Star Wars - A Certain Point of View Read online

  “Heh, heh, Lieutenant. I think he’s got you this time!” engineer Dap Nechel chuckled.

  Lieutenant Celia Durasha ran her hand along the barrel of her blaster and glanced at Nechel. She knew how much the short, bearded alien enjoyed these ritual match-ups between the Kuari Princess’ navigator and Detien Kaileel, the security chief. Their banter enlivened the luxury liner’s routine passage along the Relgim Run between Endoraan and Mantooine.

  “Just wait a minute now, Dap,” she said, bolstering the blaster and leaning across the holo gameboard to study her farangs and waroots. Celia frowned, her emerald-green eyes narrowed. The chief’s last move had indeed given him the advantage.

  Seated across from her, Security Chief Kaileel wore a grin — at least Celia thought she detected a grin. The Kabieroun’s long snout hid most of his mouth.

  “Come now, my dear crimson-haired friend,” Kaileel said, his Basic heavily accented, “shall we try another game?” Dark intelligent eyes twinkled, reflecting the yellowish-green light of the gameboard. He sat back, his giant frame obscuring the overstuffed pillows that decorated the sofas on the Kuari Princess observation deck.

  Shaking her head, Celia rolled her eyes. “Why is it, Dap,” she kidded the engineer, “that I seem to lose every time you’re around?”

  Dap smiled at her mischievously, then winked at Kaileel. “I bring the Chief good luck!”

  “I don’t think I’m going to invite you to any more games!” Celia laughed, falling back onto the sofa. Sighing, she stared out the viewport at the mottled lights of stars rushing past them as the ship travelled through hyperspace. “Wish I had time for another game, Chief. We’ll be coming up on Mantooine soon, and I’m supposed to be on the bridge.”

  Chief Kaileel nodded, muscles rippling along his elongated neck. “I imagine the captain would appreciate the presence of his best officers at their respective duty stations.”

  “Indeed,” Dap agreed.

  “I’ll have some free time after we make orbit. Shall we get together, say, at 1930?” Celia asked.

  “No good,” the Chief replied. “I have some things to take care of on Mantooine. I won’t be back until much later.”

  “Things to take care of, eh?” Celia kidded him, picking up her nav-aid datapad from the seat. “All right, Chief, when do I get to meet this new girlfriend you’ve been harboring on Mantooine?”

  “And what about the ones on Aris and Vykos?” Dap added. Kaileel blushed a darker shade of green than normal and straightened in his seat. “No girlfriends,” he told them, tugging at the earhoop hanging from his left lobe. “Just … friends..”

  “Okay, if you say so,” Celia replied, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her lip. Standing up, she brushed a stray red hair off the silky white sleeve of her uniform and carefully adjusted the blaster holstered around her hips. “Well, time for work, gentlebeings.”

  Dap took one last gulp of his drink and bounced down from the sofa. “Ah, yes,” he said, “an engineer’s work is never done. Vetoosh, friends.”

  “Vetoosh,” Celia replied as Dap headed down the corridor. “Chief K?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “Any progress on finding those missing blasters?”

  Kaileel swung his massive head. “No,” he said. “I’m afraid the captain will be unhappy with my report. I’ve been over this a dozen times with my security people. It’s hard to believe one of them might be lying. But this is the third incident. All those blasters were in secure lockers in our offices. I just don’t see how anyone else could have taken them.”

  “And they haven’t turned up anywhere on the ship?”

  “I’ve had scanning teams searching every centimeter of the Princess, though I don’t expect to find them here,” he said. “No, I’m afraid this last batch may have been smuggled off the ship at one of our port stops and will turn up in Rebel hands like those the Imperials discovered on Mantooine.”

  “You sound worried, Chief,” Celia observed.

  “This will not look good on my record, Lieutenant,” Kaileel reminded her.

  “Chief, your record is impeccable!” she told him. “You’ve got the best security team this side of the Rim!”

  “With a dozen weapons missing?” he grimaced. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, little Crimson.”

  Nodding, Celia watched him rise, his huge form towering far above hers. “I’ll talk with you when you return from Mantooine.” She started to walk away, then turned back to face him. “I want my rematch!” she called. “You’re not going to win again!”

  The decks were crowded with passengers boarding the Kuari Princess in Mantooine for the return trip through the Maelstrom Nebula to Endoraan. Celia nodded politely to a group of Ithorians and three Corellian businessmen. She smiled at a young couple, still dressed in their wedding finery. Obviously on their honeymoon, they didn’t seem to notice anything around them, only each other.

  “Ticket, please,” hostess Kelsa Vilrein asked a very wealthy-looking female passenger.

  “Miss,” the woman asked, “can you tell me where the observation deck is? I don’t want to miss our entry into the Maelstrom. I’ve heard so much about it.”

  “That’s on the Lido deck,” Kelsa told her. “The captain will announce our approach. Of course, you realize we won’t enter the Maelstrom for 15 hours.”

  “Yes, thank you, my dear.”

  Kelsa tipped her head toward Celia. “Good evening, Lieutenant.”

  How are you, Kelsa?” Celia asked the dark-haired woman.

  “Ticket, please,” she replied, glancing down to check another Passenger’s accommodations. “Homthor Deck. That’s up two levels.” She winked at Celia. “I’m fine. Lieutenant.”

  “Has Chief Kaileel come back on board?” Celia asked.

  “He returned about a half hour ago. Ticket, please.”

  “Thanks, Kelsa.”

  “Celia?”

  The voice was familiar, but one she hadn’t heard in a long time. Looking around, Celia stared wide-eyed. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Adion? How in the worlds — ”

  “I’d recognize that red mane anywhere!” he exclaimed reaching out to take her hand. “Celia Durasha. Good skies! What are you doing so far from Lankashiir?”

  “I’m the Kuari Princess’ navigator. And look at you — ”

  “What do you think?” he asked, tugging at his tunic to straighten any part of the uniform that might dare to be out of place.

  “Lieutenant … hm,” she said, eyeing his tall muscular frame. Adion Lang looked more handsome than she remembered. Maybe it’s the uniform, she thought. “I like it.”

  “Celia, you look absolutely ravishing,” he told her.

  “Shh!” she replied, turning her head as the heat rose in her cheeks. “You’re not allowed to embarrass the ship’s navigator.”

  “All right. I’ll try not to.”

  “I’m good friends with the Security Chief, Lieutenant Lang. Any misbehavior and I’ll have him throw’ you in the brig!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he grinned. “You haven’t changed at all, Celia.”

  “Not one little bit!” she laughed. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get out of the line of traffic.” Leading him through the ship’s corridors toward the observation deck. Celia couldn’t help but notice the two white-armored shadows that followed them at a discrete distance. “Friends of yours?” she asked.

  Adion glanced back. “Oh, them? Don’t worry about them. Just a couple of guards who were lucky enough to accompany me,” he replied nonchalantly. “Tell me, Celia, how long has it been?”

  She thought for a moment. “Seven years, I guess.”

&
nbsp; “A long time,” he said. “Tell me about you, your family. I’m afraid I’ve lost touch with your brothers.”

  “Well, Jak is still in the Navy, stationed on board the Relentless. Bern is a lieutenant with an armored battalion in the Generis Sector, and I just spoke with Raine last week. His unit was preparing to ship out to Ralltiir — some kind of local trouble. I suppose. I miss them all terribly, but especially Raine.”

  “I guess that’s natural — he is your twin brother, after all,” Adion said. “But what happened to all your grand plans? I thought you would attend the Academy like your brothers.”

  Celia frowned, unable to ignore the incoming tide of emotions that were attached to that subject.

  Adion stopped in the middle of the corridor, obviously aware that he’d touched on a sore spot. “I’m sorry,” he told her, taking her hand into his. “I can tell something’s wrong.”

  “It’s okay,” Celia said as old feelings of anger flooded her senses. “My application was never forwarded past Sector.”

  “What! Who would do such a thing?”

  Staring past Adion, her voice trembled, full of bitterness. “Commander Reise Durasha.”

  “Your father?”

  Nodding, Celia walked away from Adion. She ran her hand along the gold handrail that lined the ornately-decorated corridor.

  “But why?” Adion asked, taking two giant strides to catch up with her.

  She stopped, planting her arms across her chest, and looked him straight in the eye. “I believe his words were, ‘No daughter of mine is going to attend the Academy. It’s no place for women,’ or something to that effect.”

  Adion lowered his eyes, shuffling his feet on the ship’s polished marble flooring. His silence stung louder than a thunderclap.

  “You, too? You agree with him?” she asked, trying to temper her anger and hurt.

  “Celia, you would have been remarkable at the Academy. But do you know where most women end up after graduation?”

  She glared at him. She knew all right. Backwater worlds, crummy assignments, with little chance to prove yourself, or to ever see a promotion. But it never mattered to her. She had longed to wear the uniform, to proudly serve as others in her family had done for generations.

  “Your father was only thinking of your well-being,” Adion said.

  “My well-being? Excuse me, why would he be so concerned about a daughter he barely knew.”

  “And yet you wanted to follow in his footsteps! See your family every three or four years, if it was convenient? Celia,” he admonished her gently, “how can you still be upset with him after all these years?”

  “He interfered with my life, Adion. He had no right to make that decision for me.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Can we drop this subject?” she asked. “You haven’t told me what you’re doing on the Kuari Princess.”

  Adion looped his arm through hers. “Show me your, ship,” he said, “and I’ll tell you about my assignment to Aris.”

  “Aris? Sector HQ, eh?” she smiled, leading him up the grand staircase to the Lido observation deck. “I’m impressed. A plush job, no doubt.”

  “You are looking at the new assistant to the Moff,” he told her.

  “Congratulations, Adion! That’s wonderful,” she stopped, turning to look out one of the viewports. Mantooine loomed ahead of them, the glare of sunlight illuminating the horizon as the ship’s orbit took them across the terminator into day. “It’s so beautiful up here,” she sighed. “But just wait until we enter the Maelstrom Nebula.”

  “I’ve heard about it,” he said, his voice softening. “But it can’t be as spectacular as the lovely red hair I used to tug on from my seat in physics classes.” He pushed a loose curl away from her face then touched her lightly on the cheek. “I’ve missed you, Celia.”

  Celia blushed and looked away from him. Adion reached out to turn her face back toward his. Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her close. Slowly, his lips met hers. For a brief moment neither one noticed the curious on-lookers who passed by.

  Trembling, Celia pulled away from him. Old memories rushed in upon her senses. There may have been a time, years ago, when she would have followed him to the ends of the galaxy. But then he’d left their homeworld to attend Raithal Academy and she hadn’t seen or heard from him in all these years. Did he expect to pick up right where they’d left off?

  Her eyes fixed on his. There was something different about him, something in those piercing blue eyes that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I’ve got to go, Adion. We’ll be leaving orbit soon and I’m supposed to be on duty now.”

  “May I see you later?” he asked.

  “I — I’ll check with you in the morning,” she said, turning to leave.

  Confused by emotions he’d stirred deep within her, emotions she thought she’d left behind in the past. Celia hurried away. She needed time to think. Some safe harbor. And she knew exactly where to find it.

  The door slid open into a modestly decorated office. A hologram on one wall displayed a cross section of the Kuari Princess. A dozen monitors occupied another wall to the right of a desk that was littered with a half dozen datacards.

  Chief Kaileel was hunched over his computer terminal. He glanced up at Celia, a momentary look of annoyance vanished quickly, replaced by a gentler expression.

  “Good evening, dear Crimson. May I help you with something?”

  “I, uh, thought I’d get a brief update on those missing blasters, Chief,” she said unconvincingly.

  Kaileel’s large dark eyes frowned at her over the top of the monitor. “I have nothing new to report. Lieutenant,” he replied, eyeing her suspiciously. “Was there something else I might help you with?”

  Celia’s eyes wandered around the room. “I’ve got the bridge watch for another hour, then I’ll be ready for our rematch.”

  Kaileel drummed his long green fingers on the desk. “It is rather late, you realize.”

  “You’re not trying to get out of this game, are you?”

  “Of course not, Lieutenant. I shall be off duty in two hours.”

  “Good,” Celia replied, glad she’d have the game to keep her mind off a certain handsome Imperial lieutenant. “Then I’ll expect you to meet me on the observation deck.”

  The edges of Kaileel’s mouth curled upward behind his snout. “Oh, my dear little crimson-haired friend, I would not miss the chance to beat you again for all the spice on Kessel!”

  “Beat me?” she smiled, her mood suddenly lighter. “Don’t count on it, Chief!”

  “Get to your bridge, little one. Drive your ship! Steer us a straight course!”

  Leaning over the desk, Celia’s face grew serious. “You look tired, Chief,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

  Kaileel leaned back into his chair. “Yes — well, no,” he admitted when he saw the frown on her face. “I had some disturbing news on my visit to Mantooine.”

  “Chief?” another voice called from the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, Lieutenant.”

  “What is it, Raban?” Kaileel asked the security officer as Celia “We’ve got a report of a fight between two passengers at the Galleria Shop.”

  “Who’s on it?”

  “Brankton. And we’ve sent in a backup.”

  “Keep me posted,” Kaileel told the man. then turned to smile at Celia. “This may turn out to be an exciting cruise.”

  “We haven’t even left orbit yet!” Celia marvelled.

  “And you thought your job was interesting.”

  “Chief, what were you about to tell me — the news you got on Mantooine?”

  “Later, my dear. I’ll tell you later.”

  Celia eyed her old friend. There was something bothering him. But before she could probe for more information the captain’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Chief Kaileel, is Lieutenant Durasha with you?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Kaileel said.

  “I was just
on my way to the bridge, sir,” Celia added.

  “Lieutenant, I need to speak with you privately. Will you meet me in my office right away?”

  “Of course, sir. On my way. I wonder what that’s all about,” she said as Kaileel clicked off the intercom. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Chief.”

  “Captain Glidrick. you wanted to see me?”

  “Please, Lieutenant, sit down,” he said. Stenn Glidrick was a middle-aged man with brownish hair that was just beginning to streak with gray. Like Celia, he was dressed in blue trousers with a gold stripe down each leg. Medals decorated his white tunic — a reminder to everyone of his service in the Imperial Navy.

  “What is it, sir? What’s happened?”

  “I received a message from your father — ”

  Celia stood up abruptly, her face reddening. “My father sent you a message?” she asked, the anger in her voice unmistakable. “Please, Lieutenant — ”

  “I want nothing to do with him — ”

  “Lieutenant Durasha, sit down!” the captain ordered. He took a deep breath. “Your father sent word through me, because he knew what your reaction would be. It’s about your brother — ”

  Celia paled. “What?” Her hands trembled as she grasped the edge of Glidrick’s desk and collapsed into the chair.

  “He’s been killed,” the captain told her. “I’m sorry.”

  Closing her eyes, Celia chewed on the inside of her lip, trying to force back the tears. “Captain, I have three brothers. Which one — ”

  Glidrick glanced down at the datapad. “It’s Raine,” he said. “Your father said there are more details on this holo that accompanied the message I received. Take all the time you need. Celia. I’m truly sorry.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Celia replied numbly, taking the holo from him. She rose slowly from the chair and somehow managed to find her way to her quarters. Alone, Celia listened to the message. When it ended, she paused it, staring at her father’s frozen holo image. The small room seemed to close in around her.

  Unconsciously, Celia ran her hand back and forth across her holster, then downward, brushing against her soft leather boot. She unsheathed the knife hidden there. It had been a special gift from Raine, one he had given to her the night before he’d left for his last term of service. Sitting beneath Lankashiir’s star-filled skies, they had reminisced about the good times they’d had exploring the forests of their homeworld.