Star Wars: Heir to the Sith (Part 2)

Chapter 25: "You remind me of Queen Myr. So arrogant. So righteous."

The blaster bolt left the pistol at the same instant the blade of the lightsaber extended. They connected with a blinding yellow flash and the bolt shot upward, into the ceiling.

A second bolt followed straight on the first, yet somehow Ella was aware of how surprised the pale-eyed woman was, of how her hand wavered, and she knew she didn't have to do anything to win.

Like the first, the second bolt too was deflected away, missing the shooter's face by less than half a metre to impact the wall panelling some way off.

There was no chance for a third. The tip of Ella's blade sliced through the body of the blaster, singed the knuckle's of its wielder, and then arced across and down, straight in front of Tusker's face.

He gave a bellow and fell backward, holding his snout in his huge hands.

Whilst the end of one of his jaw tusks landed at Ella's feet.

The pale-eyed woman fell to her knees, her injured fist in her other hand.

"I've never seen anything like it . . ." one captain remarked.

The shocked peace ended then. Ruskin's group reached for their blasters, but so to did all those who opposed him. Before they had even half drawn, they knew the odds were very heavily stacked against them.

"You dare?" Ruskin said, picking himself up. "You dare to point your guns at my men? Who amongst us has done any more for our war than I? Who–"

"You're a murderer!" one captain said. "I know what you did to the prisoners you took from the corvette. There were women and children aboard–"

"Bah! They were the families and friends of Imperial officers. They were legitimate targets."

"Just like the civilians who died in the bombing at the Radu spaceport?" said another captain. "Which allowed your ships to swoop in and leave with precious war materials? You've hidden under our flag for far too long, pirate!"

The pale-eyed woman looked up at Ella. There was a vivid wound on her page white skin where a fleck of molten gun metal had caught her cheek.

"I'll k-kill you," she stammered. "I'll kill you–"

"You tried that once already," Ella said. "Remember how that worked out for you?"

She pressed the lightsaber toward the woman who fell onto her back to avoid it.

"Or should I remind you again?"

Ruskin moved to the woman's side. "Come on Alo. Let the child have her victory. It will be short-lived. No one in this sector treats me or mine like this, and but for this being an Alliance meeting, you would already be dead." He stared at her weapon and then looked Ella full in the face. "Your accent is not of any mis-bred urchin. It is rather fine, isn't it? Tell me, Ella, did Lance scoop you off Farsalt in time to avoid its destruction? What did you promise to get passage, I wonder? In fact, could you be the Ella Malquet who ordered the uprising that led to her peoples' suffering? For that is what was suggested to one of my captains when he met an old friend flying out of that system."

He smiled. "Yes. You remind me of Queen Myr. So arrogant. So righteous. Do you know she once threw me off Farsalt several years ago, for interrogating an alien who we believed was an Imperial plant? Apparently, I was too . . . excessive. I'd always harboured a desire to avenge that humiliation, but I suppose Sarn has taken that opportunity away from me now."

Ruskin made a choking noise and held his hand around his throat, as if he was suffocating. Then he laughed suddenly.

"Being spaced is not a nice way to die! It can take several minutes as your body tears itself inside out. You know it–"

"Shut up Ruskin, you sick little wretch," Lance Dare said. Someone applauded at the back of the rebel gathering.

Ella held his look. Then, without a word, she drew her lightsaber in and turned and walked away, barely aware of how the crowd parted to make way for her, nor perceiving their supportive gazes.

"So, Lance Dare is finally worthy of the name. We live in an age of wonders," Ruskin teased.

"How about this Ruskin: you brag so much about your contribution to the war effort, but let me offer you something. How would you like to be in with a chance to take down an Imperial Star Destroyer, maybe two, and storm a secret Imperial base? Or would that be too dangerous for you?"

"You're out of your mind, Dare," Ruskin said, though not without interest. "All our ships wouldn't last long against a Star Destroyer and its fighters. We have no capital ship to support–"

"Yeah, we do," Lance said again. "Now, let me see if I can interest you all in a final, glorious battle! One that if we win could drive the Empire out of this sector for good."

Lance continued speaking, offering as few a details as he could, not mentioning the Syreal or Taneeth systems, but outlining the Reaver's intention to go against two others in the very near future.

But the words were lost on Ella. She found a seat around a quiet table, drew her legs up under her chin, and ignoring the inquisitive looks of the captains, begged for her queen's forgiveness.

And all the time, pressing into the flesh of her taut leg, was the sample that Neerada had given her, demanding her attention.

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