IN THE SHADOW OF THE MANDALORE

Chapter 2; third part

This is my SCI-FI Friday contribution. If you think this is too much coming into your inbox, let me know. I’m just putting it here because there are a lot of STAR WARS fans out there, and since this is different from what you might be expecting, I thought some of you might like it.

vi

As Archangel dropped into orbit around the planet, something in the sudden veer of the ship’s trajectory alerted Fitt. He walked to the wall and punched the translink.

Archangel’s captain came on line.

“Jer’glo? What was that?”

“Emergency evasions, I’m told. The planet’s NavCom system is trying to change course for us. I’m trying to find out what’s happening.”

“Emergency?” Semolina asked. “Are we going to crash?”

“It’s something else,” Fitt said, looking at the view screen.

Something isn’t right about this.

“Find out what’s happening, and get back to me right away,” Fitt said into the link.

“Aye,” the reply came, followed by Jer’glo’s frenzied voice telling the computer to get the shields online.

Fitt felt a sense of relief hearing the order before he cut the transmission off, but couldn’t help thinking the Captain was holding something back. Something was happening. He reached for a control module and upped the magnification on the screen to maximum. He could see transport ships dropping out of orbit, and what he guessed were fighters leaving the planet’s surface. There was a long line of surface rockets reminding him of blaster fire, and then he realized they were firing laser canons from the surface at an unseen enemy.

His translink blinked.

“What’s happening out there, Jer’glo?”

“The drones have come online.”

“The drones? How’s that even possible? They were deactivated centuries ago.”

He’d offered to pick the drones up thirty years ago as part of a salvaging contract he was hoping to negotiate, but they told him the planet’s security office used them for training purposes. It was more practical using them for target practice than blasting the asteroids orbiting the Rogue.

“How long before we’re in range?”

He was wondering why there were no orders for them to make their way to the surface, and wondered if it was possible their communications were being jammed as well. It made sense.

“Most of them are on the other side of the planet, but they’re closing fast,” Jer’glo said. “SecuroCom’s sent up two squadrons of fighters, and some of the Jedi are with them. It’ll probably be a matter of minutes before they engage the drones. I don’t know if we’ll have that much time.”

“Does that mean Dax is out there?” Semoline asked.

Fitt ignored her.

“Something’s not right here Captain, do you agree?”

“Affirmative.”

“Then get us down to the planet. Use the override if you have to. Just get us down there.”

“I’ve already informed NavCom of my intentions,” he said, and Fitt tried to relax. “I haven’t been able to get through. It might be time for Plan B.”

“Someone jamming the lines?”

“I don’t know if it’s just us, or everyone around us. I don’t want the planet’s defences blowing us out of the sky thinking we’re the first ship of an incoming invasion.”

And neither do I, Captain.

Fitt had every confidence in the man. Jer’glo was a capable pilot, even if he was Chiss.

“Do you think Dax is out there fighting the drones?” Semoline asked, standing in front of the screen and trying to adjust the magnification.

Fitt looked up at her. He’d forgotten about her in all the commotion. He told himself to relax. His heart was racing, his adrenaline pumping. He took his glasses off again and rubbed his eyes. This reminded him of his first run to the Outer Rim and Sith space when he was younger.

Younger? he thought, I was just a kid. How long ago was that?

Another lifetime, he realized.

Back then, he was contending with pirates. And the Sith.

It always comes back to the Sith, doesn’t it?

It was a few moments before he realized whatever symptoms of a headache he’d had earlier, were gone.

vii

Verd’ika changed the sensor array from his helmet to the onboard computer display splashed against the window inside the ship’s canopy. Closing the flap on his arm plate gently, and giving it that extra little tap his father had taught him, he slowly pulled his gauntlet back on. He tried to quash the memories of his father, and pushed the thought into the back of his mind. It was a weakness he couldn’t allow himself; this wasn’t the time to be thinking of the past.

His father had proven himself unable to defend the Clan when it came right down to it.

Keramud is no more.

Still, he deserved a better death than the one he’d found.

He powered the ship down and dropped into stealth mode, watching the target ahead of him—focusing on it with his cybertronic eye as he read the specs displayed in front of him.

Archangel was either heading for the planet’s surface, or attempting to hide within the shadows of the moons. A risky manoeuvre considering the orbit of the moons, but if anyone could do it, Ver’dika felt certain the Chiss captain would. The Chiss, as a species, were exceptional pilots, flying more by instinct than relying on navigational aids. Sitting in the shadow of one of the larger asteroids of Rogue’s Halo, Ver’dika conceded that it was probably the best tactic. They could calculate another jump into the hyperlanes and find safety out there.

The Chiss is clever, but it doesn’t really matter where they go, as long as I’m watching.

Ver’dika keyed in his code for the holofeed, and the familiar blue light flickered on the ship’s console. He caught his reflection in the canopy mirrored against the darkness of space, the T of the visor in his helmet a menacing image, and wondered if he should remove his helmet. Looking down, he saw the small diameter circle bearing the 3-D image of his Master, Darth Anvil, reclining in a chair. He could just make out the small assortment of horns rimming the top of his Master’s head, the dark facial tattooing against the bright peach colour of his skin.

It was the small creatures slinking around his Master that made Ver’dika’s skin crawl, though; he hated them. He knew they were tame enough, but they’d still attack when provoked; it didn’t take much to provoke them.

Zabrack, Ver’dika thought with a sense of contempt that surprised him for the malevolence he felt in thinking it.

An offshoot of the Iridonians, the Zabrack prided themselves on being warriors. As a Mandalorian, Ver’dika told himself he could understand that. But he also understood that arrogance and inflexibility were two traits the Zabrack were known for. They were two traits a warrior could ill afford to go into battle with. His father told him that it was better if a warrior exercised caution and patience, which is what the Mandalorians were known for.

Ogir nayc kad a Mando’a... there’s no sword but Mandalore, he recited under his breath.

It was an ancient battle cry from before the time of the first Mandalore... the first words a Mandalorian muttered before going into battle.

“I trust all is in order,” Darth Anvil said softly. It wasn’t a question, but an expectation, Ver’dika knew.

Anvil was holding a snake-like creature that seemed to melt into the shadows, re-emerging in the soft light with a different colour.

Ver’dika nodded slowly.

“Yes Master. Just as you predicted, the Jedi were caught unaware. They’re busy fighting drones on the other side of the planet.”

“Then force the ship down. I need you to put pressure on our good friend Kazi’Zanza-Imran, Lord Fitt. He doesn’t have to understand what he has, only that I want it. He has to realize who he’s up against. Do whatever you think is necessary. He will bend to me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And one more thing, my Dark Apprentice,” Anvil said with a slow smile.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them as his Master held the creature closer to his face, looking deep into its eyes.

“Yes Master?”

“Just so you understand, I need that Scroll. I know you’ll make the right choice. But it’s the first step in what I hope will be a long line of steps to follow.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Do you? Good. With a man like Fitt, his greatest weakness will be our strength. Remember that. He loves his daughter more than anything, or anyone else, for that matter. Use that against him if you have to. If you take her, he’ll be forced to do what we ask. And later, to prove my point, you can kill her in front of him.”

“Yes, Master.”

“If you do this Ver’dika—if you bring me what I want—what I need—you can be rest assured that you’ll be considered for the next seat on the Lower Council. You’ll finally be on your way to having that title you’ve been craving for so long. Have you chosen a name for yourself?”

“I have Master.”

“A Mandalorian name?”

Ver’dika nodded.

viii

Archangel prepared to enter Tarisian atmosphere and Ver’dika sat up, taking note.

It’ll be the first and last mistake the Chiss makes, he told himself.

She was coming in hot, the blast shields protecting the front of the ship with a cocoon of energy. Bright orange and yellow hues surrounded it, trailing behind like a meteor’s tail. There were explosions of bright colour—verdant greens, sapphire blue and flaming reds—as gases from the planet’s polluted atmosphere ignited around the ship’s hull. The ship veered from side to side, rocked by turbulence.

Ver’dika knew no one on the planet would notice his ship slipstreaming in behind Archangel’s wake; NavCom was jammed.

By the time they do, it’ll be too late. I’ll have Fitt’s daughter as hostage and on my way off world.

Archangel’s forward shields were at full strength—the better to take the brunt of the impact—while the aft shields remained exposed. A quick scan told him the rear shields were at less than one-quarter power.

Enough power to prevent the ship from burning up in the atmosphere, but not enough to redirect a turbo blast.

One well-placed shot was all he needed. His first shot would disable the rear shields while a second shot at the stabilizers would cripple the ship and force it down where he needed it.

He’d guide the ship where he wanted it, using the Force.

The first shot came out of the clouds like a lightning bolt, followed immediately by a second shot. The ship veered, tumbling to the left as the pilot tried to right it, overcompensating.

It’s not like a Chiss to let that happen.

He fought the impulse to reach out with the Force. The ship veered once more before finally righting itself. Ver’dika realized with sudden clarity that it wasn’t the Chiss at the helm. It couldn’t have been. The Chiss Captain had likely taken over once the ship completed its re-entry, preparing for the inevitability of the oncoming crash. As long as the Chiss keeps the front shields on when they hit the planet, the ship would remain intact. An experienced pilot would know that. But sometimes, Ver’dika knew, even an experienced pilot was at the mercy of his crew.

Which is why he took over.

A plume of black smoke trailed from the ship as it plummeted to the planet’s surface, skidding into buildings that toppled down around it. Dust, smoke, and debris showered the area like a battle zone. He could sense the pilot fighting to keep the nose down. A wrong move now and the ship might flip over, or worse, tumble across the cityscape like a child’s toy before wedging itself into three levels of surface structures.

Using the Force, it took all of his effort to keep the ship from skidding out of control. Ver’dika still needed to bring it in as close to his proposed landing site as he could.

Satisfied, he brought his ship in and dropped to the surface, hovering over the smouldering crash site. He knew the heat of his turbines would keep would-be rescuers at bay, as well as eventually melting a hole through the planet’s surface. There were cries for help coming from the wounded below, as well as screams of pain and suffering as several buildings collapsed around him.

He reached out with the Force. Everywhere there was pain and chaos, and he fed off it, feeling the Force growing within him.

Ver’dika dropped the ramp down, clipping his cape to the snaps on his armour before leaping to the ground. He used the Force to cushion his landing. It was more for effect he knew, but he couldn’t afford having the cape catch on the debris around him as he jumped clear of his ship. His red Mandalorian armour caught the morning light as he stalked through heavy flames and smoke toward the ship. He pushed a tunnel through the flames with the Force. He was like a spectre from a forgotten dream—the image of a forgotten age.

Igniting his lightsaber and driving it into the hull of the vessel, he began cutting his way inside.