Seepy Weepy and Arty Farty had abandoned the safety of the control room and now stood in a small alcove along one wall of the docking bay. They had been heading towards the open ramp of the Serendipity Sparrow when a large blast door on the far side of the bay had begun to iris open; they had barely managed to make it into the alcove unseen before a dozen armed and armoured Shock Troopers had marched through and deployed themselves along the wall to either side of the large doorway.
Seepy couldn't help but wonder what this sudden influx of troops signified.
"I don't know what's going on," he muttered to Arty, uncharacteristically uncharitably, "but I'm sure it is all your fault."
Arty whistled and beeped defensively.
"Well, okay," allowed Seepy, "I know you didn't ask for that crazy human to load all this sensitive data into your memory."
Arty whistled some more.
"Yes, I know your programming is hard-wired and you have no choice but to follow it."
Arty beeped conclusively.
"Okay," said Seepy. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm just a little on edge, that's all. Sorry!"
Arty whistled once, slowly.
"I won't," said Seepy, thoroughly chastened.
He peered around the corner again. The Shock Troopers were still there.
Suddenly the comm-link he held in one hand crackled into life. He hastily muffled it with his other hand.
A tinny little voice shrieked "Threepio! Come in Threepio. Threepio! Where could he be?"
"I'm sorry sir," said Seepy Weepy primly into the comm-link, "but I believe you have the wrong number."
He looked down at Arty. "What do you suppose that was all about?" he asked his stubby companion.
Arty beeped her confusion.
"Threepio! Come in, Threepio! Threepio!" said the voice from the comm-link. Quickly Seepy Weepy turned it off before it gave away their position.
Mal Single and Lurk Splitwhisker were making their way down the corridor, followed by Shagpyle Duphus and Labia "Libby" Orgasma, when Mal suddenly stopped to peer through a viewing window into the docking bay below.
"There she is," he said. "The Sparrow."
Libby moved to stand alongside the smuggler. She looked out at the battered old freighter.
"You came in that thing?" she said. "Wow. You're braver than I thought."
"Nice," muttered Mal. "Come on, it's not far now."
"Wait a second," said Lurk. "Might as well get the 'bots into position." He fumbled for the comm-link, then raised it to his mouth. "Seepy Weepy. Come in, Seepy Weepy. Seepy!" There was no answer. "Where could he be?"
"Are you sure that thing even still works?" asked Mal. "It has been through a lot, after all, and those things are only cheap."
Lurk tapped it a couple of times with his knuckle—the time-honoured method of repairing all electronic gadgets that were too small to thump or kick. He tried again. "Seepy! Come in, Seepy. Seepy!" Still nothing.
"Perhaps you're right," said Lurk. He returned the comm-link to his belt. "We'll just have to hope we don't have to go looking for them too!"
"This way," said Mal, leading them towards the stairs.
Old Bent K'nobby sidled along the corridor. If his sense of direction was correct, the open blast doors ahead should lead into the docking bay. He took another step or two and peered cautiously around the corner. Yes, there was the Serendipity Sparrow. He smiled to himself.
Suddenly there was the harsh hiss of a breathing regulator, and Bent turned. The sinister black shape of Barth Vapour was striding purposefully down the far corridor towards him. With a hum, Vapour's rapier blade came to life, the harsh red light casting a glow over the black helmet and stillsuit.
Bent drew his own light rapier and activated it. He took a defensive stance.
"I've been waiting for you, Obeah Bum," said Vapour. "We meet again, at last. The square is now complete."
"Square?" said Bent. "Surely you mean 'circle'?"
"Whatever," said Vapour. "Square, circle, triangle; does it really matter?"
"Probably not," admitted Bent.
"When you left me," said Vapour, his deep voice punctuated with regular hisses from his breathing mask, "I was but the student. Now I am the master."
"Only a master of evil, Barth," said Bent.
"Evil schmeevil," said Vapour. "I am the master of kicking your butt!"
"We shall see," said Bent. "We shall see."
The old Jubbly Knight moved smoothly from a defensive stance to an offensive one, and took a step forward. Vapour advanced to meet him. There was a sizzle that hinted at the tremendous energies involved as the two light rapier blades met and clashed.
"Your powers are weak, old man," said Vapour.
"You can't win, Barth," said Bent. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine."
Vapour laughed at that. "I guess I'd better just let you go on your way, then?"
Bent shrugged. "If you like."
"I think not," said Vapour, swinging his blade.
In the alcove, Seepy Weepy watched as all the Shock Troopers left their guard posts and gathered in a loose circle—or square; does it really matter?—around the distant blast doors. Something was going on there, but Seepy could not see what was happening.
"Come on," he said to Arty. "Now's our chance."
He began to trot, stiff-legged, across the polished floor to the ramp of the Serendipity Sparrow. Arty whistled and followed him.
Mal lead the small group down a corridor which ended at a doorway. The door hissed open, and there in front of them sat the Sparrow. The 'bots were already there, making their way across the floor. Seepy turned in alarm as the door opened, then recognised them and waved before continuing into the ship.
"Come on," said Mal. "Before we're spotted."
He ran across the deck to the ramp, followed closely by Lurk and Libby, with Shaggus bringing up the rear. Suddenly Lurk heard a familiar sound—the hum of a light rapier—and he turned to take a closer look at the cluster of Shock Troopers at the far side of the room. He stopped, and Shaggus ran past him before stopping to wait for the youth. Lurk saw the flash of two rapier blades, red and blue. He squinted, and then he recognised one of the combatants.
"Bent?" he asked.
The other combatant, in the black mask, must be the Hard Lord he had heard so much about: Barth Vapour, his father.
Mal stood at the top of the ramp, looking back at Shaggus and Lurk. Libby stood beside him.
"Bent?" said Lurk again.
Bent barely managed to block a vicious swipe by the Stiff Lord. He staggered backwards and managed to raise his rapier again. He glanced over his shoulder, took in the ring of Troopers between himself and the ship. And he saw Lurk standing there, watching the battle.
Bent smiled mysteriously.
Turning back to face Vapour, he raised his rapier in something like a salute, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
Vapour stepped forward, swung his weapon, and it sliced neatly through the old man's brown robe. The two halves of the robe fluttered to the deck. Of the old man's body, there was nothing to be seen. Frowning, Vapour poked at the empty robe with his light rapier, setting the cloth alight and boring a neat round hole through the deck.
"Oops," he said. He hurriedly stamped out the flames with the toe of his boot.
"Bent," whispered Lurk, as Vapour cut the old man down.
"No!", he shouted. Drawing his laser rifle he began to blast—wildly and ineffectually—at the Troopers and the sinister Stiff Lord. As the Troopers turned toward him, he threw down the rifle and drew his own light rapier.
"Run, Lurk, run," said a ghostly echo of Bent's voice in his head.
"Screw that," muttered Lurk. "This guy is gonna pay!"
Mal was shouting something, and shooting at the Troopers from the cover of the ramp. Shaggus roared—Look out!—and ran to join Mal on the ramp.
"Run, Lurk, run," said Bent's voice again.
"No," said Lurk quietly. "If that is how the Array wants it to happen, if that is how the Script is supposed to go, then I'm through following it."
A couple of the Troopers began to advance towards the lone boy. Perhaps the rest had been paying attention to recent events, for they opted to keep their distance; some of them stood, some knelt, but all raised their rifles and fired a barrage of shots at the youth.
Lurk reached out for the Source. Time seemed to slow down as Lurk swept his rapier blade back and forth across the incoming bolts of energy, deflecting them. Not only did he deflect them, but he deflected each and every one back along its own path, sending them back down the very barrels of the guns that had fired them. There were a number of loud explosions as the weapons detonated, killing the Troopers holding them. The few who had elected to run towards him simultaneously decided that it would be a great deal safer to run away from him; they all turned and bolted.
"Hmm," said Mal. "Not bad for a farm-boy."
Now that he had a clear shot at the Hard Lord, he fired several times. Vapour held up his hand contemptuously, and the laser bolts smacked harmlessly into his gloved palm. He gestured, and Mal's weapon was jerked out of his hand and went sailing across the docking bay.
"Ow," howled Mal, cradling his trigger finger which had nearly been torn off by the force with which the weapon had been wrenched from his grip.
Lurk stalked towards the Hard Lord, and Vapour turned to meet him.
"You think you can beat me, boy?" asked Vapour. "That trick with the Troopers was clever, if a little clumsily executed. But I am more than just another Trooper."
"We shall see," said Lurk.
Behind his mask, Vapour's scarred lips curled up into a smile. "That is not the first time I have heard that phrase today," he said. He took a defensive stance and waited for the boy to come to him.
"Bent said you were the Chosen One," said Lurk, raising his light rapier and taking a careful step forward.
"Bent?" asked Vapour.
"Obeah Bum K'nobby," said Lurk. "Bent."
"Nice choice of name," said Vapour. "He always was a little bent. Yes, they thought I was the Chosen One. They were wrong, I guess."
Lurk shook his head. "No, they were right about that. It is so obvious."
"Is it?" asked Vapour.
"But they were wrong about you being 'The One'," said Lurk.
"And how would you know that?" asked Vapour.
"Because I'm it," said Lurk. "I'm 'The One'."
Vapour stepped forward, closing the gap between them.
"If that is the case, this should be a little more interesting," said Vapour. "'One' on 'One', so to speak." He swung his rapier, Lurk parried and stepped back.
"Do you know me?" asked Lurk.
Vapour frowned behind the mask. Did this boy intend to talk him to death? "Should I?"
"My name," said Lurk, "is Lurk Splitwhisker."
Vapour stumbled back a step. Lurk advanced.
"Yes, Mannequin. You are my father."
"No," said Vapour, shaking his head. He backed up another step. Lurk advanced. "They told me she was dead."
"She died in childbirth, but they managed to save me and..." Lurk stopped. He remembered Bent saying the same thing. "Ask me again sometime," he had said. Now Lurk would never know what he had almost said.
"And..." asked Vapour.
"And here I am," finished Lurk. He swung his rapier, and the Stiff Lord barely managed to get his own blade up in time to block the attack. He recovered quickly, though, and drove Lurk backwards with several lightning swipes and slashes.
"Did Obeah Bum tell you what happened to your father?" Vapour asked. "What happened to me?"
"He said... Well, actually he said that you killed him, but I read between the lines that you were him."
"No," said Vapour. "If anybody killed Mannequin Splitwhisker, it was Obeah Bum K'nobby."
"What?" said Lurk. "No. I don't believe you."
"It was he who cut my legs out from under me and dropped me into a river of lava," said Vapour. "It is not easy to recover from a betrayal like that."
"No," said Lurk. "It's not true!"
"Search your feelings, Lurk," said Vapour. "You know it to be true. Or better yet, ask him yourself—oh, you can't, can you?"
"Nooo!" howled Lurk. "Bent, why didn't you tell me?" He staggered backward, and Vapour took advantage of his distraction to press his attack. Lurk parried desperately.
"Come with me, Lurk," said Vapour. "Join me. We can rule this galaxy together as father and son."
"No," screamed Lurk again. The scream of anguish became a scream of pain as Vapour's blade broke through his defences and sliced neatly through his wrist. His twitching hand fell to the floor, and the deactivated rapier clattered down beside it. Lurk fell backwards, helpless and beaten, the humming tip of Vapour's blade at his throat.
"Join me," said Vapour again.
"Why?" hissed Lurk through the pain. "Are you coming apart? I certainly seem to be." The raw sensation of the pain had cut through the fog in his mind, and Lurk reached out for the Source, seeking salvation.
"Join me," Vapour insisted. "It is your destiny."
Lurk concentrated on the flowing green code which delineated the Hard Lord's rapier. "What is the dental plan like?" he asked, trying to buy himself time. Just a few more seconds...
"Don't try my patience, boy," said Vapour. "I have been childless for the last twenty years; I will feel no qualms about reverting to that state."
Lurk looked deeper. Deeper. There.
"How about I give you the finger," he said, "and you give me my phone call?"
"What?" hissed Vapour. "What does that mean?"
Lurk had no idea where the words had come from; only that they seemed somehow appropriate. They resonated in his mind. He had no idea what a 'phone call' might be, and he felt he had already given the Hard Lord way too many of his fingers—and a thumb.
"It means," he said, "fuck you!" He tweaked, and pushed Vapour's long baguette away from his throat as he rolled to one side. His left hand closed clumsily around the fallen light rapier and, even as Vapour stared in disbelief at the bread roll clutched in his gloved hand, Lurk swept the energy blade around and sliced through Vapour's legs above the knees.
Vapour toppled backwards to the floor with a loud crash, the impact driving most of the breath from his body.
"Oh crap," he said, "not again!"
Lurk heaved himself to his feet, cradling his injured stump beneath his other arm. He staggered over to the fallen Hard Lord of the Stiff, and raised his weapon high.
"This ends here," he said.
"Most impressive, young Splitwhisker," gasped Vapour, "but you are not a Jubbly yet!" With a contemptuous flicking gesture, he sent the youth flying backward through the air. With a second gesture, he activated the controls of the blast door; the heavy metal barrier slammed closed between the two, and Vapour sagged back onto the floor in relief.
Lurk rolled over, his body one huge bruise.
The Princess ran to his side. "Come on," said Libby, as she helped him to his feet. "Let's go. There's nothing more you can do now."
Lurk moaned. "Bent, why didn't you tell me?" He allowed the Princess to guide him up the ramp into the cargo bay of the Serendipity Sparrow. Mal waited at the ramp controls; as they entered, he closed the ramp, then hit the comm button.
"Take her out, Shaggus. All aboard."
As the Sparrow lifted into the air, as Libby lowered Lurk onto a bench and sat beside him, cradling him protectively in her arms, Mal shook his head. "I hope that old man put the attractor beam out of commission," he muttered, "or this is going to be a real short trip." He headed for the flight deck.
The Serendipity Sparrow shot into space and sped away from the enormous Devastator Station. Moments later, a trio of THIGH Fighters dropped from a nearby cluster of launch tubes and roared off in silent pursuit.
Mal settled into the pilot's chair of the old freighter as the ship rocked under the impact of laser fire.
Shaggus grunted something at him. This is going to get interesting.
"Define 'interesting'," said Mal.
Shaggus grunted again. Oh shit oh shit, we're going to die!
"Not if I can help it," Mal said. "Take the guns; try to keep them off us long enough for me to make the jump to hyperlight speed." Shaggus grunted and, as the ship rocked again, staggered off the flight deck.
Mal flew evasively, throwing his ship into loops and rolls it had never originally been designed to perform. After a few moments, one of the gun ports began blazing at the pursuing Fighters, and he relaxed slightly as the three Fighters themselves took evasive action. Come on, he thought to himself. "Come on," he whispered.
The hyperlight indicator flashed on, and Mal breathed a sigh of relief. He punched the button, and the stars stretched into strings as the Sparrow leaped into the safety of hyperspace.
"We're clear," said Mal as he entered the cargo bay. "How is he?"
Lurk had passed out on the bench, his head in Libby's lap. She had wrapped a blanket around him to keep him warm.
"I think he's going into shock," said Libby softly.
"Give me a hand," said Mal. "We'll take him up to the infirmary."
"You have an infirmary on this old heap?" said Libby. "I am impressed." Between the two of them they got Lurk onto his feet and began to half-carry, half-drag him through the cargo bay.
"Need one," said Mal. "In my line of work, injuries are common." They reached the steps. "You awake, buddy?" Mal asked Lurk.
Lurk mumbled something from the fog of semi-consciousness. He managed to lift his feet enough that they could walk him up the stairs.
"What is your line of work? Or shouldn't I ask?" said Libby.
"Wandering hero, mostly," said Mal. "Rescuing Princesses a speciality. Plus I do a bit of smuggling on the side to make ends meet."
They finally got Lurk to the small infirmary and laid him on the bed.
"Of course," said Mal with a nod around the room, "I don't have a doctor no more, not since..." He sighed. "Anyway, this place is reasonably well stocked. Best start by sticking one of those pillows under his feet, and grabbing another blanket from in the cupboard yonder. Just the one, though."
Libby complied with his directions. "I guess you do know your way around an infirmary," she said.
"Like I said. In my line of business..."
She nodded. "Tell me," she said. "With your expertise in the Princess rescuing business, did that escape seem a little too easy?"
"How so?" said Mal.
"What did they send after us? Three Fighters? A Station like that must have thousands ready to deploy at a moment's notice."
"What's your point?" said Mal.
"I just have a bad feeling about this," she said. "I'm worried that they let us go, that they're tracking us somehow."
"Not this ship, sister," said Mal. "Speaking of which, where are we going? I just set a course back for Ratatouille as the first place that came to mind, but I'm guessing we don't want to go there."
She looked up at him over the sleeping form of Lurk. Suddenly she found herself wondering if this was all some elaborate ploy to trick her into revealing the location of the Rebel base. After all, how well did she really know either of these men? She looked down at Lurk, at the charred stump of his wrist; she thought of the duel between Vapour and somebody who may or may not have been General K'nobby; finally she thought of the 'bots which had resembled her RT and CP 'bots, but which she had not spoken to since they had come aboard the Sparrow. Could it possibly be a hoax? Did the Imperium have this much imagination?
She looked again at Lurk's wrist, and at his pale face.
Finally she looked up and stared into the eyes of Captain Mal Single, searching for any hint of duplicity. For a smuggler and a rogue, he had an honest face.
"Yawn," she said.
After a moment or two, Mal yawned. And smiled.
She smiled back. "No, I mean the planet 'Yawn'," she said.
"Yeah," he said. "I guessed that. I just couldn't help myself."
Great Muff Tarragon sighed as the fleeing freighter disappeared from his view screen.
"This had better work, Vapour," he said tightly. "I'm taking an awful risk."
He looked around the bridge.
"Has anybody seen Lord Vapour?" he asked. Nobody responded. "Well, find him," he ordered. "Tell him the Great Muff requests the pleasure of his company. And you," he pointed at a communications officer, "please tell me we have good news."
"Uh, sir, the tracer signal is coming in strong," said the officer.
"Good," said Tarragon. "Good."