Star Wars: Brave Misdeeds

Chapter 32

"It's always better to face death on your feet with a weapon in your hands, than to die in the shadows on your knees."          —Curtymac <HoB-P>

The southern territories of the planet Lok opened onto a desolate, hostile, unrelenting tract of desert and barren lands of rock. A diminutive miniature of Tatooine, Lok lacked the romance of two suns and mystique of wealth to bring anyone but the most hardy explorers to its bleak frontiers. The planet boasted few natural resources that would make civilization tolerable to those accustomed to civilized life. This particular tract of land, in the extreme southern hemisphere, was as far from civilization as one could possibly get without a ship, which made it prime terrain for an impromptu swoopchase race.

Soelle hooted joyously as she crested a large ridge on her BARC Speeder. Flying high into the air, high enough to avoid a low shoulder of rocks and a nest of glass snakes, she banked sharply to avoid being bitten in the leg. She revved the engines, gunning the repulsors as she hit the top of the crest, just barely making the lip. The BARC bucked in protest, clipped the edge of the dune and charged onto the opposite side. Soelle pitched violently forward against the handlebars, but she locked her wrists and let her elbows absorb the abrasive shock.

Long abandoned for more reasonable, more civilized climes, where spectators would pay for comfort as well as entertainment, the ruins of the swoopchasing track endured. The ill-maintained track held the kind of peril Soelle knew intimately from Socorro, where running on outlaw tracks was as firmly entrenched in her blood as slicing data terminals. Similar to those adventurous jaunts, the company on the course was no less hostile.

She dared a glance at the radar and confirmed that there were two Rebels in pursuit. Nearly 200 to 500 kilometers away from the perimeter of the Alliance city, Orion's Keep, the Jedi pursued her over roads, paths, and trails twice that distance, desperately trying to keep pace with Soelle and the antics that threatened to shake them from their vehicles. With every jump and dip and slide, they lost ground. Soelle opened her comlink, a local frequency that she knew they monitored. She laughed loudly into the receiver. "Still there, boys?"

"Laugh now, Imp," Apedosmil replied to the taunt. "We will get you."

"And we will kill you," Cole added. "You can't run forever."

"We shall see, my fine Jedi, we shall see." Soelle punctuated her taunt with another round of laughter and closed the link.

The pursuing Jedi were correct. Soelle was running out of space. A range of steep mountains marked the boundary of Lok's southernmost desert. The angle of ascent would mean the end of her and the BARC racing beneath her. A race-modified Caelli-Merced CR-43 LowRide swoopbike would make easy work of those mountains, but her BARC, despite its enhanced engines, would never reach the summit.

No matter, Soelle thought. The chase had done its job and lured off the two strongest members of Dola Brun's defense team. Now it was time to close the trap and leave the mynocks flapping helplessly in the dust. Soelle gunned the BARC's engines and hunkered down into the seat to avoid wind resistance. Feigning engine difficulties, she permitted the Jedi to get within sight of her. She needed them close, but not too close. If she miscalculated her next high stake trick, her ride would be cut short under their lightsabers.

The backstretch of the track swiftly approached, where a ninety-degree corner promised a weightless slingshot ride back in the opposite direction. Infamously known as the Bootlegger's Turn, the obstacle was a crowd pleaser with fiery wrecks and high acceleration dismounts, even among veteran riders. The complicated corner happened to be Soelle's favorite. Checking the readings in the area, she knew that the anti-gravity generators were still intact and working. The abrupt hiss of a lightsaber cued her to make her move.