The crowd in the spaceport ran shrieking, knocking each other over and shoving their way through the exits. Despite the chaos, in only a few seconds the security terminal fell silent. Blasted alien corpses lay in twisted piles while scanners choked and spat sparks. An insistent, plaintive alarm cried for attention. Lowering his rifle, Regis ignored the impulse to drink in the sight, which looked like something out of a dream.

“Birdy, find us a way out of here! Death troopers, you’re on point! Pilots, time for you to take off!”

The dark-armored pilots ran deeper into the landing bay, and Regis spotted Sindo’s green-outlined figure even before his heads-up display identified her.

“Sindo, wait!” he said.

Sindo whirled, her feet slowing as she stepped backward, but never quite stopping. He wished, for a moment, that he could see her face behind her black mask. But he knew that others were watching, and waiting for him to lead.

“Be careful out there,” he said, his tone harsher than he would have liked.

“Let’s just win,” she said. “Then we’ll talk about being careful!”

Without another word, Regis turned and strode toward Birdy, who had chosen a route for them.

* * *

Ugnaught mechanics fled squealing as blaster fire tore through their work station. Their panic only worsened as a Cheka pilot and lanky guard raced ahead of them, bolted through an exit, and locked the door behind them. The black-armored Imperial pilots, advancing with their blaster pistols held level, ignored the remaining Ugnaughts, who were busy falling over one another in a terrified dash toward another exit.

“You boys weren’t kidding!” said Sindo, in awe. “This is the jackpot!”

Even Lando agreed. A mix of TIE Interceptors and TIE Fighters shone under flickering fluorescent lighting, their gray hulls and black-paneled wings looking rough for wear but at least free of dust thanks to frequent use by Cheka pilots. Even a few X-Wings covered in blue New Republic symbols were mixed in with the old Imperial starfighters.

“I assume you’re taking an X-Wing, Mister Calrissian?” said Sindo. “I know you old Rebels like your deflector shields!”

“Uh… no,” said Lando. “Me and Chewie are sticking together, and I don’t know if he can fit into some tin can. Artoo, can you ask the computer if there’s something for us?”

“Deflector shields?!” a pilot shouted, swinging over a ladder and landing in the cockpit. “These Interceptors are so fast, you don’t need some shield causing drag in the atmosphere if you want to stay alive!”

“There you go again, Dagen,” said a pilot climbing into an X-Wing. “Talking about staying alive!”

“Okay, big man!” said the other pilot. “Just turn your baby-boy shields all the way up and watch me get some kills!”

“Arryk!” said Sindo. “You’re with Lando and Chewie.”

“Ma’am?” said the pilot, hesitating at the ladder to a TIE Interceptor.

“If they find a gunship, they’ll need a gunner!”

Arryk hesitated. “They’re not gonna find a… alright, yes ma’am!”

“Just hurry up and meet us in the air!”

The pilots cheered as they activated their starfighters, and Sindo felt the thrill of her teammates resonating with her own excitement as she fell into the cockpit of an Interceptor - a wedge-shaped, advanced model of the standard TIE Fighter. Though she cringed at the food crumbs scattered on the control panel, she felt an intense, jolting rush as the engine kicked on immediately. She flipped the switch lowering the windshield, then activated the air seal and recycling systems. Everything checked out. She gave in to the almost sensual comfort of leaning back in the narrow seat and taking hold of the control stick.

“Where to first, ma’am?” said one of the pilots.

“Where else? That other Cheka starfighter landing pad. We’re going to blow those ships away, then rain hell on this city!”

“Yes, ma’am!” the pilots shouted.

Lando and Chewbacca backed away from the rising starfighters, then Lando glanced at Artoo, who was plugged into a data terminal.

“Artoo!” said Lando, calling out to be heard over the roaring engines. “Did you find us anything?”

Artoo trilled in response, but did not unplug from the computer terminal.

“What do you mean you’re staying?” Waving at the doorway, Lando added, “A Cheka patrol could come back here at any moment!”

Artoo squawked in annoyance.

Chewbacca roared, waving his bowcaster over the small droid.

Lando raised an eyebrow. “If he thinks he can confuse the city computers from here, then I doubt even you could make him budge, Chewie. But what about us? Did you find anything we can fly?”

“Somethin’ big and dangerous, preferably!” said Arryk.

Artoo chirped excitedly, then spun his head atop his body.

“Something I’ll like, huh?” Lando scoffed. “Don’t be so sure of yourself, little guy. I can be awfully picky!”

* * *

“Alright, you Imperial scum!” a tall Togruta shouted into his loudspeaker microphone. He stood atop an armored troop transport so that the stormtroopers inside Coruscant Freedom Spaceport could see his starched blue Cheka officer’s uniform, as well as his prominent head-tails. His Cheka soldiers were spread out in a line, kneeling with their blaster rifles held ready. “We’ve got the entire area locked down! Throw down your weapons, and come out with your hands in the air!”

They waited in silence, their gaze fixed on the tall doorways of misted glass leading into the spaceport. A hard wind kicked up, blowing the flaps of abandoned tents lined up around the entrance, and empty cans clattered along the ground and collected at the square bases of statues that had been torn down after the fall of the Empire.

One of the doors slid open. Over the wind, they strained to hear a tinny voice projected from a stormtrooper’s helmet comm.

“We have hostages!”

“Then send them out!” the Togruta immediately responded. “Send them out, and turn yourselves in.”

Other doors slid open. The Cheka adjusted their aim, gripping their blasters in sweating palms. Within a moment, several aliens came out with their hands in the air, including a slender green Rodian in a Cheka uniform, two hairy Bothans, and a blue-skinned Chiss in a business suit. They approached the line of Cheka.

“Good, good job,” said the Togruta. He could feel the relief from his fellow Cheka, the sense of hope that this nightmare was over. “Now that that’s done, you boys need to put down your weapons, and-”

The shriek of blasters interrupted the Togruta’s speech as red bolts erupted from the doorways, reflecting off white stormtrooper armor in flashing pink neon. Unmindful of the hostages they had just released, they fired in a maddening cacophony.

“Run, you idiots!” one Cheka shouted at the hostages, only for another to scream, “Get down!” as the center of the line hesitated to return fire. The dozen stormtroopers in gleaming armor were soon joined by six death troopers taking turns firing from doorways. A window in the second story shattered as Vasili’s Sonn-Blas F-9E scoped rifle tore through one Cheka and sent him spinning into his comrades. The Chiss had especially caused concern among the Cheka, as they did not know whether or not he was an important man whose death or injury could cost them a job, or possibly even land them in prison. Not that it mattered, as red bolts tore through his back and sent him sprawling at the feet of his hesitant saviors.

The Togruta officer prepared to tell his men to fire through the distracting hostages, when the transport he stood upon jerked beneath his feet, tossing him backward. Birdy cursed under the recoil of the CR-1 blaster cannon, which he had taken from his old teammate on Viddu’s Hounds. He was nevertheless satisfied to see the Cheka officer fall off the transport with his feet in the air.

“On me! Follow me!” Regis shouted. Hunkered down behind a thick plasteel shield, Regis exited the spaceport firing Han’s blaster pistol over the edge of his cover. Though he felt a surreal jolt of fear with each step, he was also filled with satisfaction at the sound of his allies’ blaster bolts going off right behind him as a dozen white-armored stormtroopers followed him into danger.

Though he knew he could have remained inside the spaceport, he also knew the psychological effect of a mobilized stormtrooper assault. It was immediate; when a handful of Cheka fell, many others immediately bolted, fleeing back the way they had come, only on foot this time. The remaining Cheka, seeing their comrades running like cowards, cursed them, then joined them all the same, some even tossing their blaster rifles so that they could run still faster.

Regis dropped the heavy shield, then swung around behind the transport. He saw the Togruta officer on the ground, desperately trying to retrieve his blaster where it had fallen under the transport. He froze and turned his bloodless face up to Regis.

“Got everything under control, do you?” said Regis, smiling behind his mask.

The Cheka officer worked his mouth, as if trying to speak, then recoiled in terror as a series of explosions rocked the spaceport. Regis forced himself not to move, but stared the officer down as heavy blaster fire rocked the spaceport. When he heard the roar of starfighters, he turned and saw a dozen X-Wings and TIE Interceptors racing skyward, then banking and tearing across the city.

Regis laughed and turned to the officer, saying, “Yeah, it looks like you boys are in control!”

The officer suddenly jerked away from the transport, flung himself away from Regis, and ran as if pursued. Regis turned away, shouting, “Form up! We’re pressing forward!” Glancing at his team, he was overjoyed to see everyone standing, and in one piece.

A blaster bolt shrieked, then the Cheka officer tumbled and collapsed on the pavement. A death trooper lowered his rifle.

“How did you know I wasn’t going to move in that direction, boy?!” Regis shouted.

“I wouldn’t have hit you,” said the death trooper, his garbled voice coming through intelligibly only in Regis’s comm.

“Well? I can tell you’ve got somethin’ on your mind.”

“Yes.” The death trooper looked off into the distance, then said, “We’re going to leave you now, Major Regis.”

Regis was annoyed, but more than that, he felt a subtle, yet insistent, feeling of danger. “What are you talking about?” said Regis. “We came here to do a job together.”

“Well. To be honest, Major, we came here with our own purpose in mind.”

Glancing off to the side, Regis saw the white-armored stormtroopers gathering around Vasili and Birdy. Rather than forming up with the stormtroopers, Regis noted that the other five death troopers were spread out in a line facing them. Nobody else seemed to notice that the death troopers were formed up as if creating a kill zone, and could fire as soon as their leader directed them to do so.

“Whatever it is you’re planning on doing, looks like I can’t stop you,” said Regis. “If we go our separate ways, will it get in the way of our mission?”

“No, sir,” said the death trooper. “If anything, we should draw some fire off you.”

“You do what you want, but I’ll remember that you didn’t stick with us, soldier!”

“Oh, you’ll remember us, alright… sir. Perhaps we’ll form up later, Emperor willing.”

“Right,” said Regis, nodding reluctantly. He was not sure what was worse, suddenly losing a significant chunk of his assault force, or being treated like common infantry by loose cannons considered elite even among special forces.

The death trooper adjusted his comm and signaled to his teammates, his garbled voice now unintelligible to Regis.

“What’s going on, Major?” said Vasili, looking back and forth as the death troopers stalked off.

“Change of plan,” said Regis, waving to the transport. “Get in before the Cheka throw more of their flunkies at us. We’re heading for the New Republic Medical Facility!”

As if emphasizing his point, Sindo’s fighters swooped past, and the top of a skyscraper with a comm tower erupted in a shower of dust with flames billowing in their wake.

* * *

A purple-skinned Keshiri in a gray Cheka uniform watched in horror as a line of TIE Interceptors and X-Wings blasted the city in a winding attack run, knocking down one comm tower after another. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“We’ll be fine,” said a pale, thin Balosar with long antennae waving in the wind. “You see, over there? That’ll be our boys flying in. A-Wings, X-Wings, TIE Fighters, the works. These terrorists will be cleaned up in no time.”

“And all the other attacks?” said the Keshiri. His gaze went over the checkpoint, where his teammates were setting up a vehicle blockade where the tangled web of scrap metal footbridges led to the Republic Palace. “I heard stormtroopers attacked the spaceport, the Galactic Financial Reserve, a diplomat’s apartment, and-”

“Alright, alright,” said the thin Balosar. “You’re worryin’ about stuff way over your pay grade. See? All we have to do is guard this one entrance to the Republic Palace. Nobody gets in or out. Nobody. Right? Are you listening?”

In fact, the purple Keshiri was watching a hooded man in a dark robe approach. He did not seem like some furtive criminal, but walked with the confident sense of someone who had been through here many times before.

The man waved slightly. “You’re supposed to let me through here,” he said, never bothering to lower his hood.

Though his orders were clear, the Balosar suddenly remembered that there actually were exceptions to the rule. He knew that it would be foolish to get in the way of business over his station. “We’re supposed to let him through here,” he said, nodding to his partner. The purple Keshiri nodded in agreement. The Balosar noticed the other Cheka at the perimeter glancing at the newcomer, then they turned back to their work, as if uninterested. The man soon passed out of view.

“Anyway, like I was saying,” the Balosar continued. “Don’t worry about someone else’s job. Just focus on doing your part. Nobody gets through here…”

The man in the dark cloak continued on toward the Republic Palace, the home of Empress Organa.