CHAPTER TWO
"Are you going to wake up anytime soon?"
Anakin Solo opened his eyes, only to have them get stung by rays of light, and he quickly squeezed them shut.
"Sorry about that." He felt movement nearby followed by the sound of a click. When the light disappeared, he opened his eyes again to find himself in a dark chamber, lit only by a few lanterns. Standing nearby in a corner was a large Herglic carrying an unlit lamp of some sort.
Anakin sat up from the slab of stone he had awaken on and was about to speak to the Herglic when he heard the voice from earlier say, "Down here!"
He did as directed and looked down to see a very small alien standing on the 'bed', his protruding blue eyes staring at him.
"Uh...am I having a dream?" Anakin asked warily. "It really feels like I'm in some fairy tale Aunt Winter would use to read to me."
The diminutive alien narrowed his gaze at him. "Is that supposed to be a comment on my size? I may not be visually intimidating, but I can still make a Houk go running back to its mommy!"
"Sorry," Anakin murmured. "I've just...never seen an alien like you before."
The small alien's features seemed to soften. "I don't blame you. I'm a Zilkin; my kind rarely leave our homeworld. We don't want to risk getting trampled on out there in the vast universe, where even a Jawa can kill you with a mere step."
He extended his hand out to Anakin. "The name's Durus, and I take it you're Anakin Solo. Animus has spoken much of you."
"Who's Animus?"
Durus smirked. "Your air taxi. To be more descriptive, he's that big krayt dragon you and your friends arrived on. To be even more descriptive than that, he's the biggest stuck-up jerk that I've ever met...but he's kind of okay once you get to know him."
"Oh, him," Anakin muttered. "I'm not really that too fond of him either. He killed a friend of mine..."
Durus titled his head, or at least tried to due to his rather pudgy neck. "Really? Doesn't really sound like something he would do."
Anakin said nothing in reply, not wanting to think anymore about Commander Naar's death. To change the subject, he said, "How long was I asleep?"
The Zilkin shrugged. "Depends. Here, you were only out for at least ten minutes; you and your pals had a rough landing. Out there, however, it's probably been days or even weeks."
"What do you mean 'out there'? Where am I?"
Durus smirked again. "I was anticipating that question the moment you woke up. Welcome, Anakin Solo, to Mortis."
* * *
Why?
From the day his fleet had arrived in the Mirgoshir system, that was the only thought going through Admiral Bwua'tu's head. Why? Why Agamar? What value does a backwater world have to the Glorians?
Then again, that same question to be applied to why the Glorians were on Tatooine and Dantooine, and were attacking remote, almost useless worlds such as Alzoc III.
Maybe they're trying to make a point, Bwua'tu thought. But what in the worlds could that be?
"Sir, I'm not sure how much more our forces can handle."
Bwua'tu glanced at his great-nephew Wurf'al, who served as the captain of the Admiral Ackbar. "Are you going to suggest that we surrender or retreat?"
"Yes," Wurf'al said. "We have no choice."
The Bothan admiral scoffed. "So you're also suggesting that we let Agamar fall to the enemy."
"We have no choice," his great-nephew repeated. "Unless you want us to lose this war."
Those words struck a chord on Bwua'tu's heartstrings. He gazed out the bridge's viewport at the five-day-long battle, which had long since fallen in the Glorians' favor. Finally, with a heavy sigh, the old Bothan spoke.
"Order all forces to retreat."
* * *
The beeping chime of a comlink broke the silence that had fallen over the waiting team on Agamar's surface. Commander Drokk answered it and spoke to the person on the other line.
Finally, he said to the rest of the team, "Admiral Bwua'tu is ordering a full retreat."
"About time," Sanso muttered. "I can't wait to leave this humid dump..."
Keyan nodded at the Chagrian, ignoring the Zelosian trooper. "Let's get on our way then."
* * *
General Valkor watched with a mixed expression of satisfaction and disdain as the Galactic Alliance's forces turned and retreated into hyperspace.
"Pathetic," he murmured. "I expected more from a galactic government's military forces."
"Sir," his aide said, her voice a bit more urgent than before. "General Starka wishes to speak with you."
"It can wait," Valkor growled.
"I don't think it can," his aide said. "He's on a live connection."
"Well then, tell him to wait! I want to relish this victory for as long as possible!"
"I wouldn't consider this day one to get enjoyment out of."
Valkor pivoted around to see the holographic form of General Starka himself standing before him, projecting from a mobile holoprojector.
"General?" Valkor said, his voice betraying the fear deep within him. "I...but the Battle of Agamar has been won!"
"Yes," Starka said bitterly. "Against my orders. Did I not order you to abort the attack?"
Valkor snarled. "But why? Why did you want us to abandon the mission?"
"The Emperor has found a world of more value located in the Thanium sector."
"And which world would that be?"
Starka scoffed. "Why should you know or care? You don't even know what your punishment is yet."
Valkor held back a gulp. "What is my punishment?"
The Supreme Commander portrayed a wicked smile through his eyes. "The Kiss."
The general's eyes widened with terror. Before he could protest, two burly guards grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him up from the floor by a few inches. His eyes then turned to his aide, who, much to his shock and horror, was shedding her entire body as if it were a set of clothes.
From behind this organic shell appeared a wicked-looking, vaguely feminine creature. Tendril-like appendages stuck out from its scalp and its silver spheres for eyes glowed with malice, setting them apart from its ashen gray skin.
This time, Valkor gulped. "A syren..."
"Ah, you've heard the story, I take it?" Starka chuckled. "Then I'm sure you know how this will end."
The petrified general felt one of the brutes tug his helmet off- ridding him of the only thing that set him apart from the other Glorians- as the syren leaned in to press its hideous mouth against his.
It took all the dignity within him not to scream.
*
Author's note: LOL shameless Harry Potter reference (Syren=Dementor)
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