Mos Ila Spaceport
More blaster rifle bolts slammed into the crate next to Beppy’s head with the force of a rancor’s fist. Beppy tugged his arms and legs in to avoid the incoming fire.
The noise and excitement was too much for him. Alarms wailed alerting Imperial troops to the hangar where his crew had just finished loading the last of the stolen medical supplies.
Beppy gazed longingly at the distance from his crouched position behind the crates to his ship’s loading ramp. It was probably only fifteen meters away but with the ceaseless barrage of blaster fire from the Imperial soldiers at the opposite end of the hangar it might as well have been on the other side of Mos Ila.
From behind the ship’s loading ramp, Beppy’s crewmates returned fire against the growing number of Imperial troopers.
“Beppy, hurry over! We’ll cover you!” Beppy looked up to see the yellow-skinned Twi’lek, Jil, the crew’s captain, shouting at him in their native Ryl tongue.
Reaching out from behind the crates to begin his sprint, Beppy sharply recoiled as three blaster bolts landed in rapid succession in front of him. He looked down at the singed ground and resumed his previous fetal position.
“Beppy, hurry up! We’re going!,” shouted Jil after releasing a barrage of bolts, hitting one soldier squarely in the chest.
Hearing the soldier collapse with a sudden thunk, Beppy braved a glance over the crates to assess his predicament. Far behind the now-fallen soldier, he witnessed two Imperial officers in identical uniform, black hats, white tunics, and black pants, rush in and begin coordinating the actions of the other soldiers.
Two more blaster shots bolted for Beppy’s head as at least one Imperial fireteam resumed their assault on the green-skinned alien.
Over the cries of the Imperials, the unrelentingly wailing alarms, the shouting of his captain, and the blaster bolts slamming into the crates behind him, Beppy thought for a moment he heard a traditional Twi’leki battle cry come from the direction of the ship. Looking over, Beppy gazed at amazement at the sight of the crew’s hulking, orange-skinned recruit, Wonbolu, marching down the loading ramp, blaster cannon primed and in hand.
Wonbo, cigar in mouth and Republic Army tattoo clearly emblazoned on his bare left arm, shouted something unintelligible to Beppy over the commotion in the hangar. Wonbo directed his blaster cannon at the largest concentration of the Imperial squad and unleashed a torrent of blaster bolts that send the Imperial unit scrambling for cover like frightened porgs.
Beppy covered his ears, overcome by the increasing level of noise in the hangar. Suddenly, Jil’s yellow hands were on him, dragging him to his feet and pulling him toward the ship.
“Let’s go! We gotta go!”
Hopping up the loading ramp behind the giant orange Twi’lek, Beppy and Jil made for the cockpit where the other members of the crew had already prepped the ship for takeoff.
It was already quieter in the ship, for which Beppy was grateful, and before he knew it they were airborne an rising into the atmosphere.
A large, orange hand clasped down on Beppy’s shoulder.
“Beat’s cleaning the captain’s quarters for a living, eh, Beppy?,” Wonbo offered in Ryl.
Beppy smiled nervously and shifted in his seat, his discomfort from the blaster file displaced by discomfort from the powerful aura of Wonbo’s cigar.
Wonbo made a bee-line around the assembled crew on his way to the cockpit. The ship’s occupants were a powerful reflection of the diaspora of known skin colors of their race. Blue, red, purple, orange. Wonbo thought the overtly diverse coloring of the crew made a fitting demographic for the Sons of Ryloth.
Wonbo sat forcefully into the cockpit’s passenger chair and observed Jil set about manning the instrumentation.
“A nice score here, Captain. It’ll be straight to Ryloth to unload these medical supplies and ration packs for the people then?”
“Not yet, Wonbo. The Empire will expect a gang of Twi’lek’s to make for Ryloth right away. Set course for Vendaxa.”
Beppy sheepishly approached the doorway to the cockpit. “What’s on Vendaxa, captain?”
. Pirate hideout. We’ll lie low for several days. A week maybe? Until it’s safe to make for the Gaulus sector. With as many pirates and other underworld thugs that have been targeting Imperial shipments and supplies since Zakuul bit it, they’ll probably forget about us within the week.”
Convinced, Beppy took a seat behind his captain as Jil and Wonbo managed the ship’s instruments and the beautiful blue waves of hyperspace presented themselves outside the cockpit’s window.
He just hoped his captain was right.
(( Honorable Mentions: Ravnie
, owner and creator of Point Nelere))