Vasili risked a glance out of the wide third-story window, then immediately pulled his head back as blaster bolts smacked into the ceiling. Laundry hanging from wires frames strung along the window caught fire and smoldered like flags on a battlefield.

“Wooh!” Vasili shouted, waving his fingers nervously. “Got a few hundred Cheka moving into the courtyard down below, sir. I’d say we’re officially pinned down!”

“Let’s get dug in before we take any shots at them,” said Regis.

Looking over his men, he saw that they were still monitoring an impromptu evacuation of the building’s inhabitants. One stormtrooper shoved a Cerean with a prominent forehead toward the stairs, saying, “I don’t care who’s on which floor! If your family’s still upstairs, call ‘em and tell ‘em to keep their fat heads down! This is ground zero!”

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Regis’s crew had taken over the third floor of the building, which was crammed with shanty market stalls selling cheap gadgets, Twi’lek holo-gals, and strange sewer creatures turning on spits or boiling in dark vats of gutter oil. From the remains of old high-end holoprojectors hanging from the ceiling, now gutted and strips of wires, Regis assumed the floor must have once been a mall or an office space. Regis spotted the recruit with a charred black impression in the center of his breastplate, resting against the wall. Regis approached him.

“You okay, son?” he asked.

“Yes, sir!”

“Good man.” Regis put a hand on his shoulder, then said, “I want you to pick eight guys and tell them it’s their turn at the windows. You’ve earned a break from the front lines.”

“I’m good to fight, sir.”

“I know you are. Just get some guys on those windows, and then keep an eye on these aliens on the stairwell. Keep ‘em movin’. Got it? Let somebody else get some action. If Praji finds out about this, he’s going to be mad that I let the Cheka use your breastplate for target practice.”

The youth laughed, then said, “Understood, sir!”

Turning back to Vasili, Regis saw him holding up a piece of broken mirror out of the window. “Any sign of the Stralucitor?” Regis asked.

Vasili nodded slowly. “Better believe it, sir. I thought the carnival was in town, but I think it’s three of those puffed-up clowns in their silk pajamas. They’re yelling at their boys to set up a holo-projector.”

“They’ll be making some demands, then.”

Vasili craned his head as he turned the mirror. “Shouldn’t we be the ones making demands, sir?”

“Why?” Regis smiled. “We’re exactly where we want to be.”

“We’re just a bunch of flies in the ointment, aren’t we? That’s a shame.” Regis could hear Vasili smiling as he added, “And they had such a good thing going here.”

Birdy arrived from a side hall with his shield strapped to his back. “Floor is clear, sir, other than the traffic on the stairwell,” he said. “But we won’t be able to secure it, not really. There’s still a ton of civilians in the building. And we can’t cover all the windows. Most have been busted out for dumping trash and hanging laundry, so if the Cheka want in, they’ll get in, sir.”

“You see any way out of here?”

“Three sides are open ground. If the Cheka don’t have every inch covered yet, they will. The eastern side opens out onto some kind of waterlogged trash heap. We could maybe climb down there and swim… if we wanted to give the Cheka some free shots at our heads, sir.”

“Okay. In that case-”

Regis was interrupted by the squawk and eerie reverberation of heavy audio equipment, then a holographic figure hovered over the courtyard. Regis motioned to Vasili, then took his piece of broken mirror and leaned against the window’s edge, away from Cheka spotters. Birdy and eight stormtroopers took up positions beneath the wide windows while their teammates tried to focus on guarding the stairwell rather than stare at the scarlet holographic face seemingly glaring at them from outside.

Regis adjusted the mirror until he saw Lucitor Reo, the Aqualish-human hybrid who had fought Luke on Dagobah. Once again Regis was struck by the Stralucitor’s pink robe and pursed lips resting between his grotesque, butt-like jowls. Lucitor Fenn and Lucitor Thorn stood nearby. Regis swiveled the mirror, feeling dread at the sight of Cheka infantry in gray uniforms or blue armor, most of which were grouped by race. The makeshift roads and walkways over the floodwaters bounced unsteadily as armored transports dropped off still more Cheka soldiers.

“Well, Luke,” Regis muttered under his breath. “Looks like we got some heat off you, buddy.”

“Imperial stormtroopers! Hear me!” said Reo’s giant holographic face. Down below, Regis could hear the tinny echo of the Stralucitor’s real voice bouncing off the duracrete walls. “Are you there?”

“We’re here!” Regis shouted. “Say what you want!”

“I’m only going to say this once… so listen well! You-”

The holographic image bounced in a shower of static.

“Stand strong, boys,” Regis said over his shoulder. “They’re going to try to intimidate us. They might show us holo vids of more Cheka on the way.”

“As if they didn’t have enough already!” said Vasili.

The holographic image solidified, revealing a pile of burning debris. It took Regis a moment to realize that he was looking at a hill of broken furniture and bodies in the Senate Chamber. A black-armored death trooper suddenly stepped into view. He hoisted a purple-robed Ewok over his head, then threw the creature onto the pile of burning rubble.

“I don’t believe it!” Birdy shouted. “Those death troopers went AWOL so they could go on an Ewok hunt!”

The stormtrooper comm-lines filled with laughter. Vasili fell back from his crouch and smacked into a younger stormtrooper who was already bowled over, gripping his stomach. The garbled speech of a death trooper filled the courtyard as another one dragged an Ewok out from under a toppled desk by its feet, then threw him onto the burning hill with his comrade.

“They really got those little pups!” said Regis, his heart filling with the unexpected glow of secondhand revenge. “That’s for your leg, Vasili!”

“Those death troopers aren’t so bad after all!” said Vasili, shaking. “We oughta let ‘em try out for Omicron!”

“Turn it off! Turn it off!” Lucitor Reo shouted down below. “I didn’t tell you to play that! You idiot!”

“Artoo did that, didn’t he?” said Birdy. “He’s still watching out for us! Damn, I love that little guy!”

Reo’s face reappeared over the courtyard, his cheeks puffed up with rage. “I said put me back on!” he screamed, his booming voice shaking the duracrete walls. “Put me back - oh.” Clearing his throat, he turned back to the stormtroopers. “I suppose you’re proud of yourselves! You’ve targeted the very heart of the Republic, spreading terror and misery in your wake. But the fun and games are over!”

The laughter of the stormtroopers died down as they listened to the burning red face glaring at them through a holographic haze.

“We’re listening, tough guy!” said Regis. He signaled to his teammates.

“I have a proposal for you. You’ll have to make a choice! If you turn yourselves in, we’ll give you… life in prison. I’ll personally make sure that you are protected. You will be allowed to live out your lives in peace.”

“What’s the other option?” said Regis.

“We storm the building. Most of you will be killed. Those of you that we can take alive, will be tortured by our finest Cheka. You will become the playthings of specialists trained to break people like you. Those of you who refuse to give up, and fall into our hands… you will envy the dead! But you won’t be granted the mercy of death! Do you hear me, stormtrooper? You’ll linger on as our war trophies, with your life extended for as long as our science allows! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Regis took a deep breath. In the sky overhead, he saw starships turning and streaking past, locked in combat. His thoughts turned to Luke, and to the death troopers, who were also risking their lives. In the courtyard down below, he could hear the clink of armor, the nervous shifting weight of soldiers waiting for action. Finally he turned his gaze to the large, butt-shaped face glaring down at him.

“Absolutely disgusting,” Regis muttered. Then he shouted, “Fire!” as he swung out of cover.

Over a dozen stormtroopers fired down on the Cheka. Blue and gray uniforms scurried like ants disturbed in their nest, then returned fire, lacing the duracrete wall with hundreds of cyan bolts. Reo activated his new violet lightsaber and deflected a bolt, and Fenn ran to take cover behind a group of Cheka firing at the open windows.

“Thermals!” Reo shouted. “Launch thermals, now!”

Lucitor Thorn hesitated. “There’s still civilians in there!” he said.

“Do it! Fire!”

Thorn nodded, then signaled to a group of Cheka standing at attention, big Gamorreans and Wookiees. “Launch thermal detonators!” he shouted, waving his tiny arms.

The Cheka loaded their launchers and took aim. There was a percussive burst, then their heavy rounds arced toward the apartment building on plumes of white smoke.

* * *

“Stick to cover! Stick to cover!” Sindo shouted, her body shaking as she edged her Interceptor closer to a line of decrepit high-rises. The others followed suit, desperate to be away from the approaching shadow of the three Star Destroyers.

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“Ma’am, I’m having engine trouble! I’ll swing left and-”

The lead Star Destroyer fired massive emerald blaster bolts down upon the city, tearing through shanty huts and walkways. An Interceptor at the end of the formation shattered into steel splinters under the assault, and filthy water in the canal burst forth in a vaporized cloud, obscuring the sight of dozens of alien civilians facing annihilation.

“This way!” said Lando, banking hard and swooping behind the cover of an apartment building.

Sindo followed the Millennium Falcon as it drew ahead of her, sweeping around the building with enough force to jerk pots and pans and chairs off of balconies and toss them up in a cloud of trash. Seeing the others follow suit, she said, “We can’t keep hiding, Calrissian! We need to get in their face!”

“They won’t shoot us if there’s a chance they’ll hit-”

Lando was cut off by the ear-splitting roar of dozens of blaster bolts crashing into the apartment building. Duracrete buckled and shattered under the Star Destroyers’ assault, and in a wave of rubble two of her starfighters disappeared, the cries of the pilots cut short. A shower of debris poured out of the side of the building and tore through the walkway down below.

“I don’t believe it,” said Lando.

“They don’t even care about their own people!” said Sindo. “That does it. We have to-”

Chewbacca roared.

“Hold on, Sindo,” said Lando. “I’m getting something from Artoo. He says the twins are on the roof of the medical facility!”

“What? How!?”

Lando exchanged a glance with Chewbacca. “I don’t know! But look, Sindo - I have to go pick them up. We need to…” Lando winced as the sky flashed green for one moment. A building in front of them ballooned outward, then spilled out in waves of shattered duracrete. Lando jerked the Millennium Falcon left and they swerved out of the avenue, narrowly avoiding the shower of rubble. Glancing at the control deck, he saw that Sindo and the others were right behind him.

“Sindo, I have to get those twins out of here before these freaks blow up the entire city!” Lando hesitated, then added, “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you, but we need to split up, and avoid those-”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“We’re not splitting up,” said Sindo. “We do, and their starfighters will be right on top of us again. Including that flashy Stralucitor. We’ll cover you. Just go!”

Lando shook his head and sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am!” he said, then lowered power to shields, directed it to the engine, then blasted through the avenue in a dizzying blur. Glancing at the control deck readout, he saw that the TIE Interceptors were doing their best to keep up, slicing through the air like suicidal birds of prey.

Chewbacca roared and Lando slowed their pace. Sure enough, atop the rust-red dome of the New Republic Medical Facility, they saw several figures waving their arms.

“I see them!” said Lando. “Chewie, prep for landing!”

“Boys,” said Sindo, “ring formation around the Falcon. Keep those small ships at bay. Be ready to move, we don’t want those Star Destroyers to follow us and end up blasting the Major!”

Lando hit the brakes and let the drag from the deflector shields set him into a banking stop directly over the medical facility, then set down as Sindo and the Imperial pilots swept past. He knew that time was short, but before he could get up, Chewbacca ran roaring from the pilot’s compartment.

Arryk, the Imperial pilot manning one of the guns, shouted, “You’re gonna scare the kids, you stupid screaming carpet! Hold on Calrissian, I’ll get ‘em!”

* * *

The boarding ramp to the Millennium Falcon lowered and Han pushed himself to keep up with Pilena. The young nurse gripped Ben and Anakel’s hands, and her head was tucked down against the wind. Nurse Pilena was already drowning in fear with buildings falling heaps and starfighters flying around, and she tried to ignore the TIE Interceptors swooping around like wolves circling their prey. But when the Falcon’s boarding ramp touched the ground and a giant Wookiee and an Imperial pilot in gleaming black armor came running toward her, she screamed uncontrollably. Anakel’s high-pitched wail joined her own, and Ben grasped the nurse’s arm as if hanging on for life.

“Oh, come on, you guys!” said Han, tottering past them on his cane while flashing an unexpected grin. “Those are my friends!”

* * *

Just as black waves churned against the white marble walkway, Luke struggled against dark emotions roiling inside his heart. His sister was now a hybridized creature with black eyes and a face of writhing green tentacles. She made her way toward him, her white robes swishing in her wake with each confident step.

“Leia,” he said, fighting to maintain his control. “Tell me who did this to you. Tell me, and I’ll make them pay.”

Leia lifted her hands for a moment, as if in a show of harmlessness, then moved her hands in a strange dance. First down the length of her body, then up again, her fingers swaying like seaweed. Luke understood immediately that it was a distraction, and felt her control of the Force radiating in an almost unpredictable range of possibilities of movement.

“You’ll make somebody pay, Luke?” said Leia, her dark mouth moving beneath writhing tentacles. “After a lifetime of threatening and hurting nonhuman lifeforms, I think you’ll be the one to pay!”

Leia darted forward, her hands moving in a blinding arc. Even as Luke ignored her movements and felt out her true intentions within the Force, he sensed a schizophrenic aura of conflicting intentions. One Force-projected intention even revealed his sister falling at his feet and begging forgiveness. Luke closed his eyes, ignoring delusional feints playing upon his emotions - until he finally heard the hiss of an activated lightsaber, and the hum of movement aimed directly at his face-

Leia’s purple lightsaber swung and collided with Luke’s golden lightsaber, constructed aboard the Aquiline with the kyber crystal taken from Lucitor Reo on Dagobah. He stood unmoving, holding her back with one hand on the handle of his weapon, watching his sister through the glow of hissing beams of light. Her lips parted in surprise, then with the Force guiding him he pushed and threw her back against a low marble wall. She cried out in pain and fought to regain her balance, her lightsaber held before her in defiance.

“Indeed you have grown powerful,” said Luke. “But you are not a Jedi.”

* * *

“The death troopers left with them? You’re absolutely sure of this?”

Grand Moff Nahdonnis Praji leaned over his desk, reminding himself to breathe despite feeling as if he had just been sucked out of an airlock.

“It’s confirmed, sir,” said his aide. “Chief of security told me they just left a few moments ago, with Major Regis and his… friends.”

Praji nodded slowly, swallowing despite his mouth being bone dry, then nodded again. He slowly cast his eyes from one side of the room to the other, looking like a cornered animal.

“Does anyone else know?” he asked quietly.

“The entire ship knows, sir. Our security personnel couldn’t arrest every infantryman involved, even if they wanted to.”

Praji closed his eyes, then whispered, “Without the death troopers at my side, I’ll be killed. Someone will kill me.”

His mouth clamped shut against his own will, cutting off the last word as if a primal instinct for survival was warning him to tread carefully. He suddenly opened his eyes and stared at his aide, wondering if he would be the man who would pull a blaster, kill him, and take command of his forces. Or would it be his chief of security? Or the captain of another ship in his small fleet? No, it would surely be the older men in intelligence. They would poison him in his sleep, or convince a stormtrooper to shoot him by “accident”. Praji’s mind raced at the possibilities.

“Sir, should I-”

“Contact Admiral Freeling,” said Praji. “We’ll call in every favor with him that’s owed. Make concessions on territory, if necessary.”

The aide looked the Grand Moff up and down. “Are you sure, sir? Just because Freeling is our ally at the moment, doesn’t mean we can-”

“Without the death troopers, I’m dead, and you with me,” said Praji, drawing himself to his full height in what he hoped was a show of indomitable strength. “Make the call.”

* * *

Aboard Grand Moff Sheckil’s flagship Star Destroyer, the Lex Talionis, a comms tech signaled to the captain.

“Sir! We’ve just intercepted a transmission sent between Praji’s fleet and Freeling. We-”

“I would hear it,” said Grand Moff Sheckil, suddenly entering and sweeping past the captain. Everyone on the bridge sat up straight at the sight of their Grand Moff’s brilliant red cape billowing out in his wake. He was known for sudden bursts of activity, and no one wanted to be caught lounging at their station when he was in one of his moods.

“Y-yes, sir,” said the comms tech. “The message was sent by Praji himself. He said that Major Regis is leading a raid against the Empress herself. But Praji’s intel division has just spotted a flaw in his plan, and so Praji has requested immediate aid from Freeling.”

Sheckil scoffed. “Little Praji! Leading a raid on Coruscant?”

“Sir?”

Sheckil smiled down at the comms tech. “The fool that Praji claims is Major Regis is most likely sleeping off a hangover. Praji is using the name of Regis to get his own men moving for once. How many units did he request from Freeling?”

The comms tech winced, as if fearing he would embarrass himself. “Sir, intelligence has not fully decoded the transmission, but as far as they can tell, he did not request ground personnel. Or starfighters. He requested… Star Destroyers.”

The comms tech swallowed, but Sheckil did not reprimand him for spreading faulty intel. Instead, the Grand Moff looked thoughtfully through the dark windows, where three lifeless asteroids hung in the black heavens.

“My, my,” Sheckil finally said. “Praji and Freeling are planning on shaking down the Empress for credits. They mean to park their fleet on her front doorstep until she pays them to leave.” He laughed without humor, adding, “I always knew he was little more than a pirate, but this is a bit much, even for him!”

“Sir, should I disregard-”

“No. Mobilize our fleet and make for Coruscant. If Praji is rifling through Empress Organa’s purse, we will not be left out.”

“Sir…” said the captain, stepping up behind him. “If Praji and Freeling are both assembled there, they won’t let us waltz in and take-”

Grand Moff Sheckil waved away his concerns. “They’ll pull out seats for us at the table if we show up with more ships than them, captain. Contact Admiral Mallo Motti. Tell him to meet us at Coruscant immediately. Threaten his homeworld, if necessary. But be subtle about it! He is our ally, after all.”

Grand Moff Sheckil stalked off, sweeping his cape out behind him. As the captain and comms tech exchanged a glance, the captain’s personal secretary tapped out a coded transmission on his hidden hyperspace communicator. No one on board knew that he was really an agent of “Emperor” Loutka, and was being paid to spy on Sheckil. Loutka was not an ambitious man himself, but he was surrounded by captains who would most certainly be interested in hearing of this sudden and unexpected mobilization.

* * *

The Horn of Plenty dropped out of hyperspace near Coruscant. The Horn was a Hutt Cartel capital ship initially designed for use by Nar Shaddaa security forces, but over the years it had become something of a showpiece, with various Cartel overlords adding more and more expensive modifications. Its slim, wedge shape had grown a steel globe at one end, then hangar extensions like long fingers of steel to accommodate starfighters as well as visiting dignitaries, and finally the newest upgrade: An oversized engine and exhaust ports capable of blowing out the ballroom’s artificial gravity - an effect which Viddu the Hutt had decided not to fix, for his own amusement.

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Viddu the Hutt sat on his padded crimson platform on the dimly-lit bridge, at the center of the ship’s control center. In the glow of the oversized viewscreen, his magenta makeup glowed along dark rolls of flesh. He watched the sepia orb of Coruscant fill the viewscreen, like an overripe fruit surrounded by a buzzing cloud of starships. Then he turned his icy blue eyes toward other viewscreens showing the ships of his companions dropping out of hyperspace alongside him. Fast, lean pirate ships, capital ships owned by allied Hutts, bulky defense cruisers manned by client species in his employ, all called in and were answered by the slave personnel working the tech and comm terminals surrounding the dark bridge.

“Got Cheka on the line!” a human with an oversized steel collar called out.

Viddu waved impatiently, and his Bith band began playing a tune that he hoped would demonstrate his majesty in a tasteful manner. Then he gestured to the human slave, who patched the comm lines to the bridge’s main speakers.

“... is Cheka security, who is this?” said a voice crackling on the speakers. “Why have you come unannounced, and with so many ships?”

“Ah, chut chut!” Viddu announced, spreading his hands grandly. “Soong je, Zazedo Wermo ‘Black Worm’ Viddu tha Hutt, don ‘new, official’ Senator don Tatooine! Je am come don delegation don Outer Rim grancha lorda, for ‘surprise celebration’!”

The Cheka on the other end of the line hesitated, and in the awkward silence Viddu’s eyes widened as he remembered something. “Ya, ya!” he said, snapping his fingers off to the side. “Con putti don ‘confetti burst’ don dawa missile bays! Hagwa, not in all don bays! You placing, some confetti, some proton torpedeka!”

“Of course, great Viddu!” said a Twi’lek slave hunched over his terminal. He also wore an oversized steel collar, as did most of Viddu’s slaves. “I shall contact the weapons specialists yet again, and make sure that your orders have been carried out to the letter!”

“Ha!” said a human slave with one eye sealed shut. “Hopefully those idiots won’t forget which tubes have torpedoes and which have confetti, just like they did during the Krayt Prix Pod Race!”

“Waa!” Viddu bellowed. “Coo sa said this?!”

“I was joking, master! Forgive me!”

“Chuba kung! Chuba don ‘big mouth’!” Viddu immediately turned to a control panel standing near his padded platform. He scanned the rows of buttons, then pressed one, grunting with satisfaction. An enslaved Gran yelped in pain and grabbed his neck as an electric shock jolted his body. A button on his oversized collar blinked orange.

“Guraa! Wrong one!” said Viddu, peering closely at the control panel. As a Gamorrean guard waddled over to assist, Viddu waved him away in annoyance. He pressed another button, gazing expectantly at the impudent human slave. At the back of the bridge, one of his Twi’lek dancers screamed and hit the floor, clutching at her throat as her collar blinked orange.

“E chuuuu ta!” said Viddu, grimacing as he turned back to the control panel. “Who labeling this goola machinek?! Ah…”

The human slave’s eyes widened with fear. “No master, you already got me! Don’t worry about it!” Suddenly grabbing his collar, he said, “Ow! Uh, it stings! Hurts so bad!”

“Stupa liar! Don light hagwa no blinken!”

“I’ll… I’ll get someone to repair it, master! Ow, no more!”

“Viddu, this is Coruscant Traffic Control. Please forgive our delay.” The Cheka traffic controller’s voice suddenly filled the bridge once again. “I am unable to get in touch with my superior, but we…” Viddu listened closely to the chaotic rumbling on the other end of the line. It sounded as if many voices were arguing, or issuing hasty orders. “I don’t have any notes about any surprise delegation from Tatooine, and we’re… um, we are quite busy today, so I might not be able to-”

“Stupa Cheka!” Viddu blurted. “You not knowink da ‘surprise visit’, if you knowink, con chuba not ‘surprise visit’! Don, Cheka…” Viddu’s gaze was suddenly drawn to several of his slaves conferring quietly among themselves. Just then, he noticed several large ships drop out of hyperspace directly over Coruscant. He could not imagine anyone foolish enough to drop out of hyperspace directly over a planet - not unless they wanted to be shot out of space by local security. “Shag, choy don happening?!” Viddu spat, further annoyed that the spotlight was being taken off of his special day.

“Master, I did not want to interrupt,” said the Twi’lek slave, “but we are picking up erratic ship movements, as well as blaster signatures. I think there is a battle occurring over Coruscant!”

“Waa!” Viddu’s eyes widened into ovals and he leaned back, then waved his arms as he nearly lost balance. Sure enough, still more large ships appeared over Coruscant. Even from this distance, he could make out the sharp lines of green and red blaster beams as large ships shot at one another.

“It’s Star Destroyers!” said the Twi’lek.

“Ahh! Snekky Cheka!” said Viddu. “Answer na! You are don ‘civil war’, Cheka don Cheka!?”

“No, Viddu-”

“Senator Viddu!” said Viddu, correcting him.

“No, Viddu, we are… currently under attack by, ah, Imperial warlords. Quite a… quite a few of them, actually. But we’ll have them cleaned up shortly! All the same, I suggest that your delegation come back another day.”

Viddu’s eyes widened yet again, then he raked one tiny hand across his bulbous throat with quick, frantic movements. The comm line fell silent.

“Ohh ho ho!” said Viddu, his cold laughter rumbling behind dark rolls of fat. “Stuka don Imperion kung finally decide con ‘make our Empress dance’!”

“Great Viddu!” said a blue Ortolan at a control panel. “The other captains are calling. A lot of them are requesting that we flee! Shall I tell them to fall back?”

“Waa?! No, stupa shag! Hagwa!” Viddu watched as still more gray wedges appeared over Coruscant, the intimidating Star Destroyers shining almost white as they caught the light of the sun along their flanks. Viddu waved to his Bith band, and the glassy-eyed drummer beat a militant rhythm while the keyboardist played ominous impromptu notes. Viddu licked his nostrils clean with his long, dark tongue, then his cheeks puffed out in an uncharacteristic smile as he said, “Say don, we attack! Grancha ‘Zazedo Wermo’ Viddu don helping ‘our poor Empress’ con thesa barbarian… and then, taking big wamma luto, don ‘whatever we want’!”