FORSAKEN - Target: Zero

CHAPTER FOUR

"Dynamic-class freighter, prepare to be boarded. Over," said the communications officer aboard the Imperial Lambda-class shuttle into his communicator.

A Star Destroyer patrolling this sector dispatched the craft when it detected the freighter dropping out of hyperspace. Though the starship's registration cleared, the captain decided to proceed with an inspection. Pirates and smugglers plagued the Mid Rim Territories, and these routine searches helped deter some of the criminals.

"Negative, Imperial shuttle. I'm currently experiencing issues with my cargo," said the measured voice on the other end. "Please stand by while I deal with it. Over."

"Dynamic-class freighter, you will comply as ordered or be considered hostile. Over."

There was a pause before the reply. "Affirmative, Imperial shuttle, I will comply. But don't say I didn't warn you. Over."

The shuttle coupled with the freighter's starboard access hatch. A junior lieutenant and six stormtroopers waited for access. When the airlock opened, an overpowering stench wafted from inside the boarded vessel, making the officer retch. The air filter in the stormtroopers' helmets spared them from the stink.

A Pantoran with cybernetic eyes stood on the other side of the hatch, wearing a breathing mask. Golden facial tattoos on his blue skin conveyed his lineage and status, for those who could read them. The top of his black-blue hair was braided and the tail arranged into a topknot; the sides and back were shaven. Leather straps were wrapped around his arms under his jacket.

"What is that stench?" The lieutenant covered his face. The amused stormtroopers watched their superior reach for a breathing mask hanging on the wall.

"Cargo issues," the Pantoran shrugged. "The nerfs I'm transporting just died on me. The rancher who sold them to me neglected to mention they were sick."

"What are you waiting for? Search the ship," said the lieutenant, affixing the mask to his head.

"Yes, sir."

"Where is the rest of the crew?"

"It's just me." The Pantoran handed over a couple of datacards with his documentation.

"We detected two lifeforms onboard," The officer checked them in his datapad.

"That would be the last nerf alive. The others died in hyperspace. I dropped to sublight speed to throw them out of the airlock."

The officer became outraged. "You can't do that. It's against space travel regulations. A ship can run into one of those things and have a serious accident."

"Then, what do you want me to do? You can't expect me to fly all the way to Rattatak with a cargo hold full of rotting nerfs. Will you dispose of them for me?"

"That's not our job. How did you get those?" The lieutenant pointed at the cybernetics.

"During the riots caused by the Trade Federation blockade of Pantora."

"You must have been young during the war."

"Twenty-one."

"Separatist scum. I lost a brother during their occupation of Onderon."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

The officer returned the datacards. "Everything is in order."

The voice of the shuttle's pilot came over the comlink, "Lieutenant Khurgee, sir. What's going on? Did their septic disposal system leak? We're dying in here. Over."

"Stand by. I'm addressing the issue."

"Listen, lieutenant. I understand I can't break the law, but I just got swindled by a merchant for all my credits, lost my entire cargo, and my ship is a potential biohazard. What do you suggest I do?"