Showdown at Junction

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Cerie's a she," Shuvin giggled a bit at the thought of a male Cerie. There probably wouldn't be that much of difference, to be honest. "She came aboard a while back after we had an indirect hand in..."

Shuvin stopped, her brow creasing in thought.

"Wait. Did she have her own ship? Or did the zombies just wreck enough of the port she didn't want to go back?"

She thought a bit longer, going to the cooler and digging inside for a drink, wiggling her hips and shifting on her feet in a physical tic she sported when she was deep in thought. She grabbed a can of Woobles, a lightly sweetened and carbonated milk.

"...anyway, Cerie's practically family here, but she often enough does her own thing. Which is what she's doing right now. Somethin' tells me it's a bit on the mischievous side, because she was tight-lipped about it before she left. Wonder what she's doing?"

[Cerie Moreau]

* * *

There were some things that transcended all. Some things that were above whatever galactic conflicts were happening at the time. Things as simple as a smile, to more complicated acts such as celebrating Life Day. And nestled in the very middle of that spectrum was a certain time of the year that a large portion of civilized planets looked forward to with particular zeal. Nothing so banal as the Rodian-Gran Lottery; no, that bit of insanity was something else entirely. But that special time of the year that was as important as any holiday had begun a day previous. A week prior, the whispering could be heard all through the holonet. It spun along those lines like excited fire, slowly growing in intensity before bursting into an inferno of need on that first glorious day.

It was the time of year that the Space Scouts were selling their cookies.

The selection was always the same, but each one was at least two bites worth of delicious addiction turned into pure culinary delight. Brightly frosted Zeltrons, Stowaways, Slim-mints, Boska-Pateesa's, Hyperlanes, and Blaster Bolts. Each one was coveted, and it wasn't unheard of for one person to purchase more than one box of each.

Here on Junction, the supply was just as plentiful. After all, Space Scouts were all over the galaxy.

Cerie had practically sprinted down the boarding ramp as soon as Alderaan had landed, though she'd been mindful enough to prepare beforehand during the trip through hyperspace. She figured that she might get a small amount of preferential treatment if she donned her old disguise, and the blonde had swiftly gone through the motions that were as normal as breathing. White contact in her right eye, a scar applied with the latest in makeup prosthetics to bisect the 'dead' eye, and clothes that were obvious, but not too obvious. Impersonating an Alliance officer coming from a non-descript freighter had to be done carefully. So, old tan-colored fatigues and well-worn desert ware were the order of the day.

She'd given no word of farewell when she'd left; a singular need drove her.


She had found the table, set up like it always was. Like every single one across the galaxy was. Boxes in bold colors were lined up for display, and behind sat two youngsters in their blue and gold uniforms. It'd taken a full five minutes before she reached the head of the line, and her smile was wide as she stepped forward, credit chit in hand. Another few minutes of haggling followed, of trying to purchase four boxes of each. She was passing through, and wanted to get Space Scout cookies for the Jedi Padawans back on Ossus, since no one there was a Space Scout. The two behind the table were more than willing to help those poor Jedi who'd never experienced their wondrous desserts, and nodded emphatically while grabbing a wad of plastic bags. Each bag was stuffed, and in the end, Cerie had 50 credits left in her account and four nearly-overfull bags of Space Scout cookies.

She thanked the children profusely, with words of encouragement, and as she turned to begin the trek back to Alderaan, the blonde could already almost taste a Slim-mint.

[Abarai Loki]

"...anyway, Cerie's practically family here, but she often enough does her own thing. Which is what she's doing right now. Somethin' tells me it's a bit on the mischievous side, because she was tight-lipped about it before she left. Wonder what she's doing?"

"Probably looking for more zombies to fight."

The words rolled off his tongue, drier than a sandsnake's back. He wasn't looking at Shuvin, nor did he want to; lies were to be used as survival tools, but Shuvin dispensed them like candy that only she could eat. He would not be made a fool of for her own amusement. And if she didn't want to tell him the truth, then there were ways of keeping it from him that didn't insult his intelligence. So, instead of feeding her with attention, he studied the table, which was fit for at least eight people, and the curious colourful markings on it.

But, despite his best efforts, moving from corner to corner of the room, searching for distraction in the cooking apparatus and the holofilm collection, Loki could not be pulled away from the feeling that something wasn't right. Idiots would call it instinct, but it wasn't something of fiction or fantasy, like gut-feelings or women's intuition, there was something truly tangible to the way he felt, like there was a stranger by his side, warning him, just out of reach. Maybe it was all this Cerie business that had him unnerved. Did she even exist? Perhaps she was just another contribution to the pile of falsehoods appearing on his sceptical plate.

"We should check the rest of the ship," he suggested, before Shuvin could become too comfortable, "Search for evidence of sabotage, or surveillance equipment, or even a tracking beacon. We should not become complacent where Imperials are involved. You should try contacting the captain, again."

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Now you're soundin' less than comfy," Shuvin said, looking at him over the rim of her Woobles can. "I can tell when someone's entered and locked the ramp behind 'em. There's a little thingy next to the ramp as you walk up."

She drank, noting the way he kept his back to her. Maybe Ben was right? She didn't have the best instincts when it came to people, just doing whatever popped into her head and seemed fun. Would this time be the one she really messed up on?

"If you're gonna kill me, make it quick, yeah? Last time it gave Ben an awful fright. Wouldn't want to do that again. He wouldn't let me out of my cabin until I pushed my way out to fix the cargo lift." She laughed. "Scar still itches from time to time. I know it don't really, that it's just somethin' my head's pullin' on me, but it's weird, y'know?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki's face creased, a twitch of disbelief. His narrowed eyes crept sideways until they found Shuvin.

"I'm... not going to kill you." He gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. "And I think you know that. People who think they're about to die don't talk the way you do."

This strange new tangent was as unexpected as the last. Loki turned to consider her fully. There were two potential scenarios: either she was being sincere, or she was not. If it was another pretence, then Shuvin was either a compulsive liar, or she was hiding something; if she sincerely thought he was about to murder her, then she was a troubled girl. Then again, it would explain the erratic conversation, the elaborate tales, and the flip-flopping flirtations. It was beginning to make sense.

"If you are confident that nothing has been done to your ship," he said, getting back to business, "Then I strongly suggest attempting to contact your captain, again. He may be in danger for all we know."

[Ben Merasska]

"You are in danger."

"When ain't I, sister?" Ben grumbled to himself. He narrowed his eyes. "You sayin' these here fine upstanding people don't have the best intentions when it comes to me? I'd disbelieve you but I generally like to listen to common sense when I hear it. Thing is, your statement is just helpful enough to not be at all."

He scratched his cheek.

"Who are you, and how exacty how am I in danger?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

"That's good to hear. I got scared a bit what with you soundin' all tight and not lookin' at me," Shuvin said. "You still got all this tenseness about you though. You got a bad feeling creepin' on you? Like somethin's about to happen, you know it, but can't stop it?"

Like fire out of a clear, blue sky, raining death on a small town.

[Abarai Loki]

"I don't know. Maybe."

The words spilled out in an irritable surge. It was about as honest a confession he could manage. He didn't like to talk about his feelings, and here was this strange Togrutan girl who was able to read him like a book. That didn't help. In fact, it made him feel downright uncomfortable. He knew he had to tell her, but first, he had to fight off an overwhelming urge to start pacing the floor.

"You're not helping, you know." He cast a hand in her direction, as if by pointing out the sum of her parts, his complaints would be made clear. The look he received suggested otherwise, so he took a breath, and elaborated, "Well... with your stories and your... behaviour. I saw how you were with that old guard."

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Well, I'm not surprised," Shuvin said drily, a smile on her face. He was jealous? This boy was too cute for words! "You were standing right there, after all. I'd be worried if you didn't see it."

Loki didn't seem too amused by this; just another way she supposed Ben was different from a lot of people: humor always seemed to cut through his tension and calm him down some. He just gave her this blankly unamused look.

"I'm not going to defend myself," she said, though there wasn't any bite in her words. "Don't need to. If you were thinkin' that I should reserve all of my goodwill to you just because you're one of the cutest things I ever seen, then the problem's with you, not me. But I won't hold it all against you, cause stars know I'd have a hard time believin' it if I haven't lived through the stories myself."

She pulled out the communicator, and flicked it on, pressing a button and showing Loki a red light blinking on it.

"Ben's deactivated his comm link," she explained. "If it were on and he weren't answering, the signal would connect but wouldn't resolve. It's not connecting. I'd be worried if he simply weren't answerin', but there's plenty of situations where commlinks are deactivated. Too easy to use 'em to catch naughty people doin' naughty things, so in a lot of cases they'd be turned off and stowed away until things are settled."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Captain Merasska was distrustful. To Lady Vissica, this seemed to be the default setting of all humans. When a species wove so many lies in such a cavalier way, it made sense from a survival standpoint to reject anything you couldn't see or feel. The Selonian therefore didn't take Ben's skepticism as a slight. It was simply the manifestation of his race's shortcomings. The Knight passed her tongue gingerly along the contours of her swollen and split lower lip, tasting the iron of her own blood.

"My name is Matatek Sel Vissica. I am a Knight to the Throne of the Galactic Empire. You are in danger for the same reason that I am. This hidden base full of criminals, murderers, and terrorists of which you find yourself a guest will soon be attacked by the Empire with indiscriminate and overwhelming force.

More than enough to annihilate every rebel within, and every unfortunate bystander."

A rumble rattled in Vissica's throat as she upturned her chin slightly.

"You should return to your ship, and quickly."

[Rolth Wygraant]

The sky above Feriae city had filled with the disorienting presence of a great white durasteel underbelly of a hovering Imperial Star Destroyer. Other than making it's monolithic presence unavoidable in the sky over the star port, the star destroyer Decimator had taken no overt action against the city or the inhabitants below. It's bays of TIE fighters remained on alert, but had not been scrambled. The only action against the city below was to use an atmospheric loudspeaker to cast down it's ominous warning.

"Citizens of Feriae City, this is the Galactic Empire. In support of the decree of King Vashakhal, all entries to and departures from the city are suspended. Do not countermand the no fly order or you will be held to severe consequences. All grounded pilots prepare to submit your vessels to inspection by the King's Watch."

On the bridge of the Decimator, Captain Wygraant paced the command-level catwalk separating the fore-deck vista and the war table situated at the stern of the bridge.

"Are our ships in position?" He called to the crewmen below in the pits, fixing his attention on the technicians at the HoloNet decryption terminal.

"Yes sir. The Quaestor and the Rostrum report ready. They have programmed their navicomputers for hyperspace microjump, which will place them at ideal orbital position to begin the attack."

The Captain touched his chin in thought.

"Still no contact with Lady Vissica?"

"Nothing sir. Her beacon is still active, though it's impossible to determine anything else."

Wygraant let his hand fall to his side, then tucked it behind his back in a closed fist as he pivoted on a heel. As he did, he Commander Belgen approaching from the war table with a look of material insight on his face.

"News?"

"Perhaps. We're getting concurrent data feeds from the probe droids operating throughout the city."

"And?"

Belgen pursed his lips slightly, then gestured to the rear of the bridge. "Maybe you ought to see."


Moments later, the two officers were standing behind another technician's station as he flicked through footage transmitted by dozens of probe droids. One of the feeds enlarged, focused, and played a video on repeat.

"Loklorien s'Ilancy." Wygraant's eyes brightened, a smirk creasing his expression.

"I'm afraid we don't have a better look than this, but it certainly appears to be her."

It wasn't much, really. Just a looping video of a woman with blonde hair and a prominent facial scar hauling parcels of some kind in the city star port.

"Oh, that's her alright." Wygraant nodded. "Hard to forget a face like that."

"Lady Vissica will need to be updated on this turn of events."

"Yes, but unfortunately she is incommunicado presently. I doubt she'd want a prize like this to slip the net while we wring our hands over asking permission. Signal Rostrum and Quaestor. Inform them to begin their attack on Lady Vissica's transponder coordinates."

Belgen shifted in his boots uneasily, a grimace on his face. "Of course, sir, but the order seems..."

"...suicidal?" Wygraant finished the thought for his executive officer, and Belgen nodded. "Yes, I suppose it would. I would guess that Lady Vissica considers herself either expendable to the cause, or too tough of a nut to crack on mere happenstance. If there's anything I know about the force, it's that it tends to keep those who can feel it alive against all odds."

[Abarai Loki]

Liking and hating something at the same time seemed impossible; it was a flight of fancy, a paradox; the meanderings of a poet's drunken pen, and a contradiction that had no place in the real world. And yet, when Shuvin referred to him as one of the cutest things she'd ever seen, that was exactly how Loki felt. In an instant, his face was cemented into place, for fear of the kind of treachery that could slip through the cracks.

Inside the short-lived silence, the sound of the booming voice from above echoed down the hall; even the privacy of the indoors was no safe harbour from the Empire. It served as a stark reminder that the sky above was grey and hard and deadly. Shuvin had produced the comm link again and put his mind at ease in more ways than one. He listened to her speak, glad for her to take the charge, while he lingered on her words - the ones about not reserving her affection for him.

That wasn't what he'd meant. She'd completely misunderstood. What he meant was... what he'd implied...

He slumped into a chair, with his tool box and his rucksack clattering to either side of him. Defeat was conceded with a sigh.

"So, while Ben is off doing his... naughty things, you stay at home? That's interesting. You don't strike me as the domesticated sort."

[Ben Merasska]

Ben stepped back, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Now, maybe I shoudn't be confused, since you aren't the first Imperial Knight to do me kindness. Did Palara tell you about me or something?"

He paused, suddenly aware of how things had gone completely quiet, save for deep throbbing rumble in the air. He looked up, feeling a terror building in his bones and spiking out into himself. The sky held no answers, and he looked back into the dark opaque eyes of the Imperial Knight.

"It's too late, isn't it?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The mention of Palara from Captain Merasska caused the Selonian's array of whiskers to quiver slightly. A small betrayal of surprise that the human may not have recognized in the face of an alien, but reflected Vissica's piqued curiosity. It wouldn't do to attempt to satisfy it. Not here. Not when the threat was so salient.

It's too late, isn't it?

The Selonian's gaze likewise turned to the sky, or what limited slice of it her cell afforded her from beyond the ray shield. The answer wouldn't come with her eyes. Not yet. But as surely as she could feel her own heartbeat, she felt the storm coming.

"The future is always moving, Captain. Now go."

Vissica took two steps back from the ray shield, then stooped her hind legs to drop to her haunches. The Selonian approximated a kneeling state of meditative repose, a somewhat arduous task considering her cuffed forepaws.

"If the force wills it, we will meet again."

Her eyes slowly closed, leaving the Selonian's expression oddly serene as an air siren atop a tower at the base began to spin into a scream. Red klaxons activated along the walls, slowly rotating ominous color over the brick edifice as a crush of sentients poured from the doors of a makeshift barracks.

"Destroyers spotted! Destroyers! Inbound directly for us!"

An Aqualish brushed past Ben with a heavy shoulder as he slid a helmet atop his bulbous head.

"Hurry! Get to your ships!"

Across the way, what appeared to be a livestock pavilion slowly rolled up a dozen wide corrugated metal doors, revealing nearly three dozen snub fighters of varying makes. ARC-170's, Y-Wings, and Z-95 headhunters began to taxi ahead. Behind those, a row of Mandalorian M3-A interceptors were frantically getting their fuel cells topped.

The serene skies Ben and Vissica had glimpsed minutes before were now invaded. Triangular white hulls broke the blue sky, growing larger by the second.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Well most of the time I —" Shuvin stopped. Sirens were wailing, dimly heard through the hull of the ship. "What?"

She turned to look at Loki, who mirrored her expression of confusion and surprise, with an added sense of grim realization.

"Oh no," she breathed, and sprinted through the galley and down to the aft end of the ring corridor. She smacked a control, and a door opened, revealing a lift. She stepped inside, followed by Loki, and they ascended to the dorsal hatch. She stepped out and onto the hull of Alderaan, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

The hulk of the star destroyer above was a massive silhouetted dagger; it pointed to the horizon like an arrow, the dying sunlight painting its bow like blood. Her eyes followed it down its length.

Two star destroyers dominated the skies in the distance, the black specks of TIEs spilling out noticeably like a cloud of flies.

[Cerie Moreau]

There were varying levels of panic that had begun at the first thunderous word that filled the air all around. Some people froze in their tracks, eyes going up to stare at the behemoth above. Others fell into mindless motion, scrambling to find places to hide. There were shrieks and cries of worry, and while Cerie was not about to stop and gawk, she wasn't about to burst into a frenzied run. She had to be quick though, and the blonde darted her way through the bodies around her. Some as statues, others as scurrying insects dashing every which way. Her intent to make her way back to Alderaan was just as focused as her intent to keep her bags from spilling their contents.

A Squib ducked by, chittering madly as he went, followed closely by a Rodian that looked as though he was fleeing for his life.

Stepping from the pedway, Cerie half-jogged out into the road. It was mostly empty, and glancing up, the blonde felt her heart skip a beat. There was the one Star Destroyer over, and farther in the distance...

Her stomach dropped then, as the growing scream of snubfighters cut through the tide of vocal panic all around her. Everything was reaching the point of boiling over, but still she remained doggedly determined. Legs propelling her forward, she threaded her way through the increasing insanity.

She was grimly determined to make it back to Alderaan with her cookies.

[Abarai Loki]

In his distraction, Loki almost stumbled over an outcropping section of Alderaan's hull. He found his footing beside Shuvin, and stared skywards. The grey belly of the Star Destroyer stretched in all directions, like a ceiling over the city, and it tapered off, in the way that all Star Destroyer's do, into a knife's edge. Beyond, a pierced and blushing sky, a sombre horizon, and the bone white glare of Imperial ships blazing in the dying embers of the sun. Loki took a breath, and remained still, allowing the adrenaline to bleed into his muscles until they ached with electricity. A hot wind roared, rolling in waves over the city, and across the expanse, it carried the haunting wail of klaxons.

The fear was in Shuvin's eyes now, blossoming half-formed, like a rose in autumn's chill. And behind those eyes, a terrible thought took shape; it did not take a Jedi to read her mind.

"Ben?"

[Ben Merasska]

He almost did as she said, and for the briefest moment, he could see the end. If he just walked away, he would find Shuvin, and Cerie, and get off this planet alive. But then he remembered why he was standing there in the first place, and though the fear and tension still remained, he firmed himself.

"Not until I get what's mine," he said, and turned around, leaving the Selonian Imperial Knight in her cell.

He had experience with Knights, and knew she wouldn't remain there longer than she wanted.

He made his way back into the waiting room and picked up his bag, and reached inside for his commlink.

"Ben? Ben, what's going on?"

"Shuvin. Where are you?" He asked, finding his way out of the 'prison'.

"I'm with Alderaan right now. Where are you?"

"I'll give you a couple guesses," he quipped. "Shuvin. Stay there. That's an order. I'll be along when I can. Until then, you keep Alderaan safe. Clear?"

Shuvin looked mutinous, but Ben didn't wait for her to reply. He cut the connection and stalked out into the chaotic mess of the hidden rebel base.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Lady Vissica's state of meditation lasted scarcely a minute before it was interrupted by the sound of boots clapping the tile floor, rapidly approaching. Serene as a statue in her kneeling pose, the Selonian's slow metered breath barely made a sound. The little ears perched atop her broad head flicked at the invasion of noise, but otherwise she didn't so much as lift a finger, even at the sound of her cell door opening with a squeal of rusted metal.

"Jannek." she spoke her captor's name, not needing the Devaronian to be so simple as to announce his presence. Vissica's dark eyes slowly opened.

"I don't know how you signaled your friends, Selonian, and I don't care. But you call them off now, or you die."

Behind her, Vissica could hear the sounds of priming blasters. With a grunt, she rose to her feet, turning to face the half dozen men who were to be her executioners.

"I told you that time was not a luxury that you possessed. You doomed yourself and your comrades the moment you brought me here."

Behind her back, Vissica tested the extent of her stun cuffs restraint, feeling the punitive pulse of electricity in response. Jannek approached, withdrawing a familiar weapon from his belt.

"I've never used one of these...lightsabers, but I imagine it's straightforward enough."

"It is a weapon. An extension of the wielder's will."

Jannek's grip on the greatsaber tightened in anger at the Selonian's obstinance. Vissica's eyes half-lidded.

"Much like your anger. Your simmering, impotent rage. Lashing out in its uselessness because you know it will not save you."

A nearly-inaudible click behind Vissica's back was covered by a rumble in the Selonian's chest. Her eyes opened fully.

"You and your men are going to die, Jannek."

The Devaronian sneered, sparking Vissica's greatsaber to life. The massive blade in his hands pierced into the floor, turning tile into ceramic slag where it met.

"Not before you, Selonian. Last chance."

The soldiers tightened their rifle buttstocks against their shoulders.

"I will not stop the attack. If you value your word, you must kill me."

As if to invite it, Vissica raised up her chin, giving her captor a clean pathway at her long neck. Jannek drew up the blade, put his full weight into controlling the blade into a slow and inexorable killing arc...

...and then the world exploded, sending every rebel in the room with it. Jannek and his troops were thrown against the far wall as if hit by falling ordnance. Dazed soldiers lost control of their weapons in a clatter across the floor. The first man to his feet startled as he turned to the blur of motion that was a fully-unshackled Selonian barreling towards him. Before he could reach his rifle, Vissica tucked into a roll, whipping the broad edge of her tail into a killing cudgel that smashed the man's head into the tile with a crunch. Springing back into a four-pawed stance, the Imperial Knight moved with seemingly liquid agility, contorting around errant shots as if she'd known their path ahead of time. The shooter dropped his weapon in a terrified wheeze, hands clawing against the skin of his neck to prize away an invisible death grip as his flailing boots kicked free from the ground. Two more blaster shots rang in, putting the strangled man out of his misery as his body was thrown into the killing fire before slamming against a far wall.

"Mother of moons! Open the door! Hurry! Hurry!"

"Force save us!!!"

Two guards had abandoned all pretense of their attempt to kill the Knight, and were banging on the durasteel door to get the attention of the warden of the brig. One man suddenly lost his footing, faceplanting to the tile as he slid backwards by unseen force. His scream cut short, and the remaining guard turned in horror to see why. Perched above him, Lady Vissica's bullet-shaped head and muscular neck shook left and right, ragdolling the guard by his throat until a cardinal arterial spray speckled the floors and walls alike.

The guard at the door fell against it, his hands held up plaintively. A webbed, broad-knuckled paw seized him by his throat, and the man was wrenched to his feet with a yelp, pinned against the door through which he'd tried to escape. Vissica stared at the terror-stricken guard, a lazy drip of blood spooling off the fur of her chin before being cleaned up with a tongue swipe. Her eyes then traveled just beyond the door frame to Jannek. The Devaronian stood still, trying to form words that didn't make sound. Clumsy hands reached up to the hilt of the greatsaber that pinned him into the wall, but lacked the strength to pull it free. Vissica obliged him, pulling the shaft of white plasma back in a quick motion. To Jannek's credit, he kept his feet. No doubt he had more pride than the man standing next to him.

Reunited with her weapon, Lady Vissica grasped the long cylinder with both paws, her grip tightening at it's knurled surfaces to the point that her calloused skin creaked. A pivot of her head returned her attention Jannek and the last guard.


Outside the cell, the brig warden pointed his pistol at the door. Too rooted by fear to approach and open. Too bound by duty to completely abandon his post. He was ready for something, but he didn't know what.

A sudden flash of white light caused him to flinch, and the warden gaped at the sight of a three meter smiling slice of molten tile and metal that suddenly scarred the cell ahead. The door's electronic lock deactivated with the aid of no one's hand, followed shortly by the rusty door throwing open.

Lady Vissica stepped over the two bisected bodies piled in the threshold, dragging her blade of terror along the ground behind her...

[Shuvin Undhi]

She stared at the commlink for a moment, before her hand drop and fixing her eyes on the distance, where the two Destroyers hung in the air.

Stay there.

She frowned.

"No way," she breathed after a long moment. "No way."

She turned, and saw Loki.

"I'm going," she said, as if expecting him to stand in her way. "I can't just sit here when he's out there."