The Battle of the Masserix Belt: Planet Rex

Posted on Tue Jan 31st, 2023 @ 1:12pm by Mentis & Reave & Kalen "Rex" Vickers & G2-O7

2,534 words; about a 13 minute read

Chapter: Chapter VI: The Last Bastion
Location: Red Raptor, BSD Absolution, Masserix Belt, Bastion Space (Near the border)
Timeline: Concurrent with "The Battle of the Masserix Belt"

"Relic-chasing cultist wizards, Mando conspiracies in the Alliance, heists on Naboo, Nautolan pirates... and now, scrambling in a centuries-old freighter to take on the might of the Imperial Navy in the midst of a civil war."

Rex was counting down the digits on his right hand, holding it aloft in front of Mentis, even as his other hand ran over the broad control panel of the Red Raptor, its various systems humming and whirring to life, with only a modicum of mechanical groaning echoing somewhere in the rear of the ageing smuggler's ship. The Bastionite technicians had worked some minor miracles in retrofitting some of the ship's weaponry and energy distribution systems, but their time with the Raptor had been limited - and there was still only so many miracles the Corellian antique would be able to now suffer.

Mentis looked up at the digits being thrust in his face, clearly not being allowed to focus on his own preparations for the battle ahead.

“Your point being, Rex?” he raised an eyebrow, “Won’t it just be another story for you to exaggerate later?”

The aloft hand's digits spread and Rex placed it against his chest in apparent shocked upset. "You wound me, Mantis. I am an honest, hard-working, fair-dealing, dust-of-the-desert, blue-collar man of the people, trying to make my way in a galaxy full of shysters, tyrants and... and- and dark magic!" He waved his other hand excessively between Mentis and the Star Destroyer outside.

Exhaling sharply through his nose with some mixture of frustration and amusement, Mentis turned and looked out of the cockpit viewport at the great capital ship they were darting alongside. The BSD Absolution seemed immobile against their movement in space but still likely travelling at speeds only a supercomputer could process, carrying with them the odd trio of fellow Force-users they were supposedly allied with. Yet here again were Mentis and Rex (and Reave somewhere or another), side-lined to support the naval effort in the Masserix Belt asteroid field where GalactaWerks forces were attempting to breach Bastion space to take control of the Empire in Moff Anthark’s name and for their own profit.

“So how would you have this story play out?” the brooding Rattataki posed to Rex, “Or would you skip it altogether? Perhaps give the heisting another go?”

"Ha!" Rex exclaimed, launching himself closer to Mentis, barely perched on the edge of his seat as he plucked a hand-rolled cigarra from somewhere unknown, and began gesturing vociferously towards his reluctant co-pilot. "Now there's the question everyone should be asking before they fling themselves into a star war. 'How would Kalen Vickers have this story play out?'. Well, for starters, there'd be no space wizards or fascists, and a ton more dancers in skimpy metal underwear. And, of course, I'd be sat on my own ship, fully refurbished, counting my credits after flooring all the Imps in a winner-takes-all sabacc game." He shrugged and pushed himself back in the chair, a light creak accenting the sound of the fraying leather beneath the Human. "I guess you might still be there. Smiling more and sulking less."

“Smiling, you say?” Mentis went to scoff but seemed to cut himself off, thinking more on the supposedly simple concept. He carried on in a fainter tone, “Now that would be quite the extravagance.”

He casually dismissed the extravagance of skimpy dancers, a new ship and resolving a galactic dispute with a game of chance. But perhaps that was not so unreasonable in the life and times of “Rex” Vickers.

The comm panel began to beep furiously as a priority message was received and Mentis shook away his thoughts and pushed the response button.

“This is Mentis,” he spoke plainly.

“Mentis, the GalactaWerks-allied fleet is just ahead of us beyond the asteroid belt,” the visage of the former cultist’s Ithorian mentor, Bomoor, appeared and began to explain without delay or query, “I have been informed that the mass shadows prevent us jumping any closer so all capital ships will have to slow here and clear a path through. The smaller ships and fighters are being sent ahead to meet the opposing fighters to prevent them swarming us on this side of the belt.”

Bomoor’s flickering apparition craned his neck slightly so his eye stalks were facing towards Rex, “If Mr Vickers is confident in his piloting skills, we would like you to join the fighters and assist in their efforts.”

Rex audibly tsk at Bomoor's comments. Whilst the smuggler had warmer interactions with the Ithorian than the other Human that was usually aboard the Red Raptor, there was still no true love lost. He was perhaps more likely to just vocalise the concerns with this former Jedi Knight than the other.

"I'm gonna have to be honest with you, Bomoor," he said, now lighting his cigarra and showing no sign of leaving his laid-back resting position in the pilot's chair, apparently paying no heed to the impending battle he was now expected to pilot them through. "It's going to take a lot more than smooth sailing on this old smuggler's part to change the odds of this battle. I mean, I don't intend to die today, if you were thinking of asking me why I'm still here, but..." Rex took a long drag on the cigarra and puffed out a small cloud of light-grey musty smoke. He looked briefly to Mentis and then back to the holographic display of Bomoor. "I hope you guys have a plan. One that's better than throwing me and Mantis at a horde of TIE fighters."

"Cool it, Rex!" Mentis hissed but Bomoor raised a hand dismissively to silence him.

He answered in his low, echoic voice, "I have no expectations of you, or even of Mentis if he truly wishes. I expect you can both live long and unfruitful lives hiding away from the galaxy and perhaps you will be successful at eluding the dark forces that haunt your pasts. But, once in a while, we are given a chance to effect some change and forge our own destinies. I have learned that little can come from allowing others to choose our path for us, and so I will not stand here and dictate your choices for you, but simply offer you the opportunity to make an ally of these imperials and inflict a blow against GalactaWerks."

Mentis leapt up, feeling a frustration growing again within him, "Of course, Bomoor. I never intended to shrink away from this battle. I am not afraid of dying, particularly if it is for some purpose beyond Axion's glory. Do not judge me a coward!"

Bomoor was silent for a moment before simply adding, "Of course," and then turning to Rex. "But what of your partner here? He may value his own skin more highly."

"His 'partner' recognises the value in sticking one to the Company wherever they stick their frilly droid-shaped craniums, and doubly so if they're getting into bed with Imps," Rex said, actually taking a more confrontational tone with the Ithorian than Mentis had observed before. "But, I'm a simple man with a simple understanding of the galaxy - I've not had the benefit of Coruscanti towers and a monk's education - and it seems to me, my learned friend, that numbers are not on your side."

He looked to Mentis, who was still standing up, his strained expression making the pale skin taut about his skull. The poor lighting of the holographic display, coupled with the twinkling lights of the control console and the little light reflected by the nearby Star Destroyer, gave the Rattataki warrior a particularly skeletal appearance. Despite the look he was giving the smuggler, however, Rex's own expression softened, and he looked back to Bomoor.

"But even I'm learning to take a bit of Mos Eisley grit with my sandwich when it comes to these... things you guys get yourselves wrapped up with." The Human gave another shrug, albeit this one was markedly less relaxed than the previous, set his cigarra tight between his pearl-white teeth, and then brushed his hands across the Raptor's control terminal. "You and your pals up on that Star Destroyer have done some incredible things. Baffling, mind-warping things. Things I wouldn't believe if I hadn't seen some of it." He gave a carefully-tailored cock-sure grin to Bomoor. "What's two Star Destroyers got on you, eh?"

The pale blue projection of the Ithorian betrayed little of his expression, but there was some softening to his posture as he regarded the smuggler, "That is precisely what I was thinking, Mr Vickers. You have seen what the Force can do and I have seen what a single, exceptional person can do, even if they are but a "simple man", as you put it. I have no intention of throwing your lives away; you are part of our crew now and that means something to us Ithorians. May the Force be with you."

As the image of Bomoor fizzled away, Rex's face dropped once more, and he let out an extravagant huff, shaking his head slowly, causing little ripples of smoke to waft lazily above him and into the barely-audible air extractors that worked tirelessly around the ancient vessel. A few extra chirps and beeps began tripping across the console as new information was fed to the on-board computers by the Absolution, and localised tactical maps began replacing the larger stellar cartographical display along the walls.

Somewhere nearby, G2-O7's wheels could be heard whirling closer to the cockpit, obediently attending to assist in its part in the coming conflict.

"He might wear the fancy robes, use the long words, come across as your friend or mentor, and even speak in tall ways about the righteousness of his causes and the evils he's slaying," Rex said, flicking a few switches and then leaning round to Mentis, pointing with a free hand to where the holographic display of the Ithorian had been just moments before. "But that man is still every bit the Anacondan oil salesman. Only thing, he's just learned to love the taste himself a bit too much."

Mentis crossed his arms and his brow lowered further, contorting the scar across his left eye, "I suppose it's very easy to spot a liar when you distrust everyone."

He stepped over to the panels and started to look at the tactical data and they felt a subtle gravitational shift as G2 began to sync their movements up with the TRI-Fighters that were beginning to appear all around them, dotted about as though they were now plunged deep into a minefield with danger on all sides.

Without looking back from the display, the Rattataki added, "It must be quite lonely on planet Rex."

The Human snorted lightly, derision dripping even from that childish and unflattering sound that had erupted from him. Mentis could almost sense retorts building up within the other man; comments about black pots and kettles, or mockeries of his own lonely experiences within Axion's cult. Ultimately, though, Rex said nothing, and he positioned himself to look more clearly out of the viewport. His dark eyes flitting between the squadrons of TRI-Fighters positioning around the Red Raptor, placing themselves in supportive formations around the larger freighter.

Whilst it was impossible to hear the sound of their twin-ion engines through the vacuum of space and the considerable metal and transparisteel separating them from that deathly interstellar void, it seemed almost possible to discern that screeching, overbearing trademark scream that typified the Imperial craft. The unearthly chorus of the gun-metal starfighters had become familiar to Mentis and Rex, even during their short time enjoying the hospitality and parades of the Bastion Moff Empire.

Rex actually placed a hand against the window, his palm pressed towards the nearest constellation of TRIs.

"I have a bad feeli-"

"Hkeek nkulla!" Reave's sudden curse caused Rex to jolt in his chair.

"You little-" Rex took a shocked breath, removing his cigarra from his mouth and placing a cautious hand on his chest as he appeared to compose himself after his Jawa-induced palpitations. "Where the kriff have you been this whole damn time? Did you even-"

Reave interrupted Rex with a flurry of unintelligible squeaks and barks, which sounded decidedly and traditionally offensive, before he leaned forward and plucked the cigarra from Rex's hand, deftly inserting into the unseen mouth hidden within the dark maw beneath his hat. After a couple of drags, he made a few more harsh comments to Rex - not once seeming to cast his menacing, glittering eyes in Mentis' direction.

The smuggler nodded to his diminutive friend. "Yeah, good work, buddy." He began flicking more switches around the cockpit, reading in different directions as he continued to prime the freighter for battle. A few hisses were heard nearby and the internal lights dimmed; the consoles buttons and readouts appeared brighter, whilst the overall movement of the Raptor began to 'feel' smoother to its three-person crew.

Now stood unnervingly close to Mentis, his thick scarf actually pressed against the side of Mentis, Reave's hateful gaze was now perfectly set on the Rattataki. He did not speak, nor blink, nor move - he simply glared.

Rex gave a sidelong glance to Mentis as he rested his hands and arms across the pilot's console. A cocksure half-grin slipped over his face. "He, uhh... The turret's ready for you, Mantis."

Mentis looked at those yellow glowing eyes a moment longer, a glimmer of understanding passing between them, "Yeah, I think I'm starting to pick up a bit more of that Jawaese, or maybe it's all in the glares. Seems he is a bit too eager to see me squeeze down into that tiny gunner's pit, if you ask me."

Mentis shook his head and turned to leave into the corridor, before pausing at the doorway and casting a glance back, "I'll keep in contact the whole time. You tell me to shoot something and I'll shoot it."

The Rattataki disappeared from view, heading towards the small ladder towards the centre of the ship that fed down to the small gunner's cockpit mounted beneath the ship. A few moments later, his voice came over on the cockpit audio feed.

"I'm in and just adjusting the seat," he grunted, accompanied by a ruffling sound, "I never get used to sitting at this angle, but I'm all right. I can already see fighters buzzing about; how's it looking up there?"

"Uhh.... honest answer?" Rex called down to Mentis, his voice loud enough to be heard over the thrum of the Red Raptor and the stresses of its combat-ready setup. "Like squadrons of heavily-armed fighters that outnumber us two-to-one are launching out of two massive dreadnoughts, right in the midst of an oversized asteroid field looking to crush us into oblivion at every other turn." There was a pregnant pause. "How about you?"

TBC

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