Fractured Souls: Chapter 21

Breaking and Detonating...

---

Zaalbar reared his shaggy head and let out a burp that had Mission wincing and the slave girl ducking for cover.

The Wookiee offered up a shrug by way of apology, but the little Twi'lek could only shake her head.

“Jeez, Big Z! Think you could keep a lid on it?” The teen huffed, “You just about rocked the compound with that one.”

Zaalbar wiped away the trails of meat juice dribbling down his chin and asked, “Mission, does Felize have anymore meat around here? I’m still hungry.”

“You have got to be joking!” Mission eyed the empty platter in front of him. “Z, if we don’t get back Gadon’s accelerator because we had to roll you outta here, I’m going to kick your hairy butt!”

“I can’t help that I’m still hungry,” Zaalbar growled.

“There isn’t enough time to cook you anymore food!” Mission insisted.

“It doesn’t have to be cooked…” Zaalbar pointed out, looking expectantly at the waitress.

Mission’s jaw dropped and she shook her head in disgust. “Gross…” With a resigned sigh, she turned to Felize and asked, “Where’s the meat locker?”

--

As the doors to the cooling unit slid open Zaalbar sighed, briefly enjoying the temperature drop before strolling deeper into the Vulkar refrigerator. The Wookiee heard the soft swish of the door close behind him as he scanned the contents for something tasty.

Instead of the smell of fresh meat, his nose picked up a myriad of scents, none of which he’d willingly call food.

Heading to the very back of the cooling unit, Zaalbar found several hunks of beef hanging from hooks on the ceiling. On the ground, lying haphazardly below the beef, were a number of bound and unconscious Vulkars.

“Someone’s been busy…” he muttered to himself. Scratching his shaggy head, he shrugged and happily swiped off a chunk of meat from the nearest slab of sea beef.

He took a long lingering sniff of the meat and frowned. It didn't look or smell very appetizing, but that didn't stop his stomach from grumbling in hunger.

Just when Zaalbar was about to take a bite, he heard a moan. Crouching down, he scanned the unconscious pile of Vulkars for the origin of the sound.

Another muffled whimper led him to a Vulkar with a serious neck injury. A kolto patch had been slapped haphazardly in place and Zaalbar noted that the hairless man seemed to be the only Vulkar that hadn't been bound.

If his pasty complexion were any indication, the gangster wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

A familiar smell registered with Zaalbar as he inhaled the man's sickly scent. He recognized it as one of the more recent scents that layered Felize's own.

The Vulkar groaned, his face twisting into a grimace as his eyes flickered open.

Leaning forward, until his face was mere inches away from the gangster's, Zaalbar waited until the Vulkar became aware of him. With smirk, he howled menacingly, brandishing his sharp teeth in the man's face and was rewarded with the sight of the gangster's eyes rolling back into his head in a dead faint.

Zaalbar grinned and took a voracious bite from the hunk of beef in his hand. Behind him, he heard the cooler door slide open. It was followed by the light, familiar steps of his partner in crime.

“Jeez! What's with the hollering, Big Z? You just about gave Felize a heart attack!” Mission exclaimed. “Carth and Rhyska just got back and--whoa!”

The teen stopped just behind, rifle trained on the bound Vulkars. “What the heck happened here?”

“It seems our thief was far busier than she claimed...”

“You say that like it's a bad thing. I'm a thief,” Mission pointed out archly.

“Yes, you are. She reminds me of you.”

Mission relaxed her stance at the compliment and blushed. Swatting the Wookiee playfully, she mumbled, “Aw jeez, Zaalbar!”

With a grin, he finished, “You're both terrors!”

Pursing her lips, Mission stomped towards the door of the cooling unit and hissed, “Thanks a bunch, fluffy! If you're done in here, how about we go get Gadon's engine...”

Zaalbar snorted as he watched her leave. Smoothing his scraggly hair, he grumbled, “I am not fluffy!”

Just before the door to the cooler slid shut, Carth and Rhyska's voices drifted in. Their words were cut off, but Zaalbar recognized the underlying urgency in their tones.

Standing perfectly still, Zaalbar looked back at the pile of unconscious thugs and tried to recall how he gotten into this mess. When he woke up this morning, he figured the most exciting thing he'd be doing was slapping a few Rakghouls around while he and Mission did their usual salvaging in the Under City.

“Easy money.” Zaalbar snorted and shook his head.

Somewhere in the middle of business as usual, he had been kidnapped by pigmen, rescued by strangers, and was currently in the process of stealing back a prototype engine for the Beks—in the heart of the Vulkar compound...

Another moan rose up from the pile of bodies. Irritably, Zaalbar made his way over to the offending thug and smacked him soundly with his hunk of meat.

Quickly scanning the other Vulkars, Zaalbar mused that it wouldn't be long before they would all start waking. Eying the slightly mangled beef in his grip, he gave it a sniff and made a face. With a curse, he tossed it into the pile of Vulkars and ambled on towards the exit.

Just as he reached them, the doors slid open and revealed the female he had stupidly pledged his life to.

Eyes as dark as his own looked up at him as she leaned in the door frame. “Hey there, big fella. You ready to go?”

Zaalbar wondered how someone so small could wreak so much havoc in such a short amount of time. Instead he gestured to the bodies and said, “They will wake soon.”

“If everything works out, we'll be long gone.”

His brow furrowed as he stared at her. “You could have just killed them.”

Rhyska shrugged. “Job was to get back the engine, the Beks didn't much care how. They were a little more concerned with when...”

Understanding dawned on Zaalbar and he nodded. “The swoop race.”

“You got it!” Rhyska exclaimed, mimicking Carth to perfection.

The Wookiee eyed her narrowly, not in the least bit amused. Not for the first time, Zaalbar wondered at his ill luck in being bound to the thief. It was becoming glaringly obvious that the rest of his short life would be spent in chaotic upheaval.

Looking past her, he watched as Carth began lecturing the waitress on what to do when they reached the swoop garage. Zaalbar cringed inwardly. “Life could be worse—I could be stuck with him...”

As if reading his mind, Rhyska piped in, “I thought he was kind of irritating at first, but he's handy in a tight pinch.”

“If you say so,” Zaalbar trilled dubiously. “We should get going.”

Flashing him a crooked grin, she twirled her hand in the air and bowed low. “After you.”

Zaalbar snorted at her antics and walked past her.

Rhyska stepped aside and let him pass. Her eyes followed his retreating form for a moment before returning to the figures lying on the floor of the cooling unit. Stepping out of the doorway, her gaze remained on them until the doors of the cooler slid shut.

--

Sitting in the darkened security office of the Vulkar swoop garage, Phlinch Dern was also pondering his ill luck. Several months ago he'd been a top notch splicer for the Lightning Cyphers. In hindsight, Phlinch could see that joining a gang that was all brain and no muscle wasn't the brightest idea. Mostly he'd joined for the prestige of being the best—and the best splicers all joined the Cyphers.

Of course, that was before Brejik decided that the Cyphers really needed to join the Vulkars. Phlinch didn't remember much of what had happened, but he did know that there was a very, very short turf war which ended with a lot of his former friends being or elsed to death.

When the time came for Phlinch to join the Vulkars, or else... he had gamely replied, “Sure.”

Being alive was great.

Of course, that had been before he'd been put on Rancor feeding duty and Under City salvage runs. There were days when death was preferable to the smell of the Under City, or the constant threat of turning into a Rakghoul.

And just when Phlinch thought things couldn't get any worse--they did.

After a long list of crap jobs, Kandon, the Vulkar's second in command, had him moved to a security console. The day he saw the inside of the security room in the swoop garage, Phlinch almost cried.

For the most part, he was left alone to monitor the swoop garage and to revamp the Vulkar's antiquated security system. Pure bliss compared to his former jobs. Not that he was actually given permission to update the security systems, but what Vulkars' didn't know wouldn't hurt him—yet.

Honestly, Phlinch knew he should have seen it coming, but he was too distracted with his new surroundings to care. That was, until things between Brejik and Kandon really began to sour.

Normally, Brejik's paranoid sights were set on Gadon Thek, leader of the Beks. But lately, Brejik had begun to notice just how popular Kandon was to the other Vulkars. So had Kandon, and he hadn't been shy about tossing his weight around or challenging their fearlessly psychotic leader in full view of their subordinates.

Phlinch remembered the day Brejik sent Kandon and his crew out to retrieve Gadon's prototype accelerator. While Kandon was out procuring their victory in the upcoming swoop race, Brejik paid him a visit and dropped a project Phlinch's lap--splice into Kandon's office security feed and find out just how loyal the Vulkar second in command really was.

“But Kandon will blast me if he finds out!” Phlinch stuttered.

Brejik laughed mercilessly. “And I'll blast you if you don't—or feed you to my pet rancor. Whatever! I don't really care! Get me my proof and stay on my good side, Phlinch. You might just live awhile longer...”

That had been a week ago.

Phlinch spun his chair around in lazy circles as he scanned the numerous security holos shown above his console in a half-assed manner. Putting his foot down, his ride came to a dizzying halt. His attention settled on a lone security holo flickering as his latest computer spike spliced their way deeper into Kandon's personal firewall.

Considering that he answered directly to Kandon on a daily basis, Phlinch was pretty much certain that this little project was going to get him killed. No one but Lita ever saw the inside of Kandon's office, though he was pretty sure the services Lita provided had little to do with swoop bikes...

For a moment, Phlinch allowed himself a little detour from his current panic attack. One in the form of Kandon's delicious lookin' arm candy.

Mmm, Lita... Man, that was one foxy little Twi'lek—even if she was crazy.

Phlinch shook himself from his train of thought and inserted another computer spike into Kandon's firewall and waited, knowing it wouldn't be long before he slaved Kandon's security matrix into his own network.

He was damn lucky Brejik needed Kandon for the swoop race, otherwise he already be dead.

Phlinch wasn't stupid. He knew Brejik wasn't really interested in whether or not Kandon was a loyal little Vulkar. It didn't matter because in the end, any excuse would do. Kandon's time was up. He just didn't know it yet.

Unfortunately, Phlinch knew that meant his time was up as well.

If he succeeded with Brejik's little plan, Kandon would end up dead—but not before burning a few holes into Phlinch's favorite head.

If he didn't succeed, Brejik would feed him to the Rancor, or the Under City mutants would get him...

Option A: Rancors Option B: Mutants Option C: Getting shot in the head...

Phlinch weighed each one and wondered if there was another option he hadn't considered yet.

Suddenly, the security holo that had featured Kandon's firewall disintegrated as the spikes completed their job. The holo enlarged and focused into an image of Kandon's office.

Phlinch crooked a brow and leaned forward, staring at the holo. A smarmy grin spread across his face. The movements and excited sounds were unmistakable. So far as Phlinch could tell, the only thing this particular security holo proved was that Twi'leks were indeed supple.

Eyes glazed over, Phlinch leaned a little closer to the holo and murmured, “Whoa...”

He was so far gone, he nearly missed the alarm he had set up in his makeshift security matrix. Dragging his eyes away from the trysting Twi'leks, he pulled up the visual data he had recorded through the system of hidden mini cams he had set up throughout the swoop garage—without Kandon or Brejik's permission—and nearly crapped himself.

Someone was subverting the swoop garage security matrix from a nearby terminal!

“What the...” Phlinch stared shock at the five people crowded around the terminal in question. Phlinch wasn't surprised that the infiltrators could subvert the Vulkar security matrix, it was older than dirt and easy to slave. He was just shocked to find that he could name three of the five people. The whiny waitress from upstairs, Mission Vao—the Beks' favorite mascot, and her furry protector, Zaalbar.

“Obviously, they're here for the accelerator,” Phlinch muttered under his breath. “Gadon Thek. Might'a known the old Bek wouldn't take Brejik's thievin' lying down.”

With a snort, Phlinch turned his attention to the scruffy and paranoid looking mercenary that had accompanied them. He was well muscled and moved like he'd had military training. “So the Beks have bought themselves the services of a stranded merc to do their dirty work.” Phlinch let his attention drift to the dark haired woman who worked the terminal.

Leaning forward, Phlinch listened as the pistol packing merc asked, “Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

With a sigh that spoke volumes, the woman answered bitingly, “Look, I realize I lack the finesse of a pro, but it's not like we were aiming for anonymity, Carth. We blew up their rancor and we're about to steal the Bek's accelerator back. They're gonna know we were here. It's pretty much unavoidable!”

Phlinch's eyes grew as round as saucers as he rocked back into his chair. The woman's words echoing in his head. “We blew up the Rancor...”

Had they really? Phlinch wondered, Was the beast actually dead? Well, that development pretty much made Option Amoot. Which left him with turning into a mutant or getting shot.

Then another part of the retrievalist's conversation caught his attention.

“What are you doing, Rhyska?” Mission asked as she looked over the woman's shoulder.

“I'm redirecting the power into the energy cell of the lone bike over there.”

The man called Carth hissed, “You're going to blow that up?”

The dark haired woman shrugged. “We need a distraction and we need to thin out the Vulkars. Racing bike goes kablooey, Vulkars come on out to put out the fire, secondary explosion of the remaining bikes will take care of the majority. It'll give me and Mission the cover we need to find the accelerator and it'll give you and Big Z a fighting chance to hold the garage until we get back.”

“Hold the garage?!” Carth spat incredulously. “Are you insane? How am I supposed to hold the garage with a Wookiee and a pan-wielding waitress?”

“That will be entirely up to you, if I can shut off safety protocols controlling the energy cells.”

“You're hinging everything we have on if?”

Phlinch smiled ferociously. Another option was quickly revealing itself to him. Whatever finesse the woman lacked as a splicer she made up for with her reasoning. Every Vulkar in the garage would head straight for those bikes.

Brejik had made promises to certain gangs and he'd talked enough smack around the Lower City that losing at the swoop race was not an option. Not to mention he hadn't exactly hidden the fact that the Vulkars had stolen the accelerator. If the Beks stole it back in time to use it against him, it would make him look worse than weak. He'd look like three different kinds of fool. A psychotic, maniacal trigger-happy fool.

Ultimately, Phlinch knew that he really had only one option. Without another thought, he deactivated the safety protocols for the garage and let the If theory play out.

Phlinch leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the console.

While the woman named Rhyska slaved the security network to her terminal and looped all the video feeds into reruns, Phlinch enjoyed the few brief moments Kandon and Lita had left before all hell broke loose.

When the energy cells to the bikes overload, the hazard alarm will sound off and then the party will really get started.

--

Carth hated the plan. The plan contained explosions, therefore the plan sucked.

Heat and smoke rolled through the garage when the first bike exploded and as predicted, Vulkars poured into the garage from every nook and cranny in an effort to save the other bikes.

The second explosion took out a good portion of the Vulkars that rallied around the remaining bikes. Carth wished he'd brought some goggles or a re-breather. I can barely breathe in this mess, much less shoot.

Crouched behind some debris, Carth kept low to the ground and tried not to breathe in the smoke. Squinting his eyes, he scanned the garage for any sign of life. Recognizing a familiar form on the ground, he nudged Felize with his foot and rasped, “Hey? You alive?”

The battered waitress uncurled from her fetal position on the ground. Her hands were still clapped over her ears as she cracked open an eye and exclaimed, “I think I've gone deaf!”

“Yep, you're alive,” Carth muttered dryly. “Where'd the Wookiee go?”

“How should I know?” Felize spat as she looked around frantically. “I can't see anything in this mess!”

Carth smothered a laugh. He hated to admit that he was thinking the very same thing. “Keep your voice down! That last blast didn't take care of everyone. Stick by me and do as I say and we'll get out of this mess.”

“What about Mission and your partner?”

Partner? Carth snorted and replied curtly. “They're busy.”

They were busy alright. Both were long gone after the first explosion. Off to search for the coveted accelerator. So nice of them to leave me to hold down the garage with a crying waitress and a Wookiee I can't even communicate with. Or apparently keep track of...

Carth growled, “Where the heck is he?”

His question was answered with a hail of blaster fire. Felize screamed and tried to make herself as small as possible.

Carth fired back from his hiding place, fervently hoping that Rhyska and Mission found what they were looking for—fast.

Despite picking a few of the Vulkars off, Carth hadn't made much progress. And then, things got worse.

While returning fire, Carth narrowly missed catching a blaster bolt to the chest. Instead, it grazed across his ribs. Before falling back behind his debris cluster, Carth caught sight of the armored droid that nearly ended him. “Blast!”

“Are you alright?” Felize called out to him.

“I'm gonna kill her,” Carth muttered as he fished through his gear for some kolto.

Felize's eyes grew wide as she squeaked, “What?!”

Carth rolled his eyes and slid a blaster to the girl. “Here, do me a favor and shoot at some bad guys, okay?”

Even as he spoke, Carth could hear the heavy footfalls of the droid and the shuffling the thugs made as they maneuvered their way through the smoky debris, closer and closer to them. Blaster fire continued to pummel his hiding place.

“This is not good,” Carth muttered as he fired back. A glance in Felize's direction proved that the girl putting the blaster to good use. He didn't know what she was firing at, but he was glad she wasn't aiming in his direction.

Carth wasn't sure how close the droid was until a large chunk of debris sailed right into the scrap pile he was using for cover.

Dashing for cover behind a nearby debris pile, Carth hollered to Felize, “Aim for the battle droid!”

Felize kept on firing, flinching at each blast and then she noted a strange sound. “Um, mister uh, Carth? What's that noise?”

A repetitive clanging erupted from the smoke and darkness. A battered droid made a bee line towards the Vulkar camp, enemy blaster fire not slowing down the old droid in the least. The scrappy little unit tackled the armored droid and proceeded to blow up, incinerating everything near them and knocking everyone to the ground.

Pain lanced through Carth. Before he'd even hit the ground, he knew he'd taken some shrapnel in his leg. Biting back a curse, Carth pulled his blaster and aimed it at the nearest Vulkar, taking the thug down.

He wasn't quite fast enough to get at the other Vulkar snuck up behind him and put him in a headlock. The heavily muscled arm squeezed against his throat, making him light-headed.

Panic and anger rose within Carth. Can't lose consciousness! Can't die like this! I just can't!

For another agonizing minute, Carth struggled and his lungs burned. Then suddenly, he was lying face down on the ground, the Vulkar was gone and he was grateful for the acrid air filling his lungs.

A deafening roar echoed throughout the garage. Getting up on his hands and knees, Carth squinted at a tall, furred figure swinging around a wicked looking wrench. The Wookiee cracked the skulls of the unfortunate Vulkars who weren't quick enough to get out of his way.

Carth's eyes widened as he watched the Mission's fearsome friend take his rage out on the few Vulkars left standing.

Carth grimaced as he watched Zaalbar pick up a wiry little thug and toss him clear across the room, where he landed in a jagged pile of scrap. Note to self, don't make the Wookiee angry...Ever!

Instead, Carth rasped, “Where you been, big guy? Could have used your help earlier.”

Zaalbar answered him with a series of trills, grabbing him by the scruff of his battle armor and hauling him up to his feet.

Felize wandered over to them, her eyes wide as she offered Carth back his second blaster. “Here. You should take this back. I'm not really any good with blasters. And Zaalbar said he was busy disabling the elevator and repairing that droid that blew up earlier. That was his handiwork.”

“Oh, well, good job,” Carth replied weakly. “What's this about the elevator?”

Zaalbar rolled his eyes at the human and turned to Felize, who in turn translated for Carth. “The alarms for the garage have alerted everyone in the compound. Company's coming down the elevator.”

Turning to Carth, Felize trembled fearfully. “He said we need to find another way out, or we're screwed...”

Carth looked from the waitress to the Wookiee and spat, “Of course we are.”

--

Phlinch watched the very pissed off Wookiee club a few mechanics and racers with a massive wrench. He couldn't quite smother the chuckled that escaped his lips. Fitting really.

His attention slid over to the other holos. So far, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Mission and her dark haired friend. Probably running around all stealth-ed up.

Phlinch scratched his head and pulled up the security net for the upper levels of the compound and felt the blood drain from his face.

In the elevator room of the residential quarters stood a number of Vulkars. Several of their top splicers and droids worked to reconnect the stalled elevator.

Waiting at the head of the line was Brejik, his face dark and foreboding.

A chill raced up Phlinch's spine. He knew that look. That was not a good look.

He was just about to pull up a holo from Kandon's security net when the doors of the security room slid open, revealing Mission Vao's dark-haired friend.

Phlinch noted that she didn't look half so friendly with a blaster trained on him and like Brejik, she looked none too pleased.

Her gaze was focused steadily on him the way a malraas focused on its prey. Phlinch swallowed hard and opted not to make any sudden movements.

Cocking her head slightly, the woman drawled, “What? No witty comebacks? Aren't you going to plead for your life?”

“Uh, no.” Phlinch replied, tenuously. “I was going to give you two very good reasons not to kill me.”

The woman's lips curved into a crooked grin and a spark of amusement lit her eyes. Leaning into the door frame, she urged him with a sweep of her hand. “Well, don't let me stop you. Go on, slim. Why am I not going to kill you?”

Phlinch jerked a thumb at the security holo of the upper elevator room. “Well, for one, the obvious exit is blocked. The elevator may be jammed now, but it won't be forever. Brejik and his boys will be down here the second it works.”

The woman's eyes narrowed and her grin vanished.

“And well, for the second reason...” Phlinch turned and pulled up a Kandon's office on a holo. “Looks like your little Twi'lek friend found the accelerator before you did, but Kandon and Lita aren't going to let her just walk out with it. If you don't get on over there, she's toast.”

Quirking a brow at his last comment, the woman slowly sauntered over to him. The barrel of her blaster coming to rest gently against his forehead. “Well, they're very good points, but so far, you haven't really given me a reason not to shoot you.”

“I can open the hanger doors the racers use to bring their bikes in and out of the garage,” Phlinch offered up quickly.

“That would be helpful—if we had a bike to get out of here on.”

“I, uh, know where Kandon and Lita's bikes are.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits as she considered his words. “And you're helping me because...”

“Internal power struggle. No matter who leads, I'm a dead man. I want out.”

Pulling her blaster back, she grinned. “Personal survival. Now that's a reason I can buy.”

Phlinch nodded emphatically. “I'm happy to give you whatever reason won't get me blasted.” As he turned to lead them to Kandon's machine shop, a slender hand settled on his shoulder.

“Don't even think of double crossing me, slim.” Her fingers dug into his flesh hard enough to make him flinch. “Betray me and I will blast out your kneecaps and leave you for Brejik.”

Eyes wide, Phlinch answered the only way he could. “Sure.”

--

“Shut up, you stoopa chubas! There ain't nothing you have to say that I wanna hear!” Mission exclaimed, punctuating her declaration with a few wild shots of her rifle from behind her refuge, a sleek swoop bike with all the bells and whistles.

A lime green Twi'lek, in a swoop bike suit held up his hand, signaling his mistress and two Vulkar bodyguards to hold their position. “You've got nowhere to run, Vao. If you're smart, you might join up with the Vulkars.”

Mission snorted. “You're dreamin' if you think I'd ever hook up with you stinkin' Vulkars!”

“Hangin' with the Beks ain't done you much good,” Kandon pointed out. His tone taking on a note of sympathy. “Sure they feed you and give you a place to stay, but hey, it's not like you and that freakin' carpet of a bodyguard don't pay them in salvage the shops round here wouldn't kill to have a first look at. You're too good for 'em, Vao. You ain't never gonna be a Bek.”

“I am so!” Mission exclaimed. “One more year and it'll be official. I'll be a Bek and then you and everyone else can kiss my hind end!”

“Oh, is that Gadon's excuse?” Kandon scoffed. “You aren't old enough? Stupider, older sentients are invited into the Bek ranks everyday, but a bright little thing like you has to wait in line?”

Lita made some tsking sounds and came to stand next to her lover. “Looks like Mission's about as smart as her loser brother, Kandon. The Vulkars don't need silly little shrills hangin' about.”

Mission's face went purple with fury. She fired several awkward shots over the seat of the swoop bike and was pleased to hear her captors curse and duck for cover. “Takes a shrill to know one!” she hollered back. “Are ya finished talkin' me to death? How about you and your joy girl shut up!”

“This is your last chance, Mission!” Kandon growled angrily. “The only way you're leaving this room is if you join up. Otherwise, you'll just be another body we feed to Brejik's pet rancor. Ain't nobody here got your back!”

“Big Z's got my back!” Mission spat. “When he gets here, he's gonna tear your arms off and beat you with 'em!”

“I don't see your Wookiee friend now,” Lita snickered. “You're all alone. Your brother left you all alone and the Beks sent you here to die alone!”

“No gang means no protection,” Mission heard Kandon say. “You just ran out of luck, Vao. Can't have you stealin' my bike. I worked way too hard stealin' that accelerator from the Beks to let you screw this up. It's time to rub you out.”

Mission readied her rifle as she felt Kandon's bodyguards rush her. A chill settled in the pit of her stomach as time slowed down. She might be able to take care of Kandon's bully boys, but she'd never be able to take them all down. Realization struck her. I'm a goner, for sure. Poor Big Z. Who'll take care of him now? He'll be all alone—like me. All alone...

A foot or two away, between the swoop bike and the Vulkars, a small cylindrical tube landed with a clang, releasing smoke as it crashed on to the floor.

Mission held her breath and used the distraction to activate her stealth unit and move while Kandon, Lita and the Vulkars coughed up a fit.

“Now, now. Play nice with your guests!” a familiar voice chastised.

Mission felt relief wash through her as she ducked for cover behind another swoop bike. She tried to set her sights on just one target, but couldn't make out which dancing figure was which. All she saw were legs.

She could hear the sounds of a scuffle as people and fists collided into each other. Mission saw what looked to be a foot slice through the air and make contact. The injured figure fell with a pained grunt.

Only three people remained. Mission nearly jumped out of her skin when a blaster shot rang out and someone gasped.

The machine shop fans kicked on, sucking the smoke out of the room. Mission's eyes widened as she took in the scene before her.

Two Vulkars lay on the ground, one unconscious and one dead. Kandon stood near his bike with a smoking blaster and Rhyska stood across from him. Between them was Lita. Her small, lithe form trembling as she stared at the blood rushing out from the wound in her gut.

Looking up at her lover, Lita whispered, “Kandon?” before crumpling to the floor.

Kandon went pale as Lita ceased breathing. Fury unlike any Mission had ever seen erupted out of the swoop racer with a howl. He came at Rhyska and they met each other with vibroblades.

A horrible sound filled the air, making Mission clap a hand protectively against the side of her head as the two blades tried to take each other apart. Sparks flew as Kandon and Rhyska traded blows, each blocking the other's strikes.

The fight came to an end when Kandon's free hand reached for his blaster. Rhyska dropped and rolled out of the way evasively, her hand sliding up from her boots. As Kandon came at her with blade and blaster in hand, she blocked him with her vibroblade and drew her boot knife across his neck before he could pull the trigger.

Mission watched wide eyed as Kandon crumpled to the floor, blood rushing from his throat. Her eyes slid over to her Rhyska, who crouched over the Vulkar and used his swoop suit to wipe the blood off her knife.

Rhyska stood and looked at her. “Where's this oh so important accelerator?”

Mission blinked and pointed at Kandon's swoop bike. “I—uh, think they already installed it into one of their bikes.”

Rhyska walked over to the bike and hollered, “Hey, Slim! Get over here!”

A skinny human with shaggy, straw colored hair ambled into the room. He looked at all the carnage and exclaimed, “Holy shavit! You actually killed them!”

“It's not like they gave me a choice,” Rhyska replied irritably as she hooked her vibroblade back to her belt. “Time to do your part.”

Phlinch nodded and headed over to the machine shop's console and began the sequence for unlocking the doors to the swoop garage.

“What?” Mission exclaimed. “He's a Vulkar! We can't trust him!”

“Which is why you'll be with him. He's gonna get the hangar doors, the both of you will snag a bike and wait for me.”

“Where are you going?” Phlinch demanded. “The elevator just got fixed. Brejik's coming down. We can't be here!”

Rhyska hopped onto Kandon's swoop bike and started it up. A sliver of thrill raced up her spine as the bike hummed. He might have been a prick, but Kandon sure knew his bikes. Sweet ride! “I'll be back. Gotta go pick up some friends.”

Switching gears, the bike glided forward and out the machine shop doors, thundering down the halls.

Phlinch looked at Mission and asked, “Is she always like that?”

Before the little Twi'lek could answer, numerous explosions rocked the swoop garage.

--

Carth knew they were out of time when the elevator brought down a batch of really pissed off gangsters. He fired on the swarm of Vulkars even as the elevator closed its doors and was recalled for another wave.

Zaalbar handled the few that avoided his line of fire and even Felize managed to knock a few upside the head with her frying pan, but it wasn't enough. Eventually, they'd be overrun.

As he kept on firing, Zaalbar began to trill and gesture wildly towards the door leading to the machine shops.

“I'm busy, Fuzzy! Can't talk right now!” Carth exclaimed, as he kept on firing.

Zaalbar hissed at the pilot and turned his attention to the waitress and said, “I set up a few mines by the elevator and in a few other places. Go through those doors and get behind the wall. The detonations should be significant.”

“Um, Carth?” Felize began.

“Not now!”

Zaalbar smacked nearby Vulkars aside with a swing of his wrench and blasted at thugs in the distance with his bowcaster. The Wookiee howled victoriously, a snarl curling his lips.

Felize backed away from Carth and ran past Zaalbar. The Wookiee barked a few more orders to her as she ran for the doors leading to the machine shops. From behind the safety of its walls, the waitress hollered, “Carth! Zaalbar says you need to get back over here right now!”

Her voice was drowned out by blaster fire.

“What?” Carth bellowed, keeping his eyes on their enemies.

“You seriously need to get over here! Right now!”

“I don't know what you or the Wookiee are babbling about, but it would be helpful if—hey! What are you doing?!”

With an irritable growl, Zaalbar picked Carth up by the scruff of his body armor and hissed, “I said move, you fool!”

Suddenly, Carth found himself airborne and screaming. He landed through the open doors with a thud, sliding across the floor, right into the wall.

Zaalbar leapt in after him.

Grabbing a hold of Carth's foot, the Wookiee dragged the human to safety beside Felize, just in time for several explosions in the swoop garage to send debris and body parts flying in various directions.

Carth coughed and sat up, clutching his ribs. “I think you cracked a few of my ribs, fuzz ball!”

Zaalbar shook his head and trilled, “If you'd have just done what I said, your ribs would be whole. Oh, wait! That's right! You didn't bother listening to the translator when I told you what was going on.”

With a snort the Wookiee finished, “Serves you right!”

Squinting at the agitated Wookiee, Carth turned to Felize and asked, “What did he just say?”

Not even looking at him she muttered, “Serves you right.”

Groaning, Carth stood up and flashed Zaalbar a suspicious look. “All that growling and yipping for one snarky comment?”

Standing up and brushing the dust and debris off her, Felize rolled her eyes. “Pretty much.”

“Uh, huh,” Carth replied dubiously. “We better go see what's keeping the girls. Not much point in hangin--”

Felize screamed as a singed Vulkar thug slammed a heavy fist into Carth's jaw, sending him flying back against the wall.

Zaalbar roared, pushing Felize as close to the wall as he could. A sound of thunder echoed throughout the hall way.

Dizzy from the blow and head roaring with pain, Carth opened his eyes just in time to see a giant of a man loom over him menacingly.

The roar in Carth's head became louder and louder the closer the gangster came to him. Then suddenly, the roar stopped and the Vulkar went sailing through the air as a swoop bike slammed into him.

Carth looked up at the rider sitting atop the swoop bike, a sour look on his face. “You had to hit him with the bike. You couldn't just, I don't know, blast him?”

Rhyska shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

Mission and Phlinch arrived on their bikes just as Rhyska waved Felize over.

“Where's the accelerator?” Carth asked as Zaalbar helped him up.

“I'm riding it.”

Carth hopped behind Mission on her swoop bike. While, Zaalbar none too gently shoved the Vulkar splicer farther down the seat of human's bike, taking his place up front.

“All right, everybody! Let's get outta here!” Rhyska shifted gears on her bike and took off. Out they went through the hanger doors, towards the Bek base, and one step closer to rescuing Bastila.

--

Stalking like an angry kath hound amidst the wreckage, Brejik surveyed what was left of his swoop garage. All around him, his underlings searched through the garage for any salvageable parts.

A low keening moan drew his attention to an injured swoop racer. Lips curling into a snarl, he pulled out his blaster and shot the man. Every thug in the garage came to a stand still as they waited to see what their leader would do next.

To no one in particular, Brejik growled, “Get me Selven!”

---

Author Note:

Many thanks to the awesome Bryn. You rock! To the readers, many apologies for taking sooooooo long to finish this chapter. Hope you enjoy. As always, feel free to flame or praise, as the mood suits you. Constructive, of course. Let me know how I'm doing.