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Meade clears his throat. “This is risky.”
“You sure about this?” asks Haas.
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“Hardly,” says Kalin.
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“I’m glad we can put our differences aside,” says Anorial. “We need these supplies to further our efforts.”
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“And what about our needs?” asks Kane. “What about getting Brior out of that prison?”
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“If you can help us accomplish this task,” Anorial responds, “We’ll provide you with any assistance that we can.”
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“Kane?” asks the Alliance rifleman. “You alright?”
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Kane blinks several times before looking over at the man. “What?”
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“I said you okay?” he says with concern.
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“Yeah,” he replies. “Just…Thinking.”
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“Visual contact reported,” whispers Sergeant Paige, another Rebel operative. Suddenly a chill rushes through the small alcove, with everyone becoming alert, their hair standing on end. “They’re on their way.”
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“Call ‘em up, we’re set here.”
“Copy,” replies another voice through his helmet’s headset.
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The deep sounds of Imperial transport engines roar as they move through the air.
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A clear sound of warning for anyone in the way to leave-
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And a stark reminder of Imperial dominance that cuts through even the wind.
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“Watch it!” yells the Imperial-
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-As a speeder quickly blocks the road and brings a cannon to bare.
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“Hands up, hands up, don’t move!” shout several voices as the alliance soldiers rush the speeders.
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“Get out of there! Keep your hands up!”
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Shocked, the Imperial don’t know what to do.
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Overwhelmed, they reluctantly comply, knowing there is little chance at successfully resisting.
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“Don’t move!” orders one Rebel. “Keep those hands up!”
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“Go, come on!” shouts the Alliance operatives as they clear the speeders.
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Shouts of “Get out of there!” and “Move it!” fill the air as the Imperials surrender to the rebels.
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Able Squad promptly enters the alley way, marching calmly, as if they had rehearsed their role many times.
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The Imperial Stormtroopers exchange faceless stares as the two groups pass one another.
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Neither ever knowing who might be concealed under the other’s white armor.
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“Follow me,” says a rebel as Meade and Kalin enter the transports.
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“Keep walking!” yells one of the riflemen.
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“We’re good,” says Haas, leaning over to gloat.
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“We are good,” smirks Kane under his helmet as he settles into his seat. “We’re moving.”
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“Copy,” says Meade, piloting the second speeder, revving its engine.
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“Copy,” says Kalin, bringing up the rear.
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The speeder’s engines whine as it unblocks the path.
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And the Imperial transports suddenly jerk forward, their valuable cargo of hyperdrive parts and fuel lurching as they accelerate.
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“Attention, Wicked Wench”
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Anorial says, speaking into his communication device as he steps out into the alley, watching the speeders depart. “They’re moving out now.”
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“Copy, be advised-” says a voice.
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“I have visual on the column’s movement.”
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Smiling, in a more lighthearted manner, Jai turns around. “Are we okay back there?”
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“No contact,” says Dreya with a serious tone.
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“Good,” says Anorial sighing slightly.
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“Sergeant Caliber?” he asks the Alliance solider standing near him. “Do you think we’ve made the right decision? Trusting Kane like this?” he says calmly, in a tone that demands reverence.
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“I’m not for certain, sir,” replies the man, as they exchange stares.
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“Neither am I,” he says solemnly, “Let’s hope we have, We’re relying on those hyperdrive parts to get us off Ethna.”
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Anorial turn on his heel, gracefully walking away from the man.
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“Sergeant,” pauses the one-eyed Cerean. “Tie up the loose ends, will you?”
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“Yes, sir.”
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“Anorial says do it.”
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“Do it!” orders the man.
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“Wait!” shouts the Imperials. “Hey! Wait-”
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