Cica, Entrus

Rhys Orlanis lazily sprawled across his ripped up booth in the Grand Marquis, one Cica’s lesser known casinos. Unlike most of Cica’s casinos, the Grand Marquis was exclusively of use for the planet’s natives as per the decree of General Fossk himself while the rest of the casinos exclusively catered to offworlders, mostly Fossk’s officers, or the General’s few friends on Entrus. Rhys glanced at his wrist chrono and took a gulp of his Lexrollian Brandy. The liquid sloshed in his mouth before draining down the man’s throat, leaving a fiery aftertaste. An attractive woman slid into the booth opposite of him and across the table. Orlanis roguishly smiled and leaned forward.

“Hey, how ya doing hot stuff?”

She rolled her dark eyes. “There are times when I wonder what you’d have been like if you actually went to school.”

His grin grew larger, “I’d probably be just as attractive, and I wouldn’t be doing anything with your kind.”

Brandy sighed, pulling back a strand of her brunette hair. “No, I imagine not, for better or worse. We have a job for you.”

“That’s a shame,” said the man, “and here I thought this was the time you were going to confess your feelings to me.”

“Oh please-”

“No, I’m dead serious,” said the man quietly, leaning back, “things have been so quiet. No riots, no protest marches, no bombings, no jobs for me at all.”

“It’s the eye,” alluded the brunette.

“Of the storm?”

“What else?”

“So,” asked the mercenary, “what’s my part in all this?”

She fidgeted in her seat. “Teaching.”

“What?!” exclaimed the man, disbelief flooding his eyes.

Brandy glared at him, “Keep it down if you don’t want to lose your head…”

“Teaching? I don’t teach. Especially since I didn’t really go to school, lady.”

“I think,” said the woman, “that you will more likely enjoy this kind of teaching.”

“And what might that be?”

“You think you can teach a couple of people to handle a gun?”

He shook his head. “Forget it. Look, if you want me to steal something or throw rocks at the Imps during a protest march, great. That’ll be my normal fee. If you want me to attack and ambush some Imp, that’ll be three times my fee. But if you think I’ll do something as boring and tedious as teaching a bunch of your rebel louts to hold a blaster, think again. That’s like trying to eat a flaming Jawa.”

“What?”

“It’s not fun, it’s dangerous, and it can get me into a lot more trouble than simply marching in some parade. And there’s no adrenaline rush.”

“No adrenaline rush, but it’s dangerous?” questioned Brandy.

“Sure, an untrained person with a blaster is more likely to shoot me or someone else with a blaster than to actually hit the target.”

“I understand,” accepted the brunette, “I guess I have to go talk to Gojulas and his men then…”

“What? No. No no no no no,” quipped the man, “we both know he’s an idiot and a three times the scumbag that I am. He’ll shoot your men and then try to teach them how to use a blaster. You can’t trust him.”

“Then which expert is going to teach them?” asked the woman, “With me, they’d end up hitting the skyscrapers when their target is a dozen meters away from them...”

“I know; you’re a lousy shot,” admitted the man, “I do remember what you tried to do three months ago.”

“I wasn’t that off.”

“Hot stuff, you nearly hit Ken instead of his captors, and I think you were trying to get the stormies. In fact, I think your burn marks are still on Hotel Parfait…”

She blushed.

“Now listen here though,” stated the man, “I want triple my normal price. You know why…”

“I’ll give you one and half.”

“Two and half,” countered Rhys, glancing about the casino.

“Two, and that is final offer,” announced Brandy.

“Two times it is,” smiled the man mischievelously, “so when and why am I training these men to use blasters.”

“You’re training them to use blasters because of a major, forthcoming operation. I daren’t tell you when though. What I will do is contact you tomorrow, and then I’ll pick you up here and take to you to our base.”

“All right, fair enough hot stuff.”



Inferno

Inferno Fleet’s Command Operations Room was a converted store room. And it still appeared as such. Stark iron girders supported slate gray duracrete walls and a lopsided roof. Duraplast crates still lined two of the walls. The only noticeable difference was a series of portable computers and consoles interlinked to several holo-projectors, one of which displayed a map of the Trax Sector. Two humanoids stood next to it, one clad in the crimson colours of an Inferno Fleet Officer, the other in the Ash Gray which signified his role as a support person, but with the insignia of a Colonel festooned onto his sleaves.

“…assuming that we hit this trade lane with 2nd Group as a diversion, we could use the Hammer and the rest of the Fleet to quickly secure the supply depot, grab some supplies, blow it up, and run.”

The Bothan’s fur rippled. “How much time does that buy us, assuming that they immediately break away from the diversion force?”

“Ten minutes.”

Dha’tey shook his head. “Not enough time. Not if we want to get away with a sizeable amount of cargo.”

“That’s the best I’ve got,” stated Colonel Rith exasperatedly, “even with the integration of the local resistance cells and the help of the Bothan Spy Network, we don’t have much to go on.”

Kolir grumbled. “It would help if the local resistance cells actually started doing things.”

The Intelligence officer stepped back for a second, staring at a portion of the target trade route.

“I’m not entirely sure if they could do anything useful yet. It would be nice if one of them managed to infiltrate Fossk’s military and provide us with movement data. Heck, it’d be ten times better if it was in their logistics.”

Sei’lar crept up behind them. “You may be a little unhappy when they start doing something.”

“When?” questioned the Commodore, raising an eyebrow.

“When,” repeated the Bothan Spy, “I have been informed that the Entrus Resistance is going to start their uprising in three weeks.”

The red-haired man let out a sigh of exasperation. Kolir’s jaw dropped before quickly assuming a snarl. Squinting his eyes, the Bothan banged his fist on the holo-projector’s railing.

“NO! This cannot be happening,” exploded the officer in a fit of rage, “so much precise planning. Carefully designed to effortlessly topple Fossk, and now we have some of our buffoons gallivanting off to wreck them all. Fools. We could all be ruined by their…their idiocy.”

“Ah, sir,” interrupted Rith.

“Leave me,” commanded Dha’tey furiously, “Both of you. Come back in a half hour.”

“Yes sir,” saluted Rith, spinning about on his heel.

The other Bothan nodded back at Dha’tey before quietly exiting the room, leaving Kolir to brood over the news with the Sector Map.

Entrus

“Seriously, what the hell is this? A kiddy toy?” questioned Orlanis sardonically.

A smile crept onto Brandy’s face. “Yes, it’s a kiddy toy Rhys. Now hop on in before the Imps find us and decide to bust it like some schoolyard bullies.”

She gestured to the craft beached underneath the rickety dock. The waveskimmer was a peculiarly shaped craft, slightly longer than most speeder bikes and with the width of a X-wing. It appeared that someone had tried to sculpt a robotic manta ray whose tail had been amputated. Rhys had seen many craft during his time on Entrus and on other worlds, but he had never seen something like this. Brandy clambered onto one of the wings and walked to the central, dorsal hatch of the fuselage. Grasping hold of some an external railing, she slid her booted feet down to skimmer’s cabin. She smiled at Rhys.

“Are you coming or what? Or are you afraid of some water?”

The man snorted. “I’m afraid that with all my muscle, your plastic toy will sink.”

“Uh-huh. That’s it…”



Inferno

“They’re attempting to seize a limited time opportunity; really, I give them credit. I didn’t know they had the guts to do it,” aired Sei’lar.

“I see,” replied Dha’tey, gazing over the sector map, “taking hostages though. That’s walking a fine line.”

Colonel Rith snorted. “Hardly. It’s not as if Fossk’s family is innocent.”

“They haven’t done anything wrong-” stated Kolir.

“They haven’t done anything right, either, sir,” interrupted the redheaded man, “I’d reckon it’s their time to pay.”

“He’s right,” stated the Bothan Spy, “if you bring up morality, it’s just as wrong to sit by and let things slide as if you were the one doing it. They have a moral obligation to confront their husband or father, to correct him to do what is right, especially since they have more influence on him than most people ever could have.”

Kolir stared at a spinning visage of Entrus, and slowly opened his jaw. “It’s just…well…their family. Would we really not think they would support him? Family supports each other, even when they think another one is doing something wrong. What exactly is Entrus Resistance planning to get out of their capture?”

“His wife is coming down to enjoy the casinos, his children to enjoy the beaches. They’ll be staying on a popular resort. First off, that’s an easy target. Hotel security is probably a joke in a backwater world like this. And even if they brought their own security, they’re probably unfamiliar with the area…”

“I’m not interested in that,” bemoaned the fleet commander, “but what do they plan to get out of them? A ransom?”

“Well, they hope to not get their cities razed…” explained the other Bothan.

“Explain,” demanded the Commodore.

“As much of a corrupt dictator as he is, is a family man. And he certainly flaunts that image on the local holonet, perhaps as a propaganda, but it’s unlikely according to my contacts. He wouldn’t dare harm one of his precious children or his darling wife. So if one of them is captured and Fossk is informed that they are located in different cities, he wouldn’t dare bombard those cities from orbit, less he kill one of his own family members.”

“So he launches a rescue operation and a planetary assault to wrest control of the planet back to his rule. Then what?”

“That’s expected, sir,” replied Rith, “and that’s just what Entrus Resistance wants them to do. A native knows his area well and can use the terrain to its fullest advantage, and he’ll have the support of the nearby populace. That makes him a hard-to-hit opponent, and one that will frequently employ ambushes in some classical guerilla warfare. And if Fossk wants his family rescued quickly, that will mean many small infantry teams scouring buildings, looking for them.”

“A nightmare,” added Sei’lar, “given how densely populated and how big the buildings are. And add to it the fact that guerillas will constantly be eating away the teams or engaging them in street fights.”

“But if Fossk follows any typical Imperial response,” said Kolir blandly, “that will mean walkers and excess amount of ground troops. Resistance won’t be able to control the streets too well. Not without reverting to explosives, which could potentially kill those they’re trying to protect from Fossk’s wrath. And with Air superiority, he’ll be able to land shuttles with troops on rooftops and use them to quickly clear out buildings. Alone and isolated, the resistance is too weak for that plan to last long.”

“You’re assuming they don’t have any vehicular support,” countered the Bothan Spy, “and supposing that we can’t send down Hunters or Kalrechis, they have their own hybrid vehicles, called Aquarius waveskimmers.”

Dha’tey tossed his head to the side. “If the name is anything to go by, doesn’t that mean their water vehicles, and we’re trying to contest them on the land and in the air?”

The Spymaster tapped several keys on a nearby console, and a hazy image of an Aquarius Waveskimmer appeared. Sei’lar hesitated.

“It’s a complicated vehicle, but in essence, it uses repulsorlift technology to move. As you know, repulsors can move vehicles easily across land or up in the sky like airspeeders, but it can also be applied to move vehicles underwater, most commonly the aptly named repulsor sub. An Aquarius has the repulsor technology taken from repulsor subs and low-level civilian airspeeders, thus, it can operate easily as a submersible, and less adequately as a combat airspeeder. Each Aquarius mounts a pair of heavy blaster cannons as well as four hardpoints for warheads, usually a turbofan propelled proton torpedo. It wouldn’t be any good at dealing with enemy starfighters, but it can definitely strafe enemy ground formations and blow things up underwater.”

“But it can’t achieve air superiority?” questioned Dha’tey.

“Unlikely,” replied Rith, “it’s too slow in the air, literally half the speed of T-16 and much less altitude. So unless Fossk has adopted some incredibly subpar fighter or combat airspeeder, it’s highly unlikely they have a chance at that.”

Kolir sighed. “That’s a minor problem I suppose. We can have the Death’s Jaw or the Bloodletter release some of their greener squadrons to deal with Fossk’s fighters.”

“Maybe,” stated Sei’lar, “Fossk has a sizeable naval force; an old Sector Command according to my sources. So that’s at least six Imperator Star Destroyers and accompanying craft. If he brings all of that to bear…”

“We don’t have a chance,” replied the Commodore, “not of keeping space superiority, but I think that it’s unlikely that we’ll have to deal with all of his forces. He needs units to guard other important locations like Lexrol.”

“Right,” stated Rith, “I think we can expect to be dealing with a star destroyer or two plus some faster ships, like Carracks or Strikes.”

“And that we might be able to deal with easily,” vowed Dha’tey.

Sei’lar frowned. “Aren’t only three of the Cerberus Attack Cruiser’s ready?”

“Yes, the Cerberus, Flaming Wind, and Crescent Flame,” informed the other Bothan, “we can’t rely on them to win the battle though, they’re still in too small of numbers. But never mind our strategy, you have contacts to get talking to, old friend. Particularly contacts dealing with Fossk’s fleet.”

“Aye.”



Entrus

Brandy’s waveskimmer soared through the cordierite waters, leaving a trail of rapidly dissipating bubbles in her wake. Schools of glimmerfish occasionally swarmed the craft, temporary blinding the duo with their dazzling, reflective scales. Orlanis continued to spy out of the cockpit, eying the aquatic life around him, and even catching sight of a rare Plavonian starfish. Brandy, however, stared at the instrument control panel, guiding her Aquarius through a set of rocky outcroppings on the seabed by sonar returns alone. Suddenly, a pair of bright, artificial lights beat down on the waveskimmer. The brunette cut the turbofans out, and floated the skimmer till it hit the surface.

“Where are we?” questioned the man.

“We’re in an underwater cavern,” replied Brandy curtly, “one we’ve converted into our main staging base. The city is too densely populated for us to get away with any type of covert base for long, so we came up with Seacrest here. It’s been around for more than a few years.”

“Ah, Brandy!”

The couple turned around to face an oncoming, rotund man. He wore a simple, white tunic and dark trousers, but with several gunbelts across his shoulder and across his waist. General Gneiser of Entrus Resistance smiled at them.

“And this must be Orlanis? Brandy has told me all about you and your exploits, good sir.”

“Thanks pops,” replied the mercenary, “it’s been a real pleasure to serve.”

Brandy shook her head. “The recruits are in the next chamber. Just tell them that you’re Orlanis, and they’ll listen. They should all have their own guns, and we did deign to teach them the most basics.”

“Wonderful,” commented Rhys, walking towards the next chamber, “I see’ll you later.”

“Interesting man,” mused the General.

Brandy let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s probably one of the most socially…hmm…socially agitating people I know; no real manners, but he’s a good man at heart. Have some of our offworlder advisors arrived?”

The General sagely nodded. “Yes, they have. There is a woman named Jaeriel, she is in the main planning room right now. She once served with the Onyxian Commonwealth, but anywho, she will be leading our hostage-taking team.”

Brandy frowned. “Does she know Hotel Parfait very well or the area around it?”

“No, she does not. Which is why you and her are going to have a chat. Since you worked there for a few seasons, I figure you know your way about there…”

Hotel Parfait, Entrus

“Hey you’re-”

Orlanis smashed the butt of his pistol into the back of the hapless hotel security guard’s head. His eyes still staring at Brandy, the guard slowly slumped to a prone position on the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Brandy swiveled her head around, quickly scanning the area to see if anyone had caught the mercenary’s actions. In the meantime, Rhys had stripped off most of the man’s uniform, and began to put it on over his own clothing. Brandy winced.

“You know, the light blue on the blast vest doesn’t go too well with your blue pants…”

Orlanis rolled his eyes. “Babe, that’s the least of my worries-”

“You won’t look right to the Fossk family-”

“You think they’re really going to look carefully in a time like this?” questioned Rhys, “Trust me, they’ll want all the help…protection they can get when things start to get bad…”

“If you say so,” shot back Brandy.

Orlanis zipped the blast vest shut and hefted his newly liberated carbine, “Now what, hot stuff?”

Brandy rolled her eyes. “We pay our respects to the Fossk family.”

The two rebels strolled down the hallways of Hotel Parfait, occasionally encountering guests and the odd hotel staff. As they entered the west wing, the density of people increased tenfold. Orlanis found himself pushing through the paparazzi with not only the guard’s security card, but the tip of his blaster. Within a meter of the Fossk’s family room, they ran into a wall of reporters who steadfastly refused to bulge. Rhys gave a glance past the reporters and noted Fossk’s family entering their family hotel room, guarded by a quartet of stormtroopers stationed at the room’s doorway. The mercenary grunted, and nudged the holo-cam operator in front of him with the tip of his blaster.

“Hey, watch it,” demanded the camera-man, “oh…oh…ah, yeah, my apologies, officer.”

Rhys gave the other man an annoyed glance as the reporters parted way for the two rebels. Orlanis, with Brandy in his wake, precisely marched over to the family room’s door and to the stormtrooper sergeant next to the door’s access controls. He stared into the black abyss of the trooper’s visored eyes.

“This woman needs to speak to Mrs. Fossk immediately,” declared Orlanis, gesturing at Brandy, “her life may be in-”

The whine of outside blaster fire filled the air, and the bystanders began to shriek and retreat. Orlanis grimaced. While, I suppose now isn’t the worse time for the street fighting to start…let’s just hope my students survive today. He felt a hard hand nudge him in the shoulder, and the mercenary turned back to the stormtrooper.

“All right, both of you, get in their quickly, I’ll go with you,” ordered the stormtrooper officer.

With a swish, the door slid open and admitted the two rebels and the soldier into the room. The Fossk family huddled together near a closet. Rhys glanced at Mrs. Fossk, and immediately frowned. She has a holdout? And she doesn’t seem to know how to use it. Great, a jumpy woman with a gun…nothing ever goes wrong with that. Orlanis immediately stopped just inside the doorway and tapped a few buttons, the door shut and locked behind him. Brandy and the sergeant approached the trembling woman, who slowly lowered her blaster.

“What is going on?” asked the bewildered woman.

“I’m afraid,” informed the woman, “that there is an uprising; the populace is revolting. Your life may be in dan-”

The whines of blaster bolts interrupted Brandy, and the room’s stormtrooper collapsed to the ground in a smoking heap. Rhys lined up his blaster to the Fossk family, flipped a switch, and released another stream of bolts into their hapless bodies. The woman fell down promptly, followed shortly after by her kids. A chord of muted thuds resonated through the room as they dropped to the floor stunned. Brandy turned to face Rhys.

“Subtle, Rhys, subtle.”

“Hey babe, whatever works, works…”



Imperator-class Star Destroyer Deathless One, in orbit via Entrus

“They’ve done what?!”

Captain Gelvars lip trembled, as he slowly backed away. Fossk drew his service pistol, pointed it towards the ground, and tugged the trigger. Four shots rang out and burned the sea green carpet in tiny splotches. The stank of ozone floated into the air and bit at Gelvars’ nose; he wrinkled his nose. In disgust, Fossk hurled his blaster to the floor to a muted thump. The Supreme General glared at his officer.

“I want to know everything,” demanded Fossk, “everything. Who has them? What do they want? Where are they?”

“My liege,” replied the captain, “we know nearly nothing at this moment. They’re being purposely vague, and they could be anywhere on Entrus for all we know…I’ve already ordered the local police force to begin to search for them...”

“That won’t do squat. Aren’t most of them already barricaded in their stations because of the riots?”

Gelvars’ lip twitched. Riots was an understatement. The populace was in a full-scale revolt. Mobs had taken to the streets en masse, armed with everything from broken off table legs and knives to the latest blasters from Blastech and Merr-Sonn. The army barracks on the planet had been assaulted on the ground by the revolutionaries and by air from starfighter elements of Inferno Fleet. Many of Fossk’s service people who had been groundside had already been captured or killed by the revolutionaries. Combined with the situation of his family, it was growing to be an increasingly aggravating situation for the warlord. The star destroyer officer frowned.

“Mostly, my liege.”

“We have no other option then,” sighed Fossk, “we will take back my family by force of arms. Prepare all army units to land. I will personally lead them. And send communications to summon the other star destroyers. We will need them and their support troops. If these rebels want a fight, we’ll give it to them-”

Gelvar began to bow as his ship shuddered, and he collapsed onto the floor. He leaned up and saw the Supreme General clinging one of the throne room’s pillars, his face even more furious than before. The shuddering stopped, and Fossk yelled.

“What the hell is wrong with this galaxy?!”

Bothan Assault Cruiser Armageddon’s Hammer, in orbit via Entrus

A motley assortment of converted freighters, homebrewed starfighters, and a single Bothan Assault Cruiser plummeted from hyperspace to orbit around the watery world of Entrus. Almost immediately, alarm klaxons sounded on all of the crimson-clad warships of Inferno Fleet. Hunters flittered away from their home ships, some just patrolling around their home fleet while others surged to dogfight within the planet’s atmosphere. Most of the Torch gunships plowed in the patrol Hunters’ wake, set up a secondary skirmishing line. And while these smaller units moved, the central large fleet remained stationary. From the massive hulks of the Firebolt frigates sprang the slow-moving volleys of magnetically-charged balls, all marching up to a distant, wedge-shaped starship. Among all this activity, the Hammer seemed dormant; the only purpose-built warship neither moved nor fired any of its weapons. Instead, the warship seemed to hover among the assault frigates, threatening retribution to any ships which interfered with Inferno Fleet’s operations. But in the heart of the vessel, there was little concern about their comrades in the fleet’s other ships or the fate of the people of Entrus. Instead, most of the bridge silently stared a couple of Bothans idly tapping away at their computer consoles. One of them stroked his chin fur.

“Ick…that’s a class 7 firewall, not bad.”

“Pssk, that’s old Imperial standard,” rebutted another programmer, “it’ll take five seconds…wait…what’s going on?”

The other smiled. “It’s ick because they’ve added several smaller security aloglorithms into the main code.”

“How bad is that?” questioned Dha’tey, rising up from his seat.

The second Inferno Fleet hacker shrugged. “We don’t know. It’s basically like saying someone added another lock to their front door…but there probably other ways into their system, but it’ll take longer.”

“We don’t have that much longer,” growled Kolir, “I think our bombardment of Fossk’s flagship is going to grab their attention pretty soon.”

“Relax, their comm. satellites are disabled, it’s not like they can instantly summon the rest of the warlord’s fleet on us-”

“A star destroyer by itself is a grave threat,” countered Dha’tey.

“Got it,” announced the first hacker, “their back door wasn’t too well-protected. Only three encrypted passcodes with no hacker program protection measures. You’d think they’d guard their maintenance channels better…”

One of the human officers grinned. “Maybe their janitors are very stupid.”

“More like very lazy,” muttered the second Bothan, “we got half of the equation then…”

“The Deathless One is coming back,” shouted out an officer, “ETA is ten minutes.”

“How badly will their shields be reduced by the bombardment by then?” questioned Dha’tey, anxiety creeping into his voice.

“Ah….about forty percent, roughly. It’s kind of hard to say how gravity will effect our shots-”

“CURSE is now in the Deathless One's auxiliary computer system, it’ll probably punch through their firewalls in a minute or two and start causing them some real trouble,” informed the second Hacker.

“Have you got gotten a hold of their internal communication’s system?” questioned Kolir.

“Hey, I’m working on it,” defended a hacker, “Things like this can’t be done in a second or two.”

“We have them now,” grumbled Dha’tey, peering at his monitor.

Imperator-class Star Destroyer Deathless One, in orbit via Entrus

“Our turbolasers are having trouble hitting their ships; gunnery crews are reporting lag time…” complained a weapon’s officer.

Another officer threw up his hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the system-”

“Adjudicator and Asp are maintaining their orbits,” reported an officer, “they have not yet been hit by long-range enemy.”

Fossk grumbled. “Took you long enough…”

“I’m sorry sir, systems aren’t moving quite as fast as normal…”

The Supreme General didn’t know much about space warfare, nor did he pretend to know anything about it. He certainly didn’t understand all of the nuisances, especially when it came to astrophysics and astronavigation, but one thing made sense: if a ship was under attack and getting damaged, it wouldn’t be working entirely properly. Fossk pointed a finger at Gelvars’ direction, who immediately flipped a few buttons on his command chair to access the bridge’s central holo-projector. It buzzed to life, and with a few manual manipulations and a wait of some seconds, the image of the crimson-clad Bothan Assault Cruiser came into view. Fossk wagged a few fingers at Gelvars, pulling the star destroyer captain to him.

“What is this?” demanded the Warlord.

The captain considered. “It appears to be a Bothan Assault Cruiser, made by the Bothans while during the so-called golden reign of the New Republic. The only thing odd about this one is its paint job.”

“So is it crewed by Bothans?”

“I don’t know,” replied Gelvars, “most humanoids could operate it, and I’ve never heard of any piratical Bothan Assault Cruisers, even Bothan pirates in these regions.”

“Inferno Fleet,” muttered Fossk, “scourge to my people and our way of life…I will get you, one day.”

The holo-projector flickered out, along with most of the bridge consoles and lights. Across the star destroyer’s hull, the ship’s turbolasers, ion cannons, and other weapons fizzled out. A crewmember cried out that the Deathless One's shields were unexplainably down. Fire from Inferno Fleet had ceased, and the central holo-projector flipped back on, bathing Fossk and Gelvar in the bridge’s only artificial light. A furry alien stood before the two, smoothing his fur and a crimson uniform. Seeming to notice the two, the Bothan toothily smiled and stared at Fossk.

“Supreme General Fossk,” offered the alien.

The warlord’s lip curled up in xenophobic disgust. “Who are you?”

“My name is Commodore Kolir Dha'tey of the Inferno Independent Space Forces, better known as Inferno Fleet.”

“I know about you,” replied Fossk, “your former employers on Uogo’cor have told me much.”

“Good, then you know that I keep my word, and that I follow my contracts.”

The General sneered. “Oh yes, and rather unconventionally at that. Do you want to tell me why you dare to talk to me?”

Kolir chuckled. “I hope you want to talk to me, because I want to cut you a deal, and if you don’t want to, I’ll have to kill you. As Captain…Gelvars over there can tell you, the Deathless One won’t last long in its current condition if I decide to order an all-out attack.”

“Gelvars?” asked the warlord, spinning on his heel to face the naval officer.

“Ah…no shields, no weapons, and with engine malfunctions…we’re in a bit of a tight spot.”

“I can get you your family back,” suggested the Bothan, “unharmed and all.”

“What do you want?” demanded Fossk.

“To complete my current contract, and like always, to make a good living for me and my crew.”

“So this is a death call? You will not get any pleading for me before I die…”

Kolir shook his head. “You misunderstand me, Supreme General. My contract does not involve killing you, but ensuring that Entrus receives its independence. If I have to kill you to do, fine. But you’ll be dead, and I might not get as much as if you are alive.”

“How so?”

“If you guarantee Entrus independence and sign a treaty with them guaranteeing that, I will let you live. But if you do that and pay a regularly advising fee, I will give you back your family, and offer a truce between our two forces. Otherwise, I’ll just kill you and anyone else who gets in the way of my job…”

“How much is the fee?” asked Fossk.

“Oh, I don’t know. Several million or so credits per month…”

“Outrageous,” stormed Fossk, “paying a scoundrel like yourself off for that much money. I don’t even know if you’ll keep your end of the bargain.”

“No, you don’t,” agreed Kolir, “but do you really have a choice. I assure you though, my word is honorable. I have fulfilled all of my contracts so far to a tee. I don’t care about killing you or your political power, I just want money. I mean, we have to eat, don’t we?”

The Warlord mumbled, “Very well. It will be done, give me a treaty for Entrus, a contract for your extortion, and I’ll sign it. Just give me my family back soon.”

“I assure you, I will arrange for them to be onboard the Deathless One with you in a little over an hour.”

And so it was done.