Spilled Milk: Part 3
By: Lock, Silence, Gremlin, FLATTOP, and Dragon
Day Five
Zhellday
/Begin Communication:
From: CAPT. Kathoole, CO, INT. Platzhalter
To: CDRE. Barand, CO, ISD. Conviction
Traitor interrogation in progress aboard Dolus Insidiae.
Lost contact with assets on planet surface.
Storms are a considerable impediment.
Suggest orbital bombardment.
Awaiting command.
/End Communication.
I.
[ Interdictor-class Star Destroyer; Orbiting Planet 5264533 ]
Imperial Interdictor Dolus Insidiae
???
Dragon
Dragon felt weightless, floating in the middle of a dark abyss. In the distance, bioluminescent tendrils danced with the currents. It was cold, and he realized he couldn't breathe at all. Panic began to gnaw at his thoughts as a shadow darted by. What was that? A fish? He cursed. His chest ached, and his lungs demanded oxygen. Dragon tried to swim, but no matter how hard he tried, he was rooted to that one spot in the middle of nowhere. When he looked up, he saw an X-wing fighter sinking slowly. The cockpit was scored and riddled with holes. Inside lay Lock, or what remained of him.
"L-Lock? No, NO! KARK!"
Stroking the water madly, Dragon tried to advance towards the sinking ship. It was a pointless endeavor. All he could do was watch as the darkness devoured the battered X-wing, and his friend. Pain began to radiate into his head and limbs as he faded in and out of consciousness. Dragon steeled himself. He then saw a familiar-looking freighter, the Alesia. It was badly damaged, leaking atmosphere, and struggling to maintain speed. Suddenly, the vessel bloomed like a supernova. His mind was filled by a cacophony of screams: the breath of the dying.
"Vardak's blood . . . WHY!? What's happening? Where the kark am I?"
An A-wing flew through the flaming debris of the Alesia, tailed by two TIE bombers and an interceptor. Silence dropped a seeker mine and hit the boost. The spherical explosive rammed the interceptor's cockpit, turning it instantly into space dust. Dragon heard the telltale sound of the bombers' rotary cannons spooling up, followed by a barrage of multi-lock missiles.
"LOOK OUT!" He snarled. "Silence, bank right, NOW!"
The snubfighter performed a complicated corkscrew maneuver, but a couple shots from the rotary cannons pushed it off-course, giving the missiles enough time to catch up. The A-wing's engines detonated simultaneously. There was nothing left.
"YOU BLOODY IMPERIAL BASTARDS, I'M GONNA . . ."
Dragon turned around and saw Gremlin and Flattop, in an X-wing and a U-wing respectively, on an attack vector towards the Imperial Interdictor that had yanked them out of hyperspace. The Imperial ship's batteries unleashed volley after volley of laser fire in response to their defiance. More imperial starfighters deployed from the Interdictor's hangar. Gremlin cut her throttle and weaved through the barrage with ease, opening fire on an oncoming enemy fighter. Her shots tore chunks off her target's durasteel hull, but she was forced to disengage when an interceptor dropped a seeker mine on her twelve o'clock. She banked hard to avoid the mine, but didn't realize that the damaged TIE fighter had maneuvered into a collision course.
"Gremlin! That frakker's going to ram you!"
The TIE fighter hit Gremlin's X-wing hard, caving its port S-Foils in like an accordion, and slamming into its engines. The R2 unit let out a frantic, high-pitched beep, which was cut short when the X-wing exploded. Upon seeing this, Flattop hit the boost and aimed his U-wing at the Interdictor's bridge. He fired, but an enemy fighter launched an ion missile at him. He noticed the missile warning a little too late, and the U-Wing lost shields and all power, floating aimlessly, almost peacefully, for a few seconds. As Flattop frantically mashed buttons in an attempt to recover control of his ship, he saw a hail of turbolaser fire. He exhaled and closed his eyes.
"NO . . . NO, NO!!! YOU KARKING IMPERIAL BASTARDS, I'M GONNA KILL YOU ALL, Y'HEAR? I'M GONNA KARKING KILL YOU ALL! RAAAAAAAGH!" Dragon screamed. "KILL.YOU.ALL!"
Dragon woke up coughing and spitting fluid. The Imperials had just pulled him out of a bacta tank. He took hungry gulps of freshly recycled air as two Stormtroopers dragged him back to cell 7 in the Dolus Insidiae detention block. Cell 7 had been Dragon's home away from home for the past five days. The troopers shoved him into the interrogation chair and secured the restraining bolts.
"He's all yours, sir," a Stormtrooper said to the interrogator.
"Thank you, trooper. Dismissed." The interrogator's eyes fixated on Dragon. "Seems like some of the chemicals we use don't play nice with the bacta, hm? You look far worse than last time. Ragged even." He chuckled. "Tell me, have you reflected on your terrible life choices, traitor? Did you really think you could avoid us forever, DX-20-5?"
"Kark you . . ."
"What's that? You got to speak louder."
Dragon's hands balled into fists, but he said nothing.
"Ah, womp-rat got your tongue?" The interrogator shrugged. "It's all the same to me, you know? Your friends are dead, and no one is coming to save you."
Dragon snarled, tugging violently at his restraints. He knew one of them was loose, but it didn't want to give out just yet.
"Tch, tch. So violent, and for what? The lives of insects." The interrogator laughed and punched Dragon in the face. "Rebel Scum too stupid to know better."
Dragon spat. A large gob of blood and spittle trickled down the interrogator's right cheek.
"Ah, how quaint. I'm sure that futile gesture makes a barbarian like you feel better. Enjoy." The interrogator flashed a predatory grin. "We're not going to kill you, no matter how hard you push. Your friends are dead. You failed to save them. In fact, you delivered them to us." The imperial leaned forward; his face close enough that Dragon could smell his breath. "Once you tell us what we want to know, you will live the rest of your life in a secluded prison planet. I will personally ensure your life expectancy is extended far beyond human standards. You will have a lot of time to think of your dead friends, and how you let them all down."
Dragon hissed with rage as he kept tugging. Tears began to blur his vision, but he hit those restraints with relentless, single-minded fury.
"It doesn't matter how hard you try, or how much noise you make. No one can hear you, and you're not getting out of here." The interrogator laughed.
CRACK!
The weakened restraining cuff snapped and Dragon, besides a free right hand, now had a sharp and rusty sheared off bolt attached to his manacle. He swung hard at the distracted interrogator, whose eyes opened like plates. The sharp metal pierced the Imperial's neck. Dragon pulled with as much violence as he could muster, ripping out a considerable chunk of meat out of the interrogator's throat in the process. Blood sprayed in all directions from the ragged wound. The interrogator managed to gurgle a few times before expiring. Dragon released the rest of his bindings and, in a fit of rage, jumped on top of the twitching corpse, punching its face until it became something more akin to a pulpy mass than a human face.
Dragon stood up, blood spattered on his face and dripping from his fists. The gates of his self-restraint fortress were all but shattered. His eyes ablaze with rage. The monster was free. "Death is coming, Imperials. YOU BROUGHT THIS UPON YOURSELVES!"
He relieved the interrogator of his sidearm, an SE-14r blaster pistol, his keycard, and his uniform. While the black hid it well, the moment he donned the uniform he felt the sticky warmness of the dead officer's blood that had poured all over it moments ago. Had this been a ship's captain or other bridge crewman, the blood would have stood out like a beacon for all to see. Dragon breathed a sigh of relief for the color, as well as the fact that the uniform fit him fairly well and wouldn't draw attention for being too tight or loose.
Dragon checked the blaster. Half charge. Sloppy, but it'll have to do. Holstering the gun, he opened the cell door and took a peek into the hallway. Empty, good. Just got to find my gear now. He exited the cell and started walking down the hallway, but stopped abruptly. Footsteps. Dragon slipped into a nook on the wall, flattening against it as much as he could, and held his breath, his hand gripping the handle of the blaster tightly.
Four Stormtroopers walked past, none the wiser. Dragon glared at them with murderous eyes, squeezing the blaster pistol's grip hard. Breathe slowly and focus. This is not the time. Not yet. After counting to ten in his mind, and going up to twenty, he left the nook. Just ahead he saw a sign with an arrow pointed towards the end of the hallway. It read: Storage. He followed the signs, eventually reaching a door. Dragon slid the interrogator's keycard slowly into the reader. The door opened.
"Welcome to . . . huh? Is anyone there?" Said the storage clerk.
Dragon stole a quick peek. About eight feet to target, cover from a metal desk. No visible weapons.
"Blasted door," the clerk grumbled. "That's the fourth time this week. I'll have to submit yet another maintenance request."
Without a second thought, Dragon dashed into the room. The clerk's eyes opened wide. Upon reaching the desk, Dragon planted his left hand firmly on its cold, smooth surface and vaulted over it, kicking the clerk on the solar plexus as he went.
The clerk collapsed and, before he could collect his thoughts, felt a metal object pressed against the side of his face. His body tensed.
"Say one word, one word, you kriffing piece of druk, and it will be your last," Dragon whispered. "Nod if you understand."
The clerk nodded.
Dragon patted the Imperial down and relieved him of his sidearm. "I want my personal effects. I was locked up in cell 7."
"T-they'll k-kill me..."
"That's the problem with you Imperials. You're the people of tomorrow." Dragon bared his teeth. "What I'm going to do to you today will make your cronies look pious and merciful in comparison."
"Y-you're insane!"
"No, I'm angry. Now, lead me to my belongings or I'll take your entrails for a relaxing walk all across the storage area. You won't like it. It will be painful, uncomfortable, and it'll take you a while to die."
The clerk swallowed. His mind was attempting to rationalize those words as an exaggerated bluff, but his body was not listening. He felt as if he were about to be eaten by a rancor. "Okay! Fine!"
Dragon pulled the Imperial clerk to his feet and restrained him by the neck with his free hand. He kept the barrel of the SR-14r blaster pressed against the clerk's temple. "Walk."
The clerk guided Dragon to container 7 and opened it with a code. Inside was a flight suit, a shoulder rig holding two D-44 blasters, a datapad, and a sheathed, claw-shaped knife.
"There, I did what you asked, now let me go please!
Dragon dropped the SE-14r blaster and got the clerk into a slowly tightening choke hold. "I'm going to kill everyone on this ship. If you're smart, you'll head straight for the escape pods as soon as you wake up. If you talk to anyone, I will find you." He held the choke until the clerk stopped struggling, and then a few moments longer to ensure he was out completely.
Dragon hid the unconscious clerk behind the desk, changed into his flight suit, put on his D-44 shoulder rig, and secured his knife sheath to his belt. After downloading the Interdictor's layout map to his datapad from the clerk's terminal, Dragon forced open the ventilation grate on the far side of the room and climbed into the air duct.
Imperial Interdictor Dolus Insidiae
Captain's Quarters
Imperial Forces
Captain Lana Gernesse read the reports on her terminal with some degree of frustration. The New Republic soldiers and their vaunted refugees were nowhere to be found after they boldly entered planet 5264533's atmosphere. It was an inhospitable place, where sandstorms, solar flares, and communication blackouts due to interference were day to day occurrences. Odds were high the New Republic's lackeys were already dead, but she needed proof, something that was becoming costly to procure. She'd lost contact with six platoons planetside, and the Dolus Insidiae was down four bombers, six interceptors, and four fighters—only four fighters, two interceptors, and two bombers remained in operational status.
At least the Dolus Insidiae's jammers are preventing the New Republic forces from sending out distress calls, but the operation isn't going well. She took a sip of her cold caf and made a face. We can't go back home until we're certain the New Republic scum has been dealt with, permanently. She began to scroll rapidly between reports, but was rudely interrupted when her quarters lost power all of a sudden.
What in the. . .? Lana stood up as the backup lights kicked in. Oh, this is just great. With my luck we probably have Mynocks chewing on the power cables. She let out a sigh as she pulled out her comlink. "Commander Brakk, what's the situation?"
"We don't know yet, ma'am, I've dispatched a few stormtrooper squads to patrol the ship as a precaution. We got a report that a single escape pod was jettisoned roughly ten minutes ago. We also just received a distress call, mostly incoherent, if I might add, from the reactor's control room, and am currently on my way there. One of the technicians claimed a monster killed everyone."
"Excuse me?"
"Like I said, Captain. We don't know exactly what's going on, but I'm going to find out."
"You better," Lana punctuated. "High command will nail us if we botch this operation, do you understand?"
Commander Brakk's eye roll was evident in the tone of his reply. "Crystal, ma'am."
"Good, keep me posted. Gernesse out."
Lana shut off the comlink and punched the durasteel wall. She felt pain lance from her knuckles to her brain, and back to her now-throbbing knuckles. Her eyes watered a bit. "Blast and damnation. I didn't want this frakking assignment. I knew there would be trouble. I could feel it in my gut, but how does one refuse the Commodore?" She flexed her hand and let out a soft yelp. "Gah! I'm going to need this looked at."
Grumbling, she left her quarters and headed for the Medbay.
Imperial Interdictor Dolus Insidiae
Reactor
Imperial Forces
Commander Brakk and his team entered the reactor swiftly, blasters drawn, and ready for anything—except for what they actually encountered there.
SQUISH
"What the?" Exclaimed a stormtrooper.
Brakk aimed his light at the floor. "Blood."
"Sir, look over there," said another stormtrooper.
The stormtrooper commander cringed under his helmet. Seven mangled corpses strewn on the northern side of the reactor room. Three technicians and four stormtroopers.
"That's Bravo Team," Brakk said.
"Look at those wounds," a stormtrooper exclaimed while pacing back and forth. "What could've caused them, sir?"
Brakk checked the corpses. They were unable to fire a single shot. Wounds are jagged . . . they look almost like claw marks. This makes no sense.
A sudden whimper caused all the stormtroopers, including Commander Brakk, to spin around and take aim. Technician Kendra Waltz sat with her back pressed against a corner, rocking back and forth. Her eyes glazed. Lights were on, but no one was home. She kept on murmuring 'monster' over and over.
The stormtroopers looked at each other, fear clearly visible on their expressionless helmets. Commander Brakk merely exhaled, cursing inwardly. It's going to be one of those nights... He activated his comlink. "This is Commander Brakk, all patrols report in."
Imperial Interdictor Dolus Insidiae
Crew Quarters — Hallway
Imperial Forces
Five stormtroopers walked slowly down the hallway, diligently checking each room. By now, the rumors of a monster loose aboard the ship had spread like wildfire, and the body count was mounting rapidly.
"Oh man, we shouldn't be here alone."
"Shut up TK-5679," said TK-345. "It's all rumors and hearsay. You keep making noise and Sergeant Tan will nail us."
"Have you not been paying attention? Teams Gamma and Epsilon have been wiped out. There's a monster on the loose!"
"There is no monster. We're in an Interdictor in the middle of space. None of our planetside teams have returned yet. It's not like monsters can teleport onto ships. Now, can it and keep it together."
"Yeah?" TK-5679 snorted. "How do you explain the wounds? It's claws for sure!"
"Look, there is no monster. Let's just finish our patrol and go back to HQ, all right?"
The troopers raised their rifles and started looking around nervously.
"It sounds like . . . snarling?"
"Oh kark, oh kark, the monster!"
"Shut up TK-5679"
"We're dead, man, we're dead!"
"LOOK, THERE IS NO..."
Suddenly, a savage roar echoed through the hallway, and a surprised TK-345 was pulled violently into one of the darkened rooms. Whimpers, snarls, and the sickly sounds of ripping flesh echoed throughout. The remaining stormtroopers opened fire. A barrage of blaster bolts illuminated the room, striking walls and furniture. The response was an angry hiss, followed by a low growl. TK-345's bloodied helmet rolled slowly out of the room. The remaining stormtroopers looked at each other briefly, and then turned and ran.
The hapless, terrified stormtroopers ran into Sergeant Tan, who promptly shot the first one in the face. "HALT, YOU COWARDS!"
"The monster ripped TK-345 to pieces, Sergeant, sir!" Shrieked TK-5679. "It's hunting us!"
"WHAT IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, TK-5679? For crying out loud, monsters do not exist! Now you listen, and listen real good. You three are coming with me. We're gonna find this 'monster' of yours, and we're gonna . . ."
TK-6781 hit the floor and let out a scream as the monster pulled him into the air duct he'd been standing next to. "HELP! HELP ME! HEL . . ." His screams turned to gurgles when his windpipe was ripped open. Savage growls and snarls accompanied the sound of flesh being torn, and of dripping blood hitting the metal floor.
TK-5679 raised his blaster, aiming at the duct. His hands shook uncontrollably, and in his mind alarm klaxons blared. He didn't move, he couldn't move. He froze. Sergeant Tan yelled at him, but he couldn't make out the words. Everything was a haze. More gurgles. More snarls. Sergeant Tan was now dangling from the ceiling duct. The upper half of the Sergeant's body stuck in the duct proper. TK-5679 saw the blood staining his commanding officer's armor—pristine ten seconds ago—and burst into uncontrollable laughter. He dropped his blaster rifle and collapsed onto his knees. There was no escape, the monster was everywhere.
"I'm gonna die," said TK-5679 matter-of-factly between bouts of ragged laughter. "Maybe I'm dead already and I'm floating in space. We all float down here. Float, float, FLOAT, FLOOOOOOAT!"
Making way through the maintenance tunnels, Dragon flashed a predatory smile as the broken stormtrooper continued to laugh uncontrollably.
Imperial Interdictor Dolus Insidiae
Captain's Quarters
Imperial Forces
Captain Lana Gernesse rubbed her temples. The ship was in complete disarray, its reactor sabotaged and badly damaged. Commander Brakk had been found disemboweled along with the rest of his team somewhere near the mess hall. Personnel kept on disappearing, and scores of grown men and women babbled all sorts of nonsense about a monster living in the walls of the Dolus Insidiae.
She slammed her fist repeatedly against the metal desk. "THERE ARE NO FRAKKING MONSTERS IN THIS SHIP! I WISH EVERYONE STOPPED ACTING LIKE TERRIFIED CHILDREN!" Lana exhaled in frustration. "High Command won't be pleased, and we'll all be executed for incompetence, probably." She sighed. "This mission was the best move of my entire military career. Way to go, Lana."
The door to her quarters opened with a pneumatic hiss.
"What now?" She got up and turned to face the door. On the threshold stood a ragged figure dressed in a New Republic flight uniform with many a bloodstain. The figure's eyes blazed with rage. Lana's eyes opened wide, but before she could say, or do, anything else, the figure charged. Her hand got halfway to her blaster when she felt something cold pierce her gut.
"This is for Lock," Dragon snarled.
Lana willed her right hand to move, and she finally felt her blaster in her grip. It was a comforting feeling. Unfortunately, that feeling didn't last.
Dragon violently pulled out the claw-knife from Lana's insides and savagely slashed her right wrist, slicing open tendons and veins. "That's for Gremlin," he hissed.
Gritting her teeth, channeling her pain, Lana threw a left-hand punch.
Dragon spun, but instead of deflecting her fist, he drove his knife through it. "This is for Flattop." He bared his teeth.
At last, Lana realized the futility of the situation. There was no way out. She was already dead, and the killing blow was mere paperwork to be processed. She looked at the raging madman attacking her. Some of the Sith she'd dealt with in the past were not even half as terrifying, or as full of rage, as this individual was. "I d-didn't believe it, b-but, t-there was a monster in my ship after all . . . p-please, why? Tell me why."
Dragon twisted the blade out of Lana's fist, severing two of her fingers in the process. His gaze bore into her eyes. "You bastards killed my friends, MY FAMILY! YOU TOOK THEM FROM ME!"
"I . . . I'm s-sorry . . ."
Dragon roared like the Vardak—the immortal apex predator of Bekker—the beast he had to fight and kill in knife-to-claw combat in order to become a fully-fledged hunter of his tribe. "THIS IS FOR SILENCE!" He drove the claw-knife into Lana's neck, twisted it, pulled it out, and drove it in again, over, and over, and over—until her head came off.
Dragon towered over Lana's corpse, breathing heavily and trembling with rage and adrenaline.
"Captain?" Two hapless stormtroopers stepped into Lana's quarters, and into a nightmare. Dragon, covered in fresh blood, turned around and let out a spine-chilling roar. The troopers spotted the Captain's corpse, and her head a few feet away. They glanced at the blood-crazed individual in front of them, and then looked at one another momentarily. Dragon charged and both troopers instinctively turned tail and ran . . . but they didn't get far.
Imperial Interdictor Dolus Insidiae
Hangar Bay
Imperial Forces
Dragon had lost count of all the Imperials he'd killed in the last few hours. Fear was a powerful weapon. The entire ship was in disarray, and it was time to strike the killing blow. Dragon had stolen a TIE pilot suit, leaving his ragged and bloodstained New Republic suit behind. It's been a while, but it still fits. In the chaos, it wasn't hard to blend in and sneak through the hangar into the nearest TIE, a bomber. Dragon got into the cockpit and began the pre-launch sequence with the familiarity that comes from years of training. Screens, indicators, and displays lit up as the bomber's systems came to life. The craft was armed with a rotary cannon, goliath missiles, and a beam cannon. I couldn't defend them, but you better be sure I will avenge them. Dragon pushed the throttle forward and hit the launch button. The claw holding the bomber in place released its grip, and he began to guide the ship towards the hangar bay exit.
"TIE bomber Theta Three, you're not cleared for takeoff. Identify yourself."
"I'm the monster who monsters fear," Dragon said in a low growl.
"What?"
Dragon hit the boost, performed a 180 spin, and fired all his weapons at the remaining TIE starfighters. The hangar bay lit up as green bolts of superheated plasma tore through starfighter hulls, stationary equipment, and scored the walls. It was closely followed by a large explosion that triggered multiple smaller explosions, effectively neutralizing the Interdictor's remaining supply of starfighters.
"THETA THREE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? RED ALERT! BATTLESTATIONS!"
Dragon spun the bomber around again to catch the explosion's ensuing shockwave, and hit the boost to further propel himself out of the small inferno he'd just created, and out of range of the Interdictor's turbolasers. Once outside, he opened up the bomber's comms and broadcast on all New Republic channels in a repeating pattern.
"This is Dragon to any New Republic forces out there. My friends are dead, murdered by the Empire, along with a large number of refugees." He made a pause, forcing the tears down. He needed the monster front and center. That part of him that felt no fear, or pity, nor remorse. Dragon took a deep breath and continued, his voice different. "I'm in a TIE Bomber designated Theta 3. Update your IFF. Send reinforcements if available. Do not delay, for there might be no Imperials left upon your arrival."
Rage flowed unchecked through Dragon. It was chilling, but peaceful. It was the pinnacle. The eye of the storm. The moment where monster and man are one. A weapon he would use to strike terror in the hearts of those who would enslave the galaxy. Dragon opened up comms on Imperial channels. "I'm not done with you yet."
Dragon accelerated to attack speed, closing in on the first set of scrambler domes. He did a barrel roll to avoid a rather pathetic turbolaser salvo and dived under the Interdictor's shields. The TIE Bomber's rotary cannon came to life, punching multiple large holes into the dome's durasteel plating. It exploded, unable to endure the sustained barrage. Without fighter support, and with all the damage he had caused to the ship's infrastructure and troop morale, Dragon had the battlefield practically to himself.
He weaved in and out to avoid turbolaser fire, as well as the occasional missile, and struck at the Interdictor's domes with finality. He momentarily pulled away from his primary target when the radar indicated the presence of escape pods in the field. Dragon hit the boost and designated a new set of targets. He pressed the trigger. The bomber's rotary cannon whirred angrily, giving a voice to those souls who could no longer speak, those souls cut down by the Empire: the refugees, his friends, his family. Barrage after barrage of superheated green plasma illuminated the final moments of many a terrified Imperial crewmember. Only a single pod survived, one that launched a few hours ago and was not in range of Dragon's radar.
Having tended to the death rites, Dragon re-engaged the Dolus Insidiae, tearing down the remaining scrambler domes. The turbolasers had stopped firing. It's as if whatever crew remained had simply given up. Dragon exhaled slowly. He felt nothing as he initiated an attack vector to strike the killing blow on the Interdictor.
"Fzzrkk—Five—srkk."
"Red Five—Fzzrkk—copy?—srkk. Dragon, do you copy?!"
Upon hearing Silence's voice, the monster slipped behind the veil once more, leaving only the man. "Silence, is it really you?"
"Yes!"
"And she's not alone!" Gremlin chimed in.
"We are all still here," Lock said. "Closing in on your position, Red Five... or should I say, Theta Three."
Overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, Dragon's eyes filled with tears, and two sobs escaped his throat on open comms. Reality hit. He felt exhausted. He didn't want to fight anymore. All he wanted was to go home. Dragon grit his teeth and pushed all that weakness down deeper than a Sarlacc's Pit. Not now. There will be time to break down and cry once we get back home. This is not the time.
Dragon checked the radar. The Gaula and the Britonni were being closely escorted by two X-wings, while the U-wing flew in formation with the Alesia
There was a lot of debris all around. Pieces of escape pods torn to shreds floated in the void. The hull of the Dolus Insidiae glowed in multiple spots, all of its scrambler domes destroyed. The ship seemed to beg to be put out of its misery. "What in blazes happened here, Dragon?" Flattop asked. "What did you do?"
"I taught the Empire fear." Dragon accelerated to attack speed to finish off the Dolus Insidiae, but, as his bomber gained momentum, an idea came to his mind. He broke off the attack and formed up alongside the Alesia.
"We had a plan to take out the Interdictor using the Alesia as a ram, but it looks like that won't be necessary." Gremlin laughed until she noticed Dragon returning to formation. "Uh, Red Five—Dragon—what are you doing?"
The monster took a brief peek through the veil, as Dragon flashed a predatory smile under his helmet. "I think the Imperials should find this Interdictor. Specifically, I want them to find what's inside."
"What? Why?"
"The lesson is not over yet."
Gremlin shot a glance at Evan, who cocked an eyebrow. She felt uneasy, as Dragon sounded strange, fragmented even. As if at times he was a completely different person. Must be the days in captivity. Who knows what the Imperials did to him...
"At the end of the day," Dragon said dispassionately, interrupting her thoughts, "it's your call, Red Leader."
Gremlin leaned back against her seat. She knew full well Dragon was an ex-Imperial. What if the Empire did something to him, turned him against us? She glanced at Evan, and she would bet her last bottle of Zeltron Wine that he was thinking the same thing. Gremlin took a long, hard look at the badly damaged Interdictor and shook her head. Would the Empire truly sacrifice all these resources just to turn one man against the New Republic? The same Empire that sends its pilots to battle in the death-tubs known as squints, dupes, and eyeballs?
"Red Leader, how copy?" Lock said.
Gremlin's gaze fixated on the blooming holes in the Interdictor's hull. I've heard the tale of how he severed all ties with the Empire. He fought and killed his wingman to save a damaged medical frigate with six hundred souls on board. If he was an Imperial agent, he could've done a lot of damage in that TIE bomber already.
"Gremlin!" Silence exclaimed.
She came back to reality. "What? Sorry, what's going on?"
"We have enemy contacts moving in, looks like another Interdictor on the opposite side of the planet coming to investigate Dragon's handiwork. We need to get out of here, yesterday!" Lock urged.
Gremlin frowned. "Head for the hyperspace point on the double before we're in range of their grav-wells. Dragon, initiate docking with the Alesia."
"Copy, Red Leader." Dragon turned towards the opening cargo bay of the Alesia and gently guided the bomber in. It was easier than docking with an Assassin-class corvette. He powered off the ship and checked for atmosphere. Satisfied that everything was green across the board, he opened the hatch to let breathable air into the bomber. Dragon took off his TIE pilot helmet and set it softly on the ship's console. He was tired, emotionally fried, and felt no need or desire to leave the bomber's cockpit.
"Red Leader, this is Red Five. Wake me if you need me."
Gremlin figured it would be fine. Dragon's bomber had no hyperdrive, and a pilot without a ship wouldn't be much help in the situation they were in, anyway. The ship's computer beeped, signaling the convoy's arrival to the hyperspace point. "Everyone, prepare to hyperspace on my mark. Three, two, one, mark!"
To the dismay of the Imperials, the Rebel convoy swiftly turned into bright beams of light and disappeared into the blackness of space.
Rebel GR 75 Transport Alesia
Cargo Bay
Dragon
Dragon roused from his uneasy sleep, his hand on the hilt of his claw-knife. He felt something was watching him intently. He groggily looked around the cockpit, and noticed his helmet was on the floor, and it had grown . . . fur? Two glowing green eyes were staring at him. The ball of fur floated out of the helmet and landed on Dragon's lap. It sniffed him, and then started purring. Dragon was too tired to tell if this was a hallucination, a dream, or both. He petted the creature gently. It looked like a potato-shaped young feline with strange markings. The purring intensified. The cat-like creature plopped on Dragon's lap and decided to go to sleep.
"You know what? That's a great idea." Dragon followed suit.
Dragon woke up a few hours later. Someone was banging on the hull of the bomber. The furball had found a way to snuggle into his flightsuit, and was still sound asleep. Dragon clambered out of the TIE Bomber carefully, as to not disturb the sleeping feline.
"WHERE IS THE FELINE, MEATBAG?" said Jobber.
"What?" Dragon raised a brow.
"Tone it down, Jobber!" Silence said. "Someone might hear."
Jobber let out a series of beeps and boops. Dragon could swear the droid was cursing.
Silence looked at Dragon for a moment, and then hugged him. The potato-shaped furball purred sleepily, and she blinked. "You had the kitty this whole time? We've been looking for it."
"I woke up and it was in my helmet."
"Huh, seems it's taken to you."
"Must be an animal thing . . ."
Silence shook her head. "Listen, we're keeping the cat, and we need to smuggle it into the Vigilant. Its parent gave its life to save it, and by doing so saved us in turn. The least we can do is make sure its offspring survives."
Dragon understood the equivalent exchange of life. Any hunter worth their salt did. "How exactly are we going to get past security?"
"Well, it's already asleep in your flightsuit," she said, her hand rubbing her chin as a thought ran through her brain. "I had made a hidden compartment inside of Doc Jobber, but let's just seize this opportunity. As long as the kitty does not start meowing, we should be okay. Jalb, uh, Colonel Reynolds, said mission debriefing could wait a day or two. So, go in, head to your quarters, we'll meet up later."
Dragon remembered the week he spent sneaking around the Dolus Insidiae. This should be routine in comparison.
Interdictor Platzhalter
Orbiting Planet 5264533
Imperial Forces
The Interdictor's scanners had detected an intact Imperial escape pod, and moved in to retrieve it. Drice Syko, one of the storage clerks serving in the Dolus Insidiae, and perhaps the only surviving crewmember, cursed his rotten luck. To his surprise, his brethren were not rushing to execute him on the spot. He was questioned, where he described that a monster had taken over the Dolus Insidiae, among other things, and then was sent to the medbay. Obviously, he did not mention that an escaped prisoner had gotten the jump on him. He was a low-ranking clerk, not stupid.
Captain Kathoole of the Platzhalter dispatched two teams, Alpha and Bravo, to determine what had happened to the now derelict Dolus Insidiae. Reports were concerning to say the least, describing scenes of malicious carnage and absolute brutality. One of said reports claimed there were sightings of a lone, blood-soaked stormtrooper roaming the halls, feasting on corpses, and saying 'we all float down here' with glee in between bouts of insane laughter. One of the most recent reports indicated that the tag TK-5679 was scrawled with blood on his helmet. The mysterious stormtrooper evaded capture somehow.
Bravo team ended up KIA when a walkway collapsed. Elements of Alpha team reported it was the handiwork of the blood-soaked stormtrooper, TK-5679. The Captain of the Platzhalter ordered Alpha team to set explosives and return to base. Once the troops were accounted for, the Platzhalter hyperspaced out. The explosives, however, never went off. The Dolus Insidiae began to drift away from the planet and into the vastness of space, mad laughter echoing in its dead halls.
CRS Vigilant
The SSD
Red Flight
Iggy distributed another round of beverages, and the members of Red Flight raised their respective glasses. Some of the patrons eyed Lock with murderous intent, because the great chili incident would not be put to rest until the scoundrel paid for his crimes in full, with interest. Alas, the Week of Hell had granted Lock a stay of execution for his grievous culinary crimes. It would be unbecoming to act at the moment, but furtive glances were shot, nods and grins shared among the injured parties. Captain Roy Callahan would soon get what he deserved, just not today.
The team cheered again, bittersweet as it was, it was good to be alive. Dragon managed to avoid any serious investigation into what had happened during his captivity, which was just fine by him since it involved less paperwork and mental screenings. As for the long-cat, those in the A-Winknow look discreetly towards spots that are always slightly out of reach, not quite in sight. Often, a pair of big, round green eyes would look back.
No one really cared to remember the mission, or what had transpired, but the after-action report went as follows if you care to read it:
From: Captain Gemilan
To: Lieutenant Colonel Reynolds
Subject: After-Action Report — Escort Gold Convoy to Safety
Mission Parameters: Red Flight was to rendezvous with Gold Convoy and provide protection against enemy threats.
Personnel: Captain Gemilan, Flight Officer Marshal Westfolder, Captain Roy Callahan, 2nd Lieutenant Rosk Vikeron, 1st Lieutenant Kell Arcfire.
Mission Status: Accomplished
Casualties: 200 Refugees
Enemy Casualties: Multiple Tie Fighters, Tie Interceptors, and Tie Bombers, one Interdictor-class Star Destroyer
Ships Lost: Two A-wings, one GR 75 Transport
Observations: Upon late arrival to the rendezvous coordinates, Red Flight found Gold Convoy under Imperial siege. After a brief engagement that resulted in the routing of Imperial forces, Captain Gemilan found out that GR 75 Transport Gergovia was heavily damaged. With Imperial reinforcements closing in, arrival estimated in minutes, the hours-long repairs necessary to get the Gergovia back to operational status were untenable. Captain Gemilan determined that the sole course of action that would not result in the complete loss of life of everyone involved was to leave the Gergovia behind. This decision resulted in the survival of 400 colonists.
Now, what really happened, was this:
A sock puppet with a crazed look on its eyes and a chainsaw in hand chased a group of squealing sock puppets.
"Um, are you sure this is what took place?" Asked Dr. Ithaas Zeq'aal, the Vigilant's Mental Health Specialist.
Another sock puppet slowly covered the doctor's mouth, indicating silence. "Shhh, just let it happen," whispered a voice.
The rest of the sock puppets screamed in terror as the chainsaw revved.
Moments later, the sock puppet troupe reset to their original spots and prepared for the next scene.
"Hi, I'm skeleton crew," said a sock puppet with a cartoony skull painted as a face. "I was supposed to travel to the fleet to ask for help."
In the background, a group of sock puppets were trying their best to haul water and forage for food.
Another sock puppet, one holding a cardboard dragon, spazzed around, roaring and spitting flame—or at least that's what it thought it was doing.
"Everything is on fire!" Said skeleton crew.
A flimsiplast airplane with the words "Imperial Interdictor" scribbled on a wing flew by and took a nosedive right into a nearby trash can. Two sock puppets watched in awe.
The sock puppets then walked around a bit with a cardboard sign that read "Gold Convoy" until they reached yet another sock puppet holding a cardboard sign that read "CRS Vigilant."
All the sock puppets looked at one another momentarily before cheering loudly, and then turned towards the doctor.
"And that's how it all went down!" Said the sock puppets in unison.
Dr. Zeq;aal clapped her hands. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it? Don't you feel much better already?"
Dragon dropped the sock puppet and the cardboard dragon, and started walking towards the door. "Your therapy sucks, doc, I'm done."
Silence joined him. "Hey, uh, why don't we go trash talk this session over drinks?"
Dragon grinned. "Sounds like a plan."
Lock, Gremlin, and Flattop followed suit, and soon there was a party at the SSD. Little did Lock know that a mob of very vengeful individuals had arranged to have his drink spiked with a very expensive, genetically engineered pepper that was purpose-built to take the taste buds to task, light the esophagus on fire, and detonate a satchel of thermal detonators in the stomach. Pain was merely the appetizer, a harbinger for the horrors to come, but that's another story.
