Interstellar Fronts: Escape From Sone

Hey everybody! I just want to say thank you for the support so far and for enjoying the flash fiction stories I put out in October. Since it is another month, that means another short story! I normally do not put introductions to these stories, but this one is different. This one does not fit the theme of horror or thriller; this story is pure sci-fi. The reason that I still want to post this story is because I actually wrote this story back in July of this year, and I wanted the first volume of short stories to have some variety. This story comes from my disappointment with how the Star Wars franchise has been handled since Disney took over the IP in 2012. I have been frustrated with how the ones in charge of Star Wars disregard the fans' concerns or blame the fans when one of their projects does not do well. This is my way to inspire you, the reader, and many other fans of beloved franchises that we can not expect executives to make the right choices and respect source material. We must create our own and show fandoms that there are other avenues to enjoy stories that have inspired us since we were young. I hope that you enjoy this short story; if you do, please comment on what you would like to see moving forward with this idea of Interstellar Fronts. Enjoy!

Another galaxy, another time.

The Magus Order throve among the Empire, aiding the charity and needs of the faithful. There is no need to note how it came about or for how many centuries it stood. All that is important is that it was in its height and glory, spreading the truth of the Vis among all peoples. The Magi were the vicars following the will of the Vis and using its great power in selfless love for all. 

But with all power, there are those who thirst for more and want to impose their 

ideological agendas like a cancerous growth. Thus began the purge of the Magi led by the Dark Lords of Malum. The pacifist ideals of the Magus Order were quickly broken as many Magi fell defenseless to the hands of the Malum and their twisted followers.

With firm faith in the Vis and through deep meditation on its will, the Magi were gifted powerful weapons. Weapons that were only ever capable of being wielded by those strong in the Vis. With these weapons, the Magi could fight back the Malum and continue a decade-long war across the galaxy.

With countless lives lost and frail leadership in the Empire not being able to end the war, many bureaucrats and privateers instilled their puppet governors and senators across planets, eventually overthrowing the then-weak emperor. With a stronger emperor at the helm, the Empire quickly dismantled all practices of the Vis. Persecuting the faithful, laity, Magi, and Malum alike. The Malum retreated and were destroyed by imperial forces. The Magus Order and its remaining Magi were decimated. Temples were destroyed, wiping away centuries of knowledge and leaving behind only ruins of what once was.

Thus, for the last 75 years, the Empire has continued to fight on many fronts, including wars with the New Republic and the Liberated Union of Outer Rim Systems and its continuous purge of any remaining Magi and those practicing the old ways of the Vis.

“They did miracles and wonders on behalf of the Vis; it conditions the soul. Ultimately, they were heroes.”

- Otanse Oodrer, Senator of Tralluth

The obsidian canvas spotted with dazzling specks across all directions shows the vastness of its systems. The still, frigid space engulfs a shining commercial star cruiser as it slowly drifts, approaching the radiant chartreuse glow of the planet Riveth. Many of the young passengers aboard look out the oval glass windows, excited to see the tempest blaze shine brightly upon their faces as the star cruiser enters orbit. It is soon that the cruiser makes its way into the docking bays of the city of Sone. A sprawling Imperial city known for its commerce in precious metals and natural gas refineries. Tall buildings outstretch to the skies like metal spires with vibrant colors and levels of pedestrian pathways. 

Cruiser passengers are reminded not to leave luggage behind and are shown the path to follow towards the docking bays' exit. There, some are embraced by those waiting for them, and others look for airspeeders to rent or wait for public airlifted transport to pick them up. A blue speeder lifts by its repulsors and joins the oncoming traffic; the route it takes leads it towards the center district.

“So he said to meet him at the Alhambra?”

“Correct,” responded an older Kraarul. He had long, braided, dark hair and a peppered goatee. His black, glossy eyes peered at the side mirrors and the tense hands of his younger neophyte gripping the steering wheel.

“You are nervous.”

“Is it that obvious?” The pupil responded, a younger Human male in his twenties with light brown hair.

“Abbas, what if this is all a trap?”

“Quite possibly,” responded the Kraarul, resting his arm on the side pod of the speeder. “Trap or not, either way, we will find what we are looking for.”

Live music and jovial dancing filled the Alhambra. Nobody noticed the Kraarul and Human enter the cantina. Many life forms were drinking, playing cards, and playing carom. “How do we know where to find him?” said Vacarth, the neophyte.

“Patience, he will find us, I am sure of it,” the Kraarul reached into a pouch attached to his leather belt. “Go, have a drink. But don’t draw attention to yourself,” he said while handing Vacarth a few credits.

“And what about you?”

The Kraarul smiled, his sharp white teeth twinkling from the vibrant lights of the club. The white contrast between the black tongue and the black inner tissue of the mouth always makes the green-skinned aquatic lifeforms seem like they maintain high standards of oral hygiene. But Vacarth has never seen his Abbas brush or floss his teeth while under his tutelage.

“I’m going to play a few rounds of cards!” The Kraarul chuckled. 

Vacarth walked to the bar, nodding to a few other patrons and vigilantly keeping an eye open to see if the person they were supposed to meet would approach him. After swigging a few shots, two female Yethvas approach Vacarth. Their flirtatious demeanor is welcomed, but Vacarth does not let their beautiful gypsum eyes distract him from what he is here to do. “You’ve never seriously been with a Yethva before?” 

“No,” said Vacarth, taking a drink coyly to hide his blushing cheeks wondering how their conversation had turned sensual within ten minutes. “I hardly travel.” 

The two ladies giggled. “My sister has been with a human,” one of them teases the other as they giggle. “But I haven’t…yet,” said the young Yethva, gently caressing the Human’s arm. Her clear violet skin and revealing clothes were tempting for Vacarth. She signals to the bartender and buys the next round. Vacarth realizes neither sister is jealous, and both don’t mind sharing as each one makes advances to let Vacarth know they are interested.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Said one of the sisters smugly. “Pardon?” Answered Vacarth with his glass half raised.

“That Kraarul you walked in with,” said the other Yethva, squeezing a citrus sour spore to chase a shot. “I have never seen you both in the Alhambra.”

“Well, that is because my associate and I are just passing by,” Vacarth smiles back at both sisters.

“Sone is such a large city; there is so much to do than just pass by.”

“Yeah,” says the other sister. Her gleaming, beautiful gypsum eyes refracted various colors of whatever light hit them. “Perhaps us local gals can show you around the city!”

“Well, I appreciate it, but like I said, we’re not here for very long.”

Vacarth sees his Abbas approaching with a Sind beside him.

“Ah! Eric, I see you have made some new friends,” said the Kraarul. “Pleasure to meet you,” the Kraarul kisses the hands of the lovely Yethva sisters. “Excuse me, ladies, but I must steal the young man momentarily. I hope you don’t mind, but we have some personal matters to tend to.”

The Kraarul grabs his pupil’s arm tightly, signaling they must go somewhere private. The Sind shakes Vacarth’s hand, and both gentlemen follow the Sind to a private table at the far end of the cantina. The band’s jigs keep the patrons' spirits high, and cheers and boos are heard from the gambling tables. Vacarth notices nobody is paying attention to his party as they make their way to the VIPs.

“Please tell me you came up with an elaborate story as to why you are here?!” Said the Sind with a penetrating look at Vacarth as all three sat down.

“Relax,” said the Kraarul. “We have a pretty good alibi.”

“With all due respect, Abbas Vang Driic,” the Sind whispered at the two. “There are spies everywhere. One can never let their guard down.” The Sind wipes sweat from his bushy brow with the sleeve of his garments. 

Sinds are very human-like but are more hairy and have tusks that protrude from their lower jaw. 

“How many are there? And are they safe?” Said Vang Driic.

“Thirty of them,” replied the Sind.

“And nobody has denied and tried to walk away?” Asked Vacarth timidly

“Absolutely not neophyte; these Rivthians will not break easily; their faith in the Vis is strong.”

“Praise be,” said Vang Driic. “What about transport?”

“My assistant has already taken care of that,” answered the Sind. “A cargo ship captain will be waiting on the east docking bays. He will smuggle you all aboard out of here.”

“When do we have to be there?”

“Tonight, make it there by midnight," said the Sind. “Docking bay forty-nine.”

“Forty-nine, got it. And where exactly are they hiding?” Asked Vang

“The cellars below Kroggys, the owner isn’t a believer, but he has no love for the Empire. He helps in every way he can to stick it to the bureaucrats.”

“And what about you?” Asked Vacarth. “Are you not coming?”

“No, kid,” the Sind wipes his brow again. “There are still believers hiding in Sone. Imperial troops do not rest, and neither shall I. Just last week, fifteen more were executed, point blank, just outside the residential areas…there is still more work to be done here.” There was a silence amongst the three until the Sind continued. “These Imperial dogs are getting more clever; we must be hasty.”

After the Kraarul and Human had left, Witto- the Sind sat finishing his drink. He glanced at one of his men sitting across the cantina, which gave him a signal with his eyes that some ominous character was approaching the VIPs. Witto pretended he did not notice the personage sauntering towards one of the tables outside the VIP area. Witto poured what was left of the bottle and pretended to continue to drink. He observed the person through his peripherals, which, to Witto, looked like an Uhpam, given the feathered crest of this character. The mannerisms and the slight glares Witto caught through his peripherals gave him that fluttering effect he gets in his stomach when something is wrong. It wasn’t long before Witto locked eyes with one of the Yethvas who had been flirting with Vacarth earlier. Witto did not stare too long and acted as if he was observing the few dancers in front of the band’s stage. Witto took a sip from his glass; spies, he thought. 

Abbas Vang Driic and his neophyte Vacarth arrive at Kroggys. Making sure they are not being followed, they enter the diner unsuspectingly and seat themselves at a table. A Human female waitress approaches the table and asks the pair about their choice of drink.

The diner was quaint, and the aroma in the air was a good sign that the cook knew how to brine and spice the meats. An automaton worked the counter, serving dairy shakes from its cylindrical body. Everyone was engaged in conversations and paid no attention to the Kraarul and his Human companion.

“Are you both ready to order?” Said the young waitress.

“I’ll ughh,” Vang Driic scratched his goatee like he had many options on his mind of what he wanted to try. “I’ll have a dark brew and the viand on a stick.”

“And mmm,” Vacarth cleared his throat while looking at the menu. “I’ll have the flour paste with roasted loin chop.”

The waitress smiled and took the orders to the kitchen. The food quickly came out, and the two started to enjoy themselves. Vang Driic finished his meal quickly. He waited for the waitress to come back to their table so as not to draw attention to himself. When the waitress came to make sure everything was well with the food, Vang Driic insisted on speaking with the manager. The waitress smirked and glanced at both gentlemen. “I’m sorry, mister. My boss is very busy right now.”

“Of course! But please give him my message. He and I go way back.” Vang smiled. “I’m sure he would love to come out and see his old friend. Tell him Pol Lom is here.”

“I will do just that when I get the chance here in a bit,” the waitress smiled and picked up the dirty plates. She refilled the drinking cups and walked to the other tables before returning to the kitchen.

“We’ll see if that Sind was telling the truth,” gulped Vacarth. Vang Driic looked at his pupil sympathetically. “Fear not, my neophyte, trust in the Vis, and your fears will subside. Every day, more and more are turning to us, this is its will-“

“Ahhh! Pol Lom!” said a Gratrox swinging the kitchen door open. A short, stubby creature with webbed feet, spotted yellow skin, and amphibian eyes came waddling toward Vang Driic and Vacarth. “Jarrir, my old friend,” Vang Driic stood up and shook the Gratrox’s slimy-looking hands.

“Still betting on those skimmer races?”

“The Stabler Team never fails.”

“Hahaha!” The Gratrox gave a hardy laugh. “Come come, my friend.”

Vang and Vacarth followed him to the kitchen and then to his back office. “I was wondering when you would get here,” the Gratrox said, pushing the slide door button. He then told the two to have a seat.

“So you are the Magi huh? Witto told me to be expecting you soon.” The Gratrox looked at Vacarth as well. “I didn’t know there were going to be two of you. Who’s the greenhorn?”

“He is my neophyte,” answered Vang Driic. 

“Ha! A neophyte, in this day and age?!… Ahh, you’re a better man than me, greenhorn.”

“Are the faithful alright?” Asked Vang

“Aye, they have had plenty of food and drink. Will you need shelter as well in the meantime?”

“No, the Sind informed us that we must leave tonight.”

“Ha, that Witto is apt. Well, we don’t have time to waste then; let me show you where they are.”

The Gratrox pressed a few keys from under his desk, and a hidden passage opened behind his station. The passage was dark, but small florescent bulbs gleamed from within the walls. The corridor was on a declined slope. The Gratrox stopped in what seemed in front of a plain dark wall when another passage was opened. The door slid, revealing an ample space of crates and other miscellaneous things.

“In here.”

The three walked into the new space, which was dimly lit and smelled of cleaning chemicals; there was some rustling and whispers heard. “I have brought the Magi,” said the Gratrox. Vang Driic took a few steps forward. There were more whispers, and soon, lifeforms started to emerge from behind the crates. Eventually, Vang Driic was surrounded by many; “finally! We’re safe! Glory be, the Vis has heard our prayers!” Many such comments came from those in hiding who embraced Vang and Vacarth. 

Vang counted them all and saw that there were thirty, just like the Sind had said. He addressed the refugees and ensured they all had the belongings they could carry. There were distinct backgrounds among the lifeforms; not all were Human, and not all were financially poor. For the time that they hid beneath the diner, Vacarth could see that they all got to know each other well and shared amongst each the little of what possessions they could carry. 

“How will we do this, Abbas?”

“You’re going to have to lead all thirty at once,” interjected the Gratrox. “Taking a few at a time seems more risky.”

Vang Driic was thinking and also answering a young girl’s questions who had approached him about where they were heading.

“Somewhere safe, little one,” Vacarth saw Vang’s wrinkle folds on the corners of his mouth and his black eyes twinkling in the dim light. Vacarth was satisfied with the path he had chosen despite the dangers within the Imperial systems. The Vis continued to garner new followers every day amongst the New Republic and the Liberated Union. He believed and saw the wonders of the Vis, the calling within him to one day become a Magi Abbas himself and help the Magus Order grow.

“I’ll take fifteen, and you take fifteen,” said Vang, looking at Vacarth. “That should be manageable.”

“We’ll have to be inconspicuous and arrive at the docking bays from different directions,” nodded Vacarth.

“They’re not far from here,” the Gratrox waddled back to the corridor. “You’re already on the east side of Sone. Stick to the alleyways and the shadows. Imperial troops will not be able to see you.” He waved his arm to the two Magi to follow him. He led them back just outside his office and opened the back door leading outside the alleyway of Kroggys. The Gratrox gave directions in different ways to reach the docking bays. “They’re not far from here; you’ll see them once you pass the tanker refill stations.”

“We’ll have them break into small groups like families,” Vang said, placing his hand on Vacarth’s shoulder. They’ll keep their distance, and slowly, we’ll all be at the rendezvous point.” Vacarth nodded, “Fifteen fifteen.”

“Yes.”

Vacarth saw the Kroggys door gently close, the dim night lights of the city poles were on, the sun was setting, and the yellow hue of the atmosphere that draped over Sone was slowly disappearing. Vacarth saw the group that Abbas took disappear as they rounded their first corner. Vacarth stared at the fifteen following him, all huddled up into their family groups. They stared back at him, waiting for his command; without a word, Vacarth moved his head toward the direction of the first group, and they set off quietly. 

The city buzz of the rushing speeders, sirens, and horns in the distance made Sone feel alive. Like paying attention to more pressing matters instead of a group of refugees fleeing its clutch. Vacarth continued straight and did not turn on the first corner of the alleyway; his path would lead him to reach the docking bays from the opposite direction. Vacarth wanted to pick up pace but did not want to draw attention, making it seem like a group of lifeforms were scurrying fast. A few speeders passed above the group, but none seemed to notice those on the ground level. Vacarth was vigilant for any pedestrians; he could glimpse a few from afar, but none that would notice the fifteen. He kept looking back, ensuring none were lost and everyone was attentive to their surroundings. Vacarth was meditating while walking, asking the Vis for guidance and protection in both his and his Abbas group. We’re almost there, he kept repeating in his mind. 

Joyfulness filled the human’s heart; he was certain it also filled the others, as he heard ship engines and repulsors slightly off in the distance. The signs of the docking bays ahead became visible, and the bright, glaring lights were in front of the group. Vacarth remembered the ship Captain’s name and platform forty-nine. He picked up the pace and quickly started to see the numbers of each platform; forty-nine was pretty close. However, his focus was broken by a harsh, interrogating voice that came out of nowhere. 

His heart sank, and he quickly hid behind some crates that were stacked in front of another platform. He looked back and saw that the fifteen following him did the same. Right ahead of them were Imperial troops, lights attached to the side of their helmets, scanning the area as if they had made a perimeter. The loud voice was demanding something from another. Vacarth peered from the side and made out a silhouette of a Human male in front of the platform gate. The gate had the number forty-nine. The Human, Vacarth could deduce, was probably the Captain or someone from the crew.

“Like I said, officer, I ain’t ever seen that fella ever in my life.” 

Vacarth could tell the male was dressed in worker garments with leather boots and some sort of cloak that wrapped around his upper chest and hung from his shoulder. He had a wide-brim marauder hat and an energy-beam blaster attached to his hip from his utility belt. With the looks of this Human, Vacarth could see how the Imperial troops would have little patience for a scoundrel like him.

“Step aside, citizen. We will do a thorough search of your cargo holds.” said a menacing and intimidating voice, the Imperial trooper standing in front of the Human. Vacarth could not make out much detail, but he saw the yellow stripes on the shoulder pad of one of the troops. They were Imperial Police Corp; they wore grey-plated armor covering only the vital regions of their bodies.

“Not without a warrant, I’m afraid,” replied the scoundrel.

“You are interfering with Imperial investigations, and a lack of cooperation will lead to arrest. You are also a suspect of conspiracy in working with a Sind.”

Vacarth gasped and tried to control his breathing. “And? Since when the tophet does it matter who I do business?!” Laughed the scoundrel. 

“Sir,” growled the Imperial trooper. “We have reason to believe you have violated Code V-624: Aiding and engaging in the prohibited form of Vis and that of its followers. Under Imperial Ordinance, those that do not wish to comply will be dealt with as deemed fit of punishment by the officer present.”

There was a brief silence before Vacarth could hear the officer interrogating say. “If you do not wish to comply-“ *PVEW. Vacarth ducked his head and let his body hit the ground. In an instant, he witnessed the Human quick-draw his energy-beam blaster and scorched the Imperial, interrogating him. A firefight had ensued within milliseconds, a scoundrel indeed, thought Vacarth. Bolts of energy flew everywhere; red and white bolts hummed the air, making a pinging noise hitting against metal. The Imperial troops took cover and started to flank the scoundrel. He was fast with a blaster, but the Imperials were precise and were laying covering fire while a few moved to flank him. Vacarth unholstered the blaster he had hidden underneath his capote with two smoke capsules he carried in his pouches attached to his leather belt. He looked back at the group following him; they were also lying on the ground for cover. 

Smoke was starting to fill the ambiance from the energy bolts. Some mothers were trying hard to cover the mouths of their little ones, but the chaos was too much, and some children started to cry. The hairs on the back of Vacarth's neck stood for he quickly turned towards the firefight and saw two Imperial troops turn their attention towards the direction of where they were hiding.

“The refugees!” Said one of the soldiers. “They’re here! Kill them on sight.”

Vacarth could see one of the Imperials signal the other one to flank the crates where Vacarth was hiding behind. There’s no point in hiding now, he thought. Vacarth revealed himself behind the crates and fired at the oncoming troopers. They returned fire quickly and suppressed Vacarth; they had rapid fire, and he could not move. He twisted the bearings of the two smoke capsules and chucked them on the ground a few meters in front of him.

“Smoke! Smoke!” Replied the Imperials as they switched on the face coverings on their helmets. Vacarth moved like a shadow in the smoke, taking one Imperial point blank on the back of the head. He felt the heat of a bolt swish by him and quickly dropped to one knee and fired back at the other Imperial. Both Imperial bodies lay on the ground as soon as the smoke cleared.

“Call for backup!” Said a trooper before being killed by the scoundrel. Vacarth fired his blaster at the last remaining soldier, but it was too late. His beeper was already going off, indicating that reinforcements would arrive soon. Vacarth stood up and quickly signaled the fifteen following him to hurry up. He jogged to the scoundrel and promptly uttered, “Denn, Denn Sevvaa!”

“In the flesh, kid,” he answered while adjusting his wide-brim hat. “You must be the Magi; this is all of them?” He pointed behind Vacarth. “No, my Abbas has the other fifteen.”

“Well, he better hurry or else.”

Denn opened the gate to his cargo ship; the cockpit ramp was already open. He ignited the freighter and released the cargo ramp. He quickly instructed the refugees to get in. A few seconds later, Vang Driic’s voice was heard. “What happened here?” He had arrived with his fifteen. “I don’t know what to tell ya,” said Denn, trying to move the refugees in quickly. “They knew you were coming, so hurry; reinforcements will be here soon.”

While the refugees were boarding the cargo hold, an energy bolt hit the back of Vacarth’s right calf. “AHHH!!” He quickly fell to the ground. The Imperial reinforcements had arrived. They were taking cover and already firing at the party.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Yelled Denn at the refugees as they were scurrying. Denn dragged some strong boxes and pushed them for cover in front of the cargo ramp. The few refugees trying to get inside the ship were also crawling and taking cover. Vang Driic dragged Vacarth as he was heaving in pain, watching the flesh of his lower right leg charred. There was no saving it; injuries like this only have one remedy, and that is amputation, or else the burns turn septic and poison the blood. Denn was firing back at the Imperials, killing a few, but more were showing up. 

They were yelling and ordering them to drop their weapons and surrender. Denn Savvaa was enjoying the firefight too much as he was bantering with the Imperials, trying to get headshots of each one he saw. Vacarth lifted his upper torso through sheer adrenaline and returned fire. A few Imperials were dying, but more were being called.

“We’re being overrun, we need to leave now!” Said Denn.

Vacarth was in pain, gritting his teeth with each pull of the trigger. Vang Driic dragged his body into the cargo hold and placed a hand on Vacarth’s chest. Vacarth lay heaving, looking up at his Abbas. The Kraarul smiled, the green gills on his neck flaring, and he patted Vacarth’s chest. “Use what I have taught you,” he said. Vacarth’s eyes widened, and he grasped Vang's wrist. Words would not come out, but he mouthed, 'What?'

“I will be fine,” smiled Vang. He moved his wrist away from Vacarth’s grip and stood up. He sauntered toward the edge of the cargo hold ramp. Denn looked at Vang, “What are you doing, you old fool! Get back! Get back!”

Energy bolts were missing Vang as if he had some force field around him. He told Denn to leave, “I’ll make sure they don’t follow you.”

“What are you doing, man! Old fool!" Replied Denn, firing his blaster simultaneously at the Imperials. Vang lifted his arm; a zephyr rushed from his palms, pushing Imperial troops off their feet. Many went flying backward. Denn was amazed as he had never witnessed a powerful wind spring from a lifeform's body. Vang then put both hands up and created a wall of protection out of some aura. Energy bolts weren’t getting through and were being stopped mid-air. Imperial forces were yelling, "We got ourselves an Abbas, kill him!” As they started to increase their firing rate at Vang Driic. His facial expressions were straining, and his skin was perspiring a lot.

“Go!” He yelled at Denn. The scoundrel tipped his hat and ran to the cockpit; Vacarth felt the engines rumble. “Abbas, Abbas,” he murmured as he witnessed Vang Driic lose the protective aura and unfasten his capote. Strapped across his back was a sheath with a hilt protruding. Vang Driic reached behind him and unsheathed the blade. Vang Driic held what looked like any other ordinary blade in his hands. Vacarth heard stories but never saw them for himself, the stories of the weapons granted to those powerful in the Vis. 

He was never aware that his Abbas was granted one. He never saw the sheath nor sparred with him at any time during their training. A long steel blade erected suddenly glowed by a fierce green flame. Vang Driic turned his head, looking at Vacarth; his eyes were also engulfed in the green flame. As if this hue was the manifestation of the Vis, it surrounded Vang Driic like a transparent cloak. Vacarth could not believe it; the power of the Vis was displayed before him, before the refugees. The power the Vis can grant to those called to be Magi Abbas, masters in the way. 

Imperial forces flanked Vang Driic; some were firing their energy blaster rifles, and a few Imperial troops pulled out electro-blades from their assortment of instruments. The ship started to lift. " Don’t let them get away!” said an officer while a few troops began firing at the ship. 

Vang Driic deflected energy bolts and sliced Imperial troops who dared engage him with their electro-blades. The Imperials were relentless and used all sorts of weapons to try and subdue or kill the Abbas. Vang Driic leaped into a pirouette and cut down more Imperials. The cargo ramp was closing, and Vacarth could see the green flame dance around as his Abbas was fending off the oncoming barrage of reinforcements. Saddened and in pain, Vacarth could not yell but stretched out his arm as the cargo ramp closed. The rattling and pinging noise of the bolts hitting the metal hull rang throughout the cargo hold. Children were screaming and crying while their mothers were trying to comfort them. Denn’s voice came over on the small intercoms of the ship. “We got Police Corp ships; hold on tight!”

Denn was a good pilot but a rough operator. The maneuvers he was pulling off were not smooth, and some refugees were hanging on to dear life, Vacarth included. The ship was being fired upon, and an artificial voice came over the intercom, “Shields at seventy-five percent, weapons systems ready.” The dog-fighting continued, and Vacarth was getting nauseous from the sharp movements of the ship. His leg was throbbing, and his grip was failing him. It seemed that many had accepted their fate within the vessel as Vacarth, too, thought they would be shot down. The ship then corrected itself, and for a few seconds, no rapid movements or blaster fire was heard. Vacarth was listening and waiting to see what would happen next. 

“We’re out of the Riveth atmosphere," Denn’s voice said on the intercom. "We're clear."

There were cheers and cries as the refugees felt relieved to be one step closer to their freedom from persecution. Once they were out of Imperial jurisdiction, they could continue living as followers of the Vis in the open. Vacarth felt relieved for the refugees and felt sorrow in his heart. He hoped that his Abbas would make it out of Sone alive. He wondered if he would have to come back and attempt to rescue his Abbas; Denn’s voice came out the intercom, informing the refugees that he had plotted the coordinates to the planet Yesha- a New Republic system, and to prepare to go into null-space.