Mandibles clucking expeditiously, L’rac gazed into the darkened sky, a disconcerted look flashing
across his insectoid features. The source of the Shikitari’s concern was the layers of darkness up above
him, shadows moving across the night sky, making stars wink out of existence temporarily, before flashing
back up moments later. It was no cloud, though the frozen Outer Rim world of Polus certainly had its fair
share of those. The shadows moving across the night sky were no mere clouds, not a thick blanket choking
out the starlight; but moving objects, ships of some kind… and lots of them… moving across the
atmosphere above him.
Turning to his Pyn’Gani companion, a near-human adapted for the constant below freezing temperatures on Polus, L’rac clicked out a series of comments, “What do you make of it, T-rang? Those are ships up there. Is it the New Republic, finally offering aid?” The two were standing in front of giant transparisteel windows, inside the top floor of the communications tower, built into the side of a mountain overlooking the settlement of Anoo-Wen Chii, named for an ancient famed Jedi Master. The settlement had a population of several thousand individuals of many different species, mostly comprised of slaves who had overthrown the Zann Consortium’s operations years prior. T-rang’s features became troubled at L’rac’s comments, “Maybe. But why now? It’s been twenty three years since Tyber Zann’s forces reduced our cities to rubble and enslaved our people, and over a decade since we fought back and forced the Zann Consortium off world. I mean, if they aren’t too busy, perhaps they finally remembered us.” L’rac interjected, with several more clucks and clicks, “Well, they are busy aren’t they? With these… Yuuzhan Vong.” The new word felt odd and unfamiliar to his mandibles. T-rang shrugged, “We don’t get much news out here. Polus is next to nowhere. They don’t give two kriffs what happens to us. As for the scarheads, who can say? Personally, I don’t believe they exist, the few bits and pieces our comm systems picked up on the ‘Net… while they worked, anyway… sound unbelievable.” L’rac turned to his dark-skinned companion, and noted, “Indeed. Resistance to Jedi Force Powers? Living vessels? They burned Ithor to the ground? And took Duro? Sounds like mere gossip. Tabloids invented by some HoloNet reporter looking to get more clicks.” The voice of the comm systems tower commander, Covah, a bald, golden-skinned Nothoiin, made the two return their gaze to him, when he spoke up from behind them, “Well, rumors of these Yuuzhan Vong aside, someone is out there. And if it is a New Republic armada, why? And more importantly why will they not respond to our hails? Our technology may be dated, but they should be getting our signals, so why won’t they reply?” L’rac and T-rang returned from the window to the center of the comm room, where a dozen chairs were lined up against various panels with blinking lights and various screens displaying various information. The comm tower had been built and operated by Tyber Zann’s forces, in fact L’rac had heard rumors of the Anaxean Crime Lord’s presence in this very room a decade before. The tech was decrepit and required many individuals to keep it running, even at sub-optimal conditions, but now that the Pyn’gani natives and freed slaves of other species had regained control of Polus, they used it to keep in touch with other settlements and scan for severe weather. L’rac was freezing to death on this blasted planet. If only he had been forced to mine somewhere warm. His Shikitari biology was not suitably acclimated to this iceball. As L’rac and T-rang returned to their stations, Elmarc Tusjine, a human female from Azameen in the Zug Sector, answered the question Covah had posed, breaking the silence, “Commander Covah, what if it’s Zann’s Consortium, what if they have returned?” Her voice did very little to hide her trepidation. In fact every single person in the room seemed to be being eaten away by doubt . Hail slowly started to fall, soon becoming a constant series of steady, unnerving thuds against the transparisteel on all sides of the room. The workers of the comm room sat silent for several moments, each of them remembering the horrors of the years before… under the Zann Consortium’s reign of terror. After a time, Xela Alcedos, second-in-command of the comm room cleared his throat, eyeing his readings. Xela was a Zybahhod Yenyoni, a tattooed humanoid species with cat-like features hailing from the Herios Sector. Covah’s face twitched, “Xela? Have anything to share with us?” Xela’s eyes roamed over the control panel in front of him, collecting the data in Aurebesh scrolling across the screens. He turned to Covah, “I’m not sure. It seems a whole squad of X-Wings and Z-Ninety-Five’s landed in our backyard, Commander Covah.” Covah’s golden eyes flashed with indignation, “What? How in the Nine Corellian Hells is that possible?” Orkis, a young snake-like Thisspiasian spoke up from another console, “It looks like the tower’s been breached. Doors are open on the first floor.” The avian Sipsk’ud known as Ralzeer spoke up from the environmental panel, ruffling his white feathers as he spoke, “Well, I can confirm that, the temperature in here just dropped another five degrees. Doors were definitely opened, Commander Covah.” L’rac clucked his mandibles in frustration, the brutal frigid climate did not agree with him. He was from the planet Shikitari, a humid jungle planet filled with towering nests made of warm blue stones, built up between the trees. This blasted cold infuriated him. L’rac had once considered taking a blaster bolt to the head, or falling on his vibroblade… he needed to get off of Polus for the sake of his sanity. While L’rac’s mind angrily resented the bitter cold, Covah was springing into action. In a whirlwind, Covah was opening his locked box, and distributing pretty standard blasters to everyone at their posts. Covah turned to face the turbolift doors, and growled to the 7 officers of the comm station, “I dunno who these fierfek wermos are, but they can e chu ta! New Republic or not, no one drops in on the Polus Comms Operation Unit unannounced!” They didn’t have to wait long, but in those seconds, L’rac felt eternity stretching out in front of him. After the liberation of Polus, L’rac had avoided fights, and now he was about to be in another. His mind flashed back to screaming, hot fire, and bodies strewn around, the slave’s uprising against the Consortium had been messy. L’rac could still feel the heat of the flames around him, he could still feel the vibroblade shoved through his leg. He could see the faces of enemy’s lives that he had taken, and the faces of comrades and friends they had lost. The thirty or so seconds before the intruders burst through the door passed as 30 days to L’rac, and as his dichoptic eyes scanned the turbolift door, his mind was embroiled in the agonizing battles of the past. He never wanted to go through that again. But right now he did not have a choice. The door burst open and without thinking, L’rac’s pinchers squeezed the trigger, sending hot red laser blasts barreling towards the opening. L’rac was shocked when it was sent right back at him over his head. Then an invisible force, some kind of invisible hand was wrenching his blaster away from him. L’rac tried to hold on, and ended up falling into a heap on the floor as the blaster was ripped from his grip and flung into the opposite wall. Loud clanks of blasters against the durasteel wall was heard, as everyone’s blasters were yanked from their grasps. From the floor, L’rac gazed up in wonder. Jedi. He’d never seen one before, but there they were, 10 of them, of many different species, standing in the turbolift and in the doorway. L’rac had always figured they were myths, but the Jedi in the front held the unmistakable mythical weapon of the Jedi. The bright blue beam was all that he could look at, he was transfixed by its beauty. The man wielding it was a human in his late 40’s with a scraggly brown beard, peppered with white. The man was not wearing the typical Jedi robes but more of a combat suit. He deactivated his lightsaber with a hiss sound, and addressed them with urgency in his voice, “Sorry for dropping in unannounced, we were flying in with comms systems down. I am Jedi Knight Kyle Katarn. We mean you no harm, we are here to assist you.” From behind L’rac, Covah’s surprised but steady voice replied, “I am Commander Covah of the Polus Comms Operation Unit. You are Jedi?!” “We are,” replied a very high voice from a very short Jedi. The diminutive humanoid barely was as tall as Katarn’s waist, and he wore a blue hat and possessed a long shaggy gray beard that obstructed his entire body from view and dragged along the floor. He must be a Trome, from the moon of Endor, L’rac thought. Large eyes peered through the tangled mess of his beard and hair, with shaggy eyebrows jutting above them, and his four fingered hand clutched the shiny hilt of a lightsaber. The Trome continued, walking into the light to be better seen by everyone in the Comm Ops room, “And we bring you very grave news.” L’rac picked himself off of the floor and backed away from the Jedi, as he heard Xela laugh from behind him, “You? A Jedi? Trome like yourself can’t even reach a control panel, and you expect us to believe you are a Je- Woahhh!” L’rac whipped his head towards Xela, as Xela’s harsh statement turned to a cry. L’rac could not believe his eyes, as he beheld Xela floating off of the ground, pulled forward by a powerful, invisible force. Xela was gently placed back down, and his eyes bulged. The Jedi named Katarn smiled, a humorous glint in his eyes, “Like the great Jedi Masters of old used to say, ‘Size Matters Not’.” He turned to the Trome, an amused smile tugging at his face, “However, Master Snaanbag, I must remind you… once again… to stop using your powers to prove your might. Even a Trome without the Force is renowned as a strong wrestler, in spite of whatever comments can be made about their short statures compared to other species.” Snaanbag harrumphed in reply. Covah moved to the front of the Comm Ops officers, patting the shaken Xela on the back as he got to the front. L’rac had to admire the Commander’s tenacity and leadership qualities during unexpected moments. Covah reached out a hand, and Jedi Katarn shook it, “So, Master Jedi, what are you here to warn us of?” Kyle Katarn’s face grew grim, “The Vong are here. Alpha Blue operatives were able to track a moving fleet of A-vek Iiluunu carrying Vong soldiers and corralskippers, towards the Avindia System. They sent my squadron here to warn you.” L’rac clicked worriedly, “Yuuzhan Vong are real?” Kyle nodded, a morose look flashing across his eyes, “Very much so, yes. Jedi Apprentice Finn Galfridian can attest to that. His entire homeworld was left in ruin because of them, his entire family was killed.” He motioned at a young human with wavy blonde hair and a pale complexion, wearing a pair of goggles raised on his forehead. He looked like he was trying to carry the weight of the universe on his shoulders, L’rac thought. Covah frowned, “Can we hail them? Make contact? Tell them that we are just an insignificant ice planet, with nothing they’d want?” Finn Galfridian cleared his throat, and said quietly, “There is no reasoning with them. They are butchers. They are savages. The Galaxy will be safe only when we are rid of them.” “Then what can we do?” Orkis asked, fear causing his voice to tremble, his tail thrashing against the floor repeatedly in agitation. L’rac turned towards the Jedi, anxious himself, glad someone else had voiced his question. A buff human Jedi, with a thick gray beard, and short brown hair wearing blue and silver armor, decided to answer the question, with a gruff, deep voice, “I am Jedi Guardian Markus Dorivonn, and I witnessed the Massacre of Toydaria. We fought back against the Vong fleet that landed on the planet, and the Toydarians fought valiantly. But even with the aid of heroic members of the Smuggler’s Alliance, like Dash Rendar and Jaxxon, we were driven backwards and overrun. It felt like we were winning at first, but… they just kept coming. Eventually we couldn’t stop them. We did the only thing we could do… evacuate. And that massacre is why we were sent here, to warn you that you must evacuate.” “And go where? There’s thousands of us in this settlement alone, never mind all of the other settlements,” T-rang said, “This is our home. We Pyn’Gani would not be able to live off our homeworld without immense discomfort. We must at least put up a fight for it.” Markus snapped back, “Did you not hear what I said? The Toydarians fought for their homeworld too, and now thousands of them lay dead on Toydaria, the planet crawling with Vong! Evacuating is all you can do! And the New Republic has set up lanes for refugees. There have been many displaced already, we shall find you a new home.” “But… you Jedi are here now. You can help us fight, can’t you? Otherwise, what good is all your power?” Covah asked, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Katarn’s Commandos have fought on many fronts already. We know a lost fight when we see one,” Snaanbag offered, looking sad, as the Jedi Kyle Katarn winced at the name of his squadron. Then Snaanbag turned to T-rang, “Believe me, I know how important a homeworld is to a people. I can’t imagine abandoning the forests of Endor, it is a beautiful place. But you will be slaughtered if you don’t move.”
“Where will we go?” Elmarc Tusjine asked, running hands through her messy blonde
hair. Her eyes are so wide it looks like she’s seen an Arbooine four-eyed Bearsloth, L’rac
thought to himself. The Sathari governor of their settlement, Orsin Helshar had described Bearsloths as incredibly nightmarish to L’rac on several occasions.
“We will accompany your vessels somewhere into the Core Worlds. Much of the Outer Rim has already fallen to the Vong. It was extremely difficult to get out here to warn you. And so many worlds are under threat right now, you are lucky we were able to find time to warn you.” Kyle Kararn answered Elmarc gravely.
Commander Covah stepped forward and looked Katarn in the eyes. L’rac noted their heads were nearly touching, and Covah asked in a worried, but firm voice, “Jedi Katarn, are you sure we must leave?”
Kyle Katarn nodded and nearly whispered, “Yes. I’m afraid we must evacuate Polus. Ten Jedi aren’t going to make a difference in a fight against that many Vong. We must go.”
Commander Covah nodded, and his head dropped in despair. But it did not take long for the commander to collect his thoughts, as he swiveled and began barking orders, “T-rang, man the comms, send out warnings and evacuation orders to every other settlement, on all frequencies. This is my message.” Covah paused as T-rang returned to his station, pushing buttons and following the orders.
L’rac returned to his station, and clicked several buttons, running diagnostics on their system, and making sure that the messaging system was up. L’rac nodded at Covah, the message would go through.
Covah spoke slowly and with purpose, the recording being broadcast to all settlements on Polus, a population of nearly 600,000 individuals, “Citizens of Polus. This is Commander Covah of the Polus Comms Operation Unit at the Annoo-Wen Chi settlement. A squadron of Jedi were
sent to us from The New Republic with urgent news. A fleet of Yuuzhan Vong have entered our atmosphere, with hostile and malevolent intentions. This is not a drill. This is not a test. This is not a joke. We must leave Polus. Get to any available space port and leave with haste. Our lives are in our hands, and we need to leave.”
Kyle Katarn stepped into the frame of the Holographic transmission and added, “May the Force be with you all.” Covah nodded to T-rang and he cut the communication.
An older Jedi wearing green robes with long white hair and a white beard spoke up, “Kyle, it’s time for us to leave.”
Kyle Katarn turned to him, “Of course, Dass. Master Jennir is correct. Get to your ships, thank you for assisting us in this warning. We will await your ships in orbit and escort you back to–”
An ominous and deafening explosion cutoff Kyle Katarn’s statement, and L’rac was launched forward off of his chair. L’rac stumbled to his feet and he was vaguely aware of the snap-hiss of lightsabers of various colors jumping to life around him. L’rac’s ears were ringing and he heard screaming behind him. It was a grisly sight when L’rac turned around. Commander Covah was impaled where he was standing, a huge shard of transparisteel the size of Covah himself stuck through his abdomen, pinned to the floor. Spikes of transparisteel had also impaled the young Thisspiasian Orkis to his chair, the shards nailing his head to his desk and his tail to the ground. There was no question that they were both dead. The wails were from Elmarc, who was trying in vain to stop a steady flow of blood that seeped out of her neck and shoulder. L’rac had been shielded from the shards of what was once their observation window, by his thick blue exoskeleton, and had not felt a thing. T-rang and Ralzeer had miraculously avoided death by thick shards of transparisteel, shielded partially by their desks. L’rac scanned the room littered with debris for where Second Commander Xela Alcedos was, who had been at his post nearest the window. L’rac’s three stomachs all lurched at the sight. Where Xela Alcedos had once stood, L’rac now only saw a pile of – for lack of a better term – mush. If Shikitari's stomachs were not so resilient, the Ji-ant’s he had eaten for lunch would be a puddle on the floor.
Behind him Jedi were jumping into action, and attending the wounded, but L’rac stumbled forward, numb to what he had just witnessed. He stammered towards the steaming gap in the wall, which had once been a thick transparisteel window mere minutes before. L’rac felt snowflakes and a wickedly chill wind whip across his face as he peered out of the smoking gap. The mixture of heat from the blast and cold wind blowing against him felt odd. L’rac gazed into the night sky and beheld strange ships raining down from above towards the settlement. Those must be coralskippers, and they just… they just blasted away the tower window, L’rac thought while gazing up in a mixture of shock, awe, and horror. A couple of buildings in the settlement were already ablaze.
The second wave soon came in a rain of fire. Corralsippers swept across the sky, blanketing the frigid air with as much plasma as there had been hail several minutes earlier. The frozen landscape underwent a dramatic transformation, from white to scorched black, as if an inkwell had been smashed across a painting of the town. The tower built into the mountain overlooking the settlement towered above the snow covered streets of Annoo-Wen Chi, and from the high vantage point, the people running about the streets seemed as small as 10 centimeter Leebsie-lurkers. But even from so high up, L’rac could still hear the terrified screams from below.
The third wave was horrific to behold, buildings exploded, including the home of
Governor Helshar. Smoke met snowflakes in a grim dance through the air as plasma blasts streaked through them, and the lights illuminating the settlement slowly began blinking out as buildings were destroyed. L’rac felt his world collapse when he noticed the now burning crater that had once been their shipyard. Without a means to leave orbit, the settlement’s hopes for evacuation looked very grim. L’rac was vaguely aware that the Jedi named Kyle Katarn and another hooded male Jedi with brown stubble had popped up at the window to stand either side of him. He saw their human nostrils flare at the acrid stench of fire and death, something his insectoid physiology allowed him to mostly forgo.
“Stang!” L’rac heard Kyle Katarn curse. The other Jedi observing the carnage whispered, “We have to do something, Kyle. We have to help these people.” Another wave of deafening explosions seemed to make the very mountain itself tremble, and L’rac felt the floor beneath him rattle. L’rac lurched forward, but the firm outstretched arm of the hooded Jedi prevented L’rac from going careening head-first down towards a very unforgiving terrain far below.
“You’re right, Master Zuma. We must try.” Kyle Katarn responded. There was a determined sense in his tone that gave L’rac a tiny feeling of hope. Whether it was Katarn’s sheer force of presence and charisma alone, or the mystical powers of the Force at play, L'rac could not be sure, but he did know that he felt more at ease knowing that the Jedi were here.
The third barrage of the settlement came to an abrupt end, but suddenly a much larger ship descended from above. It landed slowly, all the while L’rac’s dread multiplied . It’s some kind of troop transport, the Vong soldiers are going to cleanse the streets, L’rac thought, aghast.
“What’s your name?” The Jedi named Zuma addressed L’rac. L’rac heard himself respond, and the Jedi gave him a smile that was probably supposed to reassure him. “L’rac, I am Mander Zuma. What’s the fastest way down to the settlement? We are going to do what we can.”
L’rac pondered this for a brief moment, before responding with several clicks, “We have some large grav-pads used for celebratory parades in our storage unit. We could use those to descend rapidly to groundlevel.”
T-rang nodded, and stated, “I’ll grab em. Your starfighters’ll fit on em too.” He moved off in haste and two human Jedi in their late 30’s, one male and one female rushed to join him. L’rsc assumed they were egg-mates.
L’rac’s diminutive Sipsk’ud coworker Ralzeer spoke up from over their shoulders, “Why would you still help us now? What’s in it for you? Just cut your losses and go, Jedi. Why don’t you just leave?”
“Because that’s not the Jedi way,” responded a middle-aged tanned human male Jedi with curly brown hair, “Jedi do not look the other way when avoidable atrocities are committed. I can feel the death and despair of many lives down there. We will fight to save who we can. Is there any other vessel that could evacuate any number of people?”
L’rac’s eyes scanned the settlement, and he excitedly chimed in, “Yes!” He pointed towards one of the few buildings that remained intact from the plasma blitzing. “Governor Helshar’s cruiser, the Moon Chaser, is stored there! It could take thirty, maybe forty individuals if we packed it full.”
“Good enough for me,” responded the curly haired Jedi, “I’m Kenneth, but you can call me Ken.”
“Ken, what?” Ralzeer responded sharply, a hint of suspicion in his shrill tone. It was apparent that fear was making the avian nervous, and Ralzeer was known to get talkative and disagreeable when uncomfortable.
The man seemed to grimace, but responded vaguely, “You don’t want to know, trust me.”
Before Ralzeer could grill the Jedi any further, a Kel Dor Jedi stood up from above Elmarc’s body, a grave look on his face, “I did all I could for the female, but she succumbed to the wound on her neck. I wish Master Cilghal was here, I am no healer.”
“I’m sure you did all you could, Tarast,” Katarn responded sadly. At that moment T-rang and the other two Jedi returned. T-rang was sweating, and he panted, “Grav-plates are ready, we can be down at the settlement in under a minute.”
Katarn nodded, “Alright, Commandos, listen up. We will take out as many Vong as we can, but our primary objective is to get as many people on the Moon Chaser as we can. The Comm Officers will guide us through the streets, and Comm Officers… you’re gonna need your blasters back.”
***
The Grav-Plates touched down on scorched, blackened ice, which in many spots the plasma had turned into a new charred, smoky substance. No one said a word as the Jedi and officers briskly jogged into what had been the streets of Annoo-Wen Chii. The smell of death was nauseating, and L-rac’s large nictitating membranes blinked rapidly to try to clear away the smoke that was being rapidly blown around by Polus’s unforgiving wind. Several buildings were actually on fire, which L’rac had only ever seen during the Slave Uprising against the Zann Consortium. Fire surviving outdoors on Polus was a nearly miraculous feat. But instead of being a wonderful and magical spectacle, this plasma-induced fire that ravaged homes only served as a grim reminder of the grave danger they were in.
L’rac forgot that they would have to see the bodies, until they rounded a corner into a
small shopping square and he noticed the scorched remains of several beings. L’rac did not personally know any of them, but he noted the scorched remains of a Lepi mother holding several young Lepi children in her arms. Once green fur, blackened beyond recognition, and their long ears crumbling into ash. L’rac also noted several humans, one-eyed Abyssins, and rabbit-like Kushibans all burnt to crisps and strewn about on the scorched snow. The scent was nauseating even to L’rac’s less sensitive sense of smell.
As T-rang led the group through the once unburnt streets, the entire time yelling and screaming from elsewhere in the city continued to loom over the heads of the group.
When they turned the next corner, L’rac felt relief, as the storage building that the Moon Chaser was housed in came into view at the end of the street. Suddenly, two dozen beings of a species L’rac did not recognize, holding objects that were unfamiliar, turned onto the street several dozen meters ahead of them. Ten lightsabers activated in rapid succession, and the Jedi named Ken yelled at T-rang as he sprang forward, “Stay back!”
The Jedi named Finn Galfridian added his own advice, “Fire at them, but keep your distance!”
L’rac observed what he knew were Yuuzhan Vong, and he felt his blue blood chill in terror. In the flickering lights of the city, they appeared as moving shadows in the darkness. They moved with purpose, unlike the Defel, which waited for prey to come to them in the shadows. They moved in unison, confidently striding forward to meet the Jedi, illuminated by blades of many different colors. They moved like a claqa of Bilar, as one, yet with an aura of menace that left L’rac shaking where he stood. L’rac felt shivers down his spine, as if his black was crawling with Tervissian Ticks.
They made unfamiliar growls and war-cries that made L’rac feel like he was watching a nightmare that had come to life. As a young larvae he had been told of the lost ghost-like evil entity Darth Dreadwar by the slavers that had taken him from his homeworld in the Unknown Regions. Subsequently L’rac been haunted by nightmares of Dreadwar hunting him down. But now, Dreadwar seemed to L’rac a insignificant boogeyman, compared to the maleficence of the Vong soldiers rushing towards the Jedi. If the Force was real, L’rac hoped the Jedi had it on their side.
From beside him Ralzeer sent a red laser bolt burning through the snow-filled sky, barreling towards the foremost Vong. The blast momentarily stopped the warrior’s forward motion, but some sort of chest armor seemingly absorbed the impact and the warrior was unaffected. The Vong retaliated by hurling something towards them. Whatever it was, was small and circular and it smashed with high velocity into the six-eyed Ralzeer’s forehead, splattering purple blood and brain matter onto the snow. Ralzeer grunted once before his body slammed backwards into a pile of snow. There was no time to mourn, as L’rac and T-rang immediately dropped to the ground. L’rac noticed several other similar circular objects, which appeared almost insect-like, whizz overhead.
After a moment L’rac tentatively got back to his feet the Jedi were engaging the Yuuzhan Vong in a ferocious battle. Lightsabers were moving so fast they became arcing blurs of light, while serpentine weapons that morphed back and forth between staff and whip batted back against the Jedi weapons. L’rac whispered to T-rang, “Come on, we can sneak around and prep the ship for launch.”
T-rang whispered back, “You do that. I’m going back to the tower to–”
“What?” L’rac clucked with shock, “Why would you do that?!”
“To broadcast a final message to our settlement. Tell everyone to get to the Moon Chaser if they are able. And to watch out for Yuuzhan Vong soldiers.”
“What about you? How will you leave? Why didn’t we broadcast a message when we were there?” L’rac’s mind was whirling with concern.
T-rang smiled, “I’ll be fine. Get those engines warmed up my friend. We’ll get off Polus
in one piece. I know it.” And without another word, L’rac’s best friend turned and soon vanished from sight; running back through the burning city. L’rac steadied himself by taking in a deep breath of frigid air and slowly creeped forwards towards where their only hope was waiting.
***
Ken Palatine leapt above an amphistaff that was intended to plunge into his knee, and landed on the other side of his opponent. The bulky warrior was nearly twice Ken’s size, but Ken knew that with the Force as his ally, the advantage was his. The warrior turned to face Ken again, and once more Ken was forced to parry a barrage of slashes. Ken’s blue lightsaber was a blur in front of him, as his wrist contorted rapidly into different positions, managing to block all of his attacker’s thrusts. One thing Ken had noticed about Vong in the skirmishes he had already fought against them in, was their smell. They smelled really bad, like corpses that had been rotting for weeks in a sealed room. The pungent aroma still permeated through the brisk air, and it took much of Ken’s mental focus to block out the distraction.
After a series of rapid stabs at his mid-section that Ken blocked, he saw an opening, and used downward force with his lightsaber to force the amphistaff into the snow. His enemy was now open for a decisive blow, and Ken seized the opportunity he had engineered. Bringing his blade up rapidly in a risky move that left his abdomen open, his blue blade tore upwards through
the neck and face of the Yuuzhan Vong warrior. Ken had very little time to celebrate this victory as he noticed that Snaanbag was engaged and struggling to fend off two Yuuzhan Vong at once. Ken rushed to his aide, delivering a kick to the back that sent one of the Vong spiraling forward into a mound of snow and jagged ice. Snaanbag managed to graze the leg of the remaining Vong attacker, but as he did, he was left open for an attack from above. The body of the amphistaff his opponent wielded connected with the side of the diminutive Trome’s head sending him hurtling to the ground.
“Snaanbag!” Ken gasped, and as a quick response he flicked his wrist at a pile of snow, scattering the white substance into the air, obstructing the Vong’s view of the dazed Snaanbag, but before Ken could engage this Vong, the Vong he had sent into the snow-bank came up behind him spluttering, jagged ice embedded into his head. Roaring, the enraged warrior stabbed Ken in the thigh with the tail-end of the amphistaff. As he did so, Ken had already begun to spin, precognition coming in too late, and was bringing his lightsaber up in a sweeping arc that decapitated his foe. Turning back to assist Snaanbag, Ken realized that the brief distraction had been costly, as Snaanbag was pinned to the ground, an amphistaff protruding from his chest. Ken’s face knitted in almost-fury, and he launched himself forward, engaging the Vong that had slain his friend.
***
Elsewhere on the battlefield, Finn Galfridian ducked beneath the a strike of an amphistaff, but abruptly felt the impact of another hammer into the back of his legs even as he did so. His body at an unnatural angle, Finn tapped into the Force, to tug himself slightly to the side, and he ended up landing hard on his side, cracking ribs, albeit saving himself from being impaled by another amphistaff. Finn had killed many Vong already, and fought them for what was beginning to feel like decades. They had taken the life of his father, and only weeks earlier his sister had been killed as well. He hated the Vong, though he knew as a Jedi he was not supposed to hate. Finn had touched the Dark Side before, and he was wary of its temptations now.
Finn kicked out towards both of his opponents, from the ground, and managed to unbalance one of them, who careened over backwards. The other smiled, a thirst for blood reflected in his eyes. Finn rolled to avoid a downwards strike, and awkwardly half-raised to his feet. Raising his lightsaber above him in defense, Finn prepared to defend another round of strikes, and he spat out venomously to his opponents, “Come on, Scarheads! Is that all you’ve got?!”
***
Mander Zuma had never felt that comfortable with a lightsaber, he much preferred the simplicity of studying texts in the Jedi Temple. His deceased apprentice, Toro Irana has been an admirable warrior, adept with the blade, and Mander had once felt like he held an alien lifeform in his hand whenever he held his own hilt. Now though he felt a little more at ease with the lightsaber his padawan had once wielded. Still combat was frustrating to Mander, and if the Yuuzhan Vong could ever be defeated, he would try to transition to being a Jedi Historian.
But as for the here and now, Mander felt decidedly uncomfortable. The fierce cold did not bother him too much, but his limited movement in the layered Jedi robes coupled with the
dangerous adversaries that were trying to kill him made Mander feel incredibly off-balance. Mander managed to awkwardly pivot and turn away from an incoming amphistaff just as he raised his blade up, barely in time to deflect a incoming thud-bug that was aimed at his forehead. Mander charged towards the thud-bug thrower, and locked his blue blade against the amphistaff of the Vong warrior. Suddenly a green whir spiraled through the air, severing the Vong warrior’s head.
Mander nodded his thanks to Tarast Voon for his aid as the Vong’s body fell to the ground. Mander breathed a sigh of relief, but noticed an unseen threat, through his Force perception. Mander leapt backwards and thrust his lightsaber blade into the mouth of the fallen warrior’s amphistaff, as it had attempted to latch its teeth to his leg. Sighing in relief yet again, Mander’s victory was short lived as he turned in time to see Tarast Voon stabbed in the throat by the biggest Yuuzhan Vong Mander had observed. Mander winced, and knowing that he had not known his fellow Jedi very well, made the pain somehow feel worse to him. Mander would never get to know Tarast now. Mander motioned at the Yuuzhan Vong that had stabbed the Kel Dor Jedi, with his lightsaber, and assumed a fighting stance, waiting for the warrior to come to him.
***
Tash Arranda gritted her teeth, her bright violet lightsaber reflecting in the eyes of the opponent she was locked against. Tash tightened her grip around her frigid lightsaber hilt, When Uncle Hoole told me that Polus could freeze the spots off of a Binarian sabercat, I didn’t believe him. Tash believed him now, as it took every fiber of her mental resolve to stop herself
from letting go of the numbing handle. The hulking Yuuzhan Vong warrior who stared into her eyes with a feral grin provided the incentive to manage the discomfort. Grunting the Vong warrior pushed closer to her, stepping up to her and towering above her. Tash had to crane her neck to look up to him. Tash knew she had always been stubborn, and she did not like the condescending confidence this scarhead was showing her. She heard that some Yuuzhan Vong respected the Jedi, but this one seemed to think he was going to easily take her out.
Tash’s muscles were straining as the amphistaff inched closer to her chest, pushing her own blade closer to her. The Vong snarled, as Tash was forced to take a step back, her foot sliding through slippery, icy slush. Tash finally disengaged from the lock of weapons, and had to quickly dart to her left, as the off-balance Yuuzhan Vong stumbled forward. She would have been impaled on the outstretched amphistaff in his grasp had she not moved, and the quick jump had given her the upper hand as well.
As the Vong struggled to get back his balance, Tash delivered a well-placed kick to the side of his head, sending him spiraling into the snow. Before he had the opportunity to prepare himself for defense, Tash had pounced, driving her blade through his skull, decisively ending the conflict.
Tash glanced to her right where the Jedi Guardian Markus Dorivonn decapitated a Vong warrior with a slash so strong, it lopped the head several yards. Tash watched as the older Jedi ducked under an amphistaff swing from behind and then lop his head off with a similarly powerful blow. Markus’s battle prowess impressed Tash, though his form lacked elegance, he swung his blue lightsaber around the snowy battlefield like a club.
Sensing danger to her right, she whirled to see her younger brother Zak Arranda
engaged in a dangerous duel of his own. Zak had been backed off of the wide street they fought
on, and was being driven against the side of a building. Rushing to her brother’s aide as she had dozens of times through the years, Tash smirked to herself, with delight. She loved saving Zak’s life and holding it over his head. She had loved getting him out of trouble, since they were children; and despite the grim danger they faced, could not help finding mirth in the prospect of getting Zak out of yet another dilemma.
Tapping into the living energy all around her, Tash immersed herself in the warm embrace of the Force, using its power to pull herself into a graceful Force augmented leap. Flipping through the air with the dexterity and skill of the famed Twi’Lek acrobat Malisan; Tash zeroed in on her landing spot. Landing on the crumbling, burnt ledge meters above her brother, who had backed himself into a corner. Zak never was much of a duelist, he always lets his opponent control the battle.
Tash dropped off of the ledge between Zak and a smaller, more agile Yuuzhan Vong warrior he faced. As soon as she landed, Tash ducked the green blade of her brother who would have taken her head off, had she not hunched over. She had no time to be frustrated with her brother’s clumsiness, as ducking sent her headfirst into the Vong warrior. Tash wrapped her arms around the Vong’s chest and felt the jagged Vonduun crab armor that he wore. Tash launched herself forward with all of her might and essentially tackled the Vong into the bone-chilling snow covered ground. Tash felt a sharp pain in her back, ignored it, and buried her lightsaber through the armor and chest of the pinned Vong.
Tash jumped to her feet, but suddenly felt very light-headed and nauseous. The battlefield had already been slightly blurry, due in part to the flurry of snowflakes, but now everything was spinning in circles.
“Zak!” She cried out, as she felt her knees wobble. Next thing she knew she was on the ground.
***
Zak watched in shock as his sister, who had seemingly come out of nowhere launched herself under his lightsaber strike, bowling to the ground atop a Vong warrior. He watched in horror as the amphistaff wielded by the downed warrior, coiled around and sank its venom-filled teeth into her lower back. Tash launched up to her feet, but promptly wobbled, called his name, and dropped to the ground faster than a downed Uller. Zak heard himself scream something noncoherent and primal.
He rushed to her side and used the Force to try to feel her wound and understand the nature of it. Calling on the Force in desperation, he managed to use his powers to clot the blood of the bite. Zak was instantly grateful he had taken extra lessons with Cilghal and her apprentice Tekli, as he had picked up several useful healing techniques from that time. But as he reached out with his senses, he found something black, an evil was spreading. The venom was already traveling through her veins, and he realized in a galaxy-shattering moment, that nothing more could be done.
Tash was clearly in great pain and tears welled against the side of her suddenly bloodshot eyes, dripping onto the nest at her shoulders that was her frozen blonde hair. “Zak?” Tash said weakly. Zak leaned towards her, as she spoke slowly and softly, “I’m sorry to leave you behind, Zak. I thought we would go everywhere together.”
Zak responded through a strained voice, “I thought so too, Tash. I thought we’d keep
going on adventures together forever.”
Tash managed to smile, “I don’t want to leave you, Zak. Now it’ll just be you and Uncle Hoole. Please be okay… without me to protect you.” Her voice was getting steadily weaker, Zak knew it wouldn’t be long now, but he smiled through his tears, at her remarks. Even as adults she still thought it was her responsibility to look after him. Zak stole a quick glance towards the other Jedi, who had whittled the battalion of Yuuzhan Vong down to 3 warriors.
Zak looked back to his sister, and nodded, “I’ll be okay, Tash. And I’ll take care of Uncle Hoole. These dark days of war won’t last forever, Tash. I wish you could see better times come again.”
Tash’s eyes were far away, looking at Zak but not seeing him, “I do see them, Zak… as clear as the blue seas of Nam Priax.” She paused, then suddenly exclaimed a little louder, “I see them, Zak, they’re calling me! It’s Dad! And Mom! How is this possible?” Then abruptly her neck went slack, and dropped off of its resting place on Zak’s knee. Zak rose to his feet, feeling bilious at his sister’s death. As his stomach turned summer saults, Zak’s mind pondered her meaning. Had she really seen their parents, killed on Alderaan by the Death Star’s blast all those decades ago? Zak stared down at his sister, and pondered her final statements, cold tears trailing down his ice cold cheeks.
***
Kyle Katarn leapt and pirouetted to the side, before lunging forward into a precise strike. The last Yuuzhan Vong fell to the ground, cleaved in two. Kyle regarded the battlefield. Nearly 30 Yuuzhan Vong lay dead, as well as the bodies of 3 fellow Jedi. Kyle groaned in despair, and raised a hand to his shaggy eyebrows in dismay. He had seen death all around him most of his life; whether friends and family killed around him, or the many foes ended with his decisive precision with a blaster or a lightsaber. But it never got any easier for him, and when Zak Arranda walked up beside him, his sister’s body behind him on the ground, Kyle felt his heart break.
Kyle locked eyes with Zak, and patted him on the shoulder, then turned to the other Jedi in the group, “Come on, let’s get to the Moon Chaser; we will grieve the fallen later.” Kyle jogged towards the warehouse where their getaway vehicle lay waiting, and heard the difference in volume of his squadron trudging through the snow after him. There was less noise, and it unnerved Kyle to note how empty 6 sets of footsteps sounded now, compared to 9.
***
T-rang was running for his life. He’d started by moving pretty cautiously through the streets. But one block back had turned a corner and ended up face to face with 2 Yuuzhan Vong warriors. They looked as surprised as he was to see them, but that surprise turned to sick delight. More circular spinny death-insects whirled by him and he broke into a sprint.
T-rang had never moved so fast in his life, and every inhale of frosty air laughed pangs of pain in his lungs. Though he was a Pyn’Gani with thicker skin, and larger lungs than that of a human; but to his chagrin the cold was getting to him now. He was miraculously outpacing the warriors and skidded onto the grav-pad, nearly crashing into one of the abandoned X-Wings of one of the Jedi. Jumping to the control panel attached to the corner of the pad, T-rang plugged a
startup sequence into the controls, just as the Yuuzhan Vong came back into view from around one of the buildings. Tapping a button to forgo the standard pre-launch safety checks, T-rang backed away from the charging Vong. The pads began to rise and the warriors disappeared from view beneath him as he backed away from the edge.
T-rang sighed in relief when suddenly he heard a clang beneath him. Unsure what that meant, he stepped towards the ledge of the steadily rising transparisteel platform, just in time to see two sets of fingers wrap around the ledge. To T-rang’s horror, his pursuers had grabbed onto the platform, and hitched a ride!
The pads reached the top of the mountain and hovered there, T-rang rushed to the controls and activated a delayed descent sequence. He pushed the power and speed of the pads past the safety regulations, to a force that was never utilized. Hopefully it’ll crush those Murglaks! Turning from the control panel, T-rang took a running leapt off of the platform and onto the rocky safety of the mountain, landing in a heep in front of the ground level doors of the Comm tower.
Lurching to his feet, he whirled in time to see the two warriors standing on the pad, staring at him. One was smiling at him! T-rang had heard some terrifying tales from the Galaxy: the Mnggal-Mnggal shapeshifters from the Unknown Regions, the insectoid Charon from Otherspace, the clandestine and delusional Dark Jedi Krio Vin later identified as Edward Starspeeder and his ghoulish experimentation on Force Sensitive children; but all of those horrifying tales paled in comparison to the dispassionate menace in the eyes of his assailants. T-rang’s mind sought an explanation for the cruelty he saw in those revolting eyes, and the only word that came to his mind was: Monsters. They advanced towards him.
Suddenly the whirring of the grav-pad’s accelerators stopped, it hung in the air for a moment, and one of the warrior’s leapt into the air, eyes wide in realization of what was about to occur. The pad plunged out of view in a blink at breakneck speed; one warrior still standing on it. There was no question in T-rang’s mind that the impact would be fatal, but he had no time to think on it, as the leaping warrior landed on the cliff’s rocky ledge.
T-rang screamed as he grabbed hold of his blaster and rapidly pulled the trigger, squeezing off hot lethal lines towards the Vong. The Vong retaliated the blasts with some circular death-bugs, right as T-rang’s bolts connected with the alien’s face, the impact launching him off the cliff with a snarl.
T-rang dropped the blaster to the ground in relief and rushed into the tower’s abandoned lobby, quickly entering the waiting turbolift, and punching in the top floor. As he whooshed towards the top of the tower and his adrenaline rush from the battle died down, T-rang suddenly felt a painful wet spot on his side. Through his coat was the unmistakable purple splotch of his blood. T-rang groaned, realizing one of those dangerous spinning insects had seemingly connected with him.
Most of Pyn’Gani’s vital organs were quite compact, stuffed together in the center of their bodies, but T-rang knew that a cluster of their essential arteries lined their sides. Feeling very suddenly light headed, T-rang stumbled out of the doors of the turbolift, and sat down at his station, the lights still blinking despite the frigid temperature. The broken window left a vacuum of wind rushing into the room with nowhere to go, making the Comm Operations room an ear-splitting cave filled with wind and snow. T-rang noticed that the bodies of his fellow operators killed in the original blast were already covered in a pile of snow that was slowly icing over, effectively mummifying their corpses.
T-rang glanced down at his side between tapping the Comm panels, and noticed that his clothing was no longer stopping the blood to a splotch, now it was dripping through the fabric. T-rang tapped a final command, and had access to every remaining panel in the settlement of Annoo-Wen Chii, both private and public viewscreens. If even 1 viewscreen remained, there was a chance some people could be saved.
T-rang activated the recording, and spoke into the system, hoping it would get out to enough people in the settlement below, “People of Annoo-Wen Chii, the Yuuzhan Vong have come. I sit here at my station, bleeding out from a strike dealt by one of these alien invaders. They are not to be reasoned with. They can not be reasoned with. But there is hope. Go to the Governor’s private ship storage unit on Nallia Adolla Street. A group of Jedi were sent here to warn us, and they remain there with a ship capable of taking you to the Core Worlds.” T-rang began coughing violently, and he continued in a hoarse voice, “Get there as fast as possible if you can. Assist others. It’s your last hope.” T-rang began coughing again and noticed there was blood now with this cough. He barely managed to croak out, “Thank you for listening. May the Force be with you. Polus Comm Operations Tower signing off for one last time.”
T-rang’s head started to spin, but he managed to blink away the impending darkness for
precious few more seconds, long enough to click one more button. This button simultaneously ended the recording and made sure the message would repeat for as long as the tower stood. If no one intervened, the repeat cycle would send out the message for months upon months. Content with his final task being completed, T-rang let the darkness tugging at the corners of his eyes take him, and slouched forward. The last thing he felt was his head hitting off of his comm desk.
***
L’rac was not prone to emotion, whether that was due to his personality or his species’ genetic makeup he was not sure. L’rac felt it though now, raw sadness. L’rac was seated in the pilot’s chair aboard the leisure cruiser Moon Chaser, and he had just picked up and received T-rang’s final message. L’rac’s dichoptic eyes were not capable of blinking or of producing tears, as Shikitari’s lacked tear ducts; but he felt like crying.
The Jedi Knight Kyle Katarn sat in the co-pilot’s chair to his right, and as the message clicked off, Kyle murmured softly, “He did well, and potentially saved many lives.” L’rac did not say anything in reply.
The Jedi Mander Zuma was seated in the third chair of the cock-pit behind them sitting at a communications panel, and he spoke up, “Your friend is with the Force now. He’s at peace.” L’rac knew that the Jedi meant well in their condolences, but he felt infuriated with both of them for their nonchalant acceptance of death. L’rac had a hard time finding how bleeding out in agony equated to peace. His mandibles clucked in annoyance. Jedi are impersonal and emotionless, he decided with frustration.
The 6 other Jedi, the ones called Finn Galfridian, Dass Jennir, Ken, Markus Dorivonn, and a human with brown hair whom L’rac did not know their name stood in view of the cockpit’s transparisteel canopy, standing by the boarding ramp, brandishing colorful lightsabers.
It had been but a minute since the message, when through the warehouse doors, a family of Pyn’Gani barreled through. The Jedi directed the scared family up the ramp, tears stained their faces and several of them were covered in burns. Shortly after a monstrous tentacled Jeby, covered in colorful spots, whom L’rac knew as a bartender named Ūrtrīłdö, came barreling in, holding a human and Rodian child in his tentacles. Though Jeby were known to be hostile slavers from the planet Rainboh, L’rac knew that Ūrtrīłdö was a jolly man, with a heroic heart. L’rac saw burns up and down his scaly body, no doubt he had saved the children from burning plasma. The Jedi ushered them up the ramp as well.
Mander Zuma spoke up from the comms system, “I just spoke to Garik Loran of Wraith Squadron, they’ll rendezvous with us once we reach the Axtria System in the core, they’ll guide us from there back to Coruscant. Engines up and running?”
L’rac clucked out an affirmative and turned to Katarn whose hands were flying over the commands, “Jedi Katarn, have you figured out the codes to open the warehouse roof?”
Katarn raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, “I’m doing my best. Jan would have gotten this solved ten minutes ago if she were here. Ah, what’s this?” He clicked another flashing button, and smiled to himself, “I think I just got it.” Slowly the starry sky began to be visible outside of the cockpit as the roof slowly retracted. Its retraction was agonizingly slow to L’rac, as slowly stars winked into existence above him and snow began to fall into the warehouse.
Meanwhile the Jedi below were ushering a Pyn’Gani and a Zabrak up the boarding ramp, as well as an elderly Annoo-dat Blue woman that L’rac knew named Aljeel Fromm. L’rac knew from experience that Aljeel made the best Dianoga Pie outside of Nar Shaddaa.
However, after the elderly woman entered the boarding ramp, L’rac watched in transfixed horror as a Yuuzhan Vong barreled through the warehouse doors; quickly followed by several others. The Jedi guarding the boarding ramp quickly rushed forward to engage the rapidly assembling Vong horde. Kyle Katarn grimaced, and noted, “We need to hold them off, and buy a little more time. I wanna give as many people a chance to get here as possible.”
L’rac nodded, seeing his own eyes somehow even wider than usual, in his reflection on
the cockpit’s windows. We’re running out of time, he thought nervously, observing one of the charging Jedi slammed to the ground when a Yuuzhan Vong snake-like whip, slashed through his chest.
***
“Nooo! Markus!” Finn Galfridian cried, as the bulky Jedi Guardian, Markus Dorivonn, was slashed to the ground to his right. Finn’s orange blade hummed as he targeted the Vong that slashed a canyon sized line in his comrade’s torso. With a primal cry, Finn separated the Vong’s arm from chest with a precise incision. Finn quickly brought his lightsaber up vertically, to block the armless Vong’s next attack. Parrying another strike, Finn saw an opening, and lashed out, creating two new Vong, as Finn parted his enemy at the waist, into two pieces.
Searching for a new target to engage, Finn darted forwards, and deftly maneuvered his way in-between Zak Arranda and a one-eyed warrior who had clearly seen lots of combat. The wound to his eye seemed to have been caused by a lightsaber’s strike. Aiming his own lightsaber blade at this warrior’s head, Finn chopped downwards with a strong, bold strike. This was blocked by the Vong’s two handed grip on his amphistaff. The Vong grimaced with the weight of Finn’s strike, but his block held strong. The Vong turned his block into an attack, twisting his wrists and redirecting Finn’s blade to the right.
In horror, Finn realized his blade had found the wrong flesh, as the redirection sent Finn’s weapon sizzling into the back of Ken Palpatine. Finn’s blade penetrated the older Jedi between the shoulder blades, impaling the Vong Ken had been fighting as well. Finn heard Ken’s gasp of pain at the heat of Finn’s weapon leaving his body, as Finn deactivated his lightsaber.
Ken’s body landed in Finn’s lap as Finn dropped his hilt to cradle who Finn had
perceived as a mentor. The Dark Side had long been a part of Ken’s life, it ran in his family’s
history, and after Finn’s brush with darkness, Ken had sort of taken him under his wing. Finn mouthed, “I’m so sorry,” to his friend and role model, not believing what had just occurred. Ken managed to shake his head, and he actually winked at Finn with a smile, “It was a wild ride. So long, kid.” Ken paused, a funny look flashing across his face, “I always wanted to say that.” Ken chuckled, then his gray eyes widened at something over Finn’s shoulder. Finn turned to look, but all he saw was a flashing object, followed by feeling a brief pain; then he saw nothing.
***
Kyle Katarn yelled beside L’rac as Finn Galfridian was decapitated. L’rac eyes took in multiple events at once, that was the advantage to round, bulbous insectoid eyes; and as Finn Galfridian fell beside Ken’s body; the other two Jedi chopped down a Vong opponent with two slashes, separating the warrior into three pieces.
Meanwhile, a feline-like Cathar, escorting a gray, wizened Wookiee who held a human and Pyn’Gani child in his arms, made their ways up the boarding ramp. Mander spoke quietly, “I think we have to go now Kyle, scanners are picking up hundreds of Vong soldiers closing in on us. Raise the ramp.”
“What about Dass and Zak?” Kyle practically roared, “We have to wait for them to get back!” L’rac turned away from the console to look back down at the battle raging below, and he could barely see the two Jedi, surrounded by throngs of Vong. Every now and then a lightsaber flashed by, but it was mostly a mass of Vong bodies.
Suddenly a very large head materialized between L’rac and Kyle Katarn belonging to the Jeby bartender Ūrtrīłdö, he must be incredibly cramped in this ship’s confines, L’rac thought, as
the hulking Jeby spoke in a slurred basic, “I’m trying to comfort the other passengers, but everyone’s nervous, Jedi, what should I tell them, are we leaving now?”
L’rac made a decision, he clicked the boarding ramp to close, and stumbled out of the pilot’s seat, relinquishing control of the ship to the Jedi. L’rac felt numb to his decision. Abandoning Jedi?! Are you crazy?! He thought to himself in a mixture of shock and shame. But when he moved past Ūrtrīłdö down the hallway and into the packed recreational quarters; he knew he had made the correct decision, looking upon the haggard, wounded, terrified faces of the people huddled there.
L’rac felt the ship take off and heard Katarn’s frustrated voice cursing, “Blasted leisure ship! Wish it was equipped with any weapon! Piece of junk!” L’rac sighed in relief as he felt the ship launch itself towards the atmosphere and beyond that open space.
***
Zak Arranda was knocked off his feet as the Moon Chaser launched into the sky. Yelling to his remaining comrade, Master Jennir, Zak stammered, “What do we do now?!”
Dass Jennir smiled down at him, his long, white hair waving wildly, as he dispatched a charging warrior, “We fight until we win… or we die. The Force is our ally, Zak!” Zak Arranda jumped back to his feet and swiveled to where he was back to back with Jennir.
A one-eyed Yuuzhan Vong warrior growled out to them, as dozens of warrior’s surrounded them, leaving Dass and Zak in a small circle, “I am Subaltern S’yito, and it will be with great pleasure that we spill your blood, Jeedai.”
Zak Arranda raised his lightsaber near his face, in a defensive posture, as Dass Jennir raised his. Zak wondered if soon he too would rejoin his parents and sister, and he braced for combat. Dass Jennir responded to the threat, “You will try Subaltern S’yito! But we are one with the Force!”
The Subaltern spat back, “The Force will not save you now, long haired Jeedai, for you are mine.” He paused, and then motioned towards the Jedi, nodding at the warriors under his command with a victorious laugh, “Kill these infidels!” Swallowing nervously, Zak raised his blade as Vong warriors surged forward, numerous as the sand on Tatooine.
***
After nearly a week aboard the ship, L’rac noted everyone's nerves had calmed down a little. Still, the children were traumatized, and the Pyn’Gani were incredibly uncomfortable in the warmth of the ship. The Jedi had retreated inwardly, L’rac noted, and both Kyle and Mander seemed to be meditating on the loss of eighty percent of their squadron.
L’rac was still terrified, he knew in decades he would still have nightmares of the Yuuzhan Vong’s ferocity, if he even survived the war. And his grief over T-rang would long rattle around in his thorax, which felt hollow without his best friend. Coruscant seemed exciting yet daunting, and they were scheduled to arrive in a few hours, escorted by the brave Wraith Squadron. L’rac did not know what his new life on Coruscant would look like, but he was glad to be alive, yet guilty for those that died on Polus. Polus had been home for many years, and he had longed for change; but now change seemed intimidating.
Coruscant did sound a lot warmer than Polus, which L’rac thought was a positive, and it was essentially the capital of the galaxy, so perhaps he would finally be free of the frozen abyss. L’rac sighed, perhaps it was not so bad. He would be safe here. The Yuuzhan Vong could
conquer as many worlds as they liked, but Coruscant was safe. It would never ever fall to the Vong, L’rac knew. L’rac was hopeful now. Out of trauma, he now had a second life, and he was determined to use it. Under the safety and security of Coruscant, L’rac determined he would do something great and change lives. Coruscant would be L’rac’s safe haven now. And the Vong would never touch him again.
THE END
