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| - “Vong ships reverting from hyperspace!” Annita called out from the cockpit. Jasika swore under her breath. She was suspended hanging upside down by her knees deep inside the bowels of Spindragon II, trying to repair the shield power conduits. Activating the shields right now, with the conduits half-torn open and all the protective insulation removed would be suicide. Of course, that might be preferable to death or enslavement at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong. The ship shuddered from a near miss and Jasika swore. The Vong had picked the worst possible time to attack, right when her ship was defenseless. Clambering up out of her precarious position, she staggered forward through the corridors to the cockpit. She needed to be at the controls of her ship, needed to be the one responsible for their survival. It was her job as the ship’s captain. “Out,” she said quickly to Annita. The older woman quickly vacated the pilot’s seat, allowing Jasika to slide into place. Grabbing the familiar controls, she quickly rolled Spindragon II into a corkscrewing evasive pattern even as a dozen coralskippers closed in on them. “Get to the guns!” Jasika shouted to Annita, re-routing backup power to the much weaker auxiliary shields. Annita complied and soon Jasika could hear the muffled whump-whump-whump of the dorsal and ventral double laser turrets as Jorge and Annita returned fire. The coralskippers returned fire with a vengeance, quickly tearing through the limited shields. Amber and red damage lights lit up on her console even as she strove to evade their fire. The Spindragon II would have had a hard time escaping this many starfighters even if they were vintage TIE fighters or Headhunters; dealing with the sturdy coralskippers was even harder. “Give me long-range comms,” Jorge called through the headset. Jasika slapped the switch even as another magma blast slammed into her ship, nearly knocking her from the cockpit. She ruefully noted that that damage had blown out the remnants of the hyperdrive. There would be no escape this time and her sensors showed that the Yuuzhan Vong were herding her back to a larger ship which had decanted from hyperspace a few seconds ago. A capture ship. The coralskippers hemmed her in, shooting to disable, which meant that they were still alive, but only until that capture ship seized them. From her sensor boards, Jasika saw that the lasers were having little effect on the coralskippers. She had one or two tricks left up her sleeve, but they wouldn’t do much without some luck. “Distress, distress. YGI code Aurek-Nineteen,” she heard Jorge transmit over the long range comm boards. Well, that might do some good if the help was a few seconds away. At this rate, they’d be captured in another twenty seconds. She tried breaking to port, only to have two coralskippers pummel Spindragon II with blazing plasma cannon fire. The impacts tore through the hull armor, opening up a port storage compartment to vacuum. She quickly activated an emergency bulkhead panel to seal the breach, juking back to evade the rest of the projectiles. The Yuuzhan Vong apparently decided to punish her for attempting to escap. Molten plasma burned through her hull, aiming for her guns. The hapless freighter shook and shuddered violently as her skin was torn apart by the burning material. Jasika heard the screech of sheared metal as the ship was sundered by the starfighter weaponry, almost like the sound of a person crying out in agony as it was attacked. Then there was an explosion, bigger than the rest that tore through the midsection of her ship. The impact slammed Jasika’s face into the control boards, inflicting a gash on her forehead. The ship whirled and spun and when Jasika recovered, she saw that among other things, engines and the inertial compensator were offline. Using the most primitive maneuvering thrusters, she attempted a stabilizing maneuver even as the Yuuzhan Vong ceased their bombardment. They apparently still wanted the inhabitants of Spindragon II alive. Then she saw the damage display to the midsection of the ship where the turrets were. Un-strapping herself from her pilot’s chair, she grabbed a medkit and two breath masks from a storage compartment and kicked off. With the ship’s artificial gravity and main lighting offline, all she had to navigate with was a small handlamp. Pushing forward through a mess of blackened walls and smoldering debris, she made her way to the turret corridor. Thankfully, the hull breaches were confined to compartments that could be sealed off or she’d be dead of exposure by now. “Jorge?” she called. “Annita?” There was no reply. Jasika pushed forward, searching for her missing companions. Entering the access shaft that led to the turret positions, Jasika climbed up the ladder to see Annita slumped over at her chair in front of a blackened console that had clearly overloaded and detonated from the damage. Jasika quickly checked her pulse; Annita was still alive, but weak and unconscious. Ordinarily, she shouldn’t be moved, but Jasika heard a faint hissing that indicated a micro-rupture in the hull. She needed to seal the ruined turret off. Thankfully, in zero-gee, Annita was easy to move and Jasika hauled the unconscious woman down to the main crew lounge, getting a good look at her status. Her face, arms, and torso were burned from the exploding console and she was probably in shock. Jasika recoiled at the sight of the charred flesh, but knew that she needed to check on Jorge first. She whipped off her belt and wrapped it around Annita’s torso and the back of a chair, keeping the injured woman in place while she checked on Jorge. Clambering down, she saw that his turret console had collapsed virtually on his legs, pinning him there. His eyes fluttered open as she approached. “Anni . . .” he muttered. “She’s fine,” Jasika said. “We’re going to get you of this.” Jasika ignored the collapsed ventral turret console, instead loosening the bolts that held his chair in place. Once that was done, she pulled the chair back, freeing Jorge’s legs as it floated away from the site. Unfortunately, not very comfortably. He screamed in pain and from the droplets of blood floating through the turret chamber, Jasika figured his leg had been badly broken, at least a compound fracture. She pulled him to the crew lounge also and set him down. He gasped in pain as she also strapped him to the deck. Jasika reached for the medkit when she heard the sounds of the port hatch being opened. Quickly, she reached over for her belt and grabbed the S-1 blaster from its holster and advanced. “They’re not getting me without a fight,” she said. Ducking into a corridor, she held her blaster at the ready. Her heart was pounding inside her chest at the anticipation of fighting the feared invaders face-to-face. Even as she heard the shearing sound of the docking hatch being bored through, Jasika gripped her blaster tighter, trying to remember all the lessons her father had given her on how to shoot straight. Sparks flew from the eviscerated metal, which fell to the ground with a clang, admitting a party of gigantic humanoid aliens covered in spiky armor. Wheeling out from behind the wall she was using as cover, Jasika snapped her blaster’s muzzle up, gripping it two-handed and sighting off the weapon’s point rather than the sights. She squeezed the trigger as rapidly as it would depress, blazing away. She saw two of the warriors go down from being hit in the face and throat, and then a third one hurled something at her. Jasika tried to dodge, but it was too fast. Whatever it was flew like a blur to crash into her torso. The impact was like being hit with a steel ball and sent her flying back to the floor, gasping for breath. The blaster fell from her nerveless fingers to clatter on the deck. She looked up and saw a Yuuzhan Vong standing over her, grinning ominously. He picked her up by her feet and dragged her along the deck unceremoniously like she was a dead body so that only her head bounced and scraped against the rough floor. Hauling her over to a nearby compartment, he dropped her roughly. Looking down at his helpless captive, the alien glowered hideously at her. “Where are you from, little one?” he asked through his ferociously mangled lips. “A place you’ll never find,” she said defiantly. “You are wrong, infidel,” he returned. “By the time we are done with you, you will be screaming out the planet you came from. You will betray everything to us because you are a craven vermin, begging for the mercy of a quick and painful death.” Though she was scared witless, Jasika managed to muster up the resolve to maintain a steely exterior. “I’ll never tell you anything,” she said. “I think you will,” he replied. “You are no warrior.” He knelt beside her and withdrew a long coufee knife. Tearing open her jacket and lifting up the shirt underneath to expose her belly, he traced the point of the blade across her stomach so that she could feel its tip scraping along her skin. “If I was to apply a little pressure, right here, your guts would spill out from your stomach all over the floor,” he said. “You would watch as your entrails were cut from your body.” Jasika’s eyes were wide with terror as the coufee blade tingled and slid across her stomach. It swept upwards to touch at the base of her ribcage. “I could stab upwards and the last thing you would feel is my blade sliding into your mongrel heart as your lifeblood poured out onto the deck.” Jasika knew that the warrior was not given to exaggeration. Fear saturated her, but she made no reply even as she began trembling with anxiety. The lack of reply only served to infuriate her captor, though. “Or,” he offered. “I believe you have a soft spot right here.” He punched right in the side where her ribs were broken, eliciting a gasp of pain from Jasika. His fist left a small growing bloodstain on her shirt, and Jasika coughed hoarsely. “See how you break under the pain, infidel?” he gloated. “Tell me now and I will kill you quickly.” Jasika looked into his malice-filled eyes and spat at him. “Takes a brave warrior like you to beat up on a helpless prisoner half his size,” she said, suppressing her fear to muster up an angry reply. “I see how the Yuuzhan Vong got their reputation.” He hissed and stood up, glaring spitefully at her. “Soon, I will show you the error of your ways.” Pulling something from a pouch on his armor, he hurled it at her feet, pinning her in place. Then, he drew his foot back and kicked her in the face. Everything went black. When she awoke, she was still lying on the deck of 'Spindragon II. As she regained the use of her senses, she felt something cold and liquid trickling down her face. Her feet were bound, pinned to the floor by some kind of jelly, but she still had the use of her arms. Wiping the liquid from her face, she realized that it was blood—her blood. Sitting up slightly, she noticed a conspicuous lack of Yuuzhan Vong warriors around. Furthermore, her blaster was lying on the ground only a few meters away. Surely her captors weren’t so incompetent that they’d leave a relatively unrestrained captive access to a functional weapon. Though the jelly kept her feet pinioned, she stretched, enduring the agony shooting through her ribs to grab the blaster. Checking its power levels, she saw it was still charged. Gritting her teeth in determination, she leveled the weapon at the doorway to the compartment she was in, ready to take the head off the first Vong that walked in. She heard footsteps approaching and adjusted her aim to catch the warrior right in the throat; their armor seemed weak there. The door hissed open and she loosed three quick blasts at the armored figure, but they were inexplicably dissipated by an energy field which materialized centimeters from its face. The figure ducked down under her blasts quickly. “Stand down, dammit, I’m a friendly!” he shouted in decidedly non-accented Basic. Jasika ceased fire but did not lower her weapon. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Sergeant Dorn Gnnryl, Yanibar Guard Marines,” he replied. “I’m a medic, ma’am. We left you that blaster in case there were more of them, not to take potshots at us with.” Jasika lowered her blaster. “Perhaps I missed something, but last I checked, my ship was crawling with Vong. How did you get here?” “We picked up your distress signal,” he said. “The Saesee Tiin arrived just in time to pin that Vong capture ship in place. We couldn’t get a signal from your ship, so we boarded it and took down the Vong here. They’re all gone. ” He knelt down beside her and opened a medpac, retrieving various implements even as Jasika struggled to sit up. “No, don’t move, ma’am,” he ordered kindly. “You’ve got some broken ribs for sure and a nasty gash on your head. Probably a concussion also.” Jasika sighed and relented, even though the last thing she wanted to do was lie still. “How are Jorge and Annita?” she asked. “We evac’d them first since they were hurt more,” the medic told her as he applied some kind of salts to the jelly to dissolve it. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but both the subdirectors were hurt pretty badly.” “No, it’s all right,” she said. Anger coursed through her veins at the memory of being shot at, boarded, captured, tortured, and knocked out, of seeing her friends and family on the verge of death thanks to the Yuuzhan Vong. She’d been helpless against the Yuuzhan Vong and the memory of the indignity and inability was burned into her memory. Jasika swore to herself that she would never be so defenseless again and that she would exact retribution on the Yuuzhan Vong for their predations, both on her and on others across the galaxy. “Your blood pressure is spiking,” the medic commented. “Are you okay, ma’am? Too much excitement for one day?” Jasika gritted her teeth as his gloved hand gently brushed against one of her broken ribs, igniting flares of pain in her torso. She endured it quietly, knowing that if at all possible, she would soon return the favor to the Yuuzhan Vong. “I’ll be fine, Sergeant,” Jasika said. “Just get me patched up quick. I’ve got something to do when we get to Yanibar.” “What’s that, ma’am?” Gnnryl asked, no doubt just trying to make conversation. “I’m going to join the Yanibar Guard.” Yanibar “Good work, team,” Selu said as Ryion finished giving his report to him, Milya, and Selu’s brother, Sarth Kraen. “You successfully took down Sh’aalam Psykith before he could cause trouble for this sector.” “Thank you,” Ryion acknowledged. “He was blind to our powers. We were trained well to handle him. Not that we’ll underestimate any darksiders we encounter in the future, but we were ready for him.” “Then I’m glad our program has been successful on that front,” Selu said. “Is there anything else?” “I have a question,” put in Ariada. “What is being done with the computer data obtained from Psykith’s files?” “We’re analyzing it,” Milya replied. “YGI with some technical expertise from Kraechar Arms is handling it.” “I’d like to volunteer to assist with that,” Ariada offered. “I’ve got technical experience and I’m trained in biology and genetics. I can decrypt and understand whatever was in his files.” Sarth and Selu exchanged looks and it was Sarth who spoke first. “We appreciate your offer, but I think we’ve got it under control,” the distinguished engineer said. “Security is very tight when we’re dealing with knowledge of this type.” Ariada snorted. “I’m cleared for all but the most sensitive material,” she answered. “We both know that I’m talented and experienced enough to handle it. What’s the real reason here?” “This falls under that ‘most sensitive material’ category,” Selu interjected. “It’s for your own good that you’re not exposed to the Sith information in that file. The request is denied.” Ariada’s jaw set. “Master Kraen, I’m deeply grateful to you for everything you and your family have done, but if you’re afraid of me turning to the dark side, just please say so.” Selu could have taken offense to her comment, but instead his features softened and he appeared sad. “I fear for all of us,” he said. “These are dark times. When we are done with our analysis, we will destroy the evil that Psykith has accumulated and remove it from the galaxy forever.” “Then there’s nothing useful there?” Ariada asked. “Absolutely nothing that could be of use to Yanibar?” “Other than keeping abreast of the current objectives of this dark side group, what are you talking about?” Milya inquired. “There were descriptions of ancient weapons there,” Ariada replied. “I only skimmed them, but it seemed that some of them could have practical value.” Sarth frowned and drummed his fingers on the table. “The things you’re talking about are bio-weapons. Weapons of mass destruction. Poisons. Machines that infect and twist the mind. Hideous things that no person of conscience could use,” he said. “Even if it could combat the Yuuzhan Vong?” Ariada asked. “Doesn’t matter to me,” Sarth said. “If we embrace evil to destroy evil, we only replace it with our own brand.” “Of course,” she replied, though without much conviction. “I submit to your wisdom.” “Is there anything else?” Selu asked. Ryion and his team looked around but there were no further comments. “I think that’s all,” Ryion said. “Dismissed then,” Selu told them. “Get some rest.” The four young Elite Guardians filed out of the conference room silently. Ryion noticed Ariada was lagging behind, a troubled look on her face, so he dropped back to walk alongside her as Zeyn and Qedai headed to the cafeteria for food. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “They’re wrong,” she said flatly. “There are things that Psykith collected that we could use.” “Maybe,” Ryion answered. “But they also make a good point about it being dangerous.” She shrugged. “Perhaps we should consider that question in light of possible galactic extinction,” she replied. “I see where you’re coming from,” Ryion said sympathetically. “And believe me, I want to take the fight to the Yuuzhan Vong, too. But we have to do it the right way and follow orders.” “I know that,” Ariada said. “And that’s why I only made that one copy of the data. I could have kept another one for me, but I didn’t, Ryion. I did what they asked, what you asked. I did it for us, for the sake of the mission, and now they won’t even let me look at it, even supervised. Not even a thank you.” “It doesn’t seem fair to me either,” Ryion said. “And if there’s anything I can do to help with that, or if I can get a look at it, I’ll let you know. Just please don’t do anything rash in the mean time.” She shook her head. “No, I won’t,” she said. “But they’re still wrong.” She sauntered off and Ryion started to follow, but then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It was a faint blue outline of a woman, robed like a Jedi Master. She looked at him with a mournful expression. “Hello?” Ryion called, not sure what he was looking at. The woman stared at him a minute longer, then turned and walked away. Ryion stretched out to sense her in the Force and he could feel a presence, one strong in the Force, but felt no impression of life. He also noted that she was floating off the ground and was translucent. Was he looking at a dead person? He tried to catch up with her. “Wait!” She looked over her shoulder at him, then shook her head and dematerialized, leaving him mystified. He checked to see if anyone else had observed the ghostly woman, but there was nobody else in sight. What had he just seen? Ryion couldn’t recall having ever seen anything like that. He decided to ask his parents; he needed to talk with them about the Sith information that Psykith had obtained and Ariada as well. This would be yet another item to what was sure to be an interesting conversation. Ord Pardron Cassi woke with a start, sitting up hastily from her bead. Pushing her tousled locks of hair away from her head, she looked around, disoriented. The room was still dark, but slowly, a pale blue light began creeping in. Frowning, she realized she was in the Hall of Remembrance, Yanibar’s sanctuary for the fallen heroes. They were memorialized with statuary in their image and holocards or graven plaques describing their deeds. It was a calming place, a sacred place, but it was not as she remembered. She quickly ascertained that something was amiss. The spacious three-level hall was normally illuminated in a soft golden glow, but this pale, eerie bluish-red light was different. It was also colder than she remembered. The entire place seemed decrepit and run-down, abandoned by any caretakers. The stones were worn and crumbling and several of the statues had fallen. The chill howling of wind blowing through the open door at the end of the hall, a door that was normally closed, explained the coldness she felt. Suddenly, she heard an ear-splitting high-pitched screech that sent her cowering back in terror. The piercing sound screamed of danger and fear and Cassi staggered back, eyes wide with fright, until she collided with one of the many statues that populated the Hall of Remembrance. To her surprise, it was covered with thick cobwebs which clung to her tenaciously. Crying out, she backed away, only to look up at the statue with a look of abject horror as she recognized the visage on the crumbling sculpture. It was her own face. Wheeling back and away from it, she fled towards a shaft of light emanating from the ceiling to illuminate a panel of the floor. For whatever reason, the light brought comfort to her in that dark and chilly place and she embraced it, sinking down to her knees in confusion, trying to calm herself. Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. She looked up to see the same strange man she had seen before looking down at her. “What do you want?” she asked him pleadingly. “Why am I seeing this? Who are you?” He stood there stolidly for a minute, then replied slowly. “This is the way your world ends,” he said. “This is your future.” Cassi shook her head defiantly. “No,” she said. “The future is in motion.” “Only if its course is altered,” the man countered. “What must I do to change this?” she asked. “Seek Atlaradis,” he told her. “It is the key.” Cassi slowly stood up, pulling herself together as she gave the man a critical stare. “You told me that last time, amidst a scene of great destruction. Now you tell me that after showing me my own death. What changed to cause that?” “Sometimes, things do not have to change,” he said. “Sometimes, all it takes is the inaction of those who can halt what is to come.” She heard that screech again, the thin pale venomous screech of some malevolent beast seeking its prey. Cassi turned her head back to the door and saw some kind of creature silhouetted there, clearly stalking her. Stifling a cry with one hand, she turned back to the strange man. “From the stars you came, and from the stars will your doom come,” he told her forebodingly. All around her, the rectangle of light she was standing on began to redden ominously. The man before her looked up and her eyes followed his gaze to see that one of Yanibar’s moons had turned blood red. She heard that terrifying cry and it again staggered her with its ferocity. Turning back, Cassi saw the creature advance deliberately, its unintelligible shriek enough to convey malice and danger. She ran away from it, seeking the shelter of the shadows, but her foot caught on a loose stone sending her tumbling to the ground. Everything went black. She awoke to find something standing over her, gazing down at her with glowing eyes on its impassive face. Cassi screamed in fright and tried to wriggle away, only for the being to follow. “Careful, mistress,” J7 told the frantic woman. “You seem to have injured yourself.” Reality settled back into Cassi’s mind even though she wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Foggy memories of Ord Pardron, Open Hands, and J7, filtered back into her mind, reorienting herself. “What happened?” she asked, noting with a wince the throbbing pain on the side of her head. “I believe you fell out of your cot,” the droid replied, “which would explain the contusion on your scalp. Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” she said, rubbing at the rapidly-rising lump. “Your blood pressure is much higher than it should be for a human sleeping,” J7 commented. “And body language indications point to elevated distress. Would you like to re-state your answer?” “I had a bad dream, that’s all, J7,” Cassi said, still dazed from her dream or vision or whatever it was. The droid diplomatically demurred, knowing it was pointless to press her for further details. Cassi had made it quite clear that she did not need to be babysat. “Would you like something to help you sleep? Or perhaps just a warm drink?” J7 inquired. “No, no thank you,” Cassi said, pulling herself back onto the cot in one corner of her office that served as her bed. “I think I’ll be able to sleep now.” The droid sighed at the refusal of his mistress to take more consideration into her own welfare. J7 considered lecturing her on the dangers of heightened stress, sleep deprivation, and insufficient nutrition, particularly for a woman of her age, but his prediction routines, honed by years of experience with sentient beings, told him that such an effort would be fruitless. The most he could was be there to pick Cassi back up when—not if—she fell apart. “If that is all, mistress . . .” the droid said, starting to toddle off. “Actually,” Cassi replied, a thought coming to her mind. “There is one thing you can do.” J7’s servomotors whirred softly as he turned back to her. “What can I do to help?” he asked. “Look up anything you can find on the datanets regarding a place called Atlaradis.”
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