“Another glass?”
DeMarkesh shook his head.
“No, I’ll have some caf if you have though,” replied the Metalorian, “it makes a good chaser.”
Corise shrugged as he walked over to the cabinet.
“Say Corise?”
“Yes?”
“I want to let you known that I would have done the same if I was in your position.”
The Commodore blankly stared at the man.
“At Telos Prime.”
The Kashan man set his jaw and focused his attention back on the caf that he was pouring.
“That was a long time ago. Let us move on to the future.”
The older man grunted as he continued to review their work on Metalorn’s admission to the Confederation. Much of it was fairly routine, albeit in order to ensure that Metalorn would not suffer foot shortages. To that end, the Commodore promised to make some idle KDI bulk freighters, normally used to transport ores to shipyards, would instead be transporting Kashan and Audacian foodstuffs to the planet. That had taken more time than the Commodore would have liked, drawing up the corporate fleet manifest and checking the crew rosters and coordinating that with known Kashan and Audacian food stocks stored in warehouses.
Still, it’s probably been worth it seeing the Captain so satisfied. Probably more important is preventing people from starving or going with less food. Corise pictured the stereotypical working family, going without food, and shuddered.
Metalorn’s people deserve better than that; they’ve worked for centuries, endured tyranny under the Empire, and they still keep on going.
The door chimed, startling the two men. The Metalorn leader turned to Corise, who in turn shrugged.
“You weren’t expecting anyone else, were you?” questioned DeMarkesh in a hushed tone.
Corise shook his head.
“No,” whispered the Kashan man, “and I gave explicit orders to the outside guards not to be disturbed while you were here.”
“We need to keep this quiet.”
“Agreed, you’d better go into the closet; just to make sure.”
The other man rose and quietly made his way to the room’s walk-in closet. Simultenously, the Commodore quietly moved towards the door, gripping his holdout blaster.
“Corise, are you there?” shouted a voice behind the door.
“Madam Pro-consul?” replied the Kashan man, “isn’t it a little late for social calls?”
“Yes, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
The younger Lucerne shrugged and open the doored; Thorn, wide-eyed hurled into him, pushing the Kashan man back further in the cabin. She gripped him with a vice that would have marveled a Wookie. She looked into his eyes.
“Um…hello?” stated the mildly bewildered officer.
“Hello indeed,” stated an unseen voice from the shadowy doorway, “I suggest you drop your weapon.”
I know that voice…The metal of a blaster barrel poked its way through the doorway. Corise, partially concealed by Christina, frowned and lifted his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender and lack of a weapon.
“Oh, come on,” demanded the figure, “I remember that precious hold-out of yours, gift from your mother. Surely you haven’t gotten rid of now. I mean, you always had it on whether you were on or off-duty. I don’t have all night. Let’s see it now.”
The Commodore reluctantly removed the small pistol from its concealed pocket on his belt. He set it down on the floor, and kicked forward towards his unseen nemesis, whom in turn shut the door and stepped forward to grab Lucerne’s old memento. The figure advanced forward into the light.
He was a middle-aged man, his hair starting to gray. Albeit he was of average build, his demeanor and menacing steps emanated hate and vengeance. But oddest of all, the man wore a food delivery uniform, complete with the food-warming box. And when Corise studied the face, he didn’t recognize him. And still the woman grasped him tightly.
“Yes, a fine work of art indeed,” stated the man, “it will make a nice memento of my vengeance.”
“Do I know you?”
The other man laughed. “Oh yes, and didn’t recognize me before, when I delivered your Bantha steak to the door earlier. How sad. Or perhaps it’s because of the surgery?”
Glaring in defiance, Corise pulled his lip up, forming a thin line with his lips.
“Perhaps.”
The other man chuckled.
“You don’t remember good ole Lieutenant Barflos? The man that initiated into the Stiletto’s officers club?” stated the former CEC employee.
The Commodore frowned as he studied the man’s face.
“I thought you were dead,” stated the Kashan man adamantly.
“You thought I was dead? Of course you did. That’s why you let the damage control teams just pick my unconscious body up and toss it into the trash. You didn’t check,” stated the man, “Of course you didn’t. Because you wanted power; you wanted a ship, and you took the opportunity.”
“That’s not-”
“Shut up,” demanded Barflos, walking up to the Pro-Consul’s back, “the only reason you got promoted to Sub-Lieutenant was because of my recommendation. And that is how you repaid me?”
“I choose it too,” stated the Prime Minister, opening the closet door.
Thorn and Barflos looked incredously at the apparent newcomer. Barflos scoffed as he faced the other man; his blaster followed suit.
“I know,” sneered Barflos, “that’s why I came to Metalorn in the first place. This is your fault too. I’ve never had the chance into now, and I didn’t even think of being able to take both of you in a single night. You are brash and foolish as always. You never bothered with the odds; you lead us into the ambush at Telos Prime.”
The former captain shook his head. “You know that Corellians have no use for odds.”
“Sure, just as they don’t have a use for their head. Never has it been so prevalent as now. You could have saved yourself; I wouldn’t have bothered to look in the closet but no, you just came out in the open, with no weapon. Now you will-ah!”
Corise’s saber surged forth past the Pro-Consul’s waist and imbedded itself into Barflos’ waist, releasing an electrical shock into the now torn flesh. The former CEC lieutenant instinctively pressed his hand upon the flesh and brought his rifle to bear down on the Kashan couple with right hand. It was somewhat of an awkward motion with the heavy, long rifle and a single hand. But DeMarkesh was faster, barreling into the man at top speed and consequently knocking the man down to the floor. Barflos belated pulled the trigger, sending a flurry of bolts throughout the room, shattering the glass windows and searing the ceiling. The two men struggled on the ground, and Christina ran out to get help.
Can’t blame her, and I can’t use the saber now, I’m more likely to hit DeMarkesh now than Barflos. Corise rested his eyes on the holdout and promptly swooped it up.
“Freeze,” demanded the Contegorian officer, aiming the hold-out at his two former crewmates.
“Ha,” sneered Barflos, “I know you better than that, you won’t fire, because you could kill DeMarkesh, and that wouldn’t be good for your Confederation now, would it?”
“DeMarkesh, I’m sorry in advance if I hit you.”
“You wouldn’t-”
Corise pulled the trigger and held on the trigger, sending a flurry of random shots at the intertwined men. Most of which hit one of the bodies. One powerpack later, both bodies ceased to move as an odd ozone aroma filled the room. The Pro-Consul ran into the room with the Metalorian equivalent of the secret service. She just stared from Corise to the bodies.
“Tell me you didn’t just shoot both of them,” pleaded the woman.
“I did,” admitted the man.
The secret service men trained their weapons on the Contegorian officer.
“They’re only stunned,” sighed the Commodore.
“Drop your weapon.”
The hold-out clattered as it hit the ground. One of the agents continued to train his weapon on the Kashan man as his partner ran over to the bodies. The second felt the pulses of the two men, he turned back to his partner.
“They’re fine; they’ll be up in a couple of minutes.”
