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clanskirata-blog · 12 years

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I wrote this piece of a short story a while ago, its pretty contextual to a niche of the SW universe. If you are a fan of Star Wars, give it a read and tell me what you think, ask questions, whatever you want.

Kal stumbled as yet another nearby detonation rocked the ship. Pushing against the bulkhead with his free hand to keep his balance, he sprinted down the hall. As he pulled his buy'ce out from under his opposite arm he glanced around, still sprinting towards the nearest lift. Rounding a corner at full clip he began to slow his pace and placed his buy'ce on his head. As he did so, Kal could feel the infrasonic and ever present thrum of the Crusader class corvette’s engines shift up in pitch slightly, the hull pinging in protest. Reaching the forward lift Kal stepped lightly in, no for a moment hinting at the weight of the beskar plates covering him. Youth had its advantages.

Pressing the appropriate button, he caught his breath as the lift began to descend towards the ships small, but not restrictive, cargo hold. As the lift doors slid apart Kal exited and took in the sight before him. Far from being full of crates and devoid of life, the cargo hold presented a sight that none but the most seasoned spacers could claim to have seen.

What supplies the ship did carry were stacked up against the walls as high as could safely be managed, this odd configuration of cargo was a necessity as the majority of the floor space was taken up by several large pens. Each pen was constructed of standard star ship hull plate and bore many gouges and dents. Contained in each one was a large Bes’uliik a basilisk war droid, six in total. These large droids had two large arms on the front tipped with claws designed for crushing and rending starship armour, while their backs tapering into a tail resembling a giant mechanical shrimp. They shifted and stirred their great angular heads, bristling with weapons, in what could almost be called anticipation as the various hoses charging and fueling them were disconnected and pre-flight checks were performed by their handlers. Each of these men and women was in training, upon graduation they would receive their own basilisk and pick a new young mando’ad to care for the new droid. Kal’s eyes took all this in as they drifted past all this towards his five vode, his brothers and sisters, pilots all. Of all of them he was the youngest at twenty two, though not nearly the youngest member of the crew.

The Shereshoy was by no means a warship, but it was large for a corvette and need a similarly sized crew. For almost every crew member, there was a ge'verd, a warrior in training. The crew of the ship was a family, the trainees their adopted sons and daughters, the captain their alor. If an adult member of the crew was killed, their child would take up their duties until a suitable replacement could be found.

Smiling with silent pride in the efficiency of the mando way, Kal approached the five other pilots as they stood in a loose circle talking casually despite explosions shaking the ship with increasing frequency.

“where were you Kal? You almost missed the fun part.” Trac called out. Only a year Kal’s elder, he never missed a chance to point out his mistakes to anyone who would listen.

“what have we got?” he asked Jaite, his closest friend onboard, while ignoring the almost-but-not-quite-silent laughter floating towards him.

“just a few mercs trying to steal our precious cargo. Probably not getting paid enough for their troubles” came the reply, accompanied by a second chorus of harsh laughter, much louder than the first, that sounded oddly flat filtered through helmet commlinks.

The Shereshoy had been outfitted with several panels shortly after its liberation; these panels effectively covered ten of the ships twelve laser cannons and disguised the ships distinctive predatorial profile, making it appear nothing more than a lone freighter cruising through space. Most pirates and mercenaries could hardly resist such a prize. This latest group to attack the “helpless freighter” were about to fall victim to the same strategy that had been used against countless before them.

As the ship began to warm up its weapons systems and targeting computers, Kal and the others all saw the red light flicker to life in the corner of their HUD’s that told them to mount up. Double and triple checking his armor’s pressure seals and air supply, Kal clambered up the side of his basilisk Orar. Painted the same sandy gold as Kal’s Beskar’gam, Orar let out a low rumbling sound as its repulsors lifted it from the deck and its thrusters started to heat. As the red light turned amber, the support crews turned and exited the cargo area, and the surrounding atmosphere was drained to avoid explosive decompression.

“this is it” Kal muttered, more to himself than anyone else, but there were still a few appreciative clicks through the commlink.

with a thump that echoed throughout the ships heavily armored hull, the panels were blown off and the ships attitude thrusters kicked the ship into a slow nose over tail roll. Even as this happened the HUD’s light turned green and the cargo bay doors retracted. The droids all activated their thrusters even as the command was given and six tiny specs were launched by the ships momentum into the blackness of space. This was combat, this was life.

#Mandolorians #Star Wars #Creative Writing #Fan Fic

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