"We are the Order of the Sacred Nerf," he went on, "this ship is our shrine. It is a sacred place, and only the ordained may enter." At least the robes made sense, then. According to their beliefs, the Togrutan explained, if non-believers set foot inside their place of worship, it would impurify that place and, in so doing, impurify the souls of those who worshipped there. This would be most dire, because once the faithful lost their spiritual connection to the Sacred Nerf, it was sometimes impossible to recover it again and, thus, when they died, they would be doomed to wander the spiritual wastes without sustenance and without end, able to view the splender of the Nerf but unable to partake in it. It was, the Togrutan explained, a miserable existence. Then there was a small, but distinct flash in the sky above them, but the Togrutan and the Mrlssti didn't notice.

Meanwhile, above the planet, the charred remains of the Hardcell-class transport drifted ponderously from where the vessel had once been. Another ship, a small, light freighter, had been caught up in the blast and had its shields overwhelmed by the rain of particulate debris, but it was otherwise fine for the moment. Meanwhile, Barris and his fighters—now joined by the additional R-22 Spearhead—did not remain in place as the Benevolent Wanderer opened fire on them. Rather, they used the chaos of ships above Druckenwell to their advantage and delved in and among them, weaving recklessly around the traffic as if daring the Benevolent Wanderer to fire on them, and for their Green Squadron to pursue them. They did not hold back their own fire in the meantime, however, all of the ships (the R-22's as well as the R-41's) opening up on any unsuspecting freighter that presented itself to them.

The good news among this for Druckenwell was that the first R-41 Starchaser was indeed destroyed. Barris had assigned, who was it, oh yes, the Rodian to that one. He'd never liked the Rodian. No sense of humor, and unimaginative, too. It showed in his flying. The loss of his R-41 was unfortunate, however, but Barris knew the Hutt Cartel would compensate him handsomely for the damage he and his men had done today. For now, he continued to weave in and around the freighters and transports all around him, popping off a shot or a concussion missile here or there, and making sure he and his men didn't get any nearer to the Golan platform or that customs station. He was just about done here, and in a moment it would be time to leave.

The R-22 on his flank erupted into flame and vanished as one of the civilian freighters managed to pound it with a turbolaser. Yes, Barris noted, it was time to leave.