Journeymen Knights I: Revolution/Chapter 3

Chapter Three
 Corellian Security Force Headquarters; Coronet, Corellia 

Preal Renn had found himself in an all too familiar location; the waiting area outside of his section chief’s office. He had joined the Corellian Security Force ten years ago and still found it hard to adapt to their strict rules of engagement. Somehow this time he had managed to get himself called to Chief Anox’s office without laying a finger on anyone. He had been on an undercover mission for the past few months and found it odd that they would call him in and potentially blow his cover.

Cew Anox was only a few years older than Preal and had quickly risen through the ranks of CorSec. They had both become fast friends outside of the “office” but still seemed to butt heads inside the ranks. He had been in top physical condition, but now he spent most of his days behind a desk, writing and reading reports, and had become slightly overweight.

Cew’s administrative aid looked up from his terminal and told Preal that he could go in now. He walked in and immediately sat down in front of the desk, that dominated the majority of the office, and put his booted feet up on it. “What’s going on Chief?” he ask nonchalantly, “Am I being pulled off my assignment or what?” Preal did not care if he had just violated several codes of conduct in a matter of a few seconds. He just didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary.

“No you’re still on your assignment I just had a few question for you and an amendment to your orders.” Cew obviously agreed with Preal’s desire to get this break from protocol over with. He closed the door and walked over to his seat behind the desk. As he past Preal’s feet he smacked them off of his desk and wiped the desktop where Preal’s heels had been. “First of all you have not sent in a progress report for six months, why?”

If there was one thing that Preal hated more than the strict Rules of Engagement of CorSec it was all the report writing. He had found it increasingly difficult, the further undercover he got, to report in on this assignment. “Which would you rather have, a report or a dead officer?”

Cew just looked at him. Apparently he did not think that it was that cut and dry. “Secondly,” Cew continued, “it is looks like the CEC is working on a secret project for CDF; do you know what that project might be?”

Preal knew that there had been rumors of a top secret freighter that was in the works and was fairly confident the chiefs other intelligence avenues had already full briefed him on that. It seems that he was trying to test Preal. “I think it is some kind of new freighter or a modification for an existing YT line. I didn’t know that I was supposed to be spying on CEC or is that the amendment to my orders.”

Cew was getting aggravated by having to answer the questions from his subordinate. “No, the amendment is that you no longer need to report back to us…” a wave of relief rushed over Preal, “…and we have worked out a deal to get you in as a test pilot for this new project. Unfortunately the project will not be completed for at least another three years.” This confused Preal, why would they pull strings to get him on a project that isn’t being completed until three years from now.

“I can tell by your face you don’t fully understand right now, but after next week you will,” Cew astutely commented, “Finally, you need to take better caution with your personal relationships. You are not being as discreet as you ought to be and that is all I am going to say. I hope you enjoy the rest of your leave.” Cew stood up, walk to the door and opened it. “Remember if you are asked about your whereabouts today you were picked up for violation of the concealed weapons law, but were found falsely accused.” Preal took that as the end of their conversation and hoped that this was the last time he would be leaving this office for a long time.

 Trader’s Dream, En route to Tatooine from Corellia 

''I still can't believe it. Dad actually let me take a jump out of system. And I was the one that was in the pilot's seat. I wonder why we are going to some backwater planet out here in the Outer Rim. What could my parent's possibly be hauling out here that could be worth anything? ''

Sch’jo then realized that he had been daydreaming again; his father had sent him back to the main technical computer to make sure that the refitted engines were running at peak performance. There he was, sitting in a maintenance hatch, holding a hydrospanner, staring at a wall full of wires and circuits, doing absolutely nothing at all. Then he remembered that he had finished with his diagnostic and should probably get back up to the cockpit.

''I wonder if they will take me along to meet the buyer, or will they stick me back here to guard the ship as usual? '' He thought as he walked back to where his parents were.

"Are the engines ok?” his father asked without turning around to face him.

"Yes sir. They’re running at 110% efficiency.” Sch’jo answered without hesitation.

His mother said proudly, "You never cease to amaze me," but she continued to monitor the readouts on the console in front of her.

For a few moments the trio sat in a somewhat awkward silence. It was making Sch’jo antsy so he decided to break it. "Father, if you don't mind me asking, why are we going to Tatooine?” he inquired youthfully. “I mean what could we possibly be bring out there that these measly little moisture farmers need?”

"Well son, I really can't tell you.” Sch’jo’s face fell to the deck as his father turned around to look upon him. “But what I can tell you is that Tatooine really needs our support.” The youth looked up at his father and saw that his mother had turned around to face him as well. “It, like the rest of the known galaxy, is under the rule of the iron fisted Empire and even small time traders like us can help those who are feeling repressed by its will."

Without warning, the Trader’s Dream reverted to real-space. "What now?!?” Jorum frustratingly exclaimed. All three Alchi’s started investigating the reason for the sudden interruption of their journey. Jorum checked the freighter’s diagnostics looking for a mechanical problem, Nalaandur scanned the star charts and navigational equipment to see if they miscalculated their route, and Sch’jo looked out the forward viewport scanning the field of stars for any possible explanation when he spotted them.

"Father! Look!” Sch’jo exclaimed as he pointed up and to the right of their field of view, “Uglies!"

The young Corellian had seen these types of ships before, but only in holonet films. They were fighters that were pieced together from various scraps because low budget pirates that couldn't afford to buy whole ones. Typically they were X-wing or TIE fighter bodies with the opposite ship’s wings. These had the fuselage of an X-Wing, but the solar panels of a TIE fighter. The X-TIEs had dropped out of the hanger of a nearby Detainer CC-2200 interdictor cruiser. But like the Uglies this cruiser was not what you would expect of a standard military vessel. They obviously collected it after a battle and repaired it themselves because the haul was made up of mismatched pieces of other ships. "Shields!" Jorum commanded, "Sch’jo, head for the turrets! Nalaandur, take the controls! We’ll take care of this rabble!"

Before his father had even finished his sentence Sch’jo was already racing towards the ladder that lead to the gun turrets, with his father not far behind. They each reached their respective posts and put on their headsets. Sch’jo powered up his weapon station and was set to do battle. "I'm in Dad." "Good,” his father responded, “Nalaandur, head for the edge of the gravity well and jump out of here. We’ll keep the Uglies occupied until we reach our jump point."

"Gotcha Dear", she replied affectionately. Six fighters had already poured out of the belly of the larger ship and were heading straight for their freighter. "Remember son, these fighters might be shielded so it will take a few shots to take them down. But they won't have the maneuverability of either an X-wing or a TIE,” his father warned.

"Understood." This was not Sch’jo’s first space fight, but usually they were up against less advanced ships then these. With that two of the fighters strafed the underside of the ship with fire and Sch’jo welcomed them with his own shots. The quad lasers blazed to life with each and every pull of the triggers. He landed most of his shots and sent one of the aggressors hurling off into space missing one of its solar panels and his partner went up in a brilliant fireball.

"Dad!” Sch’jo shouted into his headset, “They don't have shields, but they are utilizing the Quad lasers of their solar panels.”

"I see that, I just scratched one of the two that came after me. Watch out they might send reinforcements from their capital ship,” his father advised.

He no more than finished his sentence when the other two came up from the rear of the freighter and lanced out against Sch’jo's turret. "Rear deflectors are at 20% watch out you two; about 2 minutes until we can jump,” Nalaandur said over the comms.

Suddenly, the one fighter, that Jorum missed, made a pass on the underside of the freighter and blasted away at the belly turret. In a brilliant display of sparks Sch’jo's controls went dead. Luckily, he got off a shot of his own and blasted the pirate scum out of the stars. "Sch’jo, are you alright?" his parent's asked in unison, fearing the worst. Catching his breath, Sch’jo patted himself down to make sure that he was all there. "I'm fine but I’ll have to repair the turret controls,” he said looking over the sparking console.

"Don't worry about that now,” his father commanded, “get up to the cockpit and see if you can't get us out of here!"

With that Sch’jo was out of his seat and head up the turret tube, going straight for the cockpit. He hoped into the pilot's seat and looked over the controls. "Ten seconds until we jump," he informed his father. Out of nowhere an alarm signaled that one of the remaining X/Ins must have retained the ability to fire missiles or torpedoes from the X-wing’s fuselage, because it had just locked on to the Dream. Fortunately the Alchi’s were not going to hang around to find out exactly what the Ugly was packing.

"Hold on up there,” Sch’jo called out to his father. With a pull of a lever and in a blink of an eye they were gone, wrapped in the safety of hyperspace’s blue security blanket.