Letter of Marque

[Ydran Esk'avar]

The Spirit of Chandrilla had taken a pounding, as was evident to anyone looking out the observation ports on either side of the docking spire. A three-hundred meter passenger liner with carbon scars and visibly sparking hull breaches tended to draw a crowd of onlookers, so the Alliance Security forces already had their hands full maintaining a cordon to allow engineering and medical personnel full access to the concourse. Chief Inpsector Ydran Esk'avar prowled between the walls of sentient biomass, which contained tearfully concerned families and loved ones but was mostly composed of the basest species of rubberneckers and opportunists.

"Clear the way! I said clear!" He seized his stun baton from his belt and, with a flick of his wrist, extended it to its full length, and the audible snap of electrical potential was enough to shift all but the most feckless of spectators - who, it turned out, was a slobber-jawed Gamorrean who was still leaning for a view down the broad access tunnel. Curling his canine lips, Ydran swept the porcine hulk aside with a sizzle and a surprised squeal, clearing the way for a knot of serious-faced medics pushing a hover-gurney loaded with emergency supplies down the spire toward the stricken ship.

"Chief!"

The Bothan inspector turned on his heel as a fresh-faced human security officer came jogging out of the concourse from the Spirit. "What's our situation, Mr. Kurzweil?"

"Sir, we still don't have access to either the forward or aft companionways. The forward hatch is blocked by debris on their end, and the aft was damaged in the pirate attack, it won't mate with our docking clamps."

"Damned Imperial technology," Ydran groused. "Do we have any access at all?"

"Yes, Chief - the dock crews have run a tunnel out to a maintenance hatch amidships, but it's only big enough for one or two people at a time. The medical crews are squeezing through now, setting up a clinic in their sick bay."

"Very well, Mr. Kurzweil. Keep the order. There are a lot of frightened people on that boat."

"Yes, sir."

As Kurzweil hurried back down the concourse, Ydran moved to shore up the left edge of the cordon where a family of anxious Omwati had been shouldered aside by an angry and bellowing wookiee. Loath as he was to admit it, he needed the Cizerack forces down here. Alliance security was not yet up to full strength on Jovan - they simply didn't have the manpower for something on this scale.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

T'yeellaa arrived in the company of a half dozen Jaanni'saari she'd been mindful enough to muster to support the relief and salvage operation on hand at spire three. Upon approach, her ears drooped at the zoo unfolding at the heavy airlock doors. It wasn't going to be enough. Chief Esk'avar's men were keeping the lines of medics and engineers going - just barely.

"Need a few extrra handss, Chjief?"

Captain Meorrrei approached with a taut-lipped expression, her tail snapping in peevish dissonance at the barely-stemmed chaos assailing the gates. Her marines went quick to work, forming up the cordon where it needed reinforcing most. Two of the heftier specimens headed over to hopefully curtail the aforementioned Wookiee in mid-meltdown. T'yeellaa set about getting the freshest information out of the Bothan as she could manage.

"Do we know how manjy ssurvjivjing crrew and passsengerrss we'rre lookjing at herre?"

[Ydran Esk'avar]

For once Inspector Esk'avar was relieved to see the Cizerack. Much as he deplored their wanton fraternization and barbaric social customs, he could not help but admire the efficiency, if not the brutality, of their law enforcement. And Captain Meorrrei was one of the most efficient Cizerack he'd ever met.

"Captain. The manifest lists nine hundred and thirty passengers, a hundred and sixteen crew, of those one thousand forty-six, we have sixty-three dead, two hundred ten wounded, and another twenty-nine unaccounted for. Our engineers still haven't cleared access to the main companionways."

It was peevish work, establishing a navigable passage to a damaged ship. The docking cowl was equipped with a flexible hood designed to conform to just about any geometry, but evidently the damage to Chandrilla's aft quarter was too severe for even that to form a seal. Difficult to shore up a leaky dam when it wasn't water, but hard vacuum on the other side.

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

"jIt could have been worrsse."

It may have been a cold thing to say, but Captain Meorrrei had seen enough pirate attacks to know how true it was. For now, they'd render aid in a trickle for hope of a stream. Security posted on the cordon, medics in first to triage, and engineers working to make both parties lives a little easier.

A stretcher carted past, carrying a gravely-wounded Iridonian with a full entourage of emergency medics and breather equipment. The highest priority triage cases were being sent back to the station in an agonizingly slow fashion.

"jI need to know detajilss, Chjief."

T'yeellaa was moving to the big picture, as there was nothing to do with the mundane but wait for it to be handled as quickly as possible. She wasn't going to fritter away uselessly, hand-wringing on the periphery while the medics and engineers took point.

"Untjil we can clearr that hatch, we're ljimjited. Get a channel open to the sskjipperr orr the mosst ssenjiorr offjicerr jin charrge. jI need to know who we'rre lookjing forr."

She was straying dangerously close to telling the Bothan how to do his own job, but T'yeellaa's steely face hinted at larger matters in play than simply crime and punishment.

[Ydran Esk'avar]

"I've already been in contact with Captain Voreen to coordinate our docking efforts," Ydran replied. "He reports that they were ambushed by a pair of Weequay marauders at Feswe Minor armed with laser cannons and harpoon guns. Disabled their deflectors, attempted to board, but the Spirit of Chandrilla managed to jump clear with four harpoons still attached."

Which had probably done more damage than the laser blasts had. The liner had approached with its starboard side to Jovan's docking spire, and as badly off as her starboard hatches were, her portside was even worse, venting plumes of atmosphere and plasma visible from any window on the concourse. It was the action of a panicked captain, but even then it may have saved more lives than it lost. Weequay pirates were not generally known for their clemency.

"I'm sure once the ship is secure--"

The Bothan was interrupted by a chime from the commlink attacked to the back of his hand, which he tapped and raised to his chin immediately. "Esk'avar here."

"Chief. The medics have found an injured Weequay in the aft port quarter of the ship. We believe he's one of the pirates."

Ydran shared a quickened glance with Captain Meorrrei and turned for whatever passage the engineers had jury-rigged. "Hold him. I'm on my way."

[Vek Vek]

The sight that greeted Chief Esk'avar and K'ohta'rrou Meorrrei was a rudimentary sick bay swollen with a crush of serious medical emergencies. A few of the worst cases had already been draped with sheets, an identifying chit placed on toes or boots or whatever the most convenient appendage might be. Wading through it all with a Gran assistant, Doctor Vek moved with surprising grace and focus. His medical whites were smeared with blood and ichor as he shined a pen light into a Pantoran's eyes.

"Dilation non responsive to luminous stimuli. Signs of cephalic swelling and degradation of motor function. 20 cc's of nitrilcortizol and 15 cc's ambisynaptol. Patient priority two. Move."

At the sight of two more Alliance officers entering the chaos, Vek Vek was in no mood to pander to their small requests. Impatient fingers snapped at the Bothan, and he pointed to a pale and profusely bleeding Togrutan man.

"Apply pressure at wound site!"

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

This was the K'ohta'rrou's first experience of death on this scale. T'yeellaa's ears lowered amid the wailing din, and she forced herself to fixate on the harried doctor and avoid the carnage around her. It wasn't out of callous disregard. A moment couldn't be wasted on succumbing to emotion.

"Doctorr, the prrjissonerr..."

[Vek Vek]

"...will live." Vek replied tersely, not looking up. "Prognosis for other triage patients less favorable. Assist or leave. Questions later."

He'd moved on to a Chadra Fan patient. The small being was convulsing, and it took concerted effort for the Durwi doctor to stabilize him long enough to administer sedative.

"Priority one."

[Ydran Esk'avar]

The ad hoc trauma ward may as well have been an antiques auction for all the pathos it registered on Inspector Esk'avar's wolfish face. The Bothan simply reached to apply pressure over the Togruta's wound where Doctor Vek had indicated, and scanned the chaotic crush of humanoid life until he caught the eye of a broad-shouldered human in a security uniform. The deputy came edging his way through the wounded, but before he could deliver any sort of report, Ydran nodded to the Togruta beside him and said, "Apply pressure here, please, and place yourself at the doctor's disposal until ordered otherwise. Where is the prisoner?"

The deputy blanched a little but relieved Ydran of his post without question. "Aft-port corner, chief, as far away from the other wounded as we could manage. Tlaloc and Yipinsky have him under guard."

"Very good, Mr. Prowse. This way, Captain."

With no further interruption, Ydran charged through the milling crowd to a darkened corner where one cot had been pushed away from the others, and a horned Iktotchi and a Twi'lek-human halfbreed with a halo of short, spiky hair around her freckled, yellow face maintained a surly guard over a moaning Weequay with a bloody mass of bandages where his right foot used to be.

"Chief," Yipinsky said, tipping her blaster carbine in salute. "Found this slimo crawling through the wreckage of a breaching pod near the engine bay. Acts like he don't speak Basic, but he didn't seem to like it when I suggested we oughta space him."

The ailing man mumbled something unintelligible, and Ydran's nostrils flared at the stench of communication pheromones in the air, useless without another member of the pirate's clan to interpret them. "The good doctor seems to think he's in stable condition. Perhaps we can move him out of the medics' way so we can question him without interference."

[T'yeellaa Meorrrei]

Fortunately, the Bothan bloodhound quickly made headway around Doctor Vek's triage, finding the prisoner in the care of two of his security staff. T'yeellaa maneuvered from the crush of seriously wounded crew and passengers to where they had the Weequay under watch.

"jIf he can move, let's get him thrrough the entrrjywajy and to the brrjig forr quesstjionjing."

Aside from the mangled foot and other injuries, the suspect didn't seem to have any pressing matters of mortality at hand. T'yeellaa's right hand instinctively reached for her belt to look for a knife she knew wasn't there. No matter.