Another boring day
Space was boring. She was definitely sure of that. The stars stretched off in a seemingly endless stream as far as the eye could see. The vista only changed when the ship dropped in and out of hyperspace. Even then the only difference was whether the stars were individual pin points of light or long bars that, if stared at long enough, made one’s eyes hurt. Some of the crew said that staring at those bars could make you mad, but she didn’t believe them. All the same she tried to avoid looking out the viewports whenever the ship jumped.
When she wasn’t looking out the window, she was learning the ins and outs of galactic politics, a subject of almost equal boredom to space. Unfortunately while the later could be avoided the former could not. That was the curse of being Ezara Fel, heir to the Empire, among other titles. No matter how much she wanted to be normal, her own blood betrayed her.
It wasn’t all bad. She could get anything she wanted just by noticing it was “nice” or “cool” or mentioning some other daughter of high society having it. She could fly pretty much anything including that unruly Correllian freighter that somehow had survived millennia of service passed between her immediate family and her cousins. That ship was the most fun to fly and Ezara wished that it was the one she was on rather than the old star liner she currently occupied.
The first few days were naturally very enjoyable as she was able to explore the entirety of the Mesh 'la Tra, though in the end “beautiful star” was far from the name she would have given it. The ship wasn’t the smallest of its class, but it certainly was the most poorly designed. The bridge was located directly above the engines and engineering was sandwiched between them. The passage ways that allowed the crew to move unseen were cramped and restricted movement. This lead to the maintenance crews mingling with the passengers. Discovering all this was fun, but the ship’s small size lead to a short excursion and a rapid return to boredom.
The aforementioned passengers were no diversion either. They were only twenty-four counting herself and her handmaiden and the only time she saw anyone was in the dining facility. There was an old pair of Twei’leks on their eightieth honeymoon who provided stories of ages past and moral lessons from Ryloth’s folklore, to which she politely listened. A Sullustan family of four served as an annoyance alternating from trying to sell her speeders to offering lifetime maintenance on any vehicle she owned for only a small donation to their future garage/spare parts scheme even after being refused. There was a group of 16 human and Chis college students on their way to some pleasure world, they were not very interested in talking with her being only fourteen and all. Finally there was a lone Trandoshan bounty hunter complete with bounty who avoided everybody when possible, much to Ezara’s relief.
Like the exploring of the ship, Ezara’s interaction with her fellow passengers soon lost its glamor and she was once again starved of entertainment. Even the last resort of partaking of the various lessons her tutors had sent with her gave no respite. She completed a month’s work in a week, passing with flying colors as usual. Now she was left with three weeks to either stare out her viewport or re-read whatever books that were on her datapad.
Ezara just wanted something exciting to happen. She was tired of all the mundane, safe sameness that surrounded her. Unfortunately that was the point. All this boredom she was experiencing was to keep her safe.
The Moff Council had tried to usurp her family, for some strange reason, and had come close to succeeding- in bloodying the Empire’s nose. In order to keep her out of the political and physical battles, her father, Koren Fel, had sent her away. Hopefully it would all blow over before too long, but until then Ezara was stuck on this barge.
She turned away from looking at the stars and noticed her handmaiden, Mazara, asleep on her bed. Ezara had not heard her come in. She looked at the crono on the wall and gasped. Was it really that late? Even if it wasn’t, Ezara reasoned that she still would have joined her handmaiden simply because there was nothing else to do.
As she drifted off, Ezara wished that the next day would be a little more exciting. She should have been careful with what she wished for.
Pirates
Captain Raazan Tel was woken from one of the few periods of rest he was able to receive by a loud banging on his door. Grumbling and cursing, he shifted his massive bulk out of his bunk and waddled to the door. He pressed the com. “You better have a good reason for waking me, Mouse.” The banging stopped and Raazan’s first officer scuttled into view of the com unit’s camera. Rather than yell, for his small squeaky voice was hard to pick up even when standing beside him, the Chandra-Fan instead raised a datapad up. Flashing on the screen were the words “distress signal received” in bold red letters.
Raazan opened the door and stepped out clad only in trousers. “When?”
“Two minutes ago captain. I came as fast as I could.”
The Devaronian sighed. “I wish I had your energy and speed, Mouse. I really do. Oh well, let’s do our civic duty so I can go back to sleep.” He set off down the hallway with mouse scampering close behind.
The bridge was a modest affair with only three chairs, the largest was centered and obviously tailored to the Devish captain’s frame. The smaller two were for Mouse and his twin, Rat, who served as navigator. Raazan had found them as younglings in some shipping crates back in his smuggling days and could think of nothing else to call them. They didn’t mind the names and performed their parts in the small crew exceptionally well.
“The signal is from an YTJ-Type C registered as Milk run to a Human, Captain Malcolm Antilles, from New Alderan. The name is fitting because he deals in dairy products.” Rat was always fast with necessary information. She rotated to face Raazan as he sat down. “Antilles is reporting engine failure and is diverting all power to his coolant systems. As his ships one of the first freighters ever built, I’m surprised it lasted this long.”
Raazan thought for a moment. “Are we the closest ship?”
“There is an Imperial Patrol Cruiser in the next system.”
“They’ll not respond. Mouse, tell them we’ll take care of it, so they can feel better about themselves, and inform Gut 'ray to amass whatever spare parts will work in a Type-C. If that Duros can’t fix it, no one can. Rat, take us to the rescue. I’m going back to bed. Wake me if something goes wrong.” With that Raazan stood up and left the bridge, to twin choruses of “Aye Aye Captain.”
Malcolm Antilles turned from his communications console. “They’re coming. You going to let me go now?” His captor holstered his blaster. “Of Courssse a deal iss a deal. You get me my target and I letss you live.” Antilles glanced at the other five members of the boarding team. “You gonna get them to calm down a little?” His captor turned. “Lower your weaponss, Weequayss. He iss no threat to the Fangss.” They grudgingly complied. “Now then we waitss for our prey. Go back to the sshipss, I will watch thiss one.” The Weequays left the bridge and soon the ship resounded with the sound of detaching fighters.
Antilles was noticeably astounded. “Wait you’re General Fang, the most notorious Pirate in this sector?”
“No the General iss my father. I’m jusst hiss ssecond.”
“Well maybe you should look into being more than just a second.” Antilles should have never opened his mouth. The blaster bolt caught him just above the heart and flipped him out of the chair. Blue lightning traced across his skin as his muscles locked into place. The pirate approached his stunned form. “Sstupid Human. You sshould know that to a Barabel family iss everything. If you sspeak or try for the panic button again, the next bolt will bring death.” He tied his captive’s legs and feet together. “Now you sshould be immobilized for a few hourss. I musst make a call. Sstay quiet and our deal will sstand.” As the pirate walked off, Antilles was left cursing his short attention span in xenobiology.
The Holo-emiter crackled to life. General Fang turned to see the yellow image of his son bowing before him. In the growls and snarls of their language, he was informed that everything was going according to plan. The general waited until the report was over before replying. “In bassic sson, we have a guessst.” and so the message was repeated for the benefit of the dark robed figure behind the general. When his son was finished, General Fang dismissed him and turned to his guest.
“We have done what you assked. If we are played falsse, I will eat your heart.” The figure chuckled, a dark, menacing sound. “You would have to take it first, lizard. Do not worry, I have seen this before and it ends well for you.” His voice was low and sounded forced, like it was being transmitted rather than said out loud. It would cause any normal being to shiver. The General was not phased nor was he convinced.
“Sstill I will believe you only when the cargo iss ourss.”
“It will be. My apprentice never fails.”
The Mesh 'la Tra came out of hyperspace four kilometers away from Milk Run. Mouse and Rat were at first not worried when Captain Antilles didn’t answer. His silence could easily be explained by the fact he was most like attempting to keep his ship together. After the fifth unreturned hail, however, they got worried. Mouse ran off to get Raazan while Rat continued to hail the wounded ship.
The Captain returned just in time to see the pirates spring their attack. They swarmed from behind Milk Run in Uglys, hybrid ships cobbled together from various others in an attempt to create the perfect fighter, and Vhey me’sen, Mandalorian three-man fighter bombers. The Chandra-Fan immediately started to freak out. To them there world was about to end. Raazan just sat in his chair and watched, perfectly calm. “Captain how can you be so calm?” asked a frantic Mouse and his equally frantic twin added “We are all going to die!” Raazan just smiled. “Wait for it.”
“Captain, their getting closer!”
“Wait for it.”
“Wait for what? We need to go!”
“Now! Al’verde, let them have it!” The ship shuddered and veered away as a dwarf-Marauder Class Gunship detached itself from underneath their vessel and opened fire on the pirates. The front viewpoint shimmered and a T-shape Visored helmet appeared. “We’ve got it from here Ner-Vod. Take off and thanks for the lift.” The helmet disappeared and the stars returned. Raazan turned to his stunned bridge staff. “We can go now.” The stars elongated and the Mesh’la Tra was once again in the safety of hyperspace.
Throughout the encounter, Ezara had never stirred. She was used to the sudden movements typical of space vessels. In fact when the ship was thrown violently out of Hyperspace, she barely registered flying from her bunk and possibly would have remained asleep even if the bulkhead had not helped her out.
