X-Wing: Knights of Plooma Chapter 12

[jedimara77]

CHAPTER 12

With a heavy sigh, Corran took his comlink off his belt. He clicked it on and turned up the volume so the others could hear. “Horn.”

“It’s Wedge. Is everything alright there? Where's Hobbie?”

“Don't worry, we’re all fine. Hobbie took care of Lissiri.”

“Really?” The surprise in Wedge’s voice was obvious. “She’s not dead, is she? I’d hate to have to deal with all that paperwork.”

“No, she’s not dead!” Hobbie yelled exasperatedly.

“Good,” Wedge replied. “Corran, I need you, Hobbie, and Luke at the safehouse immediately.”

Luke furrowed his brow. “Me?”

“Yes. We need you to fly Rusarian’s X-wing; he’s still out of commission. What do you say, old boss-you up for some cockpit time?”

Luke grinned. “Oh, I’m more than up for it.”

Mara, who had been following this exchange with interest, pulled the comlink towards her mouth. “Antilles, you better have a spare ship for me! I’m itching to get some action.”

Corran grinned wickedly. “Yeah, I’ll bet you are-”

Wedge’s voice cut him off before Mara had the chance to smack him again. “Sorry, Mara. We need you to stay in the capital-”

“But-!”

“-Because if our information is correct, Lissiri’s agents are heading towards the state house to apprehend Ambassador Gemar and force him to surrender to the Empire. Karrde is on his way there to meet you.”

“Well, I guess shooting some PloSec goons will have to do,” Mara said, feigning disappointment.

“I will accompany you, Captain Jade!” Murray exclaimed, barreling into the room behind them.

“Who’s that?” Wedge asked through the comlink.

“Murray Dyartes, Lissiri’s assistant,” Corran answered.

Murray grinned. “Not anymore, I’m not!”

“Mr. Dyartes, would you be able to contact any Ploomian Security officers not under Lissiri's influence who can help defend Ambassador Gemar?” Wedge asked.

“Oh certainly, General Antilles! Many of my officer friends greatly dislike Director Lissiri. They will certainly help fight against her rogue agents.”

“It's settled, then. Corran, Hobbie, Luke-get your butts over here right now. Antilles out.”

“Jedi Horn, I would be honored if you would take my speeder to your safehouse,” Murray offered.

Corran nodded in appreciation. The three pilots began to head out the door. Mara cleared her throat. “What are we gonna do with her?” she asked, pointing at Lissiri.

“I’ll take her with us,” Corran said, heaving the director's limp body over his shoulder.

Once in the lobby, the three pilots bid farewell to Mara and Murray before heading towards Murray speeder. Luke turned back around after a few steps. “Mara?” he called.

The redhead cocked a brow at her former Jedi master.

He saluted her with two fingers. “May the Force be with you.”

Mara’s lips curled into a small smile and she rolled her eyes. “Same to you, Skywalker.”

“Hey, what about me?” Corran whined.

“Yeah, you too. Whatever.”

It was a good day for a hostile takeover.

General Turr Phennir stared through the forward viewport of his Star Destroyer's bridge, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. His morning had already gone exceptionally well. The mess had served a halfway palatable breakfast, the repair technicians had finally gotten around to fixing his sanisteam, and his caf actually tasted like caf and not its usual flavor of 'burnt hydraulic fluid.' Yes, Turr could feel it in his bones. It was going to be a good day.

"Reverting to real-space in one minute, General," an officer seated below him said.

"Excellent," Turr said. "As soon as we're out, open a wide-band hailing frequency."

Before long, the molten black and blue tunnel of hyperspace yielded to streaks of white light as the Star Destroyer reverted to realspace. Ahead of them was the isolated, backwater world known as Plooma, a world rich in a vital asset that both the Rebels and the Empire desired. A grim smile formed on his lips. Those Rebel scum would have to find a new place to gain those resources, for now it was possession of the Galactic Empire.

"Hailing band open, sir," the officer said.

Standing a bit more upright, Turr addressed anyone on the planet who might be listening. "Attention Ploomian officials. By order of the Galactic Empire, I am hereby seizing control of this world and placing it under direct control and jurisdiction of the Imperial government. You have twelve standard hours to stand down and cede control to me."

"Sir, we've got a response from on-world," the communication officer said.

Turr blinked. "That was quick. Put it on the holo."

The holodisplay in front of him flickered to life and the image of an all-too familiar and all-too notorious Corellian appeared.

"Hello, you've reached General Wedge Antilles, speaking on behalf of the Republic and the Ploomian government," the smiling Rebel said. "We would like you to know that we have come to a decision."

Turr suppressed a sneer. Five years ago, he had faced off against Wedge Antilles and his band of Rebel pilots on the world of Adumar. Antilles had foiled his plans that day, and Turr wasn't going to let it happen again.

"And what would that be?" Turr asked through clenched teeth.

The Rebel flashed a rather unflattering hand gesture. "Go kriff yourself. Antilles out."

Before he could respond, the feed cut off. Turr gave himself a few moments to let his blood cool before he calmly turned to face his executive officer. "Tell Gamma Squadron to prepare for immediate scramble," he said. "I want that smug son-of-a-schutta to float through space as debris for all of eternity."

"Yes, sir."

Just like that, Turr Phennir's good mood evaporated.

Talon Karrde flexed his fingers around the handle of his blaster and wondered how exactly he had gotten into this mess. It wasn't long before he settled on the day he hired Mara Jade. Before that point, he had been a simple information broker making a more-than-modest living. After hiring Mara? He couldn't help but notice that he suddenly found himself getting into more and more blaster fights.

In the next few minutes, he'd be notching yet another one.

Locked in the secured room behind him was Ambassador Gemar and a pair of state house guards. Other armed guards were perched around the hallway, blasters armed and ready. Beside Karrde were Fiolla and Murray. The former aide to Director Lissiri appeared somewhat calm on the surface, but his eyes betrayed an undercurrent of anxiety. Fiolla, however, was another case entirely. The girl was merely excited that someone had given her a hand blaster to hold on to. Karrde made a mental note to stand behind Fiolla. Just in case.

He looked over his shoulder as the door behind him slid open and Mara emerged. "Everything secure?" Karrde asked.

"Locked down tight," Mara confirmed, "but we're about to have company. Scouts on the roof spotted about a dozen men in PloSec uniforms about to enter the building. They should be on us any moment."

"I assure you, I am ready to fight, Captain Jade," Murray said confidently. Or at least, as confidently as someone as green behind the ears as he was could manage.

Fiolla raised up her blaster, pointing it at Mara. "Am I holding this right?"

Mara flinched and grabbed the barrel of the blaster, pointing it away from her. "Fine. Just fine. But be sure to point that only at the people you want dead."

Just as Karrde was about to laugh, an explosion from the far end of the hallway went off. A pair of state house guards were knocked backwards. Before he could even raise his weapon, blaster fire began to fill the area. Dropping to a knee, Karrde steady his weapon and lined the sights on the first PloSec officer to step through the breached entry. He squeezed the trigger once, sending a single red bolt into the intruder's chest, dropping him immediately.

By this point the other state house guards had recovered from the shock and were laying down suppression fire to hold Lissiri's men at bay. A moment later a loud snap-hiss filled the air as Mara thumbed on her lightsaber, darting into the scrum to lay down a bit of her own brand of chaos. In the back of his mind, Karrde realized that having both Mara and her lightsaber back in his organization could be rather beneficial.

He watched as she sliced through a rushing PloSec officer. Definitely beneficial.

Then again, Karrde didn't seem to get into this kind of trouble that often when Mara wasn't around. Perhaps the benefits were canceled out by the risks.

A blaster bolt that just missed his head caused Karrde to press his back against the wall. "I'm getting too old for this," he muttered to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the final two PloSec officers emerging from the blast opening and racing towards Mara. Just as he brought up his blaster to fire, a pair of shots from beside him rang into the air, catching one officer in the stomach and the other square between the eyes. Karrde turned and saw Fiolla, blaster still raised despite the fact the last of the invaders had been felled.

"Did I do that right?" Fiolla asked timidly.

Karrde looked back at Mara, who stared back at the girl somewhat slack-jawed.

"I am definitely getting too old for this poodoo," he repeated to himself.

A blue milk run, Cracken said. There probably wasn’t anything to worry about, he insisted. Now the Empire was involved, and Turr Phennir, one of Wedge's least favorite people in the galaxy, was leading the attack. When had they given him control of a Star Destroyer? Wedge shook his head. As soon as he was back on Coruscant, he was going to be sure to give the NRI director a piece of his mind, and this time he wasn’t going to let his wife stop him. Well, he probably wasn’t going to let his wife stop him.

Maybe.

“You know, it’s been a little while since I've flown combat,” Luke’s voice said over the subspace radio.

Wedge grinned and adjusted his helmet-mounted microphone. “It’s like getting back on a speeder bike. No matter how long it’s been, you never forget.”

“Except the speeder bike wasn’t equipped with four rather lethal laser cannons, six proton torpedoes, a shield generator, an astromech droid, and a complete avionics package.”

“Well now you’re just getting nit-picky,” Wedge said. “Remind me to write you up for insubordination when we’re done saving the galaxy again.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Quickly, Wedge went through his power-on sequence, firing up the repulsorlift jets and bringing the quad sublight engines online. As he methodically went down the mental checklist that had been burned into his mind over the years, he conferred with his squadron members over the radio, ensuring they were all set to go. If any of them were nervous, he couldn’t hear it in their voices. This batch of Rogues were a fine bunch of pilots, of course that was true of every Rogue he had had on his roster over the years. Well, perhaps exempting the one kid from Nar Shaddaa…

The moment he was sure that his X-wing was ready for flight, he kicked the repulsorlifts to life and felt his starfighter slowly lurch off the ground. Recalling the landing struts, Wedge pulled back on the flightstick and aimed the nose of his ship towards the sky. “Rogues,” he said, “it’s going to get hot in a hurry up there. You are clear to immediately break off by wingpairs. First order of business is to clear the fighter screen, but our primary goal is to chase off that Star Destroyer. Everybody clear?”

His pilots acknowledged the order. “Good. May the Force be with you,” Wedge said. “Twelve, on my wing.”

“Acknowledged, One,” Luke responded.

Someday, they would look back and laugh about this wingpair assignment. It was more than a little strange to have the former Rogue Squadron commanding officer and Jedi master flying as his subordinate for this mission. Normally the CO’s wingman was the weakest or youngest pilot in the squadron. Until a few days earlier, that had been true. Flight Officer Rusarian had been Wedge’s wingman, which allowed him to keep a close eye on the greenhorn and ensure the young pilot’s survival. With Rusarian currently floating in a bacta tank aboard the medical frigateRedemption, that meant Luke would be slotted into that wing pairing.

Shaking his head, Wedge gave the order to commence the operation and set his X-Wing’s throttle to full. The ground gave way to the thick cloud layer, which yielded to blue sky before finally shifting into the harsh, black tone of open space. Almost immediately his sensor board began to light up. A dozen contacts approaching them, nimble and deadly TIE Interceptors. Beyond that screen was the imposing sight of an Imperial Class II Star Destroyer. Steeling himself, Wedge braced for combat.

“S-foils to attack position,” he ordered. “Weapons free, weapons free.”

Flipping a lever on the console, a hydraulic whirring filled his cockpit as the strike foils on his starfighter locked into the distinct X shape. Moments later, the firefight swung into full.

Wedge cycled through his target computer and selected the closest target, breaking away from the rest of the Rogue Squadron formation to begin his pursuit. A brief glance at his scanners showed that Luke had deftly followed suit, showing that his military upbringing hadn’t quite rusted away. Looking forward once more, Wedge saw that his target was flanked by another Interceptor. “I’ve got the one riding high, you take the trailer. On my mark, bracket low and engage.”

On his signal, Wedge split off from Luke and chased after his target. His first volley of fire at the Interceptor missed just high, causing the Imperial starfighter to go into an evasive flight pattern. Wedge pulled back on the flightstick hard, just managing to turn around and keep aft of the Interceptor in his viewport. He continued to make small adjustments to his course, feathering the etheric rudder pedals in an attempt to line up his targeting brackets, but it was no easy task. In hard vacuum, the TIE Interceptor was a far more agile ship than an X-Wing.

But Wedge was the superior pilot, and piloting skills ultimately were what would win the day.

Taking a gamble, Wedge guessed at the enemy pilot’s next move. He nudged the flightstick down and to starboard. Just as he suspected, the TIE pilot moved in that direction. Without a second thought, Wedge squeezed the trigger. Two pairs of bright, crimson laser bursts soared towards the Interceptor and struck right in the center of the round hull, igniting the ion engine core and setting off a chain reaction that left the ship as little more than an explosion of gas and charred shrapnel.

“Got ‘em!” Luke shouted.

“You just now got him?” Wes voice sounded over the radio. “Fifteen years ago you would have had three by now!”

"Kill the chatter, children," Wedge chided. He looked at his scanner just as the last TIE Interceptor disappeared off of the display. Twelve friendly, green blips remained. He breathed a sigh of relief. "We've got a clear path in to the Star Destroyer. We are only going to get one shot at this and we're going to have to get close, so watch for flak and crossfire and target the bridge. Unload every torpedo you've got."

"You know, it's been a while since I've tangoed with a Star Destroyer," Corran said.

"Fleeing from old Booster doesn't count," Inyri Forge responded.

Shaking his head, Wedge switched his fire control to proton torpedoes and shunted power away from his laser batteries to his deflector shields and engines. He fell into formation a quarter-klik or so behind Luke's X-Wing, allowing the Jedi to take the lead while he waited for his targeting computer to work out a firing solution on the Star Destroyer's bridge. Before long, emerald laser fire from the large capital ship's guns began to fill his forward viewscreen.

For the briefest of moments, Wedge felt a bit of nostalgia. Over a decade ago he and Luke had made names for themselves racing into situations like these, somehow finding ways to survive against all odds. They had been younger then. Perhaps a bit more reckless, or if he were to be honest, a great deal more reckless. Yet, here they were, fifteen years later and flying right into the teeth of an Imperial Star Destroyer.

Some things never changed.

A harsh trill from his targeting computer alerted Wedge that a lock had been achieved. Transmitting the solution ahead to Luke, he lined up his brackets and squeezed the trigger. Six blue streaks sailed forward and towards the Star Destroyer, followed by six more from Luke. He didn't wait to see if they impacted or not, pulling away from the run and putting some distance between himself and the menacing starship. Over the radio, the other Rogues reported as their ordinance was fired.

Looking over his shoulder and through the aft viewscreen, Wedge watched as the final volley of proton torpedoes punched through the shields and impacted the bridge. In the distance, he could make out flame and venting gas. Slowly, the Star Destroyer began to shift out of its parked orbit over Plooma, turning its aft to the planet before lurching away. A moment later, it vanished into the safer confines of hyperspace.

"That'll teach them to mess with the Rogues," Wedge said. "Everybody okay?"

One by one his pilots reported back with an affirmative. Smiling, Wedge gently turned his X-wing around to face Plooma's atmosphere. I'd say we've earned a solid hazard pay bonus, he said to himself.

"Just like old times, huh One?" Luke said over the radio.

"Someday, you and I will have to retire so we can relive our youthful adventures without having to climb into the cockpit," Wedge replied. "I'm thinking next time we do this, it'll be over a bottle of Lomin."

"I'll hold you to that, boss."

Rogue Squadron, the New Republic delegation, and the Ploomian diplomats were crowded into a large briefing room at the state house. As soon as Turr Phennir’s forces were defeated, Ambassador Gemar authorized an alliance between Plooma and the New Republic. Gemar requested that Rogue Squadron attend the signing of the treaty, as they had helped save Plooma from the oppressive rule of the Imperial Remnant.

Luke and Gemar signed the official documents to loud cheers, and then the real celebration began. Somehow large trays of food and drinks had been brought into the briefing room, and the gathering had grown into a full-blown party.

Karrde was standing to the side of the room with Mara, who was doing her best to avoid talking to anyone. “Credit for your thoughts, Mara?”

“Oh, they’re worth much more than that, Karrde.”

“Indeed. Speaking of, have we discussed your new salary once you come back to the Wild Karrde?”

“Yeah, nice try. But you're not going to win our little bet.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. There’s still several more hours left.”

She rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming.”

Karrde grinned. It was cutting close, but he still had faith in his victory. He had taken note of the rare peaceful moments between Luke and Mara over the past two weeks, and there was definitely something deeper going on between them than the constant bickering witnessed by everyone else in the galaxy. Even back when Mara still wanted to kill Luke, they’d worked better together than most of Karrde’s associates.

And then there had been that night in the speeder…oh, it was so obvious that the two were meant to be. Yes, Karrde still had hope that he would emerge from this trip the victor.

As the thought went through his mind, Murray Dyartes approached them hesitantly. “Excuse me, Captain Jade? May I speak with you privately?”

Mara glanced at Karrde, and he shrugged in return. “Sure, Murray. Talk to you later, Karrde.”

The young Ploomian Security intern was nervous. Very nervous. He had proven himself to Captain Jade and the rest of the New Republic diplomats over the past two weeks, but he had never before broached the subject of her personal life. He feared that she would hurt him. Judging from the biographies he had read about her, his worry wasn’t that farfetched.

She was certainly very beautiful, but she was also very deadly.

“What’s wrong, Murray?” Captain Jade asked. Murray reminded himself that she could use the Force, even if she wasn’t a Jedi, and he needed to be honest with her.

He took a deep breath. “When I was tracking Director Lissiri, I discovered some information that concerned me. I felt I should ask you about it.”

“Go on.”

“Um…it appears that you and Master Skywalker are not married, as you claim to be.”

Captain Jade sighed. “Yes, it’s true. We aren't married.”

“But…why did you lie?” Murray asked in a small voice, feeling betrayed.

“We didn’t mean to betray anyone,” she explained. “It was all a big misunderstanding. Our Intelligence division’s report was interpreted the wrong way by your agents. Once we arrived, it was decided that it would be best if Luke and I pretended that we were married, so your delegation wouldn’t think that all of the information we provided was incorrect. We wanted to make a good impression. Looking back, I realize that we should have just come clean from the very the beginning.”

“No,” Murray said, shaking his head. “You were probably correct to pretend. If Director Lissiri had learned that your information was even somewhat inaccurate, she would have used that against you. It would have been disastrous.”

“That’s probably true,” Captain Jade said. “So I guess everything worked out in the end. But I’m still really sorry for lying to you, Murray. You’re a decent and competent young man. You’ll go far in Ploomian Security.”

Murray felt redness spreading across his cheeks at her commendation. He had never before been complimented by such a beautiful woman. A week ago, he would have been overjoyed to learn that Captain Jade was not actually married to Master Skywalker-not that he would have ever believed that he would have a chance with such an amazing woman. But now, he was just confused by her confession.

“Thank you, Captain Jade. But, I am confused, and I have to ask…why aren’t you married to Master Skywalker?”

Captain Jade's jaw clenched tightly and her eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”

Murray took a deep breath, forcing himself to continue even though he was beginning to fear her wrath. “I don’t understand why you are not married. You work very well together.”

For some unknown reason, Captain Jade began to shift uncomfortably. “Yeah, maybe we do…but we’re just friends. Acquaintances, even. That’s all.”

“But he cares for you deeply.”

Now Captain Jade’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “What?”

“It is obvious just by watching the two of you. He cares for you very deeply.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “That doesn’t mean anything. That’s just the way he is.”

“I disagree. He does not act that way with the others.”

“Yeah, well. Thanks for the advice Murray, but I have to go.”

She turned away abruptly, and Murray began to worry that he had offended her. “Captain Jade!” She stopped and faced him again, her face still red and expression very uncomfortable. “I am sorry if I overstepped my bounds. I was just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Do you not feel the same way about him, Captain Jade?”

She paused for a moment, then turned her head slightly. Murray followed her gaze to where Master Skywalker was conversing with General Antilles. As if he sensed her looking at him, Master Skywalker turned slightly in their direction. The couple’s eyes locked for a long moment.

“No, I don’t,” Mara said abruptly. She shook her head vigorously. “And neither does he.”

She bid Murray another farewell, before heading off in Master Skywalker’s direction.

Wedge grimaced when he saw Mara walking towards him, looking murderous as ever. But instead of yelling or causing a scene when she reached them, she merely held out her hand. “I’m heading back to my room. I just wanted to thank you for everything before I left tomorrow. You’re a superior commanding officer.”

Wedge could have pinched himself. Mara Jade was being complimentary? They had just won a battle against the Empire, and Hobbie hadn’t even gotten injured? Luke had actually flown with Rogue Squadron again?

Would wonders never cease?

Graciously, he shook her hand. “Thank you, Mara. You did very well yourself.”

“It’s always my pleasure to rough up lame Imperial wannabes.” She turned and gave Luke a curt nod. “Skywalker. See you upstairs.”

“Mara, wait!” She turned back, raising a brow in question. “Would you…would you like to go to dinner?”

Her brow went even higher. “With you?”

He nodded, shifting nervously, looking very awkward but also eager. “Yeah."

"We've got food right here, Skywalker."

"I know. I just thought it would be nice. You know, for old times sake.” He smiled.

Wedge thought Mara was going to reach out and snap Luke’s neck-but instead, she just shrugged and returned his smile. “Sure, why not. Let’s go, husband.”

Wedge watched the two of them walk away arm in arm, shaking his head the entire time. A few minutes later, Wes sidled up to him with an all too familiar expression upon his face.

“Oh no,” Wedge groaned. “What have you done now?”

“Me?” Wes feigned innocence. “Oh, my dear general. It is not I who has done anything this time.”

“What’s going on?” Wedge demanded, clearly not in the mood for more Rogue Squadron hijinks.

Wes grinned. “Tell me, have you seen Hobbie around lately?”

Wedge opened his mouth to respond-but then he glanced around the room and realized that Hobbie was nowhere to be found. He groaned again. “Now what trouble has that man gotten himself into?”

“Oh, no trouble at all, General. Well, not if you don’t count the rumor-spreading that’s bound to occur within Starfighter Command once word of this gets out.”

“Word of what, Janson?”

Wes wiggled his eyebrows. “Hobbie’s with a girl,” he replied in a singsong voice.

“What?!”

Hobbie stared at the ceiling in almost disbelief. Things like this never happened to him. Ever.

Women had always seemed to go for Wedge (they'd said it was the wanted poster). Or Tycho (he had always been the most handsome of the bunch, no matter what Wes claimed). Or Luke, back in the early days. You couldn’t even have a conversation with a woman when the destroyer of the Death Star was nearby.

In later years, Hobbie had become accustomed to women ignoring him. Okay, so he wasn’t that pitiful, and had managed to bed a fair share of women during his time in Rogue Squadron. Especially after all the others had gotten married. But he had always come on to them first.

Apparently things happened differently on Plooma.

His female companion returned from the fresher and climbed back into bed, sidling up to him sinuously. “That…was wonderful!” she exclaimed.

Hobbie grinned. “So. Has your opinion of us lowly non-Force users improved?”

Fiolla Flotto returned the grin tenfold. “Oh, yes! But then again, my opinion about you changed long ago, Major Klivian.”

He laughed and pulled her against him, kissing her soundly. She settled into the crook of his arm and he couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the Rogues would say when they found out about this. Surely they wouldn’t believe that he would have ended up in bed with Fiolla of all people…but Hobbie didn't blame him, as he would never have believed that Fiolla could be such a stimulating woman.

Just as Hobbie was starting to feel awfully smug, Fiolla’s next words brought him crashing back to ground. “You know, I had told myself that something like this could never happen. I thought you were with the other gentleman.”

Hobbie opened his mouth a few times, and there was only one thing he could think of to say: “…What?!”

“Jedi Horn. I thought the two of you were together.”

Hobbie shook his head, disgusted. “Ugh! That is quite possibly the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard! Why would you think that?!”

“Well, you two are staying in the same hotel room. I thought that you were a couple, like Master Skywalker and Captain Jade. Of course, I am now aware that none of you are together romantically, but you can understand my concerns. And then at the ball, Jedi Horn kept interrupting our conversation. I thought it was because he was jealous. But then I learned that he has a wife and children, so I knew that there was nothing going on between the two of you!”

For a moment, all Hobbie could think about was how he was going to kill Corran when they got back to Coruscant…but then the implications of Fiolla's words hit him and he was gripped with the most horrifying images of his life. “Oh gods,” he groaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I’m sorry. Is it something I said?” Fiolla asked, even now, still perpetually confused.

“Yes. You need to fix that. Right now,” Hobbie growled.

He pulled her to him, and he spent the rest of the night trying to get the horrific, terrifying images of Corran Horn out of his mind.