Zira Darkstar

Chapter 23

Zira barely got any sleep at all. The noises and movements of the others seemed to suggest that nobody else in the Bek base could possibly be asleep. As she finally heard the others start to quiet down within the base, she just elected that it was best to get up. It was almost as if she felt another presence coming towards their room; sure enough, when she opened the door, an Ithorian mechanic was poised to knock. “Oh! You are awake! We need to be going to the track soon. We just finished the tech-work on your swoop a few minutes ago.” He bubbled out in the deep throated language of the Ithorian people.

Zira listened as he spoke in the strange stereo effect that Ithorians had. It came from the fact that they actually had two mouths, one on either side of their necks. He stood a bit taller than Zira, but he was still humanoid. His long, curled forward neck ended in a dome-shaped head with two bulbous eyes on either side. Zira was reminded of their ‘hammer-head’ nickname that they had as she looked at him. Zira nodded to the alien and smiled to him. “Ready whenever you are.”

The Ithorian mechanic curled his hands around the front of his body and wrapped them around one another in a pleased gesture. “Excellent! Shall we?” He asked, stepping back to motion to the hallway.

Zira nodded and started down the hallway, giving one weary glance back to her friends. Friends? I… I suppose that’s what they are. Zira spent the journey to the garage, and then to the track in thought. She couldn’t remember having many friends before Taris. It was a welcome change. But how much of that is going to end when we finally get off Taris? Are they going to stay close? Zaalbar swore a life-debt, and Mission practically did the same, but what about Carth? He’s a soldier. Surely once he has the chance he’ll disappear back to the Republic. The realization seemed to drop the weight of her swoop onto her shoulders. He’s going to leave. So why bother getting close? And why does that make me feel like crying?

“-don mentioned that you’ve never done this before. You want me to run over the basics of handling a swoop bike for you?”

Zira shook herself from her thoughts. She looked around at the narrow hallway she was in. The racing area outside had been massive, and had it’s own garage and social chambers. The convention hall that Zira had passed through, while lost in her own thoughts, had been grandiose and well decorated. Zira wondered just how old the building itself was.

Now however, they were in a long cornered off hallway that had a race announcer’s desk positioned in the center. Zira could see several dozen different gang members littering the hallway, nearly all of them wearing different colors. Zira had been given a flight jacket that sported the Bek’s colors, and had it loosely draped over her shoulders. “Sure, tell me how it’s done.” She finally responded to the Ithorian.

He began to explain the different controls for controlling speed, repulsors, and propulsion. Zira took in his words as she began to look closer at the occupants of the hanger. The Vulkars had three riders present, as well as a cage that had a woman in it.

Zira scrutinized the woman, who she assumed to be Bastila. She was a tall, sleek human woman with dark brown hair. She had dull grey eyes and was leaned back against the cold metal bars of the cage, something in her eyes made Zira believe she was probably drugged. She had a distant, far-off look about her. The Vulkar standing guard at her cage was one of the largest Niktos that Zira had ever seen. The man’s broad shoulders were draped in heavy armor, and he held a weapon just as large. The handle was that of a long, staff-like weapon, except that it had two long curved blades at either end.

Zira recognized it as a vibro double-blade. She moved her hands to the hilts of her own vibroblades and started to walk towards him. She felt a large, leathery hand close around her bicep. “Hold on… I better explain the rules to you.” The Ithorian Mechanic, Shodo, continued. “Each rider goes out on the track alone. At the end of the day, whoever posted the fastest time is the winner. Normally a rider can run as many heats as they want, but I don’t know how long the prototype accelerator on your swoop will hold up. No more than four or five races, I’d guess. So… make your runs count. Gadon’s put his trust in you… We need to win this race or Brejik’s Vulkars will get a bunch of new recruits. If that happens, we’re finished.”

Zira took in his words, an unhappy frown on her face. She’s so close. I could just run that guard through the throat, grab her, and get the hell out of here. I don’t need to waste time on the track, and I sure as hell don’t need to blow up trying! She skimmed the rest of the room and froze, seeing a pair of automated defense turrets at either end of the hallway. There was no hope of doing this the brute force way.

She mentally cursed to whatever gods would listen and reluctantly let go of her weapons. “I won’t let you down.” She said coldly.

Shodo gave a nod of his broad, domed head. “Sounds like you’re ready. Go talk to the race announcer over by the counter. He’ll give you the time to beat and get you out on the course. I’ll be waiting for you here after the run so I can make any tweaks or repairs to your swoop in case you want to go out for another heat. Good luck. And don’t worry about your prototype overheating and exploding while you’re out on the track. That probably won’t happen.”

Zira didn’t exactly feel comforted by his ‘encouraging’ words, but she walked over to the race announcer. “Hey. I’m ready to race one of my heats for the Beks. What’s the time I need to beat?”

The Duros man looked up the information and brought up the times. “The time to beat right now is twenty-eight fifty, and your name is?”

“Zira. Which way do I go?”

The Duros gave motioned towards the far door. “Track’s that way. You know the rules, right?”

Zira nodded, “Of course.”

***

Zira sat behind the controls of her swoop. They’d given her a flight jacket, and a pair of tight fitting goggles. Shodo stood over her and helped her go through the preflight checks of the swoop. “Okay, so this one is the accelerator, and this one is the shifter?”

He gave another deep nod that the Ithorian’s used as an affirmation, “Yes. You’ll want to watch those numbers there, and just as you get to the redline, move to the next gear. You also missed one. This,” he pointed to a lever that Zira had passed over, “is the brakes. You can apply it a little, if you need to brake and avoid obstacles, or you can apply it to the full extent. That will completely shut down the engines and deploy the flaps. You’ll only want to do that after you cross the finish line.”

Zira smiled up at him, “Got it.”

“Good, they’re calling for a start. Good luck Zira.” Shodo said as he stepped away from the speeder. Zira primed the engines and began to heat them up. She gave a nod and the lights ahead began to start. The first light, red, illuminated and Zira eased the throttle up, having the break fully engaged. The second illuminated yellow, and she pushed herself back into her seat, waiting for the take off.

Green. Zira hammered the throttle the rest of the way inward and disengaged the break. The swoop launched forward, shoving her back into her seat. Zira’s heart began to pound as she gripped the yolk in one hand, her other resting on the shifter. She spotted one of the accelerator panels that were designed to help the vehicle speed up even faster.

She tipped her way across it and kept jumping gears. In flight, Zira’s mind seemed to focus intently. She stepped on the flap pedals that helped her make a sharp right and catch another accelerator panel. The track began to blur in her vision, and the gale force of the wind made her feel as if she was short of breath. Even with the windshield, it felt like the air was being pulled into her.

Each new obstacle seemed to become visible just before she’d zip past it. She vaguely remembered her smuggler days. She had always been apt to ‘see’ things before they were there. Now was no exception. She never needed the brake through the course. She felt light while behind the controls, and each jut, wall, and doorway shot past her.

She felt a rush of excitement, and in what felt like an instant, she was laying on the break and getting down. She was only vaguely aware of the huge grin on her face. It’d been so long since she’d felt that alive. That free. She walked towards the doors leading back to the racer’s hallway, and met up with Shodo.

The Ithorian loudly greeted her, “You did it; you got the top time! You just beat racers who’ve been doing this for twenty years! This is amazing!” The Ithorian continued to gush for a bit, bolstering the grin on her face.

No sooner had they reached the main hallway, when the Shodo slowed to a stop, looking at the race board, “Someone who’s never ridden a swoop before today comes in here and… wait a minute. I don’t believe this - look at the board! One of the Vulkars just beat your time! Who… ah, it was Redros. I should have known. That’s okay, the day ain’t over yet and the accelerator’s still holding together. You just have to get out there again and show them how it’s done.”

Zira patted him on the shoulder, “Guess I better get in line then.”

After a quick talk to the announcer, Zira was once again settling back into the pilot’s seat. This time, eager anticipation started as she watched the lights illuminate. By the time the green lit, her engines were at the full. She dropped the break and shot off the line, easily twice as fast as the first time.

Her hands slid across the controls and yolk, gently guiding her from one accelerator panel to the next. She watched as everything became a blur again. Each new panel launched her swoop ahead. She hit her max gear and watched the tachometer climb. The speed indicator showed well over four hundred kilometers per hour when she shot across the finish line. She cut the throttle and yanked the break into the stop position. Her swoop lurched forward, and she held herself back against the controls.

She slowly piloted it over towards the parking center, and was once again met by Shodo. “You did it! You did it! In twenty years I’ve never seen anybody handle a swoop like that before! Nobody’s going to beat that time - nobody! I guess Gadon knew what he was doing when he picked you to ride for us. Now the only thing is to wait for the time to become official and collect your prize.”

Zira got down grinning to him. “Let’s hope your right… I don’t think I could have hit any more panels if I had to, and the bike was almost at her max velocity when I finished.”

***

Zira had stood for several hours near the race desk. She watched as rider after rider tried and failed to beat her time. Several of the Beks had congratulated her, patting her on the back. She watched an infuriated Redros keep trying, time after time, but he couldn’t even come close to her time.

Zira spent most of her time watching Bastila. The brunette had slowly began to seem more and more conscious, and Zira assumed that the drugs were beginning to wear off. Finally, after hours of waiting, the announcer finally called an ending time to the heats, and he called Zira over.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the winner of this year’s swoop race! Put your hands together and show your appreciation for one of the most daring riders this swoop track has ever seen! Through your skill and courage, you have proven yourself the premier swoop rider on Taris, and brought great glory to the Hidden Bek gang! Now, here to present the champion’s prize: Brejik, leader of the Black Vulkars.”

Zira looked over at the sound of the voice, her moment of triumph fading as her navy blues fell upon the man addressed. Brejik was a tall, hard man. He had a very dark complexion, sepia colored eyes, and a sharp and crooked nose that looked as if it had been broken several times. His thick, full lips were curled back in an indignant sneer as he stepped forward. He held out his hands to quiet the small crowd before speaking. “People, hear me! Before I present the so called champion of the Beks with her prize, there is something you must know: the winning rider cheated!”

Zira felt rage boil up within her gut. She yelled back at him, “You better not be trying to cheat me, Brejik!”

Brejik leveled a cold, hard stare at her, but he kept speaking as if it was to the crowd. “Your swoop bike was using a prototype accelerator; clearly an unfair advantage! Because of this Hidden Bek treachery, I’m withdrawing the Vulkar’s share of the victory prize!”

The Duros announcer looked outraged and spoke up, “You can’t do this, Brejik! You know the rules: nobody’s allowed to withdraw a victory prize after the race. It goes against our most sacred traditions!”

Brejik gave a mirthless chortle, “You old fool! Your traditions are nothing to me - I am the wave of the future! If I want to withdraw the prize and sell this woman on the slave market myself, nobody can stop me!”

Zira felt a strange ripple in the air around her, as if something pulled at the pit of her stomach. She looked directly at Bastila, as if somehow she knew her to be the source. She watched in amazement as the Niktos guard near Bastila’s cage looked suddenly like a rag doll, as he flew violently backwards into the metal bars of the cage. He hit with such force that the locking mechanism was shattered by the man’s armor. The Vulkar was similarly crushed. Holding up her hand, an invisible wave left Bastila, flinging the door open. “I might have something to say about that, Brejik!” She yelled across the room in a cold, vengeful tone.

Brejik spun to see his ‘prize.’ His eyes were wide with shock and terror. Half agape, he managed to stammer out, “What? Impossible! You were restrained by a neural disruptor! How could you have possibly summoned the will to free yourself?”

Bastila strode out of her cage with a supple grace that Zira found to be somewhat enthralling. Without any effort, the woman’s hand outstretched towards the floor, and the vibro double blade Zira had been admiring earlier floated up to her hand. “You underestimate the strength of a Jedi’s mind Brejik - a mistake you won’t live to regret!”

Zira, once again, heard that dark, hateful tone from Bastila. The look of seething wrath upon her face.

Brejik must have seen it as well, because the man’s voice cracked as he called out, “Vulkars - to me! Kill this woman! Kill the swoop rider! Kill them all!”

Zira spun around, as she’d known there to be a pair of Vulkars behind her. She broke into a quick two-step and lashed out with her empty hands, catching the blasters as they started to rise. Both men fumbled their weapons and tried to go after them, but Zira was quick to take advantage of the situation.

She lithely maneuvered herself around the Niktos Vulkar on her left, and slipped an arm up around his neck, hoisting him back into place. She felt the impact of two blaster bolts through the man, as Brejik tried to drill her with his heavy blaster. The man in her arms went limp, and she let go of him. Her free hand was quick to rip a blaster free of it’s holster, and she turned to fire a pair of shots at the other Vulkar she’d disarmed. She caught him once in the lower spine, and once in the back of the neck. The man never even had the chance to stand back up, from where he’d bent to retrieve his blaster.

Zira didn’t wait, she knew that more blaster fire was inbound, and she didn’t want to be in place when it arrived. She threw herself backwards, diving towards the floor. A trio of crimson bolts burning through the space she’d just a half second before occupied. With a painful thud, Zira met the cold durasteel flooring, but she didn’t dare stay still. Instead, she rolled twice over her shoulders and onto her stomach. She shoved away from the ground and could smell metal scoring on the durasteel floor where she’d been.

She was moving completely on instinct now; simply letting her body flow and move wherever it would.

She leaped backwards and caught sight of a horribly mutilated corpse. She could only assume by the man’s garb, that he had at one point been the pilot, Redros, who’d flown against her times.

Pain lanced through her body as a blaster shot scored into her upper, left arm. She’d stopped moving just long enough to marvel at the corpse. She let out a spat of curses and broke into a sprint. Her eyes fixated on the man that shot her: Brejik. She rushed him, her blaster leveling and she fired a pair of shots that slammed into the mans shoulder and stomach, rocking him with the impact. They didn’t penetrate his armor, however, only skewed his aim enough that his next shots flew wide.

Zira remembered something Trask had mentioned to her. It’s suicide to use a blaster in close quarters. She let go of the blaster and even before the weapon clattered to the floor, she had one of her vibroblades free of the hip sheath. Brejik’s sepia eyes widened in fright as Zira got in close. She did a quick, wide swipe upwards, catching Brejik’s blaster by the muzzle and shoving it away.

Even before she could bring it back in as a counter strike, she caught movement out of the corner over eye. Bastila was beside her. The long, double-sword arched overhead and slashed downwards. The first bladed raked across Brejik’s armor, but the second caught him in the unprotected neck. There was a geyser of blood, and a wet choking noise from Brejik, and the man fell backwards, clutching at the wound.

Still moving on instinct, Zira took a step away from Bastila. It was just in time. The battle frenzied Jedi unleashed a quick double attack with the blade, attacking with either end by pivoting the handle. Zira’s hand moved even before her mind did. She first caught hold of the attack at her left, parrying it, and as the pressure released from it she spun the blade over her shoulder. The sound of metal on metal erupted as Zira felt Bastila’s blade grind into her own.

Bastila looked genuinely stunned, and took a step back. She seemed to finally be regarding Zira, and Zira was, in turn, sizing up the other woman.

Bastila broke the silence first, “Wait… I don’t believe this! You’re… you’re one of the soldiers with the Republic fleet, aren’t you? Yes, I’m sure of it. How did you end up racing for these swoop gangs?”
Oh, good. She’s not a complete moron. Zira nodded, dropping her defensive stance to hopefully put the woman at ease, “My name’s Zira Darkstar. I’m here to save you.”

Bastila slowly stood up straight, an air of indignation surrounding her, “Save me? Is that what you were trying to accomplish by riding in that swoop race? Well, as far as rescues go this was a pretty poor example. In case you hadn’t noticed, I managed to free myself from the neural restraint collar without your help. In fact, it’s more accurate to say that I saved you! Brejik and his Vulkars would have left you for dead if I hadn’t stepped into that fight. You’re lucky I was here to get you out of that mess!”

Zira thought for a moment how nice it would’ve been if the woman had simply been shot by Brejik. I’ll just count my lucky stars that such a woman is the ‘only hope of the Republic.’ Zira slowly spoke, as if speaking to a child, “I think you’ve got things confused. You were a helpless prisoner until I came along.”

Bastila’s haughtiness continued to grow, “I may have been a prisoner, but a Jedi is never helpless. Maybe you’ve heard of a little thing called ‘the Force?’ But I suppose I shouldn’t be too hard on you. You did try to save me, after all, even if it didn’t go quite as planned. So let’s get down to business - we’re not out of danger yet. If I’m going to figure out a way for us to get off this planet, I need to know what kind of resources we can draw on. First, are we the only two survivors left from the Endar Spire?”

Zira heaved an exasperated sigh and sheathed her vibroblade. She shook her head and looked to Bastila, “We aren’t the only survivors. Carth Onasi is alive as well.”

Bastila’s attitude changed slightly, and it didn’t make Zira feel any more comfortable with the Jedi. “Carth Onasi is alive? Finally, some good news!” Zira felt a twinge of jealousy spark within her, but Bastila kept talking, and gave Zira the impression that she was trying to cover up her sudden excitement. “Carth is one of the Republic’s best soldiers. He’s proved himself a hero a dozen times over! And he sent you here to save me? Maybe I misjudged you.”

Zira frowned ruefully, You think?

Bastila continued, now trying to sound more diplomatic, “Carth wouldn’t have sent you if he wasn’t confident in your… abilities. Forgive me - despite my Jedi training, I still tend to act a bit rashly sometimes. Please, take me to Carth right away. Between the three of us, I’m sure we can figure out some way to get off this planet before the Sith realize we’re here.”

Zira gave a scoff, nodded, and turned to start leading the way out. She wanted desperately to kick this woman in the rear end, and she could already tell just how well she and Bastila were going to get along.