“Twelve cities of men I've stormed and sacked from shipboard,
eleven I claim by land, . . .
And from all I dragged off piles of splendid plunder”
In the depths of the Hapes nebula, a vast armada gathered. No might of a nation this, but an assembled horde. Ships of all sizes crowded thick about the system, mighty cruisers sharing space with the most ramshackle of armed freighters. Not in decades had so many pirates and warlords gathered together for one singular purpose: to sack Coruscant.eleven I claim by land, . . .
And from all I dragged off piles of splendid plunder”
Footsteps drew Gerra's attention from the viewport.
“Ah. Ducha,” he rumbled, taking in the sight of one of the Queen Mother’s favorites, Yavanna. Tall she stood and blonde of hair, her features impossibly beautiful and utterly brazen and defiant.
“Warlord. Or is it Qhan now?” She sneered in envenomed greeting.
Gerra’s lips betrayed him, twitching in amusement as he gave a single shouldered shrug.
The ducha merely snorted. “As you like it. I came to see what the apportionment will be after Coruscant.”
“You keep what you kill. As ever.”
“Strange, I don’t remember getting any of the Maw prisoners after Chadrila. Or do you not recall sacrificing Hapan lives for victory at Hanna?”
Ah. Of course. Hanna City. The Mawite prisoners she spoke of languished even now on Vagaari living shield blisters scattered across the hull of the throne room spire.
A fine decoration.
“What is it you wish, Ducha?”
“I want what we’re owed, Vahlan.”
Gerra’s lips twisted as a flash of anger swept through him.
“What you’re owed? Look out there. What do you see?”
Vahlans, Hapans, and now the Nagai refugees gathered themselves under the emblem of the Blazing Chain.
Led by one person.
Him.
Hasuras na-Gerra.
He sat now upon the throne room spire he’d prised from the Death Star, upon a throne fashioned from stolen Chandrilan aurodium and encrusted with stolen Hapan gemstones. And greed soaked his heart as fuel soaks piled timber.
“Kattada, Chandrila, the Death Star. Even against the forces of Nefaron. I have moved you from strength to strength.”
“And yet you toss away Hapan lives whenever you see fit. You have no right.”
“There is no right. You keep only what you kill. But I see your anger. Sense it. Ever have the Hapans carried the day with your battle dragons. I will see that you are compensated from Coruscant. Half my share.”
“Half your share?” Her nostrils flared, but he could see the calculations in her eyes.
“Yes.”
A small price to pay to maintain the allegiance of the Hapans.
“Fine. And the battle, you expect us at the vanguard again?”
“No,” he rumbled, gaze turning toward the viewport once more. “The coming battle will settle another debt owed.”
“And what’s that?”
“The blood price the Solipsists incurred when they made an enemy of me at the Conclave.”
In the distance, yet more ships emerged from hyperspace. And Gerra smiled.
