult with the strobing of the swinging light, so I
reached up and tried to stabilize it. There were more supply crates, several
items draped in large canvas tarps, racks of undetermined supplies, and two large
doors on the opposing wall.
Etz was looking under the edge
of one of the tarps when Blade stepped up from the other side and pulled it
off. Dust swirled up in a cloud, hanging in the still air, but in the dim light
we could see several tripod-mounted EWHB-10 cannons. Etz grabbed the next
tarp and pulled it off as Danz and Topolev pulled off the remaining two. By
now we were all coughing as the air filled with very fine dust particles. Through
the haze I noticed the outline of a deactivated astromech droid squeezed
between the cannons, and moved in for a closer look. Topolev ran his gloved
hand over a full rack of what appeared to be hundreds of transparent
holo-cards. He pulled one out and leaned toward the swinging light, gently
wiping the years of dust away. “Jabba’s Court – 22413”. He reached over
and pulled out several more. The labeling was the same, but with ascending
numbers. “I’m not sure, but I think these may be surveillance recordings
of The Hutt’s Palace.” He handed the cards to Rogue as the others moved further
into the darkness, checking out what else had been waiting silently in the
shadows.
Rogue held them up and looked
over to the full rack of similar cards, “These may prove very helpful. What
else is back there?”
Danz and Etz walked between
racks of weapons. Each of them lifted out a rifle, turning them over, examining
what appeared to be DC-15S blasters and DC-15A rifles as 4120 and Falker broke
the seal and lifted the lid on a container resting against the stone
wall.
Rogue continued looking over the
card with 0600, and I pulled the astromech from its tight squeeze between the
cannons and knelt down to look it over. It was in rough shape. Several panels
were missing and a blackened wiring harness protruded from its’ side, but the
damage didn’t appear to be anything some repair work couldn’t take care of. A
few parts and a refreshing of its internal power cells, and we might have a
working maintenance ‘droid.
As he inspected the rack of
cards closer, the comm unit on Rogue’s belt chirped an alert. He pulled it off
and stepped back through the door to the lift area to answer. Falker reached
down into the container he’d opened. “Check these out.” It was dark in
the back of the room, but he handed one of the items to 4120, who walked out
between the crates and held it up to the light. It was a twenty-plus year old,
dust-covered helmet. Its blue markings were chipped and stained from duty in
the harsh Tatooine sand. “I remember seeing these as a kid”, said
4120. It was a battle-worn Republic Commando helmet from the Clone Wars
era.
Ddraig and Felth were checking
out the cannons. The latter looked over at the helmet. “Everyone our age
remembers those guys. They stormed the Jedi Temple and caught those traitors
off guard. They were the foundations of the Empire we know today, those
first troopers of the 501st.” Falker stiffened a bit, reminded again of
his own intimate family connection to the Jedi purge.
I reached up to 4120, “Let me
see it?” He handed the helmet to me as I stood up. Rolling it over, as examined
the interior, the visor rocked back on top. Not a great deal had changed since
then. Some things were smaller now and incorporated into the interior
lenses, and although there was no longer a need for an external visor, incorporating
the zoom features of our macros that way would be nice; one less thing on our
belts.
Etz was standing beside the twin
doors thumbing through another rack of holo cards. Chalmun’s Cantina, Vriichi
Brothers, Tusken Disturbance P-3871. “These are arrest records.” He looked
up from the cards in his hand and noticed another lever beside the doors. He
put the holo cards back in the rack and was reaching for it, about to swing it
down to see what lay beyond them when Rogue stepped back into the room,
“Inspection team’s here. Let’s go. We can look more in here later.”
I set the Commando helmet down
on top of the astromech, and we all headed back toward the lift. 0600 threw the
lever handle down and the lift rose back up to the surface, sealing the lower
room once again.
“Leave your packs here, just buckets and
blasters tonight boys”, Rogue instructed as we walked through the bunkroom and
headed for the front port. “Hopefully this won’t take too long, I’m ready for a
little shuteye”, and he walked out the front door onto the darkened street.
“I’ll take a little of that
myself” I said, pulling on my helmet and switching on my holstered
blaster.
“Buckets and blasters” said
Topolev.
“Buckets and blasters” repeated
Ddraig as he grabbed his E-11 and holstered it.
Blade was the last one out the
door. “Buckets and blasters” he echoed as he pulled on his helmet and headed for
docking bay 94.
* * *
The local port authority guard
stood at attention, staring off into nothingness as he secured the stairs
leading down into docking bay 94.
Down in the bay, we were going
over the chain of events surrounding the Millennium Falcon’s
hasty departure with the inspection team from the Tyrant .
. . for the sixth time.
The lead Incident Inspector
cursed as he handed Rogue’s helmet back to him, “This is no good to me! The
helmet recorders were wiped clean by the massive energy wave that washed over
you from the modified repulsors on the Millennium Falcon.”
Felth, who had been hanging back
and sweating like it was midday, breathed a small sigh of relief. He would not
be discovered. Not yet anyway. Tyrell’s murder would be deemed as a casualty of
battle.
Rogue took his helmet back,
looking inside, “Do we need to replace the datacards or will they simply
restart on a blank slate?”
The Inspector turned away
distracted, watching the others from the Tyrant moving the bodies
of Tyrell and his troops onto a repulsor sled. “Switch them off and when
activated again they’ll start fresh. TD-1009, we’ve been over this a number of
times with you and your men, and the story seems to be consistent from everyone
involved. It appears that you and your men did everything you could to prevent
the Millennium Falcon from escaping. Captain Tyrell
there seems to have done nothing but hamper your efforts.” The Inspector paced
a bit, “Let’s wrap this up. The Port Authority for this pathetic place has
little or no records other than the ships’ name. No destination, no manifest,
no anything. We have all the physical evidence we can gather here. We’ll
be in touch with the command crews of the Conquest and the Tyrant.
Hopefully we can project a possible hyperspace flight plan based on their last
known trajectory. Lord Vader won’t leave this alone for long, of that I
can assure you. The data is too sensitive.”
“Does that mean we can go?”
asked Ddraig from across the bay, leaning against the blackened wall.
The inspector flashed a look his
way, then turned and nodded to Rogue and headed over to load the sled onto the
lift. Rogue turned to Ddraig and the rest of us, “OK guys, let’s go get
some rest. It’s been a long day.”
Buckets in hand, we all ascended
the sandy stairs out of the bay pit, all eyes silently noticing the blood stains
on the lower steps to which Taka had been dragged. As we made our way toward
headquarters, I rocked my head back, staring up into the blackness of the
Tatooine night and the huge expanse of the galaxy above us. It had been
almost seven standard hours since the Millennium Falcon ripped
out of here. Traveling through hyperspace, they could be almost anywhere out
there by now.
“Does that mean we can go?”
mocked Falker, elbowing Ddraig, who grinned and laughed, amusing us all as we
walked along.
I drew in a deep, even breath as
4120, walking just ahead of me, leaned over to Rogue. “In the morning we need
to go back out to Anchorhead and question those kids again.”
Rogue nodded, staring ahead,
“Agreed. I smell another long day coming on.”
4120 smiled slightly “Another
glorious day in service to the Empire!”
* * *
Leia Organa had witnessed the
end of her homeworld, and had been escorted away, back to her cell on the
detention level. The last of the TIE fighter patrols continued their sweeps
along the fringes of the freshly created Alderaan asteroid field. They took
radiation readings for submission to Grand Moff Tarkin and watched for any
evidence of ships that might have been on approach when the planet was
destroyed. Tarkin had returned to his private chambers to go over the status
reports coming in from around the station on the performance of the Superlaser
units. So far, radiation detected was minimal, and several vessels that had not
been damaged or destroyed had been spotted and drawn into the Death Star for
search and interrogation.
The last TIE fighter was on its
way out of the field returning to the hangar bay when the pilot noticed another
ship slip out of hyperspace on his scope, fighting to avoid the unexpected
tumbling obstacles. He increased his speed, changed his course heading,
and came around fast, approaching the ship from above and behind, firing
several warning shots. He passed directly over the cockpit window, nearly
scraping the upper skin of the ship beneath him, hoping to evoke a response, or
persuade the pilot to follow him. The hand guiding the worn, Corellian
freighter did just that, locking on and giving chase, all the while being led
squarely into the path of the invisible tractor beam reaching out from the
station ahead that shone brightly . . . like a small moon.
* * *
Wilhuff Tarkin was not a patient
man today by any stretch of the imagination. He sat brooding, turning the
events of the past few days over in his mind. Detailed schematic plans for the
Death Star station, his project for more than 20 years now, had been stolen by
a band of infiltrating rebels and was now missing. The Imperial forces on
Scarif had failed to keep the breech of security from occurring, and although
he had dealt swiftly with Krennic, the plans still had yet to be recovered.
Lord Vader had been interrogating the captured senator Leia Organa to reveal information
regarding their whereabouts. So far, he had not been successful. An electronic
buzzer sounded as the comm button in the deeply polished black surface of the
long table illuminated. Thin, cold fingers on Tarkin’s bony hand protruded from
the sleeve of his tailored officer’s uniform as he depressed it and answered.
“Yes?”
A human voice answered from the
speaker “We've captured a freighter
entering the remains of the Alderaan system. Its markings match those of a ship
that blasted its way out of Mos Eisley.”
Tarkin stared at the button
under his fingertip as Vader moved closer. The dark Lord’s mind churned to fit
this new wrinkle into the equation, “They must be trying to return the stolen
plans to the Princess. She may yet be of some use to us.”
The aging Technical Specialist
who had risen through the ranks to become a Grand Moff, overseeing all of the
Regional Governors, turned his head ever so slightly toward Vader, staring off
into nothing for several moments. “Keep her on the execution list . . . but
delay it long enough for another round or two with the mind probe.” A slight
smile crept onto his face. “That should provide sufficient time for the ship to
be thoroughly searched, and her occupants questioned. If this is the ship we’re
looking for, the plans are there somewhere. Providing she survives two more
rounds, she may prove useful if something additional is uncovered.”
Vader bowed his head once, “As
you wish” and walked out the door. The ship that had eluded Tyrell was now
sitting in docking bay 2037, many levels below. His pace was a bit faster
than usual and as he headed for the turbolift. A lone mouse ‘droid happened to
wander into his path, and he gestured slightly, scooting the squeaking little
‘droid to the side of the hall out of his way. As the doors to the lift opened
and he entered, there was an almost imperceptible rippling in the Force; a
tingling deep in his brain that trickled down his neck, over his shoulders and
made him shudder slightly. In that tingling, there was an instant moment of
recognition. It was the implication of that recognition that enraged him. The
doors closed and the lift descended toward his chosen level. The sensation grew
stronger, as if the midichlorians in his blood had suddenly become electrically
charged. It was unmistakably the presence of his old master.
The doors parted and he stepped
out into the stream of personnel walking through the corridor outside. A small
group of TIE Pilots was just ahead of him, arguing about a known issue with the
design of the Ion engines on their fighters. Several officers walked behind,
and had fallen silent as his looming presence had entered the walkway. He
pushed the tingling sensation back, focusing on the ship he now saw ahead. A
voice blared over the hangar loudspeaker as he walked out into the large bay,
“Unlock one-five-seven and nine. Release charges.” Pressure vented from
something inside the hangar as he made his way to the detachment standing at
attention, and the officer awaiting his arrival.
Vader came to a stop, and the
young officer stepped forward. “There's no one on board, sir. According to the
log, the crew abandoned ship right after takeoff. It must be a decoy, sir, several
of the escape pods have been jettisoned.”
The Sith lord turned his head
away, looking the ship over, “Did you find any droids?”
The officer immediately replied,
“No, sir. If there were any on board, they must also have
jettisoned.”
Had this been just a
decoy? Had Obi-Wan, his apprentice and the ‘droids jumped to hyperspace
momentarily and then perhaps changed ships, sending this one along to buy
themselves some time? The sensation pounding in his veins told him otherwise,
“Send a scanning crew on board. I want every part of this ship checked.”
“Yes, sir” replied the officer,
as Vader looked back toward the ship once again.
“I sense something. A presence
I’ve not felt since . . .”
He allowed his words to trail
off as he turned and walked away. A presence I've not felt since Obi-Wan
left me for dead, struggling for breath, with my helmet slashed open, face exposed
in the dim glow of our shimmering sabers. First he accidentally
discovers that his former master is alive after years of believing him dead,
and now Obi-Wan simply delivers himself? Why? And why now, after such a long,
long time?
He barely heard the officer
behind him barking orders “Get me a scanning crew in here on the double. I want
every part of this ship checked!”
* * *
As all the members of the MFP
slept, and while winds blew outside, drifting the sand this way and that in the
dark of the Tatooine night, the holonet indicator beacon on the command center
console blinked on and flashed silently, signaling a message waiting to be
checked.
* * *
I awoke early, before the dual
sunrise for some reason, quietly cleaned up, and slipped on my armor plates. We
all could have used a bit more sleep, but the late meeting with the inspection
crew had robbed us of that. The streets were now filling with people and the
activity of a new day awaited us. Danz, Rogue and 4120 were busy out front
in the command center and Topolev was taking his turn in the ‘fresher, under
the sonic shower. Here on Tatooine, water was far too precious a commodity for
something as lavish as a shower, so sonic cleansing was the local practice. They
actually worked fairly well and cleaned you more thoroughly than water, once
you got the hang of using them properly. Personally, I still preferred standing
under streaming hot water for cleaning up and relaxing after a long day, but it
is not to be. Not here. Not now. My black-rimmed ID tags hung around my neck as
I slipped my chest armor over my head. I tucked them inside the front
plate and strapped it down snugly.
Danz was in the front command
center and yelled out as he passed by the open door, “Ddraig! Wake up.
You’ve got a holo message.”
Ddraig’s eyes opened slightly as
he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his upper bunk. He yawned
and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as he squeezed his eyes
shut tight, then opened. A groan escaped his lips as he jumped down to the floor. Stretching
a bit, he walked out front, slid into the seat at the holonet console, and
keyed his personal account entry code. The screen went blank for a moment and he
wiped his eyes and yawned again. Then the screen flickered as a text display
opened. It was from his friend, TK-1999, in Internal Security, back on
Coruscant.
“Ddraig, I can’t stay on this
channel long, but I wanted to let you and your men know that the ship that
escaped Tatooine yesterday, the ‘Millennium Falcon’, was just recovered
when she re-entered normal space in the Alderaan asteroid field. Sorry, I
forgot, you might not have heard. Tarkin and Vader used the Death Star
superlaser on Alderaan. The entire planet is gone, there’s nothing left but an
asteroid field of planetary fragments. It’s all over the holonet news.”
Ddraig’s eyes now darted a bit
faster over the text.
“One of our TIE pilots coaxed
the ship to give chase, although initial reports now show no passengers. It was
thought the controls may have been slave-rigged to respond to other traffic.
Once it was brought aboard, at Lord Vader’s request, a scanning crew was
brought in to search the ship top to bottom. The initial walk-through turned up
nothing. The passengers seemed to have ejected with their cargo. But, just a
few moments ago, TK-0421 and another trooper were found stunned, lying naked in
the engine compartment of the captured ship. A search has been mounted onboard
the Death Star for them. Thanks for the efforts you and your unit made to stop
them. I just wanted to update you. I’ll fill you in more as information
trickles through from the station. I handle all the official communiqués
to Imperial Center and the Palace. I’ll know about it before the Emperor does.
Enjoy the sand, buddy. TK-1999 out.”
The screen faded back to
darkness, and Ddraig sat motionless for a moment. Then he stood up, “My
friend back on Coruscant works in Internal Security, and receives all inbound
communications to the emperor. Tarkin and Vader tested the Death Star on
Alderaan. The planet’s completely blown away. There’s only an asteroid field
there now.”
“What!?” said Rogue.
4120 looked around, stunned, as
did Danz.
Ddraig continued, “He also said
the Millennium Falcon was captured by the
station. It must have been heading to Alderaan when it was intercepted. None
of the passengers have been recovered yet, just the ship.”
Rogue nodded, “Thanks for
letting us know. Well, we won’t need to head back to Anchorhead now” he noted,
glancing over to 4120, “The Inspection Team will file their report with Vader
soon. They have all the information detailing our search and the Anchorhead
interrogation, as well as the bits of information we discovered about the
missing nephew farmhand, Luke, and the old man accompanying him. If they can
tie that to something aboard the ship, maybe they’ll have a chance of finding
them. It doesn’t sound too promising though. If everyone jettisoned in the
onboard lifepods early in the flight, they could be anywhere. It’s beyond us
now. What a pity about Alderaan. They had such beautiful works of art
there.”
Ddraig nodded slowly, then
slipped back into the bunkroom to tell the rest of us as 4120 spoke up, “I
can’t believe Alderaan is gone!”
Rogue nodded, “We need to place
a notice for the Moisture Farmers, and organize a meeting so everyone knows
we’re here, and start a dialogue with them to hear some of their
concerns. That’s why we’re here.”
4120 nodded, “Yeah, I’ll get on
it. You know, Vader is going to have nothing but more questions about the
ship’s flight path and the outcast Jedi once the inspection crew files their
report. We should pay a personal visit to the port authority to see if
we’ve gotten everything they know.”
*
After a brief, morning meal of
field rations, Falker, Ddraig, Felth, and 0600 headed out to the port authority
office to see if more information could be obtained about the Millennium
Falcon and her crew. Rogue, Blade, 4120, and Danz were out on the
streets putting up public notices about the meeting with the moisture farmers.
Topolev, Etz, and I had gone
back down into the storage cache to finish going through the inventory. Etz
stood on a repulsor sled, as he worked on the luminaries in the ceiling. He
finished his wiring and closed the overhead panel, then lowered the sled to
within a foot of the ground. “That astromech doesn’t look that bad. You
think you can fix it Deck?”, he asked as he hopped off the sled and activated
the wall-mounted switch. The overhead lighting flickered on, brightly lighting
up the room.
“Much better”, said Topolev, as
he finished opening a few more crates in the back of the room.
I thoughtfully looked the little
‘droid over as I strained to move the heavy mech out to the lift, “I think so,
but I’m definitely going to need a few parts”. I positioned the burned out
‘droid in the center of the lift, next to a crate of blasters, “We can check
out some of the local shops when we’re done here. They should have what I’ll
need. This little guy’s been around a while. Luckily, outdated parts seem to be
a specialty around here.”
Topolev laughed as he kept
working. Etz put down his tools and walked over to the twin doors he had been
ready to open the night before. He stood there, looking at it for a moment,
then reached up and slid the lever to one side. The lights he had just repaired
overhead dimmed momentarily, and there was a deep rumbling in the floor as the
large doors began to slide open. Topolev stepped out from where he was,
and I walked over to Etz, standing next to the shaking shelf of arrest records
as the doors parted.
*
“There has to be more!” demanded
Falker, slamming his fist down on the desk of the Harbor Master.
“This Port Authority office is a
joke” said Ddraig, disgusted.
0600 moved closer to the desk as
Falker walked away to keep from strangling the bloated officer seated behind
it. Felth watched the door as 0600 pulled off his bucket and flipped on the
power cell on his holstered E-11, leaning in close to the officer. “Show me the
flight records for the past 72 standard hours, or you won’t live long enough to
receive another payment from Jabba the Hutt to keep those records
secure.” Beads of sweat formed on the officer’s brow, as 0600 held his
locked stare. The sweat trickled down his face as the high-pitched whine of the
power cell cycled quickly up to full charge. 0600, still locked in his stare,
thumbed loose the holster snap, freeing the blaster.
“You win! I’ll get you the
records”, said the officer, “but Jabba won’t be very happy with
you”.
0600 leaned even closer, “Do I
look like I care what Jabba thinks of me?”
The officer shook his head
quickly.
“Get them now” said 0600.
The officer stood, quickly moving
to the back room, under the watchful eye, and trained blaster muzzle of Falker.
0600 had lost his brother to one of Jabba’s henchmen years ago, and now Taka
was dead. The Hutt was hiding information he needed to find a rebel killer.
Perhaps the time had come for the crime lord to be disposed of. Felth shifted a
bit in the back of the room, taking everything in.
The Harbor Master returned with
several data cards. “You’ll find the records you’re looking for on these. The
crew of the YT-1300 Corellian ship, the Millennium Falcon is
Han Solo, and his first mate, Chewbacca, the Wookiee. They’re regulars here.
They come and go for long stretches, but eventually they always end up back
here. You might also want to track down Dash Rendar. He’s Captain of the Outrider,
a Corellian YT-2400 and a friend of Solo’s. He was in town until yesterday . .
. raised ship a few hours before the ‘Falcon. They both have worked for
Jabba over the years. That’s all I know, I swear. The rest of the details are
on the cards.”
0600 snatched them out of his
hand and walked out, followed by the others. The Harbor Master closed his
eyes in relief, breathing a bit easier now that they were gone. When he
had regained his composure, he turned to his holonet port and opened a direct
line to Jabba’s court.
*
Even this early in the morning,
farmers and merchants filled the marketplace, peddling their merchandise,
services, and crops. Others crowded in to look, buy, or just try to get under
the draped overhead canopies and out of the beating direct sunslight. Danz
and Blade posted notices on the wall of the marketplace as Rogue worked the
other side of the courtyard. Several farmers came up to them, voicing
their concerns about recent increase in activity from the Sandpeople. “I’ve had
water stolen from six ‘vaporators this week alone, and they vandalized the
repair ‘droid that was out there working on the ones damaged from their last
raid.”
Another farmer nodded, “They
don’t much bother the units in the dunes closer in, but the ones that skirt the
Wastes are always being raided. I heard Sandpeople raided a farm yesterday,
killing the owners!”
Danz nodded, “I understand your
concerns and frustrations. This is exactly what we want to hear from you, but
at the meeting. We’re here to help make sure you can get your crops harvested
without interference of any kind.”
“About time” said one of the
older farmers.
“The meeting is tomorrow morning
here in the market area. We’ll all find out more then. Spread the word to
the outlying farms”, said 4120.
The crowd thinned a bit and the sales
resumed. Danz shook his head, “Rough crowd”.
4120 snorted “Yeah”.
As the troops regrouped and
headed off to post more notices, a figure on the far side of the square watched
them go, then flipped open a comlink and began speaking in Huttese.
*
I could hear sand being crushed
and ground down, and the screeching of unlubricated metal scraping against metal
as the large doors slowly slid all the way open, and then there was silence,
absolute still silence. Topolev walked over, and the three of us stepped
through the opening into the cool darkness that lay beyond. Etz reached
for a luminary control on the wall, but there was none. Slowly, our eyes
adjusted to the dim light seeping in from behind us. The darkness ahead
was an expansive room, empty except for one large object in the center.
Stepping closer, we were able to make out the rounded, sloping body of a
vehicle; a very sleek troop transport.
Although the end we were facing
appeared to be the rear thrusters, as we walked around, it became clear that it
was actually the front, and the thrusters were for close, tight maneuvering.
Open-air cockpit seating was situated just above them. As we continued
around, the rear of the transport was low and open, with a wide tailboard for
easy deployment and quick, retreating dust-offs. There were benches down both
sides, with hooks on the walls and the deck plates for securing prisoners or
gear. An array of armaments was built-in and flush, beneath the skins of the
ship to maintain its’ unbroken curving surface. Etz walked around the left
side, as Topolev and I walked around the right. Several fueling lines were
draped over hooks on the rear wall. I followed the lines of the stony walls up
to the ceiling overhead. There was a seam running down the center of the ceiling;
a dividing line between a set of upper doors that would open to allow the ship
to get in and out. The others followed my gaze and both looked up. Etz
wrapped his hand around the grip of another lever on the wall, “This must open
the upper doors”.
“WAIT!” yelled Topolev. “Think
about where we are right now. Those doors must open up in the courtyard behind
the barracks. At least one of the shuttle’s landing gear assemblies is probably
on top of them. If you open that up, the shuttle comes crashing in”.
Etz removed his hand from the
lever. “You’re right, good call.”
Topolev exhaled heavily, “That
was close.” He looked over to the ship “This thing’s a prototype, I saw plans
similar to this when I was stationed on Kashyyyk, but I never saw one make it
to production.”
I walked a little closer,
running my hand over the smooth, curving metal. “It’s pretty slick whatever it
is.”
*
As he and his troops walked up
the narrow stairs from the marketplace toward the crowded street above, Rogue
reached out to Garindan on his comlink. “Meet us at the building across from
the Cantina. I repeat, Meet us at the building across from the
Cantina.”
A bit of white noise crackled
from the tiny speaker and then, “Of course”.
Rogue snapped off the comm and
returned it to his belt. The twin suns were now almost directly overhead,
blasting everything not under shade with punishing heat. A narrow sliver
of the largest of Tatooine’s three moons was barely visible in the clear sky out
over the Dune Sea, preparing to slip below the horizon. The crowds parted in
front of them, with no one wanting to make eye contact. The elders here
remembered living through the Clone Wars and the troops from that time. The
armor was a bit different, and there were no longer clones underneath, but they
perceived our mission to be the same - loyalty to the success of the Empire and
suppression of the people to make it so, forcefully whenever necessary. As
they drew closer to the Cantina, they could see Garindan in the distance,
working his way through the crowd heading their way. Rogue activated his
bucket’s comm chin switch, “Falker, any luck with the Harbor
Master?”
A brief moment of silence was
broken by Falker’s static-laden reply “Yeah. I think we’ve got some good
information to check once we get back to base.”
“Great news.” said Rogue, “We’re
at base now, we’ll see you soon . . . 1009 out”. His sign-off was
immediately followed by a slight burst of static. He flipped the chin switch
from comm mode back to broadcast mode. “Blade, go on ahead inside and get the
data card reader ready for us. We’ll be inside as soon as the snitch
arrives. I want to see what he knows about our mysterious, exiled
Jedi”.
Blade nodded. Danz leaned a
little closer to Rogue and 4120 as he moved his head side to side, watching the
passersby on the street “Do you think he knows anything?”
4120 looked to his CO, but Rogue
kept a watchful eye on his dark Kubaz spy as he answered. “If he knew the other
troops stationed here, he’s been here a long time. I hope he’s as connected as
he says he is. I also hope he isn’t working both sides.”
*
The disturbing images of
TK-1138’s violent death at the hands of the hooded old hermit gave way to the
final, sideways images of the boy and old man walking past the helmet camera.
The display screen on the card reader flashed to static as the recording
concluded. Rogue pulled the helmet data card out of the slot as Garindan
settled back in his seat, silent for a moment, in thought. He had seen the old
man many times over the years in the cantina, drinking silently at the bar, but
never paid him much attention. He was just a quiet loner that lived somewhere
out in the rocky hills of the Jundland wastes, who rarely ventured into town.
Blade, Danz, and 4120 stood around him with Rogue, as I entered the room from
the barracks in the back, wiping a power coupling from the damaged ‘droid on a
dirty rag.
Garindan shifted in his seat and
turned to face Rogue, giving up only part of what he knew. “I have seen
this man before, but know nothing of him, except that he goes by the name Ben
Kenobi. There are two others that have spent time in Chalmun’s Cantina that may
know something of him. Over the years I have seen him speaking with the
Ithorian, Mamow Nadon . . . the Hammerhead. More recently I saw him speak with
BoShek, a pilot regular.”
As he finished speaking, Falker,
Ddraig, Felth, and 0600 entered from the street. “We’ve got all the flight
records for the past 72 hours right here” said Falker, holding up the data
cards. “Now we just have to go through them to find the information we’re
looking for. It turns out the Harbor Master is on the Hutt’s payroll, and
he was hiding flight records, until 0600 . . . explained . . . to him how badly
we needed them. I think a visit to Jabba the Hutt is definitely in order after
we complete the business at hand, just to touch base and let him know we’re
here.”
Rogue shook the helmet data card
at him, “If the Harbor Master’s on the payroll, you can be sure the Hutt was
notified about us the moment we first touched down. We’ll definitely see him,
but when the time is right.”
He stepped away, pacing across
the room a bit as Etz and Topolev joined us in the command center and I spoke
up, “If both of these other contacts were known regulars in Chalmun’s, the
snitch should locate them for us, and right now. If BoShek is a pilot, he could
leave at any moment.”
Falker leaned in a bit toward
Garindan, “The Harbor Master mentioned another pilot named Dash Rendar, said he
was a pilot and friend to Han Solo, the captain of the Millennium
Falcon. Do you know anything about him?”
The Kubaz pondered a bit.
“Rendar. Rendar and Solo are competitive rivals when it comes to the speed of
their starships, the Outrider and the Millennium
Falcon, but, then again, so is BoShek. As far as I know, Rendar and
Solo are friends, but BoShek has been boasting recently that he could beat
Solo’s time on the Kessel Run in his ship, Infinity. Solo
wasn’t happy about it. They’re all free-lance spacers who have flown for the
Hutt over the years. BoShek has also flown for the B’Omarr Monks on occasion.
Rendar has been in town for about a week, but raised ship just before Solo did.
I’m not sure where he was headed, but I do know he had a recent meeting with
the Hutt.”
“The records we just got our
hands on should give us more information about that” said 0600, and he grabbed
the cards from Falker. He motioned for Garindan to get up, and the Kubaz spy
complied. 0600 took his place at the reader and inserted the first card to
begin poring through the records in search of something that might
help.
Rogue snapped a quick order to
me. “Deckard, take Etz, Topolev, Falker, Ddraig, and the snitch over to the
Cantina. See if our targets are in there. If not, find out where we might
find BoShek and Mamow Nadon.” He paused a moment in thought. “0600, let 1265
take over that reader and do the searching. I want you to come with me, Danz,
4120, Blade and Felth. We’re going back to the Lars place to see if there’s
anything left behind that ties Luke to old Ben Kenobi. If we don’t find
anything there, we’ll head back to Tosche Station in Anchorhead and press Fixer
and his friends for more information. Let’s move, people, it’s already mid-day.”
We all moved to the bunkroom to
gear up as Garindan moved toward the door. Rogue followed, stopping at the
doorway. “We need everything we can find on this Ben Kenobi and his
involvement with Luke, Owen Lars’ nephew. Time is of the essence. Vader will
have questions about them both very soon, and we need to have answers ready.
Keep in touch, and let me know what you uncover.”
Garindan nodded his large head
and beak, and disappeared outside. Rogue grabbed his pack and pulled it
on, closely watching the dark-robed spy disappear into the crowds, “My team,
let’s go! Everyone in the shuttle out back. 4120, you’re flying.”
* * *