Chapter One - "I've Got A Bad Feeling About This"
Calen woke to the sound of the bridge buzzing for him over the ship’s comm system. Another night had passed with only the most fleeting glimpses of restful sleep, though he soothed his fatigued mind with the knowledge that it was due to something other than the nightmares that had been plaguing him ever since the night he had fled Coruscant.
“Get up here, Mr. Pilot, we’re about to hit the system.” The ever-so-cheerful voice of a certain modified navigation droid spoke before he’d even had a chance to speak.
“I’ll be up there in three, Beedee.” Calen groaned out as he sat up, running a hand over his face.
“More expeditious movement would be appreciated,” The voice of Beedee crackled from the speaker grill, “and my desgination is, once again, BD-8474.”
“Whatever.” Calen quipped as he closed the channel and kept himself from hearing any more the droid had to say on the matter (not that he expected an argument over it). Rising from his cot (calling the stiff slab hanging off of the wall of his quarters a bed implied a level of comfort it failed to provide), Calen slipped into the cleanest-smelling shirt he could find and pulled on a worn pair of boots before leaving his quarters.
The good ship Triumphant Dawn was an old cruiser. Nearly forty meters long and fitted for a crew of twelve, the model had seen a lot of use in the days of the Republic as anti-pirate combat, but that was decades ago. Even if it were in full working order from back then, the Dawn was a thing barely fit to make cargo runs on the distant corners of the Outer Rim. Even with all that working against it, though, Calen had to admit he loved the old rust box, though not nearly as much as he loved flying it.
It was his home away from home, now his only home. Up among the stars he’d glanced out at from the safety of Coruscant’s cityscape as a child. Knowing that returning there was not an option, the Dawn served a good substitute, and had done so for a little over a year now.
“I was beginning to wonder if I’d be melted down before you arrived,” Beedee’s cheery monotone greeted him as Calen moved through the hatch that separated the bridge from the rest of the ship, “Three minutes is three minutes, you know.”
“I said ‘three’, Beedee. I didn’t specify three ‘what’, did I?” Calen asked as he headed over to take his seat in one of the pilot chairs. The nearest seat to his was occupied by the silver-bodied humanoid he’d been spoken to by.
“Implications were drawn regardless of specificity. But your sarcasm is noted.” Beedee chirped in response. “We are approaching Skor II, and we shall be dropping out of hyperspace in three...two...one...now.” True to the droid’s word, they did indeed drop right out of the blue-white blurring light of hyperspace and into Squab system, and before them was the little gray marble of Skorr II. “Our flight path is generated for descent.”
“Fantastic!” Calen said as he settled back into the pilot’s seat, taking the control yoke in his hands. “I’m switching to manual.” Beedee had long since stopped protesting the little twists and maneuvers Calen would add into his landings whenever he took control of the ship. They descended through the atmosphere, dropping thousands of kilometers to eventually come close to the rocky, gray surface of the planet.
Calen moved the old ship along the intricate network of steppes and natural arches, as well as through and around some sinkholes and hidden depths to be found along the ground. The proximity alarm would go off as Calen grew too close to certain rock formations, but he was able to work even the bulky Gozanti that was the Triumphant Dawn so that it did not collide with any of them. Though there was risk time and again, Calen managed to keep the ship true until they settled down on a wind-swept mesa.
“Must you always do that, Calen?” Beedee chirped as they landed down at last. Calen could have almost sworn he detected a hint of panic in the droid’s otherwise bland, emotionless tone.
“Oh, c’mon!” Calen laughed. “You’re alive, aren’t you?”
“There is only a thirteen point six percent probability of my termination in the event of a catastrophic collision of this vessel,” The droid retorted, “and in such an event, there is an eighty-eight percent probability that I could be repaired with negligible losses to core memory and functionality. Organic units such as yourself are at a substantially higher risk of termination.”
“But that’s half the fun!” Calen insisted.
“I don’t even have to calculate the probability of that analysis being highly subjective, Calen.” Beedee replied.
“I’ll second that.” The voice of an older man spoke from the rear of the bridge, following the hissing of air as the hatch was released from its magnetic clamps while Calen and Beedee had traded barbs. It had slid open, revealing a man who entered, rubbing his neck. “Next time, Calen, reign it in.”
“Captain on the bridge.” Calen said, standing the moment the man had stepped fully on the bridge. He faced his current employer - Captain Caius Montgomery. An older man, Caius was in no earlier than his late forties, if not his early fifties so far as Calen could tell. His face was a sickly pale, his flesh baring more than a few scars. His black hair had begun to fade to gray, but was still long and stringy, covering his head like a dirtied mop.
“Paid gig, kid.” Caius said, giving Calen a look that forced him to wince. Old habits once more refusing to even try and die hard again. “The day I’m formal about this job is the day I hang up my blaster.”
“Sorry, Captain.” Calen said, still chiding himself. This wasn’t the Academy or a posting, something he was still having a hard time getting past.
“Keep your sorry to yourself, and give me a status report.” Caius replied, strolling up to look over Calen’s shoulder at the controls and the monitor as he ran a hand through his stubbly chin.
“We’ve landed at the coordinates, but it doesn’t look like there’s anything out there.” Calen said. “The nearest populated city is at least three hours away. All sensors are picking up nearby is a few birds.”
“They’re just making us wait, trying to throw us off-balance.” Caius said. “I didn’t expect Tin to make such a rookie move.”
“So there’s nothing to worry about?” Calen asked.
“Statistically speaking, there’s always something to worry about for you organics, I’m sure.” Beedee put his two credits in in passing.
“No.” Caius said, seemingly ignoring the droid. This, however, did not stop Beedee in the slightest.
“Previous encounters with the Gauntlet have been assessed. Probability of unpleasant confrontation is calculated at one point three percent.” The droid reported.
“Hardly bad, even by your standards, Beedee.” Caius said.
“Well, Captain, I wish I had your confidence.” Calen said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Just some jitters, Kid. You’ll work through it.” Caius clapped hand to Calen’s shoulder. Truly, Calen wished he did have the confidence of his Captain. Even growing up on Coruscant, he’d known of the Gauntlet. Stories were told about them being a group of thieves and brigands that stretched back even into the days of the Old Republic. Even now, they were among the Hutts as those who could be easily counted as not to be trifled with. “It’ll probably be a little while before they show. Go get a shower.”
“Yes, sir.” Calen said, getting up and allowing Caius to take the pilot’s seat, heading for the hatch. He took a quick shower, mostly just allowing the water to rush over him. Once out of it, he slid into another pair of khaki pants, a gray shirt, and pulled on his brown leather jacket. After clipping on his belt with his blaster in its holster, Calen once more donned his boots and headed back out of his quarters, this time taking a left turn to walk along the spine of the great ship, descending down a stairwell and into the open air of the cargo hold. He walked along the many sealed crates that would be going to their buyer, navigating the maze they made to eventually get to the open area where the other three members of the group - humans Burke and Santo, as well as Ordos - were meeting and preparing for their disembarking. They were hired guns, although Santo at least was helpful with the engines.
The man called Ordos was one such, and he was Caius’s second-in-command. The man was about Caius’s age, so far as Calen could tell. His head was shaven, completely. His eyes were dark, seemingly always glancing around for any potential threat. His face, however, was not nearly as scarred as Caius’s was in spite of the fact he was constantly in combat. Given the battle armor he wore that had been heavily carbon scored as well as the assortment of weapons he had to his person, it was plain to see that Ordos was a man who always walked away from fights, whether he started them or not.
“Calen. You’re armed. Should be ready.” Ordos said upon seeing him.
“What?” Calen blinked. “Yeah, no, I’m armed. I was wondering if I could get something with a little more umph than a pistol.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” Ordos asked.
“Are you?” Calen asked.
“When I can help it.” Ordos replied, prying open a crate, which Calen could see was filled with an assortment of blasters. He pulled one out and Calen held out his hands, but Ordos handed it to another member of the crew. “Not for you. You’re with Caius.”
“I can handle a rifle, you know.” Calen said as he nonetheless accepted that, knowing that his pistol would have to do if things got hairy.
“Yes, I’m sure it was required for you to learn basic combat skills at the Academy.” Ordos said without so much as a hint in change of tone, distributing weapons to his other soldiers. Calen, on the other hand, immediately froze on the spot. He tensed, feeling panic swirl up inside of him for the first time in almost a year.
“...what did you say?!”
“Calen! Move it!” Caius’s voice called to him as the ramp was let down and the ship opened up to Skorr’s atmosphere. Calen looked back to Ordos, but it seemed that the old warrior wasn’t acknowledging him any longer, getting the members of the crew into their positions in the even that combat should break out. “Calen!” Caius’s next shout got Calen off and down the ramp to meet him.
“Sorry, Captain.”
“You look like you’ve been spooked, kid. Get it together.” Caius said as they stepped down the durasteel surface and onto the more rocky one below. Not far off from them was a ship about the same size as the Dawn, though Calen did not recognize the make offhand. A Twi’lek stood in purple robes accented in black and gold, a hand languidly caressing the twin tentacles that came from its head. It smiled to them, showing a row of all-too-sharp teeth that were a most unwelcome sight. The company of armed men, each of them wearing battle armor stamped with the insignia of the Gauntlet - a closed fist around the galaxy - looked even less welcome.
“Let me do the talking.” Caius said. Calen nodded, watching as the Captain stepped up and he followed in his footsteps. “Ah, Tin Daheel! Good to see you again!”
“Don’t even try a hand at buttering me up, Caius.” The Twi’lek wore a bored expression as he glanced at the two humans. Calen felt increasingly uncomfortable around him. “Not after what happened at Dustman’s Point.”
“That was a misunderstanding!” Caius laugh jovially. “I had no idea that the Hutts had had those crates of blasters switched out for junk parts!”
“It will not be held against you this time.” Tin Daheel said. “...by my employer.” Calen got the sense that the man still held a bit of a grudge against Caius for the mishap. The Twi’lek spread his hands out, palms open, in an open, inviting gesture. “My new employer is an admirer of your acumen.”
“New employer? Does that mean that Sher-”
“Sher Tog? Yes, I’m afraid he did indeed pass away. Natural causes.”
“Natural causes?” Caius asked, his tone questioning. Calen looked from him to Tin. The Twi’lek’s mouth twisted in a smile, showing off those teeth and making Calen’s skin crawl anew.
“A blaster bolt to the back of the head rather naturally ends one’s life, does it not?” The question did not make Calen any more comfortable. He did his best to not fidget. Caius, on the other hand, was laughing it off.
“Well, feel free to inspect the merchandise for yourself.” Caius said, gesturing to the open ramp of the Dawn. “Forty tons of mining tech, ready to be implemented or assembled. As promised.”
“Your ship has been scanned and the readouts proved you aren’t lying. For once.” Tin said, his eyes narrowing on Caius. From the ramp of his own ship, a carrier droid emerged. Then another. Then a third, and then finally a fourth. “Our droids will handle the lifting.” Indeed they did. With the four of them, it did take some time, but within a half hour, the crates were moved from the Dawn to Tin’s ship. When all was said and done, Tin bowed to Caius. “Our business is completed. Good day to you.”
“Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute, Tin.” Caius said, raising a hand to stop him. “What about the forty thousand for transport? That was the deal. Forty tons of equipment, one thousand credits per ton.”
“You will be receiving nothing.” Tin sneered at him, pulling away. “But my employer does have a message I was bidden to give you.”
“This is outrageous! What message?!” Caius demanded. It was the last thing he demanded before a blaster bolt slammed into his abdomen, sending him flying back. Calen gasped in protest.
“NO!”
“Remember the Grand!” Tin shouted as he took aim and fired at Calen, who had only seconds to dodge out of the way before he, too, would have shared Caius’s fate. “Kill them all!” The thugs Tin had brought along also opened fire as Calen ducked behind a large cluster of rocks, his blaster finally drawn as he moved to return fire. Already, he could hear the sounds of the rest of the crew joining in the fight, blaster fire being exchanged across the mesa. Peeking around the corner, Calen caught sight of Tin ducking down and reaching for Caius’s neck. The young man shot a blaster bolt to force the Twi’lek back, dodging out of the way as Tin returned fire, backing away.
Calen peered around after a volley of shots has singed the air around him and blasted off pieces of the rock, finding Caius lying limp on the ground, and Tin nowhere in sight. No doubt he’d run off the moment the fighting had begun. Taking a shot that downed one of the Gauntlet enforcers, Calen took a deep breath and then burst into action. He bolted out from behind the rocks as the firing ceased for the brief seconds it took some to reload power packs, taking a few more shots to keep them off their toes as he grabbed Caius by the arm and started dragging him back behind the cover of rocks.
“The Grand! The Grand!” Caius was ranting.
“Hang in there, Captain!” Calen shouted over the blaster fire, knowing that he now had to get from the rocks to the Dawn, if there was any hope of getting Caius any medical aid.
“The Grand! The Grand!!!” Caius gasped out, using the last reserves of his strength to grab at his own shirt collar, pulling a chain free from around his neck, smacking it against Calen’s side until the young man took it in his hand and saw what was attached to it - a small, flat metal rectangle that he recognized as a data card. “F-Find...find the Grand…”
“Hold on, we’re going to get out of this!” Calen insisted, nonetheless pocketing the device and leaning down to slip under Caius’s arm, supporting his weight as he took another shot. Using the opportunity provided by Ordos and his men firing back, Calen tried his best to navigate the battlefield to get back to the ship.
“Tell Maddox...tell him...I’m...sor-” The last words were out, slurring near the end before Caius fell limp in his grasp. Calen still held onto the man, forcing himself to deny the reality of what had just happened until they were somewhere safe. He got as far as the Dawn’s on-ramp before he was forced to drop the Captain’s body, which landed with a loud thud against the the durasteel.
Calen turned to see a Gamorrean wielding an electro-pike in both hands and a nasty grin that made Tin’s look positively friendly by comparison. Upon getting closer to him, the Gamorrean closed the ground between the two of them, activating his weapon with the push of a button. Calen dodged the first jab, firing and grazing the Gamorrean’s shoulder. He was less than pleased to see that it only seemed to piss it off.
He dodged a second jab, then a third, then a fourth, eventually making his way off the ramp and up against one of the landing legs of the Dawn. He raised his blaster as the Gamorrean reeled back for another stab at him. Calen knew of Gamorreans, even seen a few in his time among the crew of the Dawn. They were generally brutish, simple-minded, and used as enforcers more than for brilliant tacticians. This one, though, had just enough of his wits about him and reacted to Calen as the young man feinted to the right, then took aim.
Calen then howled in pain as the electro-pike stabbed into his stomach, the electricity tearing through his flesh. He knew that electro-pikes were used as weapons of capture and restraint, not murder. From the burns across his torso now visible through the tears left in his shirt, and the deep gash left behind, Calen could tell that this was not the standard version of the weapon. Or, at the very least, he could have had it not been for the howling pain that wracked his body.
The pig-headed alien pulled the pike back, it’s tip still crackling with electricity and dripping with Calen’s blood. Calen had fallen to the ground, his blaster slipping down to the rocks. He tried to recover, but within a few seconds all he could manage was not to scream out his pain. The Gamorrean loomed over him, its maw open as its tongue unsettlingly moved along its teeth as though it were savoring the sight of a juicy morsel. He needed to move, he knew, but his nerves were alight with agony. The Gamorrean raised the pike for another strike, but Calen once more tried to reach his blaster.
In that moment, Calen felt the strangest sensation as he the smooth, metal grip of his pistol was suddenly in his hand. ‘That wasn’t there...a moment ago…’ He thought, though that thought was immediately replaced by his desire to remain among the living. Calen forced his arm up, his finger squeezing the trigger as he took a shot that blasted his attacker back, and then watching as it was hit yet again by another blaster bolt that slammed through its head. The bolt sailed through the Gamorrean’s head from temple to temple within a fraction of a second, creating an explosion of flesh and plasma that drenched Calen in blood and brain matter.
The elation at being alive was matched only by Calen’s newfound strength as he pulled himself up, training his blaster at the ongoing firefight as he scooped up Caius’s body once more. He could hear the engines roaring as Tin’s ship lifted up, leaving behind several troops and heading back up into the atmosphere. Prioritizing, Calen made his way back up the ramp with Caius’s body in tow. Reaching the cargo bay, he stumbled over to the intercomm panel and pressed the “open channel” key.
“Medical droid...needed in cargo...now!” Calen slumped down against the wall, hearing the last of the blaster fire dying off as he fought his body’s urge to pass into unconsciousness, his hands holding pressure to his wound to prevent bleeding out. Calen heard the steps coming up the ramp, rapidly. His eyes turned, and his blaster raised, to the visage of Ordos as the man made his way up the ramp.
“You look like bantha fodder.” Ordos said.
“You should see the other guy…” Calen grimaced, clutching his abdomen, slumped over.
“I caused the other guy. Take it easy, take it easy.” Ordos said, coming over to his side. “Let’s get you to medical…”
“I called the droid-”
“Too slow.” Ordos said, helping him to his feet.
“The Captain’s-”
“Let’s worry about what we can worry about now.” Ordos said. “Ips! Get up to Beedee and get us ready for takeoff.” Calen did not argue as Ordos helped him up from the bay, up the stairwell toward the med-bay.
No comments:
Post a Comment