Star Wars Character Cafe - The Floating Fortress Part 4

THE FLOATING FORTRESS

20. The Grand Admiral Has Arrived

The illustrious court outside of Gavorr Government House filled with the thunder of repulsorlifts. Three craft, each bearing the insignia of the Imperial Navy, touched down with pinpoint accuracy in perfect unison. As one, the landing ramps descended, and from them poured parallel rows of gleaming-white Stormtroopers.

Exactitude, Accuracy…it was all that could be expected of subordinates of the Grand Admiral Tigellinus. He descended slowly and deliberately from the ramp of the craft in the centre of the formation, his spotless white Grand Admiral’s uniform a symbol of purity and status.

All around, the staff of Gavorr Court stared, dumbfounded by such a display. Obviously, the simple folk of this idle world were unused to this kind of prestige and ceremony.

Forward he walked, taking one step for every two that his escorts made. The loose-fitting shoulder cloak billowed behind him. His escorts formed a perfect triad around him, and kept pace evenly, rifles placed primly on their shoulders. Forward they went, across the large court, and toward the doors of Government House.

The great doors of Government House were guarded by nothing more than two pairs of troopers placed awkwardly on either side of the entrance. The Grand Admiral made a note to mention this to the governor during their visit.

His eyes flashed with suppressed rage.

Once I have shown him what becomes of those who dare defy the orders of a Grand Admiral, he thought. Then, if he is still conscious, we shall discuss his security detail.

He took the lead, and climbed up the marble steps. At the top, one of his escorts pounded heavily on the doors, and they waited for them to part. He glanced sideways at one of the security troopers, and found his head tilted slightly toward the party. Such curiosity was not characteristic of Stormtroopers.

Apparently, not even the soldiers of Palpatine’s New Order are used to this kind of prestige and Ceremony, he thought.

The doors parted, and he entered the building quickly. The sooner he had finished with the governor, the sooner he could get back to his ship. And from there, he could continue his quest to crush the Rebel Alliance.

21. The Smuggler’s Abnormally Large Dividend

It was all happening so quickly.

Clip watched as orange jumpsuits scurried in all directions, performing an operation that Cracken called ‘securing the area’. Efficiently – much more so than he could have imagined for a rag tag bunch of rebels – the area was combed and declared safe. Cracken had only to issue the one order, ‘secure the area’, and automatically the rebels knew their tasks. Wedge and the man named Janson had disappeared, as had several other pairs.

“Pretty impressive,” Clip muttered to Booster and Eva, who nodded in agreement.

“Kinda makes you feel like excess baggage, doesn’t it?” the Twi’lek suggested, her hands on her hips.

She had a point. Wedge had been adamant on the comlink earlier that the Rebels needed their help. And yet, now that they were here, what had they done? Got caught up in a firefight that Wedge, Cracken and Janson probably could have won on their own? Something wasn’t adding up.

He didn’t have time to think about it, though. Wedge and Janson came jogging back into the landing bay, and gave Cracken a big thumbs-up. He nodded once, and called everyone together. Like children around a storyteller, the Rebels flocked to him – but Clip had no desire to join the group in their huddle. Instead, the three smugglers hung back a little. It wasn’t really their fight, after all.

The Imperials had made it personal when they’d shot at him, though. And there was the small matter of the smuggler’s boon – something he had yet to descry.

“Okay everyone, I make it about ten minutes max before the local Imps send in every trooper they can muster – I want to be out of here in five. I’ve got a basic plan put together, but the fine details I’ll have to leave to you,” he said, addressing the rebels. He spoke hurriedly, but there was a stately air about the man, reassuring Clip that they were at least two steps ahead of the Imperials.

“Those Imperial Agents were a part of a sleeper unit the Imperials had set up on Gavortis Alpha months ago. You’re looking at the remains of sleeper unit three. It was their job to exterminate the ‘dissident scavengers’, as we were designated. As you can see, they have failed.

“However, command on the Star Destroyer doesn’t necessarily know about that. Shortly before we were attacked I transmitted the ‘mission accomplished’ signal to them. There is every chance they think we’re all dead, which gives us a slight element of surprise.

“I’m going to need two groups – one’s coming with me and the other to Gavorr Government House. As I mentioned, finer details can be worked out en route, but I’ll say this – anyone who volunteers to come with me will need to be an exceptional swimmer.”

There was a short murmur among the pilots.

“Well, who have I got?” Cracken asked, prompting a response – he didn’t want to dwell on small details such as this. Two of the orange-clad pilots stepped forward, and nodded to him. They made a short exchange that Clip couldn’t quite hear, and then went to stand behind him.

“Excellent, unless there’s anyone else?”

“It’d ruin my hair, sorry sir,’ Janson quipped quickly. Cracken ignored him.

“Alright then, the rest of you need to get to Gavorr Government House as soon as possible. You’ll have to go by foot or airspeeder – there’s too many TIE’s about to risk a ship. That in mind, you’ll need a good distraction to escape this transit port. Once you’ve reached Government House, you’ll need to make contact with a man named Christof and aid him in any way possible. Be warned, though – the Imperial presence is going to be pretty big.”

Eva Pah’ker had given an involuntary shudder at the sound of the name Christof – Clip made a mental note to ask her about it later. From the sounds of what Cracken was saying, they would all be travelling to government house. For some reason, presumably that Wedge would inform them of enroute.

This day was stretching on for eternity.

“Good luck pilots – Wedge, you have command of group two. Janson, you’re going to need to stand by to do your thing with the Femme Fatale. Keep me updated by comlink at any opportune time,” he instructed. The group immediately began to break, but as it did Cracken called out one last time.

“Terrik, right?” he said, fixing his gaze directly on Booster. Both he and Clip froze and held eye contact.

“Guilty,” he answered, facing his abundant frame squarely at the rebel. There was something icy between the pair that was hard to describe, like two anonymous rivals coming face to face. Though if Booster had ever met Cracken before, then he was doing a good job of hiding it.

“I’m going to need your help – if you’re willing to hear me out, I think you’ll find my offer suitably, ah…gratuitous,” he stated simply. Booster raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Clip quickly. This was it, he could feel it – the smuggler’s boon that Wedge had been talking about.

“Alright Cracken, go ahead,” Booster said, the iciness in his voice vanished.

“The three of us,” he said, indicating himself and the two volunteers for the swimming mission “are going to need a lift. I wont lie, it’s going to be very dangerous, but if everything goes to plan, you stand to make 500,000 credits for twenty minutes panic. Sound good?”

“I don’t know – what does it involve?”

“All we need to do is blast out of this spaceport in a good, reliable ship and loose a half-squad of TIE fighters. Once that hard part is out of the way, you just need to drop us about ten or so klicks out to sea,” Cracken explained. Clip laughed involuntarily, so did Eva. He had said it so casually that it sounded absurd, as though loosing a half squadron of TIE fighters was as easy as shooting nerfs in a cage.

“Are you kidding or what Cracken?” Clip asked incredulously. He had expected Booster to immediately respond, to back him up or make a joke – anything apart from what he said next.

“As usual, I assume there’s some cunning plan that will make that a whole lot easier,” Booster inquired, nodding his head slowly. Clip – rather wisely – remained mute. Cracken’s face twisted into a sardonic smile.

“Probably,” he said cryptically. That seemed good enough for Booster.

“Alright Cracken – get your people and get them to my ship. It’s the Pulsar Skate, and she’ll hold her own against a few TIE’s for a little while. Get them and follow me,” he said simply. Clip was dumbfounded. This wasn’t possible. Booster Terrik didn’t take risks like this, even for 500,000.

And surely when Booster had said “smuggler’s boon” he hadn’t meant a negligible 500,000 credits – that was less a smuggler’s boon than a smuggler’s abnormally large dividend. That sort of cash could be made running glitterstim or some other spice. Hell, service mechanics had made more than that. Well, maybe not service mechanics, but still.

“Booster-”

“Clip, shut-up. And go with Wedge,” Booster ordered, turning to face him. “I’ll keep in touch,” he said finally.

Clip opened his mouth to protest, to say something. But he couldn’t find the words. This was just so…not Booster. The finality and authority in his voice made argument impossible. Clip would just have to go along with this.

The possibility that Booster was trying to fob him off so that he could claim all of the money for himself had not escaped Clip either. It didn’t seem likely…but he was a smuggler, wasn’t he?

That isn’t a problem, a nagging voice in his head kept telling him. It’s not like I need him to get off the system or anything, a quick call to Noosa and the Raging Cusper will be here in minutes flat.

And he did still want to help Wedge.

“Alright, fine. Try not to do anything stupid,” he said eventually, with a resigned shake of his head. Booster smiled and spread his arms wide.

“Clip, it’s me we’re talking about.”

Even Cracken Smiled.

22. May I Distract you For a Moment? (Assault Chronometer: 00hr 00min 01sec)

Clip ran close behind Wedge as the crew of grounded pilots hurried from the landing bay. Nearby was Eva Pah’ker, effortlessly keeping up with the predominantly male group. Wedge addressed them all as they ran, Eva and Clip sharing a single comlink.

“There are a whole rack of airspeeders parked along the eastern wall that we can use to get to Government House, but they’ll be guarded pretty heavily. Cracken was right, we’re going to need something of an amazing distraction to keep pursuit off our backs,” he explained.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about air pursuit,” Wes Janson – who was crouched in a concealed compartment of the landing bay waiting to remote-operate the Femme Fatale – chimed in. “Cracken’s merry jaunt in that flying shoebox oughtta draw off the TIE’s. It’s ground support you’ve gotta worry about.”

“Yeah, I figured. Any ideas? Anyone?” Wedge asked.

“Pretty colours – always works on you,” Wes suggested.

“Shut up, Wes.”

Eva jogged closer to Wedge, and began talking when she reached his side. Though it was beginning to tax his energy, Clip fell into step beside them as well, listening to what Eva was saying.

“-and once we’re out of there, I can remote-det the self-destruct,” she finished just as he got within earshot. Whoa – that was not what he was expecting her to say. He didn’t know what she was talking about, but it sounded typically dangerous.

“Are you sure you want to be doing this? I’m sure the Alliance will compensate you,” Wedge said quickly, obviously keen on the idea – whatever it was. Eva nodded her head quickly.

“I was hoping there might be a opening in the ranks for me, anyway. It’s only a ship, It’s replaceable,” she reasoned. Suddenly, Clip had a fair idea of what she was talking about. And he pitied her.

“I’m sure that can be arranged. How many men do you want with you?” he asked. Eva’s gaze shifted from Wedge and settled on Clip. Clip’s eyes widened slightly with surprise, but he swallowed the feeling. He didn’t want her thinking he was afraid.

He nodded his head once resolutely.

“Me and the kid can handle it,” she said. Wedge looked around at clip, and into his eyes for a split second. He was searching, or something similar…asking without words whether Clip was alright to handle the task. Clip tilted his head indignantly.

“Wedge, I was always better at getting away with things than you, remember?” he said with a smile. Wedge snorted a laugh, and nodded.

“You’re right. But the both of you are going to need more conspicuous outfits.” Wedge interrupted himself and unzipped the front of his bright orange pilot jumpsuit. “You were always about my size, Clip. Now, for you, Miss Pah’ker…” Wedge stopped running and lifted his comlink to his lips. His civilian clothes were exposed from about the waist up now.

“Hold up people. And come here, Sanders,” he ordered. The young man known as Sanders came running to the front of the pack – instantly recognisable as being roughly the same height and build as Eva. “Quick,” Wedge said, pulling his final leg out of the suit “give your jumpsuit to Miss Pah’ker here,” he ordered.

Sanders hesitated a second, and then obediently unzipped his flightsuit and peeled himself out of it. Clip felt a rush of sympathy for him when he saw that he wasn’t wearing what could be considered adequate civilian dress underneath it, and was now reduced to only a pair of loose fitting pants.

Wedge suppressed a laugh. “There’s a lesson to be learned here, Sanders.”

“Insist on assignment to a hotter world next time,” the younger pilot said dryly, strapping his gun belt back on. Clip laughed softly, and threw his own shirt at the half-naked Sanders. It was too small for him, but it was either that or Eva’s Twi’lek dress. “Thanks,” he said, forcing his broader shoulders into it, stretching the material savagely.

“Ok people, listen up. Our two smuggler friends here are going to provide us with a spectacular distraction. We’re heading to the airspeeder ranks to wait for their signal. And trust me, we’ll hear it. You getting this, Wes?”

“I’m fashioning earplugs out of pocket lint as we speak,” he said.

“Good. Follow me everyone,” Wedge said casually, turning to face the corridors leading to airspeeder ranks. Clip paused in pulling on the brilliant orange jumpsuit long enough to give another reassuring nod and a cocky smile.

“Damned if Wes wasn’t right about pretty colours,” Wedge said with a wink “call us if you think we should take a detour, if you know what I mean.”

With that, he pelted down the corridor – eighteen fish-out-of-water pilots in tow. They ran in a tight formation, probably so as to cover each other properly if they should have to start shooting things.

“Ready?” Eva asked, doing up the zip on her flight suit and charging her blaster. Clip mimicked her actions, and nodded once. They turned together and ran toward the hangar bays they had just left, looking for wherever the Eva After was docked.

“How will the Imperials know where your ship is?” he asked through jagged breaths. He noticed with annoyance that Eva was still breathing quite normally.

“They’re monitoring it, trust me. Once they see two rebel pilots jumping on board, the whole garrison will come down on us. That’s when we make our less than discreet exit,” she said with a grin.

“That’s another thing: how do we get away before the whole ship goes up?”

“I’ll show you when we get there – there’s a special ejection module big enough for two people just beyond the bridge. It’ll take us a good few klicks into the air before we repulsor safely to the ground,” she answered. Clip grunted a quick laugh – there’s always a special surprise on a smuggling ship.

“Great – so what happens when we lift off, and get perforated by TIE guns?”

The answer was a spectacular one. A deafening roar suddenly filled the open-plan docking area they were skirting. Overhead shot the Pulsar Skate, two orange turbolasers burning incessantly away at unseen pursuers. And then they flew over too: one, then two, then four, then six TIE fighters.

The sound of roaring engines gradually shifted from ‘deafening’ to ‘absurdly loud’, and Clip nodded his head. “Right, I get it. Never mind.”

The large, open area they were in was littered with corpses of damaged ships. This must be the salvage yards, where they strip old craft back to their frame and take whatever still works. It reminded Clip of a big graveyard full of rusting bodies.

It took them a good five minutes to cross the huge yards. As they neared the edge, Eva spoke up.

“The Eva After is just past the salvage yards,” she said, pointing ahead to a large, heavy door. “All we need to do is get past those doors. And knowing Imperial intelligence…” she trailed off, thumbing the two-state switch on the right side panel of the door. It chirped an affirmative, glowed green, and slowly began to rise. Eva gave a satisfied smile.

There were yet more enclosed corridors behind the big set of doors, though this time the exterior wall was made of transparisteel. Through that wall, Clip could glimpse the large, sleek ship that was undoubtedly the property of a Twi’lek. He could also plainly see the white clusters of Imperial troops, strategically placed for maximum coverage of the docking bay.

“You think they’re inside, too?” he asked.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. They would have scanned in there, then moved the bulk of their troops outside. They don’t know what kind of tricks a smuggler has up his or her sleeve, you see,” she explained.

“Alright then. What do you think? I don’t know whether we can take them all out…” he said doubtfully. Eva chuckled to herself, and checked the charge on her blaster.

“‘Course we can’t take them out, kid. There’s gotta be twenty of them in there. No, we’ve either gotta sneak past them or distract them,” she said.

“Oh right. Tell you what, I’ll tap one on the shoulder and say ‘Excuse me, may I just distract you for a moment?’ and you sneak in while he’s busy. Sound fair?” Eva’s smile grew twisted.

“I was thinking something a little bit more spectacular. Tell me, what do you think of explosions?” she asked sardonically. Clip furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m sick of them,” he said dryly.

“Too bad, follow me,” Eva ordered.

23. The Cluster Trap (Assault Chronometer: 00hr 03min 25sec)

“Alright Cracken, strap in. We’re going now,” Booster warned. Cracken and his men never had a chance of strapping in before Booster punched the ignition sequence and slammed the repulsorlifts to maximum. The entire ship lurched as it rose all too quickly into the air, the hull creaking in protest against the atmospheric resistance.

“Punch out of here, Booster. Those TIE’s aren’t far away,” Cracken warned, yelling over the sound of the repulsorlifts.

“Thanks, Cracken,” he answered sarcastically, simultaneously bringing up the shields and grinding the throttle to full. The engines burned to life – always so deafening in atmosphere – and they were off. “Are your men on the guns yet?” he called back.

“Affirmative, sir,” two soft voices said simultaneously over the comm unit.

They were just passing over the salvage yards when the TIE’s came. “Opening fire,” the soft voices said again, punctuating the sentence with long, sustained bursts of turbolaser fire. Booster willed the throttle up further, and attempted some evasive manoeuvres.

“Good news is they’re no more agile in atmosphere than this ship, Booster,” Cracken yelled. “You want to be heading due south, by the way. There’s a comm marker I’ve got set up. I’ll patch it through,” he stood and began working at the comms console. As Booster had suspected, Cracken was delivering on his cunning plan.

“Right,” the whole ship jolted as a pair of green laser bolts seared into the shields. A quick glance at the readout showed no serious damage, and shields still holding out. He threw the ship into a corkscrew spin, making the area of the ship constantly shift in the TIE’s gun sights and the world to spin. Inertial compensators were useless against the power of planetary gravity.

“Alright Cracken, your comm marker is about seventy klicks away – In amongst these fancy manoeuvres, we’ll be there in about thirty seconds. You’re ready?” Booster shouted. Another jolt cracked through the ship.

“Take us low, Booster – we’ll have to be less than one hundred and fifty metres from the ground,” he explained. The ship began a slow descent.

“Right…The TIE’s are coming with us,” Booster said. Cracken smiled.

“Because they fancy their chances against a flying fridge like this.”

“If one more person talks about my ship that way…” Booster’s comment was shattered by yet another violent jerk – this time accompanied by a warning light. The readout was flashing urgently – the shields were failing.

“Alright Cracken…your marker is coming up. Care to tell me what’s going to happen?” he asked. But Cracken was bent over the sensor unit, studying it intently. Booster shook his head, and for good measure tried to push the engines again. Much faster and the hull would give out.

There was a muffled boom accompanied by a small shudder, and for a moment Booster thought the shields had given out…

“One Eyeball down – five to go,” one of the gunners’ voices put his fears to rest.

And then they were over the marker. Visually, there was nothing special about the area they were passing over. It looked to be an abandoned construction site, or an old industrial area that had fallen into disrepair. It wasn’t really the place Booster would have chosen for a cunning escape plan.

“Detonating,” Cracken said casually, and hit a button on his comm.

The result was instantaneous. There was a loud ripping noise and brilliant flash from behind the ship, followed by several small slashing noises and an explosion of alarms from the shielding console. The ship lurched under Booster’s control, threatening to put itself into a nosedive – this close to the surface, was not a good idea.

“Four eyeballs down, one critically wounded…Five eyeballs down,” the gunner reported from the belly guns. Booster shook his head, and edged the Skate into a steady climb. He glanced at the various status monitors. Shields were out, one engine had been struck by laser fire and was misfiring – he shut it down – and the landing gear was stuck down. None of those things would be a problem unless he needed to go to Hyperspace very quickly.

“Well, that went as well as I could have hoped,” Cracken said with a smile. Booster eyed him – unsure whether to smile or scowl.

“What exactly was that? I mean, I was expecting a cluster trap or something,” he said with a touch of awe. Cracken nodded in satisfaction.

“It was a cluster trap of sorts. Magnesium Chaff –one big explosive charge lights it up. Sends glowing balls of magnesium in all directions. Not devastating against shields, but TIE’s don’t have that luxury. A little device cooked up by a Mon Calamari named Ackbar – very talented Fleet Commander.”

Booster shook his head. Far be it from the Rebels to run out of tricks.

“Sorry I asked. Now get your men ready – I just want to drop you and get the hell over to Government House,” Booster ordered.

24. I Am Sick of Explosions (Assault Chronometer: 00hr 09min 27sec)

They crouched opposite the disconnected fuel tank, blasters out. It was positioned just outside the main connecting wall between Docking bay 22 and Docking bay 23, and according to Eva’s best estimates, in a place where the structure ought to give way fairly easily.

“Alright, cover the door,” she said, tossing Clip her blaster and reaching for a pouch on her gun belt. Clip hoped that the blaster was ready to fire – he was unfamiliar with this type, and wouldn’t know if the safety damper were active or not. It was set to ‘kill’ though, of that much he was certain.

He moved to get better shelter behind the fuel tank – perhaps the worst place in the galaxy to seek cover – and trained his two guns on the door. It would suit him perfectly if they were left completely alone for as long as Eva needed. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be long at all.

From the pouch she produced a small, adhesive object that just screamed “explosive device” – little flashing red light and everything. She tapped a few buttons and twisted a dial, and then stuck it right in the pump mechanism. She glanced at her chronometer.

“Right – three minutes. Let’s get the hell out of here,” she said, snatching her blaster back and sprinting for the door. Clip followed closely as they weaved in and out between girders and the various locking mechanisms for whichever ship would normally be parked here.

Suddenly, Clip’s heart skipped – up ahead, past the door they were running for, walked a pair of white-clad Imperial Stormtroopers. He found himself involuntarily falling to the ground as Eva yanked his legs. They fell behind a support clamp and lay there, breathing heavily.

Eva nudged him, and pointed at his blaster – and the heavy silencer attached to the end of it. Clip understood. The silencer wouldn’t attract any attention, and they’d be able to get out before the whole landing bay went up. He chanced a glance around the side of the clamp, and saw the two white figures…

Facing the opposite way.

Thank the force – they’d probably been ordered there to make sure no-one tried to get in through the adjacent landing bays. He looked back at Eva for confirmation. She nodded once, and picked herself up. Clip walked as lightly as possible across the metallic surfaces, getting just close enough to ensure he’d hit the two troopers.

He squinted his eyes, took aim, and fired. The first silent ‘ping’ from the gun sent the left most of the troopers sprawling to the ground, the crashing of his armour on the decking seemed impossibly loud. His second shot was less successful – it glanced off the side of the reflective armour the trooper was wearing.

Sithspawn! The only time Imperial armour has ever worked. Typical, he thought as he adjusted his aim. The race was on now – he had to put the trooper down before he called in the situation to any other troopers. He fired his third and fourth shots in quick succession. One clean missed the trooper, sailing over his shoulder and charring the wall behind him. The fourth struck him neatly in the neck seam of the armour, and dropped him with an amplified grunt.

“Good shooting kid,” Eva said absently. “Now run – it’s blowing in one minute and we’ve got ground to cover,” she said urgently. The pair took off down the corridor. Clip found himself short of breath – he had been doing all together too much running today. The things I do for friends.

They eventually found themselves in the same spot as before, just outside the doors to the salvage yards. Eva pushed her way through the outer lock of the corridor leading to the Eva After, and came to a halt at the door that opened onto the landing bay itself.

“Ten seconds – might wanna cover your ears, kid,” she said, bracing herself against the wall with her hands over her ears. Clip obeyed, coming to sit beside her, hugging his knees with hands over his ears. She tapped him and offered one final piece of advice. “Mouth open, kid – we don’t want you being ripped to pieces from the inside out.”

No sooner had Clip opened his mouth, than the detonator blew spectacularly.