Ahoy at the Silverstorm Part 4 - Dreams of the Bygone Past

By Ron Wilcoxen & R.J. Miller

The weight of the grog upon the good captain's eyelids had taken its toll 
as Roark fell into a light sleep. The aroma of the wild cherry blossoms 
outside his private study whisk inside the room where Dr. Sebastian Roark was 
going over his morning correspondences. Once he noticed that there was an 
envelope with a sweet fragrance, that of his fiancée, Jasmine, he forsook all 
the other letters to slice open her letter. She was away with her family on 
a cruise to Coruscant. Only official family business that required the whole 
household to attend could have pried the two lovers apart. The ink mark on 
her pages reflected the marks in his heart, marks of yearning and longing to 
be together. They both knew how foolish their hearts desires were, she the 
daughter of wealthy land owners and he a medical doctor just establishing his 
career. Still, they had years together to look forward to. Years sitting on 
a verandah together in the lazy shade of the large trees where Sebastian had 
purchased his home. 

He was interrupted in mid dream by a knock on the door; he paid it no 
mind at first. When he noticed that it continued, he wondered what had 
become of his housekeeper Mrs. Burroughs. She was usually very prompt in her 
duties, as a matter of a fact she was due in about five minutes with his 
breakfast. He rose from his armchair to exit through the large oak door of 
his study to see his housekeeper finally arriving to answer the door. He had 
no idea how fateful that knock was to be as he stood in the hallway watching. 
It sounded as though she was desperately trying to convince some visitor to 
leave the premises. The housekeeper was an elderly woman, who could be 
mistaken for anyone's charming grandmother. Her years caused her to seem 
short, as she stood stooped by the door. 

"I told you, the good doctor can't help the likes of you. Now leave, be 
off with you." The housekeeper's tone was anything but motherly. 
"Please I beg you for mercy. I don't have the strength to make it 
anywhere else." A weakened voice pleaded from a position covered by the 
elderly woman. 

"Is there a problem Mrs. Burroughs?" Roark had apparently startled his 
housekeeper as she looked back at him. 

"No sir, no trouble at all. Just some beggar." As she turned to answer 
her employer, both heard a moan followed by a thud. 

The body of a gravely injured man fell in front of the doctor's front 
door. Roark immediately rushed to the man's aid. 

"Doctor, you can't bring him in here." The old woman trembled with fear. 
"Why not Mrs. Burroughs?" The doctor knelt down to gently cradle the 
wounded man in his arms. 

"He's a rebel, can't you tell. Look at his clothes." She pointed to the 
bloodstains on the rebel uniform. 

"His clothes don't concern me Mrs. Burroughs, these blaster wounds do." 
Roark was moving determinedly with or without her aid. 

"But what about the Empire? If they catch him here you're be dead for 
sure." She looked behind them out the door as she closed it behind them. 
"I swore an oath Mrs. Burroughs that out weights the Empire." He 
continued to carry the man inside and through a hallway. 

"The Emperor wouldn't take kindly to those words or any of his men I dare 

"Blast the Emperor, this man is going to die if I don't help him. You 
have a grandson about his age don't you?" The housekeeper seemed more unable 
than unwilling to answer the doctor after this exchange. "Help me get him 
into my private operating room." 

The old woman stood by Roark as he worked on the young rebel well into 
the night. Finally, after Roark was sure his patient was in a condition 
sufficient for him to recover on his own he decided he needed some rest. He 
slept soundly dreaming of his fiancée returning to his arms. Within those 
arms lovers embraced as they kissed each other passionately. A sudden and 
rude light would awaken him from his heaven. An Imperial officer surrounded 
by six storm troopers with blasters trained on Roark took place of his 
beloved in his eyes. 

"What's the meaning of this?" Roark rose from his bed to be greeted by 
the end of a storm troopers blaster poking in his chest. 

"The meaning doctor, is that you are under arrest for treason." A 
Lieutenant dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Army. 

"What do you mean?" He looked at the young officer with fiery contempt 
in his eyes, as if he were not suppressed by the nuzzle end of a blaster he 
would throttle the young officers neck. 

"Harboring fugitives from the Empire is a death offense." Lazily 
slapping his leather gloves together, the Imperial looked out the widow to 
watch the young rebel being drug out from the doctor's house. 

"The man needed medical attention. I swore an oath to be a doctor first 
and an Imperial citizen secondly." Roark noticed where the attention of the 
officer was placed as he glared into the nightly spectacle outside his home. 

"Unfortunately for you doctor, the Empire does not share you point of 
view. Sergeant, place the doctor in restraints and him take him to the 
prison shuttle. I think this house will do fine as the new garrison 
commanders headquarters." 

"This is my house, you have no right…" Roark was cut off in mid-sentence 
by the backhand of the Lieutenant. 

"I have every right, under Imperial laws all property owned by traitors 
to the Empire are forfeit and shall be confiscated in the name of the 
Emperor. I do so now." The lieutenant glanced once more outside the window 
and nodded. As he did so, storm troopers fired repeated volleys from their 
blasters into the young rebel that Roark had spent the night healing. 
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of insanity, all that remained of a 
doctor's handy work were smoldering bones. 

"What is this?" The lieutenant noticed a picture of Roarks fiancée on the 
desk by the window. "How lovely and charming a face. I will be sure to give 
her a proper greeting when she no doubt returns here expecting to find your 
waiting arms." A wicked grin over came the Imperials face. "Take him away." 

"Damn you. You'll pay for this with your life." Roark struggled as the 
troopers placed the restraints on him. He tried to make a break for it and 
was suddenly knocked unconscious by the butt of a blaster rifle. 

Roark was back in the Silverstorm as he was awakened by the voice of 
his main slicer C'Mos Heln. It took a moment for his eyes to clear, when he 
noticed it was C'Mos he licked his lips in anticipation of a devious plot. 

"Can't do it Captain." The slicer stated flatly as she stood there 
waiting for the volcano to spew forth. 

"Whadda ya mean we can't do it?" Roark was wide-awake; the grog 
seemingly lost all of its affect. 

"Too big a deal, not enough crew and Governor Casselbury is personally 
taking charge of the cruise." C'Mos said, staring at him. 

"I don't care if the Emperor himself is taking charge. This is a once 
in a life time opportunity. We could all retire and buy our own planet." 
Roarks voice was blasting across the room to point of gaining slight 
attention even in a place like the Silverstorm. 

"What good is buying a planet if the Emperor has it blown into tiny 
space rubble?" C'Mos was always amazed at the captains lack of concern for 
staying alive. 

"Tell me again just why I keep you around?" Roark ruffled his beard.
"You want the short list or the long one?" She asked, crossing her 
arms and raising an eyebrow in annoyance. 

"Never mind…get me a drink." He looked into the bottom of his tankard. 

"What's the good word Captain?" Ikara Javan joined the pair as the 
captain scowled and huffed, looking to hide in a sea of rum. 

The Adventures of the Calico Star 
To Be Continued in Part Five 

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