Tyger Tyger
The Clinging Fire
The Far Star
Lanteeb Starport to Midtown
Milo slammed on the brakes.“Repeat that.”
The Far Star hovered before the ajar hangar door, floating backwards in the air as its pilot deliberated over the new information.
“We have a weequay evading detent—well, arrest now, sir. Midtown. Suspect –“
Milo put the Far Star into reverse, charting a course for Midtown. The cockpit’s holomap came to life, generating first an orb representing the galaxy, which zoomed in further to an orb symbolizing Lanteeb itself, which zoomed in further to greater specificity, charting a course to the initial confrontation point in yellow, as well as the assessed regress route of the terrorists in purple.
Another craft slipped into the open hangar as the Far Star left the scene. A darker vessel, popularly used by the Knights of Ren.
“--was driving a black speeder with some sort of camouflage…or…cloaking mechanism. Expensive, –“
Milo spoke over the Security Officer, relaying information back to his precious cargo via the intercom system. “Leia, get secure.”
In her cabin, Leia put down her drawings and lay under her bed with a pillow and a fistful of blankets.
“—but, we were able to get a general trajectory based on collateral damage to surrounding traffic, sir.”
Pedal to the metal, Milo hauled-ass to his destination, the holomap pre-empting his perceptions with light illusions illustrated the surrounding cityscape. The Far Star was no joke; the vessel a recon ship posing as smuggler freighter, it was built for speed and evasion. Coupled with Milo’s aptitude for the much more unstable, much more insane TIE Interceptor, it made for one truly aggressive, intimidating pursuer.
And so it was that the White Knight in the phallocentric starship went to rescue the damsel-in-distress by beating the hell out of a woman smaller than him. What progressive storytelling.
Swiggety-swooty
Comin’ for dat booty.
“Sir, ISB has instructed us to keep you apprised of the situation, as you are now to be considering the ranking personnel on scene.”
“…,” Milo registered this new status-quo passively, paying more attention to the city traffic caused by the recent chaos. “Okay...Yeah, fine.” He had just moved from the yellow line into the purple one on his starmap.
“Peering over the port logs, sir, it seems there was a weequay docked here who unloaded a speeder matching the description to the one in which we are currently in pursuit. We have locked down the hanger, and are restricting access.”
“Sounds good. Nobody gets in without clearance.”
“Understood, sir.”
The pieces were starting to fall into place, and the design, once hidden, slowly revealed itself to be something wholly unpleasant. Cloaking devices for personal speeders didn’t come cheap; neither did transport freighters to be abandoned in the event of contingency. This was no grassroots terrorist organization kidnapping journalists for ransom money in desperate hopes to fund projects for another month. Something stank, and it smelled a bit like government money.
“Perhaps it’s nothing, sir, but again…I was told to keep in the loop.”
Well, it would, if Tyger Tyger had not done time as hired-help for the Tion Hegemony and the super-rich Best Friends Club therein. Sure, this had the traditional indicators of state-sponsored actors…but Milo was hip to just how much some people had, while others had so little...and just how easily one or two people could act at the levels of whole factions.
“Commander Rusile has detected a shuttle acting out of protocol.”
Milo weighed the options. Natasi Fortan’s apprehending could only serve to make a symbolic point. She had limited clearance, and an obvious absence of combat effectiveness. "Whole thing seems a bit pricey for snuff propaganda..." Public trial and execution, Milo reckoned. Whether it was to appease an outraged mass or a personal vendetta?
“Where?”
Well...the verdict was still out.
Future work for ISB, surely.
[member="Natasi Fortan"] I [member="Katya Shorn"] I [member="Boo Chiyo"]
