To celebrate cranking out a whole episode in one day, I'm releasing chapter 3 a little early as well. Happy Tuesday!
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3.
Still dazed from the explosion, Zyn could only watch in bewilderment as Thorne came at him with his blaster at the ready. What his intentions were, Zyn couldn't be sure, but before he could even move for his own weapon, the mercenary captain was on him. Grabbing a hold of Zyn’s cloak with his off hand, Thorne pressed the barrel of the blaster into his cheek.
"I told you it would be a mistake to cause any trouble," Thorne growled at him as a crowd of both mercenaries and security personnel began to gather around. "You're working for the Separatists, aren't you?"
"I didn’t do this," Zyn argued. "What reason could I possibly have for killing a banker?"
"That's for the Banking Clan to figure out," Thorne shouted back. "Right before they execute you."
"Stand down, captain," one of the security guards ordered Thorne. "He set off a bomb on company property. It will be the Drive Yards that issue the punishment."
"Over my dead body," Thorne yelled, letting go of Zyn turning his weapon to the newcomer.
A standoff ensued between the mercenaries and the shipyard security team, all of them pointing their weapons at each other instead of Zyn. The focus was no longer on him, yet he knew if he made a move at all, both sides would be drawn back. Several tense moments passed until motion in the distance caught his attention. A number of dock workers, previously fighting one of the numerous fires caused by the explosion, were now running away as fast as they could.
Without warning, another explosion ripped through the bay, causing nearly everyone to double over reflexively as the heat washed over them all. Pulling his hood close around his head, Zyn turned away to protect himself, and in doing so, noticed an open door only a few meters from him. He knew there would not be another chance.
Zyn pushed his unsteady legs with all of his might to make it to the door. Any second, both the security guards and Omega Company would open up on him with their blasters, and he thought it best to be through the door before that happened. Two dozen men had an excellent chance of getting a killing or crippling shot on him in an open dock, but if he could make it through the door, he at least had a shot of fighting back, if not getting away completely.
He was two steps from the opening when the first shot sailed over his shoulder. He wasn't sure who took the shot, but he didn't dare turn to look as the sound of more fire coming his way filled his ears. Grabbing the edge of the door to slingshot himself around the corner, he was just about to disappear from sight as a lucky blaster bolt caught him on his right side.
The blow sent him sprawling, but as he went down, he used his momentum to roll out of the fall and back to his feet. Pain coursed through his oblique as he continued to run for his life down a wide corridor filled with all manner of people and equipment moving about. If he could get far enough away, he knew, blending in would be easy. If he could get away…
Shouts erupted from behind him, and he knew the chase was on. Pain continued to sear his side, and only seemed to intensify the further he ran. The adrenaline, already pouring into his veins, did little to keep the agony of the injury at bay and from slowing him to a trot. With his eyes darting about for a place to hide, he was drawn toward a small utility corridor to his right, barely wide enough for him to slip through.
The corridor itself housed what appeared to be power conduits and gas lines running to the different docks in the area. It was cramped, to be sure, but dark enough to allow him cover for long enough to catch his breath and plan his next move. Pulling his cloak tightly around himself, he warily slipped himself between the pipes and into the shadows.
Crouched in the darkness behind a large section of conduit, Zyn did his best to check his wound without inflicting too much pain. The last thing he needed was to cry out as his pursuers ran by, but he needed to get an idea of the damage done by the blaster shot. He gently ran his fingertips along his side, causing the pain to increase as he found the wound and traced its outline carefully.
A glancing blow was all it was, and while it would eventually need treatment, he figured it was not life threatening. Closing his eyes, he focused his will on blocking the pain, but found his anger rising instead. He wished he could've gotten a look at who had shot him. Secretly, he hoped it was Thorne, as the thought of repaying him with a lightsaber did more to quell his discomfort than his brief meditation did.
"Central, put out an all-points bulletin on a fugitive inside the yards," a security guard's voice said into a comlink near the mouth of the corridor. "Suspect is wearing a hooded black cloak, considered armed and extremely dangerous."
"He couldn’t have gotten too far on his own," Thorne's voice said. "I got a piece of him as he went through the door."
As carefully as he could, Zyn pulled his lightsaber hilt from his belt and held it at the ready. Fighting against a mercenary company and countless security in the middle of a busy area while injured did not sound like a viable option to him, but at some point, he knew he might have to make a last stand. Footsteps began to approach the mouth of the corridor, causing Zyn's heart to thump in his chest while his thumb hovered over his weapon's activation switch.
"Would he have gone in here?" Thorne's voice asked.
"That's utility," the guard's voice answered. "Nothing but a dead end back that way. Smart money says he's still on the run."
"Or hiding and waiting for us to pass."
Zyn knew this was it, his chance to take down Thorne. Springing from cover while swinging his weapon sounded more and more like a good idea. Perhaps he could even take down a guard or two before more showed up. If they did, he was certain he’d wind up dead, but if they didn't, a getaway still might be possible. Quietly drawing in a deep breath, Zyn focused his anger for the mercenary captain and was about to leap out of the shadows when the guard's comlink crackled.
"Suspect spotted and headed toward Sector Seven."
"That's the other direction," the guard told Thorne. "And a high security area."
"Smart fish," Thorne muttered. "The one place we wouldn't look for him. Let's go."
The sound of their footsteps began to fade, meaning they were headed back in the direction they had originally come. Sighing audibly, Zyn pulled back his hood before sitting back on his haunches and reflecting on what he'd almost just done. Blowing his cover and taking down Thorne for what? A slim chance at escaping? Once again, his anger had gotten the better of him, and even though he often found it useful, he promised himself to at least attempt to keep it in check unless faced with an active threat.
Several minutes passed before he got up the nerve to poke his head out into the corridor. Workers still bustled about with their business, paying him no mind at all as the rushed tide of people continued on in both directions as far as the eye could see. Assuming no one was watching him now, he had a chance at a clean escape.
Pulling up his hood once more, he carefully stepped back into the corridor. Several people had to work their way around him as he continued to scan every face in his vicinity. None looked familiar, nor were they wearing the uniforms of Omega Company or Drive Yard Security. He was in the clear for now, and with that, he continued on in the opposite direction of Sector Seven.
Because of his injury, his walk was a slow one. Zyn found himself walking with a limp, and while he did his best to suppress it, he still found it drew more eyes to him that he cared for. His next objective had to be finding a ship capable of carrying him away, either down to the planet's surface or, ideally, to another world entirely. The only question left to him was whether it was better to pay for a fare or commandeer one for himself. Coming to the only docking bay he saw with the door open, he quickly slipped inside to see what was there.
The bay itself looked bare except for eight identical ships, the likes of which Zyn had never seen before. Each one looked to be laying horizontally with the cockpit window facing straight up. Two short wings stuck out from the sides of the main body in a T formation while sitting on what he could only describe as half-a-dome shape where he guessed the engines were located.
Taking a closer look, he noticed none of the ships were complete. Two were down to just a frame while several panels were missing from the others, exposing the internal workings to whoever might still be working on them. There seemed to be no weapons on any of these ships either, making Zyn reconsider whether these were even worth taking.
"Can I help you?" a voice called out from behind him.
Turning to see who was calling him, Zyn saw it was an older man dressed in a technician's gray jumpsuit. His white hair and beard stood in stark contrast to the dull, drab grays of their surroundings. He walked slowly, hunched over as if years of working on starships had permanently left him in the stooped position. He eyed Zyn with both suspicion and curiosity as he approached.
"What kind of ship is this?" Zyn asked, pushing the pain of his injury out of his mind.
"It's designated as a
Firespray-31," the old man answered. "Patrol and attack craft originally designed for correctional use."
"It seems as if they've been here a while," Zyn remarked, turning his eyes back to the nearest one, which appeared more complete than the others, but still missing several panels.
"They have been. KSE mothballed the project after some idiot destroyed the original prototypes. These would've been the first complete models to be delivered had that not happened."
"I'm not sure any these qualify as complete," Zyn remarked, earning a loud, throaty laugh from the technician.
"They were at one point," he said. "I've been slowly deconstructing them as materials are needed."
"Will this one fly?" Zyn pointed to the one nearest him which looked mostly complete.
"It will, but I wouldn't fly it at any great speed in atmosphere. All these missing panels would give you some serious drag." Zyn felt the tech's eyes turn to him with curiosity. "Who are you, anyway?"
"I'm a representative for a very wealthy individual who collects rare and unique starships," Zyn lied. He had no idea if his lie was believable, but he decided to run with it anyway. "I'm willing to offer you two hundred and fifty thousand credits for this one right here."
"I'd need to clear it with management. KSE still owns these scrap heaps."
"Discretion is an absolute must for my client," Zyn continued as he reached into his credit pouch. "And I'm willing to give you two hundred and fifty thousand, right now, if you ensure this went missing from the books."
Holding up the credits, he saw the tech's eyes go wide. It was possible this amount was more than this man had ever made in his lifetime. Zyn was hoping that was this case, as that fact would make this an easy sell, and he could be on his way without any more trouble.
"You've got a deal," the man finally said. "Let me give you the rundown."
Handing over the credits, Zyn couldn't believe the ease with which he was about to get a ship. Since he'd left the Order, he'd dreamed of owning his own ship and getting far away for Coruscant, the Jedi, and the war. What was planned for after leaving was still up in the air, however, as getting off that rock had seemed to be nothing but a pipe dream, at least until recently.
The technician walked him through all the controls of the ship, talking several times faster than he seemed to move. Slated to ship with ion cannons, torpedo launchers, and rotating blasters, the only thing Zyn heard that could possibly help him was the sensor jammer array concealed beneath the hull above the cockpit. With the briefing finished, he walked the technician back outside to ask for one last favor.
"Is there any way some of these missing panels can be replaced?" Zyn asked. "My client prefers his starships to be as complete as possible."
"It may take me a few hours," the tech said, scratching his head. "But I think I could do it."
"I would appreciate some haste, if you don't mind." Reaching back into his credit pouch, Zyn handed the man another hundred thousand credits.
"You got it, mister..."
"Zyn," he answered. "My name is Zyn."
"You got it, Mr. Zyn," the tech began to jabber once again. "I'll get this fixed up for you, ricky tick."
As the technician went to get his tools and the proper materials, Zyn went back to marveling at the ship he'd just purchased. Sure, it looked like a tub of junk, but if what the technician said was true, he'd be on his way to... where exactly? He hadn't the faintest idea where he would go, but for the time being, contacting Seela to see what she knew about the Omega Company would be a start.
"Hold it right there," a voice synthetic said behind him.
Turning slowly, he was met with a figure wearing the black armor of Omega Company, complete with the iconic T-shaped visor and blaster rifle aimed his way.