Captain Northstar Lightwalker's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Lightwalker took the lift up as the boarders crossed his airlock. He had four minutes and no answer to the only question that mattered: who did these people serve. Guess wrong and his crew got shot in their own corridors. Guess right and he still might. He stepped onto the bridge. Six armed figures already stood at the rail, rifles low but ready. Their armor carried no insignia. R6-C5 rolled tight against the captain's chair, dome clicking a warning Lightwalker did not need translated. The lead boarder lifted a gloved hand. "Captain. You are late." "Whose meeting." "You know whose." He did not. He reached through the Force and felt the brine in the walls hum back. It told him about the room. It did not tell him a name. He needed time, and he had none, so he bought some. "My navigator will confirm the docking log," he said. "Two minutes." The lead boarder nodded once. Lightwalker turned to R6-C5 and spoke low. "Open a private channel. Any friendly ship in range. Anyone." The droid chirped and worked. A screen at the helm lit. Not a fleet channel. A private crest — a small crown over crossed reeds. A woman's face filled the screen. Green skin, white robe, brown eyes that had already read the room through the camera. Behind her stood a tall green droid with yellow eyes, hands folded like a butler waiting for bad news. Lightwalker had never met her in person. Every captain in the fleet knew the crest. Senator's daughter. The one who rewrote bills and let other people take the credit. "Princess Hope," he said. "I have guests." Her eyes moved to the armor behind him. "Unmarked plate. Second-tier station guard. Not fleet." "Whose." "The general who runs the hub. He books meetings no one agreed to. Then he collects fees." The droid beside her spoke without turning its head. "He shoots the ones who don't pay." "D7-OX is blunt today," she said. "He is also right." Lightwalker kept his face flat. "Advice." "Pay the docking fee. Not the meeting fee. Call it a clerical error. He needs the story more than the credits." She paused. "I am six hours out. If it goes wrong, say my name on an open channel. Looks worse for him than for you." The screen cut. He turned to the lead boarder. "There has been a clerical error. I will pay the docking fee now. Twice, for the inconvenience." The boarder's helmet tilted. A long second. Then a short word into a wrist mic. The rifles came up to shoulders and slung. "Credits by the hour," the boarder said. "Do not be late again." They filed out. R6-C5's dome sagged an inch. Lightwalker sat down. He had kept his bridge. He had also just been named, on a private channel, by a princess who did not offer favors for free.