Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Share Posted December 19, 2006 Some of you may be aware of the back history I am writing for the 104th Moisture Farm Patrol. The first draft of chapters 1-10 that make up Installment I are Available for download here: So you can follow along, there’s a Story Map of the Star Wars Galaxy. Chapter 1 - Origins Chapter 2 - Journey Toward Destiny Chapter 3 - Arrival Chapter 4 - Settling In Chapter 5 – Feeling Out Mos Eisley Chapter 6 – Needle in a Sand Dune Chapter 7 – Droid Hunt Chapter 8 - Interrogations Chapter 9 – The Lars Place Chapter 10 – A Wretched Hive You can download by chapter. I have gotten some very nice feedback from TFN FanFiction forum where it was originally posted. I think, being sandtroopers, some of you may enjoy the read. <!-- s:td: --><!-- s:td: --> After you catch up on Installment I (which takes us through when the Falcon blasts out of bay 94), start reading the posts below, which are being posted up as they are written. <!-- s:shock: --><!-- s:shock: --> Now, there are PDFs for most of Part II as well: The Sandtrooper’s Story - Part II Chapters listed here may show Chapter 1 for Chapter 11. Originally The chapter numbering started at 1 again for Part II. Then I decided to make it continuous as it became difficult for editing purposes. Someday I will edit the old PDFs to have the correct chapter numbers. Until then, please let this note suffice. Thanks! Chapter 11 - Departure Chapter 12 - Sifting for Clues Chapter 13 - Thoughts from a Moisture Farmer's Wife Chapter 14 - Sacrifice Chapter 15 - Tatooine Haunts Chapter 16 - Chasms and Trenches Chapter 17 - Recovery Chapter 18 - Moral Dilemma Chapter 19 - Crash and Burn Chapter 20 - Canyon Search Chapter 21 - Fate and Shifting Sands Chapter 22 - The Dig Site Chapter 23 - Trust and Escapes Chapter 24 - Revelations Chapter 25 - Thundering Forward Chapter 26 - Pursuits Chapter 27 - Darkness and Light Chapter 28 - The Taste of Truth If there are things you would like to see sandtroopers do, please email me at <!-- e -->terek_deckard@yahoo.com<!-- e --> and I'll see if I can fit them into the storyline I am writing. <!-- s:D --><!-- s:D --> Please email feedback here as well! <!-- s:dance: --><!-- s:dance: --> Thanks and here is the first post of Installment II: The Sandtrooper's Story - Installment II The Sandtrooper’s Story © 2006 Ward Jones Falker paced back and forth across the floor of the open bay pit looking up at the melted metal pipes hanging from the smoking, sooty wall as he finally received the name of the departing ship from the port authority. The top rim of docking bay 94 had been blackened and burned by the main engines of the departing Millenium Falcon. He confirmed with the crews of the Star Destroyers Offender and Seether, that the ship in question had run from them, and escaped into hyperspace. 0600 and Rogue carried the lifeless body of Taka out of docking bay 94, leaving the corpses of Tyrell’s troops lying in the sand. There would be an inspection team here soon, but Taka deserved a better fate than to be picked apart in the official investigation process. Ddraig found a repulsor sled in the upper hallway and met them at the top of the stairs. The bloodied, broken body of their comrade was gently lowered to its surface. Everyone stood silent for a moment, staring down at what could easily have been any one of them. Without a word, the sled was slowly and reverently moved down the hallway, past a silent Garindan, toward bay 98. Any thoughts Rogue and 0600 may have had about Taka buying his way out of prosecution alongside them for the Belliran V Massacre were now gone. In the darkness of our shuttle flight, he had said he thought they were dead in the med lab when he was released. Even if he had bargained his way out, he had now sacrificed his life for Rogue, repaying any debt he may have had . . . real or imagined. Felth walked behind a bit, and seemed to be somewhat preoccupied. 4120 fell back to see what was wrong. “Nothing . . . just going over what just happened . . . making sure I did what I should have.” 4120 reassured him, “I’m sure we all did the best we could, given the circumstances. I’m sorry about your friends.” Felth was going over the firefight in his head, “Oh, they weren’t really my friends . . . I had just transferred in, and I didn’t know anyone yet except Tyrell, I couldn’t stand Tyrell.” He was glad that no one in the group had seen him shoot his own squad leader in the back. It had been a gut-wrenching decision, made in a millisecond, and one that had absolutely surprised him, but he now felt that the Rebellion was doing the right thing . . . the Empire was wrong . . . oppressing worlds across the entire expanse of the galaxy. He had worked so hard to locate the missing data and prove himself, and now, he knew he was trapped in that role of dedicated Stormtrooper . . . he knew the Empire would find him if he deserted and jumped sides. He could now be of much more value to the rebellion by remaining within the Empire, and funneling information to their cause. This newly assembled unit seemed to be a smart group though . . . he would need to be vigilant at all times until he was allowed, by the inspection team, to return to his post on board the Devastator. * * * The interior lights of the sealed meditation chamber were dimmed to near absolute darkness . . . its occupant in a deep meditation. The obscure layers of consciousness slipped elusively by as the human brain, of what had once been Anakin Skywalker, fed on the energy from the Midichlorians coursing through what was left of his bloodstream. He felt the pulse of his heart in his upper arms and the trunk of his body . . . his cybernetic limbs still felt foreign . . . cold. At first they had been ungainly and awkward . . . forcing him to re-learn standing and walking all over again. During those dark days following his defeat at the hands of his Jedi master, he had worked endless, grueling hours in his private chambers . . . practicing with one, and building to several, seeker remotes and assassin droids to master his new limbs. His ravaged body and blistered, deformed skin ached and burned beneath his suit and helmet . . . but not nearly as hot as the hatred that burned in his heart for his former master. He repeated painful motions over and over again . . . learning the new subtleties of moving through fight stances on his cybernetic legs, and regaining the dexterity and masterful control of his dominant lightsaber hand. He allowed himself to feed off the intense pain, focusing it, channeling it . . . bringing the force around him to a constant, controlled boil. His cloudy thoughts now mingled with the energies of the dark side . . . losing himself in its inky, warm liquidity as he sought answers to questions that had plagued him since discovering Obi-wan still among the living. He allowed himself to slowly drift closer to the light side Force energies than he had since yielding to the Sith teachings of Palpatine, so long ago. He needed to sense others from his lost order . . . he heard the suffering cries of the Jedi he had helped decimate . . . he heard Qui-gon call out to him . . . “Anakin, NOOO!” . . . he remained focused . . . he was searching for answers, looking for clues to be revealed, any sense or feeling of a reason why Obi-wan might possibly have been on Tatooine with a new apprentice. Obi-wan hated Tatooine . . . he would not have been there willingly. He remembered the stories his former master had told him about the damaged, leaking hyperdrive engine and the emergency landing with Qui-gon and the Queen . . . his fragile beauty, Padme. He had been concerned that they might have been stuck on the desert planet for a very long time . . . it made no sense that he would have returned there. As his meditative trance became more focused, images began appearing in the mind’s eye of the dark Lord . . . he saw an emerging asteroid field . . . planetoids tumbling silently . . . one of them shifted and became master Yoda, tumbling off into a gathering fog, shrouding the edges of his vision. He calmed himself and became even more centered in the Force. There were clouds, rain and mud with the cries of unseen animals hiding in the shadows of colossal trees draped with vines . . . then, through the parting cloudy haze, he saw Obi-wan holding an infant in his arms and heard a voice call out, “Luke”. It was the shallow, but unmistakable, sweet sound of his wife’s voice. His heart beat increasingly faster, pounding in his ears now as the images became disjointed, fast-morphing flashes in his mind as he abruptly ascended from his unconscious state too rapidly . . . he saw Padme lying on a table, speaking to Obi-wan, then falling silent as the life drained from her face . . . which then became a mound of sand, blowing off the table in a wind across an emerging Tatooine skyline at sunset . . . a hooded Obi-wan now stood amidst the blowing sand with the child, walking into the sunset . . . then the blowing sands consumed him and gave way to careening, colliding asteroids which became two combatants engaged in a furious lightsaber battle . . . he was fighting someone dressed in black whose movements were attacking, aggressive and Sith-like . . . then intermittent, cloudy flashes of him throwing a dark-robed figure over a balcony . . . amidst tangled streams of Force-lightning raining down on him, killing him . . . then, he emerged from the trance. His eyes fluttered open wildly in the darkness of his meditation chamber, lacking the ability to form tears, but filled with the pain and grief of his loss all over again. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, raggedly breathing in deeply. * * * 4120 piloted Tyrell’s shuttle out across the sand waves heading toward the heart of the Dune Sea. Captain Tyrell and his men were dead . . . they wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon. The members of the 104th MFP were seated silently in the jumpseats along both side walls. Taka was the first to fall in the line of duty in this new post, and Rogue now prepared him for his final resting place. We all watched as he placed Taka’s E-11 in his hands, carefully placing one hand on the grip, the other under the barrel, and laying it across his chest, as if he were standing at the ready. Etz nodded knowingly, “You can have my blaster when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.” Rogue turned to him, nodding, “Exactly.” It was a cocky phrase that had been uttered by virtually every trooper, in every session on Carida when sidearms were issued to a new class. The ship began to slow and finally hovered over the ridgeline of a large dune. 4120’s hands moved over the controls as he lowered us carefully to the ground. Topolev and Blade opened the hatch and extended the boarding ramp as the rest of us unclipped and slowly pushed the sled down to the sand. The afternoon light was fading fast . . . we were bathed in a dark orange glow as the twin suns sat just above the horizon. 0600 walked away from us, facing the two fireballs, then stopped and looked down at his feet, kicking at the sand a bit, “This is a good spot.” We moved the sled over to him and lifted our dead from it, placing him gently in the sand on his back, blaster held up to his chest, staring up into the stars. We all stepped back a pace and respectfully removed our buckets. Only the sound of the wind blowing past us was heard. Blowing sand began to collect around Taka’s body, mounding up against it as we watched silently. Rogue spoke, “He gave his life to save mine, this new Sandtrooper. And as a Sandtrooper, we offer up his body to be returned to the sand . . . to become one with it.” He knelt down and grabbed up a handful of sand, and tossed it across Taka’s chest, “Pleasant journeys, my friend . . . pleasant journeys”, then turned and walked away silently with his bucket in hand as the wind continued to whip around us. We all gave a moment of still silence, then one by one dropped a handful of sand on Taka’s body. The evening winds were picking up now . . . drifting even more sand around the one we were leaving behind as we all silently boarded the shuttle. Topolev and I were the last to board, taking a final look back at Taka as we ascended the sloped ramp. We had all seen troopers fall in battle, many of them friends . . . I just didn’t think it would be happening this soon after arriving here. The white of his Impervium had almost been swallowed entirely by the time we lifted off. * * * The bluish-white haze of the afternoon sky had given way to the amber and bronze tones of the early evening and had now yielded to the suffocating blackness of a moonless Tatooine night. 4120 had bypassed the spaceport protocols and set our shuttle down in the open courtyard behind our new barracks. We all moved quietly out of our seats and headed for the fresh air outside. I stepped off the bottom of the lowered ramp into the now-cool sand and ran through the events of this very long day as we all walked toward the back of our building. Rogue opened the rear armored door of the barracks and we entered through the storage area, stepping around our supplies, still piled high on the repulsor sled. I secured the door after Topolev and Etz came through, and was about to make my way through the bunkroom to the office out front when I noticed something behind a storage crate, a lever on the plates of the armored wall. I looked around . . . no one was hanging back, so I reached over and pulled on the lever. It resisted a bit, but then rocked to one side. As it did, I felt a slight rumbling under my feet and the supply sled began to lower into the floor. The entire recessed center of the room was a lift system that was now lowering to a sub-level. I watched as it slipped out of sight below the floor and came to stop several meters below. I leaned over the edge to look down as lights flickered through a doorway leading away from the platform below. The others were now standing in the doorway behind me. I looked back over my shoulder, “Check this out”. With buckets off, 4120 and Rogue were first through the door to inspect my discovery, closely followed by the others. Topolev whistled as 0600 and Ddraig walked to the edge. Falker spoke up, “It looks like a supply cache. We used something similar on Talasea while I was there training on their orbital platform.” Rogue turned to me, “I see another control lever down there. Call it back up. Let’s see what’s down there.” I nodded, “Sure”, and stepped over to the lever, giving it a pull in the opposite direction. The floor shook again as the lift rose until it docked once again with our level. Everyone stepped onto it, crowding around the supply sled. I threw the lever and stepped on as once again it descended. We came to rest on the lower level, and the open doorway revealed a dark room with a flickering, malfunctioning luminary. We all stepped through the door into the relative darkness of the next room. The air here was stale and the only working luminary hung from a wiring harness flickering and swinging as we moved past it, sending sporadic, rocking shadows across the room and up the walls. It was very hard to make out what was here with the light strobing as it was. There were more supply crates, several items draped in large canvas tarps and large bay doors on the opposing wall. Etz was looking under the edge of one of the tarps when Blade stepped up from the other side and pulled it off. Dust flew off, swirling up in a cloud and hanging in the still air. In the dim light we could see several tripod-mounted cannons. Etz grabbed the next tarp and pulled it off as Danz and Topolev pulled off the remaining two. By now we were all coughing as the air was thick with very fine dust particles. I noticed the outline of a deactivated astromech droid squeezed between the cannons, and moved in for a closer look. Topolev ran his gloved hand over a full rack of what appeared to be hundreds of transparent holo-cards. He pulled one out and leaned toward the swinging light, gently wiping the years of dust away. “Jabba’s Court – 22413”. He reached over and pulled out several more. The labeling was the same, but with ascending numbers. “I’m not sure, but I think these may be surveillance recordings of The Hutt’s Palace.” He handed the cards to Rogue as the others moved further into the darkness checking out what else had been waiting silently in the shadows. Rogue held them up and looked over to the full rack of similar cards, “These may prove very helpful. What else is back there?” Danz and Etz walked between racks of weapons . . . each of them lifted out a rifle, turning them over, examining them as 4120 and Falker broke the seal and lifted the lid on a container resting against the stone wall. As Rogue continued looking over the card with 0600, I pulled the astromech from its tight squeeze between the cannons and knelt down to look it over. It was a little the worse for the wear . . . several panels were missing and a blackened wiring harness protruded from one of its side panels, but it didn’t appear to be anything some repair work wouldn’t take care of. A few parts, a refreshing of its internal power cells and we might have ourselves a working maintenance droid. As he inspected the rack of cards closer, the comm unit on Rogue’s belt chirped an alert. He pulled it off and stepped back through the door to the lift to answer, and the rest of us began to talk amongst ourselves. Falker reached down into the deep container in the back of the room. “Check these out”, said Falker. It was dark where they were, in the back of the room. He handed the item to 4120, who walked out between the crates and held it up to the light. It was a twenty-plus year old, dust-covered helmet . . . its blue markings were chipped and stained from duty in the harsh Tatooine sand. “I remember seeing these as a kid”, said 4120. It was a battle-worn Trooper helmet from the Clone Wars era. Ddraig and Felth were checking out the cannons . . . the latter looked over at it and spoke up as he returned to his examination of the large guns “Everyone our age remembers those troopers. They stormed the Temple and caught those Jedi traitors off guard. Those guys were the foundations of the Empire we know today, those first troopers of the 501st.” Falker stiffened a bit, reminded again of his own intimate family connection to the Jedi purge. I reached up to 4120, “Let me see it?” He handed the helmet over to me as I stood up. I rolled it over, examining the interior, the visor rocked back on top. Not a great deal had changed since then. Some things were smaller now and incorporated into the interior lenses . . . no need for an external visor . . . if they could just incorporate the zoom features of our macros . . . one less thing on our belts. Etz was standing beside the large bay doors looking over another rack of holo cards . . . thumbing through them . . . Chalmun’s Cantina, Vriichi Brothers, Tusken Disturbance P-3871 . . . arrest records, it appeared. He looked up from the cards and reached for the lever on the wall above the rack and was about to swing it down, opening the bay doors for a look at what lay behind when Rogue stepped back into the room, “Inspection team’s here. Let’s go . . . we can look more in here later.” Etz took his hand off the lever, started away, then glanced back at the doors wondering what lay just on the other side. Slowly he walked away, back through the dim room as I set the clonetrooper helmet down on top of the astromech and we all headed back toward the lift. 0600 threw the lever handle down and the lift rose back up to the surface, sealing the lower room once again. Rogue spoke as we walked through the bunkroom and headed for the front port, “Leave your packs . . . just buckets and blasters tonight boys. Hopefully this won’t take too long, I’m ready for a little shuteye” and he walked out the front door onto the darkened streets of Mos Eisley. “I’ll take a little of that myself” I said, pulling on my helmet and switching on my holstered blaster. “Buckets and blasters”, said Topolev. “Buckets and blasters” repeated Ddraig as he grabbed his E-11 and holstered it. Blade was the last one out the door into the cool night air, “Buckets and blasters” he echoed, as he pulled on his helmet and sealed our entry port as our new unit headed off for docking bay 94. * * * The local port authority guard stood at attention, staring off into nothingness as he secured the stairs leading down into docking bay 94. Down inside, we were going over the chain of events . . . for the 6th time with the team from the Seether. The lead Incident Inspector cursed as he handed Rogue’s helmet back to him, “This is no good to me! The helmet recorders were wiped clean by the massive energy wave that washed over you from the modified repulsors on the Millenium Falcon.” Felth breathed a small sigh of relief. He would not be discovered . . . not yet. Rogue took his helmet, looking inside, “Do we need to replace the datacards or will they simply restart on a blank slate?” The Inspector spoke as he turned away, distracted . . . watching the others from the Seether tossing the bodies of Tyrell’s troops onto a repulsor sled, “Switch them off and when activated again they’ll start fresh. TD-1009, we’ve been over this a number of times with you and your men, and the story seems to be consistent from everyone involved. It appears you and your men did everything you could to prevent the Millenium Falcon from escaping. Captain Tyrell, there, seems to have done nothing but hamper your efforts” he said gesturing to the body on the top of the stack. “The Port Authority for this pathetic place has little or no records other than the ships’ name . . . no destination, no manifest, no anything. Let’s wrap this up. We have all the physical evidence we can gather here. We’ll be in touch with the command crew of the Offender as well as the Seether. Hopefully we can try to project a possible hyperspace flight plan based on their last known trajectory. Lord Vader won’t leave this alone for long . . . the data is too sensitive.” “Does that mean we can go?” asked Ddraig. The inspector flashed a look his way, then turned and nodded to Rogue and headed over to load the sled onto the lift. Rogue turned to Ddraig and the rest of us, “OK guys, let’s go get some rest . . . it’s been a long day.” Buckets in hand, we all ascended the sandy stairs out of the bay pit . . . all eyes silently noticing the bloodstains on the lower steps to which Taka had been dragged. As we made our way down the cool, dark streets toward the post, I rocked my head back, staring up into the blackness of the Tatooine night and the huge expanse of the galaxy above us. It had been almost seven standard hours since the Millenium Falcon ripped out of here . . . traveling through hyperspace . . . they could be almost anywhere out there by now. “Does that mean we can go?” said Falker, elbowing Ddraig, who grinned and laughed back at him, amusing us all as we walked along. I drew in a deep, even breath as 4120, walking just ahead of me leaned over to Rogue, “In the morning we need to head back out to Anchorhead and question those kids again.” Rogue nodded, staring ahead, “Agreed”, then he turned to 4120 “I smell another long day coming on.” 4120 smiled slightly “Another glorious day in service to the Empire!” * * * The last of the TIE fighter patrols continued its sweep along the fringes of the newly created Alderaan asteroid field, taking radiation readings for submission to Grand Moff Tarkin, and watching for any evidence of ships that might have been on approach when the planet was destroyed. So far, radiation detected was minimal and several vessels had been spotted and drawn into the Death Star. The pilot was on his way out of the field returning to his hangar bay when another ship slipped out of hyperspace and appeared on his scope, amidst the tumbling rocks . . . they must have been en route when the destruction occurred. He changed his course heading and came around, increasing speed and performing a flyover, hoping to entice the pilot to follow him. The hand guiding the worn, Corellian freighter did just that, locking on and giving chase, all the while being led squarely into the path of the invisible, gripping tractor beam reaching out powerfully from the station ahead that shone brightly . . . like a small moon. * * * Thin, cold fingers on the bony hand protruding from the sleeve of the tailored officer’s uniform depressed a small comm button recessed in the deeply polished black surface of the long table, “Yes?” Wilhuff Tarkin was not a patient man today by any stretch of the imagination. Detailed schematic plans for the station around him, his project for more than 20 years now, had fallen victim to infiltration by a band of rebels and was now missing. Somehow, somewhere along the line, someone relaxed just enough to allow this breech of security. A tinny, electronically-enhanced voice came back from the speaker in the table-mounted comm unit, “We've captured a freighter entering the remains of the Alderaan system. Its markings match those of a ship that blasted its way out of Mos Eisley.” Tarkin stared at the comm button under his fingertip as Vader moved closer, his mind churning to fit this new wrinkle into the equation, “They must be trying to return the stolen plans to the Princess. She may yet be of some use to us.” The aging Technical Specialist who had risen to the rank of Grand Moff, overseeing all of the Regional Governors turned his head ever so slightly toward Vader, staring off into nothing for several moments, “Keep her on the execution list . . . but delay it long enough for this ship to be thoroughly inspected for the missing data. She may prove useful if something is uncovered.” Vader bowed his head once, “As you wish” and walked out the door. The ship that had eluded Tyrell was now sitting in docking bay 2037, many levels below. His pace was a bit faster than usual and as he headed for the turbolift tubes, a mouse droid happened to wander into his path. He gestured slightly and the squeaking little ‘droid was scooted to the side of the hall, out of his way. As the doors to the lift opened and he entered, there was an almost imperceptible rippling in the Force . . . a tingling deep in his brain that trickled down his neck, over his shoulders and made him shudder slightly . . . it was some sort of recognition. The doors closed and the lift whisked away, rapidly shuttling him toward his chosen level. He recognized the sensation . . . it was the presence of his old master. It tingled, as if the Midichlorians in his blood had suddenly been electrically charged. The doors to the lift opened and he exited out into the stream of personnel walking through the corridor. A small group of TIE Pilots was just ahead of him heading toward a hangar, arguing about a known issue with the design of the Ion engines . . . several officers walked behind him and had fallen silent as his looming presence had entered the walkway. He pushed the sensation back, focusing on the ship he now saw in the docking bay before him. A voice blared over the hangar loudspeaker as he walked out into the large bay, “Unlock one-five-seven and nine. Release charges.” He heard the sound of pressure venting from something inside the hangar as he made his way to the detachment standing at attention, and the officer awaiting his arrival. The young officer stepped forward as he came to a stop, “There's no one on board, sir. According to the log, the crew abandoned ship right after takeoff. It must be a decoy, sir. Several of the escape pods have been jettisoned.” Vader turned his head away, looking the ship over, “Did you find any droids?” The officer immediately replied, “No, sir. If there were any on board, they must also have jettisoned.” Had this been just a decoy? Had Obi-Wan, his apprentice and the ‘droids jumped to hyperspace momentarily and then changed ships, sending this one along to buy themselves some time? The sensation pounding in his veins told him otherwise, “Send a scanning crew on board. I want every part of this ship checked.” “Yes, sir.” Replied the officer, as Vader looked back toward the ship once again, “I sense something . . . a presence I've not felt since . . . “ He allowed his words to trail off as he turned and walked away. A presence I've not felt since Obi-Wan left me for dead lying in the black volcanic sand and ash, he thought to himself as he walked. First he discovers that his former master is alive after years of believing him dead, and now Obi-Wan delivers himself directly to him . . . why . . . and why now, after such a long expanse of time? He barely heard the officer behind him “Get me a scanning crew in here on the double. I want every part of this ship checked!” * * * As all the members of the MFP slept . . . as the winds blew outside, drifting the sand this way and that in the dark of the Tatooine night, the holonet indicator beacon on the console in the command center of their barracks blinked on and flashed silently waiting for a message to be checked. * * * I had awakened early, before the dual sunrises for some reason, cleaned up, and was slipping on my armor plates. We all could have used a bit more sleep, which the inspection crew had robbed us of, but the streets were filling with people and the activity of a new day, and our duties awaited us. Danz, Rogue and 4120 were busy out front in the command center and Topolev was taking his turn in the ‘fresher, under the sonic shower. Here on Tatooine, water was far too precious a commodity to be used for something as lavish as a shower, so sonic cleansing was the local practice. The sonic showers actually worked fairly well and cleaned you more thoroughly than water, once you got the hang of using them properly. Personally, I still preferred standing under hot streams of water for cleaning and relaxing after a long day, but it is not to be . . . not here . . . not now. My black-rimmed ID tags hung around my neck as I slipped my chest armor over my head. I tucked them inside the front plate and strapped it down snugly. Danz passed by the open portal in the front command center as I was doing this, then he stepped back to the doorway and yelled out, “Ddraig! Wake up . . . you’ve got a holo message.” Ddraig’s eyes opened slightly as he sat up and swung his legs out over the edge of his upper bunk. He yawned and took another deep breath, letting it out slowly as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, then opened. A small groan escaped his lips as he jumped down to the floor. Stretching a bit, he walked out front, sat down at the holonet console, and keyed his personal account entry code. The screen went blank for a moment . . . he wiped his eyes and yawned again . . . then the screen flickered as a text display opened . . . it was from his friend, TK-1999, in Internal Security, back on Coruscant. “Ddraig, I can’t stay on this channel long, but I wanted to let you and your men know that the ship that escaped Tatooine yesterday, the Millenium Falcon, was just recovered when she re-entered normal space in the Alderaan asteroid field. Sorry . . . I forgot, you might not have heard . . . Tarkin and Vader used the Death Star on Alderaan . . . it’s all over the holonet news. The entire planet is gone, there’s nothing left but an asteroid field.” Ddraig’s eyes darted a bit faster over the text, “One of our TIE pilots coaxed the ship to give chase, although initial reports now show no passengers. The controls may have been slave-rigged to respond to other traffic . . . I guess an analysis of the ship will shed more light on that. At Lord Vader’s request, a scanning crew was brought in to search the ship top to bottom. The initial walk-through turned up nothing . . . the passengers seemed to have ejected with their cargo. But, just a few moments ago, TK-0421 and another trooper were found stunned, lying naked in the engine compartment of the captured ship. A search has been mounted as it is possible the fugitives may be onboard the Death Star. Thanks for the efforts you and your unit made to stop these rebels . . . I just wanted to update you. I’ll fill you in more as information trickles through from the station. I handle all the official communiqués to Imperial Center and the Palace. I’ll know about it before the Emperor does. Enjoy the sand, buddy. TK-1999 out.” The screen faded back to darkness, and Ddraig sat motionless for a moment. Then he stood up, “Tarkin and Lord Vader tested the Death Star on Alderaan . . . the planet’s completely blown away . . . there’s only an asteroid field there now.” “What!?” said Rogue. 4120 looked around, stunned, as did Danz. Ddraig continued, “He also said the Millenium Falcon was captured by the Station. It must have been heading to Alderaan when it was captured. None of the passengers have been recovered yet, just the ship . . . the message was from my friend back on Coruscant. He works in Internal Security, and receives all inbound communications to the Emperor. We probably got this before his Excellency.” Rogue nodded, “Thanks for letting us know . . . well, we won’t need to head back to Anchorhead now” he noted, glancing over to 4120, “The Inspection Team will be filing their report with Lord Vader soon. They have all the information detailing our search and the Anchorhead interrogation, as well as the bits of information we discovered about the missing nephew farmhand, Luke, and the old man accompanying him. If they can tie that to something aboard the ship, maybe they’ll have a chance of finding them . . . it doesn’t sound too promising though. If everyone jettisoned in the onboard lifepods early in the flight, they could be anywhere. It’s beyond us now. What a pity about Alderaan, they had such beautiful works of art there.” Ddraig nodded slowly, then slipped back into the bunkroom to tell the rest of us as 4120 spoke up, “I can’t believe Alderaan is gone!” Rogue nodded, “We need to place a notice for the Moisture Farmers . . . organize a meeting so everyone knows we’re here . . . start a dialogue with them to hear some of their concerns. That’s why we’re here.” 4120 nodded, “Yeah, I’ll get right on it. You know . . . Lord Vader is going to have nothing but more questions about the origins of the flight and the outcast Jedi once the inspection crew files their report. We should pay a personal visit to the port authority to see if we’ve gotten everything they know.” * * * After a brief, morning meal of field rations, Falker, Ddraig, Felth and 0600 headed out to the port authority office to see if more information could be obtained about the Millenium Falcon and her crew. Rogue, Blade, 4120 and Danz were out on the streets putting up public notices about the meeting with the moisture farmers and Topolev, Etz and I had gone back down into the storage cache in the rear room to finish going through the inventory. Etz stood on a repulsor sled, as he worked on the luminaries in the ceiling. He finished his wiring and closed the overhead panel, then lowered the sled to within a foot of the ground. “That astromech doesn’t look that bad . . . you think you can fix it Deckard?” He activated the wall-mounted switch, and the overhead lighting flickered on, brightly lighting up the room. “Much better”, said Topolev, as he finished opening a few more crates in the back of the room. I thoughtfully looked the little ‘droid over as I strained to scoot the heavy mech out to the lift, “I think so . . . but I’m definitely going to need a few parts”. I positioned the burned out ‘droid in the center of the lift, next to a crate of blasters, “We can check out some of the local shops when we’re done here. They should have what I’ll need . . . this little guy’s been around a while . . . and outdated parts seem to be a specialty around here.” Topolev laughed as he kept working. Etz put down his tools and walked over to the bay door he had been ready to open the night before. He stood there, looking at it for a moment, then reached up and slid the lever to one side. The lights he had just repaired overhead flickered slightly and there was a deep rumbling in the floor as the large bay doors began to slide open. Topolev stepped out from where he was, and I walked over to Etz, standing next to the shelf of arrest records as the doors parted. * * * “There has to be more!” demanded Falker, slamming his fist down on the desk of the Harbor Master. “This Port Authority office is a joke” said Ddraig, disgusted. 0600 moved closer to the desk as Falker walked away to keep from strangling the bloated, reptilian officer seated behind it. Felth watched the door as 0600 pulled off his bucket and leaned in close to the officer, “Show me the flight records for the past 72 standard hours . . . or you won’t live long enough to receive another payment from Jabba the Hutt to keep those records secure”, and he flipped on the power cell on his holstered E-11. Beads of sweat formed on the officer’s brow, as 0600 held his locked stare. The sweat beads began trickling down the scaly face of the officer as the high-pitched whine of the power cell cycled up to full. 0600, still locked in his stare, thumbed loose the holster snap, freeing the blaster. “You win! I’ll get you the records”, said the officer, “but Jabba won’t be very happy with you”. 0600 leaned even closer, “Do I look like I care what Jabba thinks of me?” The officer shook his head quickly. “Get them now” said 0600. The officer stood, moving to the back room, under the watchful eye, and trained blaster muzzle of Falker. 0600 had lost his brother to one of Jabba’s henchmen years ago, and now Taka was dead. The Hutt was hiding information he needed to find a rebel killer . . . perhaps it was time for the crime lord to be disposed of. Felth shifted a bit in the back of the room, taking everything in as the Harbor Master returned with several data cards. “You’ll find the records you’re looking for on these. The crew of the YT-1300 Corellian ship, the Millenium Falcon is Han Solo, and his first mate, Chewbacca, the Wookiee . . . they’re regulars here. They come and go for long stretches, but eventually they always end up back here. You might also want to track down Dash Rendar. He’s Captain of the Outrider, a Corellian YT-2400 and a friend of Solo’s . . . and he was in town until yesterday. He raised ship a few hours before the ‘Falcon. They both have worked for Jabba over the years. That’s all I know, I swear. The rest of the details are on the cards”. 0600 took the cards and walked out, followed by the others. The Harbor Master closed his eyes in relief, breathing a bit easier now that they were gone. Then he turned to his holonet port and opened a direct line to Jabba’s court. * * * Blade posted a notice on the wall of the marketplace as Rogue worked the other side of the courtyard. Even this early in the morning, the marketplace was filled with farmers and merchants, peddling their wares, services and crops, and with others buying or just trying to get under the draped overhead canopies and out of the direct rays of the suns. Danz and Blade spoke with several of the farmers who were voicing their concerns about recent increase in activity from the Sandpeople. “I’ve had water stolen from six ‘vaporators this week alone . . . and they vandalized the repair ‘droid that was out there working. They don’t much bother the units out in the dunes, but the ones that skirt the Wastes are always being raided.” Danz nodded, “I understand your frustration, and this is exactly what we want to hear from you . . . but at the meeting. We’re here to help make sure you can get your crops harvested without interference of any kind.” “About time” said one of the older farmers, as the crowd dispersed and they went back to their work. “The meeting’s in two days, we’ll all find out more then. Spread the word to the outlying farms”, said 4120. Danz shook his head, “Rough crowd”. 4120 laughed “Yeah”. As the troops regrouped on the far side of the square and headed off to post more notices, a figure watched them go, then flipped open a commlink and began speaking in Huttese. * * * I could hear sand being crushed and ground down as the large doors slid all the way open . . . and then there was silence . . . absolute still silence. Topolev walked over to us and the three of us stepped through the opening into the cool darkness that lay beyond. Etz reached for a luminary control on the wall, but there was none. Slowly, our unaided human eyes adjusted to the dim light stolen from the adjacent room behind us. The darkness ahead was basically an empty room, save one large object in the center. As our eyes adjusted further, we were able to make out the rounded, sloping body of what appeared to be a transport-type vehicle. We all stepped closer to the craft. It was a very sleek troop transport. Although the end we were facing appeared to be the rear thrusters, as we walked around, it became clear that it was actually the front, and the thrusters were for close, tight maneuvering . . . open-air cockpit seating was situated just above them. As we continued around, we saw that the rear of the transport was low and open, with a wide tailboard for easy deployment and quick, retreating dust-offs. There were benches down both sides of the open-air, rear troop compartment, with hooks on the walls and the deck plates for securing prisoners. An array of armaments were built-in and flush, beneath the skins of the ship to maintain its’ unbroken curving surface. Etz walked around the left side, as Topolev and I walked around the right. Several fueling lines were draped over hooks on the rear wall. I followed the lines of the stony walls up to the ceiling overhead. There was a seam running down the center of the ceiling, appearing to be the dividing line between a set of doors that would open to take the ship out. Topolev and Etz saw what I was looking at, both looking up. Etz reached for another lever on the wall, “This must open the upper doors” as his hand wrapped around the handle. “WAIT!” yelled Topolev. “Think about where we are right now. Those doors must open up in the courtyard behind the barracks. At least one of the shuttle’s landing gear assemblies is probably on top of them . . . if you open that up, the shuttle comes crashing in”. Etz removed his hand from the lever. “You’re right . . . good call.” Topolev exhaled heavily, “That was close.” He looked over to the ship “This thing’s a prototype, I saw plans similar to this when I was stationed on Kashyyyk, but I never saw one make it to production.” I walked a little closer, running my hand over the smooth, curving metal “It’s pretty slick whatever it is.” * * * As he walked behind his men up the narrow stairs from the marketplace toward the crowded streets above, Rogue unclipped his commlink and keyed the transmit button, “Garindan, meet us at the building across from the Cantina. I repeat, Meet us at the building across from the Cantina.” There were a few moments of white noise static from the tiny speaker and then “Of course”. Rogue snapped off the comm and returned it to his belt. The crowds parted as they spilled out onto the street. No one wanted to make eye contact for fear they might be dragged into something. The elders remembered living through the Clone Wars and the troops from that time. The armor was a bit different and there were no longer clones underneath, but the mission was the same, loyalty to the success of the Empire and suppression of the people to make it so, forcefully whenever necessary. The group marched in formation through the blistering sand, thankful for every slight breeze that managed to blow under the armor plates and lower edges of their helmets. The shimmering twin suns were now almost directly overhead, blasting everything that dared venture into the open with punishing heat. A narrow sliver of the largest of Tatooine’s three moons was barely visible out over the Dune Sea as it prepared to slip below the horizon, and the sky was clear . . . no clouds, but then there were hardly ever clouds on Tatooine. With only 1% surface water, a total population of around 200,000, and Moisture Farmers constantly coaxing the little they could from the atmosphere . . . well . . . clouds, in any large abundance, were definitely a rare occurrence. As the small group drew closer to the Cantina, they could see the darkly-robed figure of Garindan in the distance, working his way through the crowded street, heading their way. Rogue activated his bucket’s comm chin switch, “Falker, any luck with the Harbor Master?” A brief moment of silence was broken by Falker’s static-laden reply “Yeah. I think we’ve got some good information to check once we get back to base.” “Great news.” said Rogue “We’re at base now, we’ll see you soon . . . 1009 out”. His sign-off was immediately followed by a slight burst of static. He flipped the chin switch from comm mode back to broadcast mode. “Blade, go on ahead inside and get the data card reader ready for us. We’ll be inside as soon as the snitch arrives. I want to see what he knows about our mysterious, exiled Jedi”. Blade nodded and walked off the main road down the alley to our front portal and entered. Danz leaned a little closer to Rogue and 4120 as he moved his head side to side, watching the passersby on the street “Do you think he knows anything?” 4120 looked to his CO, but Rogue kept a watchful eye on his dark Kubaz spy as he drew closer “If he knew the other troops stationed here, he’s been here a long time . . . hopefully he’s as connected as he says he is . . . I just hope he isn’t working both sides.” * * * The disturbing images of TK-1138’s violent death at the hands of the hooded and robed old hermit came to a close, and we saw the final, sideways images of the boy and old man walking past the helmet camera. The display screen on the card reader flashed to static as the recording came to a close. Rogue pulled the helmet data card out of the slot as Garindan settled back in his seat, silent for a moment, in thought. He had seen the old man many times over the years in the cantina, drinking silently at the bar, but never paid him much attention. He was just a quiet loner that lived somewhere out in the rocky hills of the Jundland wastes, who rarely ventured into town. Blade, Danz and 4120 stood around him with Rogue, as I entered the room from the barracks in the back, wiping a power coupling from the damaged ‘droid on a dirty rag. Garindan shifted in his seat and turned his goggled eyes to face Rogue, “I have seen this man before, but know nothing of him”, which was of course, only partially the truth. “There are two others that have spent time in Chalmun’s Cantina that may know something of him. Over the years I have seen the old man speaking with the pilot BoShek and the Ithorian, Mamow Nadon . . . the Hammerhead. He has spent more time with Nadon, and only recently did I see him speak with BoShek. The hermit goes by the name Ben Kenobi.” As he finished speaking, Falker, Ddraig, Felth and 0600 entered from the street. Falker spoke, “We’ve got all the flight records for the past 72 hours right here” holding up the data cards “ . . . now we just have to go through them to find the information we’re looking for. It turns out the Harbor Master is on the Hutt’s payroll, and he was hiding flight records, until 0600 . . . explained . . . to him how badly we needed them. I think a visit to Jabba the Hutt is definitely in order after we complete the business at hand . . . just to touch base and let him know we’re here.” Rogue turned slightly at the waist, shaking the helmet data card at him, “If the Harbor Master’s on the payroll, you can be sure the Hutt was notified about us the moment we first touched down. We’ll see him . . . when the time is right.” He stepped away, pacing across the room a bit as Etz and Topolev joined us in the command center and I spoke up, “If both of these other contacts were known to frequent Chalmun’s, we need a sweep of the bar to locate them. If Bo Shek is a pilot, he could leave at any moment.” Falker leaned in a bit toward Garindan, “The Harbor Master mentioned another pilot named Dash Rendar . . . said he was a pilot and friend to Han Solo, the Captain of the Millenium Falcon. Do you know anything about him?” “Rendar . . . Rendar and Solo are competitive rivals when it comes to the speed of their starships . . . the Outrider and the Millenium Falcon . . . but, then again, so is BoShek. As far as I know, Rendar and Solo are friends, but BoShek has been boasting recently that he beat Solo’s time on the Kessel Run . . . which he did, but he did it with no cargo loaded onboard his ship, Infinity. Solo wasn’t happy about the grand claims and quickly set BoShek straight as to the rules of the game. They’re all free-lance spacers, and have flown for Jabba the Hutt over the years. BoShek has also flown for the B’Omarr Monks on occasion. Rendar has been in town for about a week, but raised ship just before Solo did. I’m not sure where he was headed, but I do know he had a recent meeting with the Hutt.” “The records we just got our hands on should give us more information about that” said 0600, and he grabbed the cards from Falker. He motioned for Garindan to get up, and the Kubaz spy complied. Rogue spoke to us as his friend sat down, “Deckard, take Etz, Topolev, Falker and Ddraig over to the Cantina . . . see if our targets are in there. If not, find out more about where we can find BoShek and Mamow Nadon”. 0600 sat down at the reader and inserted the first card to begin pouring through the records in search of something that might help. “0600, let 1265 take over that reader and do the searching . . . I want you to come with me, Danz, 4120, Blade and Felth” said Rogue. “We’re going to head back to the Lars place to see if there’s anything left behind that ties Luke to old Ben Kenobi. If we don’t find anything there, we’ll head back to Tosche Station in Anchorhead and press Fixer and his friends for more information. Let’s move, people, it’s already almost midday.” We all moved to the bunkroom to gear up as Garindan moved toward the door . . . Rogue followed, stopping at the doorway. “We need everything we can find on this Ben Kenobi and his involvement with Luke, Owen Lars’ nephew. Time is of the essence . . . Lord Vader will have questions about them both very soon . . . we need to have answers ready. Keep in touch, and let me know what you uncover.” Garindan nodded his large head and beak and disappeared outside, heading toward the main street. Rogue grabbed his pack and pulled it on, closely watching the dark-robed spy disappear into the crowds, “My team, let’s go! Everyone in the shuttle out back . . . 4120, you’re flying.” * * * A murky fog hung heavy over the still waters below, as the Outrider coasted silently along on repulsors, scanning the waters along the edge of the enormous lake on Dathomir. There were pieces of debris half submerged here in the shallows . . . from battles long over. The wreckage of several snubships of various origin could be seen just below the glassy surface, and the still, silent head of an All Terrain Armored Transport broke the surface, thrust upward like a metallic beast struggling for air, forever frozen in time. Rendar had heard of the savage battles here, and from the widespread abundance of twisted remnants, he could tell it was one that raged for some time. As the fog thinned under the heat of the emerging sun, the faint outline of a huge sail barge was visible in the distance. He maneuvered his ship over to it, silently sliding past, taking note of its excellent condition. Very little, if any, damage was visible from the outside. Either her crew had been killed, or it had been accidentally set adrift during the battle. Regardless of how she came to be here in this ship graveyard, Rendar knew he could sell her easily on the open market. The retractable awnings and masts on the upper decks would have to be stowed in a swept-back position for transporting, he thought as his brain raced with the possibilities. He tried desperately to think of someone that owed him a favor . . . someone with a transport large enough to contain her. There was a filthy-rich, Hutt crime lord back on Tatooine that would pay generously for such a high-profile display of wealth . . . possibly even generously enough for him to finally purchase a second ship. As he contemplated going onboard to look for salvageable cargo, his scanner began blipping . . . reminding him of the current reason he was here . . . there was a gathering of large lifeforms just ahead on the shore of the lake. The Outrider silently pulled away from the barge as Rendar keyed the position of the barge into his ‘nav computer . . . he would be back. As for this current trip, if all went well with the capture, he would be on his way back to Tatooine soon . . . with his quarry. A high-pitched chorus of cries rose from the shoreline . . . the gathering of beasts had made a kill and was fighting over the steaming carcass. Rendar cinched his chest armor down tightly, checked his holstered blaster, and energized the powerful stun rifle leaning against his instrument panel . . . he had to capture a young one . . . and it had to be alive. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
TK-6829 Posted December 19, 2006 Share Posted December 19, 2006 This is a great story....I'm not just saying this because my trooper is in it! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 Thanks John! Here's a little bit more: I later came to discover that this inner city portion of Mos Eisley was known as “Pirate City”. This area surrounding the spaceport had earned the nickname by playing host to pirates, smugglers, ships and guns for hire and those who sought out their less-than-reputable services. And as relaxed as the patrons of Chalmun’s Cantina were, they definitely sat up and took notice a bit when five Sandtroopers entered and spilled down the steps into the noise and smoke of the cool, murky chamber. The pulsing beat of the music slowed a bit, but quickly recovered as Dan and the Nodes kept the music playing . . . watching us slip in amongst the crowd. Ddraig stood by the ‘droid detector, covering the front door, I worked my way quickly around to the back of the room to cover the rear exit and Etz stepped up to the bar to ask Wuher about our two marks. Topolev and Falker stepped into the thick of the crowd, watching the faces of those around them as Wuher spoke to Etz. The Hammerhead, Nadon, was easily found, seated in the corner booth, sipping on a drink, and they moved in closer to his table, watching him. Etz moved away from the bar, and as he made his way past Falker and Topolev . . . he indicated a human in a flight suit seated at a card game near the back of the room. The three of them moved toward me . . . Etz motioned to his eye lenses and then to Nadon for Ddraig to keep an eye on the Ithorian. Falker stepped up to the game table, “BoShek?” The dark-haired human looked up from his cards, the smoke from his cigar drifting about his head. Etz and Topolev flanked Falker as the Rodian and the two other humans at the table laid down their cards, grabbed their credits and left BoShek alone with us. The remaining human exhaled deeply, slowly laid his cards down and grabbed the thick cigar near his lips, pulling it away from his mouth. He spit out a small bit of the leafy cigar, “Look, I’ve been over this and over this . . . the ship has been re-registered in my name, there’s no reason to think . . .” Falker cut him off, “This isn’t about your ship. We need answers about someone you know, and we need them now. We can discuss your business here, or you can come with us outside for a little more privacy.” The pilot nodded slowly, looking around, “OK, let’s step outside then . . . I’ll need to work after this is over.” I saw Etz, Falker and Topolev step back as BoShek stood up from the table. He gathered his credits and surrendered his thigh-holstered blaster to Falker as the four walked past me out the back door. I stepped over closer to Ddraig to move on Nadon. Ddraig positioned himself to one side of the booth . . . I stepped up to the other. “Mamow Nadon?” I asked. The tired eyes atop the twin eye stalks blinked twice as he looked up from his drink and fixed his sight on us. “Yes?” came the stereo response from his dual mouths. Ddraig continued “We need information about someone you have known over the years.” The aging Ithorian sat upright, speaking slowly with calculated clarity, “Oh? I do hope this person hasn’t gone and done something foolish . . . who is it you are inquiring about?” I looked over at Ddraig and then responded “We need to know about Ben Kenobi, the hermit that lives in the hills . . . out in the wastes.” Mamow Nadon stiffened slightly. Kenobi had warned him that this day would come, that it was just a matter of time. The Ithorian had seen his friend looking for passage off-world with the young boy, Luke. Ben had told him “When and if I leave the planet, it will be with the boy. Once I am gone, should anyone come asking about me, save yourself and tell them anything they want to know. By the time they ask, it will be too late for your information to be of any assistance to them.” Nadon took a sip of his drink, “Ben Kenobi . . . . Ben Kenobi. I can tell you about him, but let’s go out to the street . . . there are far too many ears in here.” * * * The Outrider now sat silently camouflaged in the lush, dense foliage near the water’s edge. Rendar exited his ship and moved stealthily along the shore, parting the tall grasses, advancing on the feeding herd ahead. There were approximately nine of the beasts, with the largest of the males and females ripping the kill to pieces, devouring their meal and throwing the occasional small piece to the gathering of young ones several meters away. Rendar was close enough now to watch them . . . closer than he cared to be, but he needed the close proximity to single out the best choice for capture. There were three youngsters watching their elders, but two of them had pushed a smaller one to the back of their group, leaving him relatively unattended. Rendar lowered his rifle and peered through the scope, taking aim on the small one in the rear of the pack . . . then he waited. He listened to the grunting and snarling as the group fed. One of the larger males swiped at another, growling and howling loudly . . . the sound echoing off the water. As it did, render fired a full-power stun beam at the smallest of them. The blue rings slapped it in the back and it dropped to the ground. The others continued eating, not noticing the fact that the youngest lay unconscious on the ground. Dash reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew a small capsule. He moved as close as he dared to the rear of the herd and silently hurled the capsule into the foliage beyond them. There was a small flash of light, followed by billowing smoke. As the herd looked up from its’ meal to address the smoke, he lifted the four foot “baby” Rancor off the ground, and draping it over his shoulders, turned and ran toward his ship. He was almost to it when one of the older, 10-meter tall males caught sight of him running and let out a horrific howl, and crashed off through the underbrush after the stolen youngster, followed by the rest of the herd. They tore through the muddy vines and grasses quickly closing the distance between their meal and Rendar. Dash raced through the muddy terrain and foliage, vines ripping at his face and arms as he ran for his life. The dead weight of the unconscious Rancor over his shoulder slowed him down immensely. His foot hit the bottom of the Outrider’s ramp and he glanced back over his shoulder . . . the herd was gaining rapidly. The interior hatch slammed down and the ramp lifted as he flung the rancor off his shoulder and ran for the cockpit, dropping his rifle. The engines lay waiting on standby until he slammed a control lever forward, raising them to full power as he jumped into his seat. One hand instinctively found the throttle, the other a directional stick. The engines fired as the repulsors pushed hard against the muddy ground. The landing gear feet pulled clear of the thick mud, retracting as the ship rose into the air . . . he heard the horrible scraping sound of the huge claws of his pursuers squealing across the lower hull as it ripped toward the sky. His breaths were deep and his heart pounding as the Outrider streaked away from Dathomir. The ‘nav computer beeped confirmation as he entered the coordinates for Tatooine. With a safe course plotted, he gently pulled back on the twin center-throttle controls, initiating the hyperspace jump. The dim starlight outside his cockpit window streaked into long, stretched starlines as the Outrider was flung out of the Quelii sector to lightspeed. As his body adjusted to the increased speed, he stood up and went back to the hold to secure his latest delivery. “Easy Money” he muttered to himself, grinning as he snapped the stun collar around the neck of the Rancor. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 I'm going to post up all the posts I have ready to go so far so everyone can get caught up. Here is another: Wailing Tatooine winds whipped across the open expanse of desert as an early-afternoon sandstorm advanced rapidly across the flats. 4120 lowered the shuttle to the ground near the domed entry to the underground Lars homestead as the front edge of the storm swept over the ship and engulfed the farm. The small band of troops descended the ramp into the swirling wind and churning, stinging bite of the sand. They were barely able to make out the shapes of several local people braving the wind and flying sand of the storm to move two large bundles down into the shelter of the underground dwelling . . . their loose desert clothing flapping wildly in the strong gusts. Our troops crossed the distance to the relative protection of the entryway. Danz, bucket off, had sprinted ahead and was hurrying everyone out of the storm and to follow us down into the homestead. Felth led the small band, emptying out into a small alcove at the base of the steps. The thermal imaging in their helmets had activated in the dim light. The others they had seen had gone ahead a bit and were waiting in the corridor ahead. 0600, Rogue, Danz and Blade followed Felth into the corridor with 4120 bringing up the rear. Felth had his E-11 drawn and leveled at the others in the corridor as Rogue stepped forward “What’s you’re business here?” The man in the front of the group pulled his goggles up into his dark hair, “I might ask you the same . . . I’m Huff Darklighter . . . I own several neighboring farms that share borders with this one. Several of my farmhands were out repairing ‘vaporator units yesterday and reported seeing smoke over this way. They rode over in their speeder to check things out and made a gruesome discovery. The owners, Owen and Beru Lars had been savagely murdered, and the farm had been left in ruins . . . burning. I just heard about it this morning when I returned from a business trip in Mos Espa.” The second man in the group stepped up, removing his goggles . . . he was younger, also with dark hair “I’m betting you did this . . . the timing fits perfectly with when we were questioned at the power station”, indicating the others behind him. The young woman next to him now raised her goggles and pulled his arm, holding him back “Fixer, don’t.” “We were here . . . ” said Rogue “and we spoke to the Lars’ about the same missing droid you were questioned about. Owen said he had sent the two ‘droids he’d just bought to Mos Espa for refurbishing and memory wipes. It was when we started asking about their nephew, Luke, that they both became defensive. Mrs. Lars . . . Beru, held us at bay with a thermal detonator, and inadvertently vaporized herself and Owen when she . . . dropped it.” It was only partly the truth, but the gist of the chain of events was accurate. The younger man edged forward, held back again by Camie, “You expect us to buy that?” Rogue turned to him. Moving closer “I don’t care if you buy it or not. I don’t answer to you and I certainly don’t owe you any explanation beyond that where sensitive Imperial business is concerned . . . got it?” Fixer stared back as another young voice spoke up behind Camie “So where’s Wormie?” Rogue leaned his head to one side to see past Fixer, “You mean Luke?” “Yeah . . . no one’s seen him since a couple of days ago when he came blasting into the station bragging about seeing . . . a battle beyond the atmosphere.” said Windy, realizing that Luke had been right. “Yeah” echoed Deak. “That’s actually why we’re here” said Rogue, “we’re looking for more information about Luke and the hermit of the wastes . . . Ben Kenobi.” All faces went blank as a silence fell over the group . . . then Deak spoke up “I knew that old freak would crack up one day and do something like this.” Huff Darklighter rolled his eyes “You don’t know that he . . .“ but Deak continued “I overheard my parents talking to the Lars about him once . . . he came here several times over the years, asking about Luke . . . bringing him gifts, how creepy is that?. Owen didn’t like him much, and finally ordered him to stay away from the farm and Luke. Beru seemed to always feel sorry for him.” The wind howled outside, spraying sand down the steps behind them. 4120 stepped up a bit closer “What have you got there in your bundles?” nodding toward the darkness of the floor. Huff leaned closer, “That’s what’s left of Owen and Beru. We were about to bury them when the sandstorm kicked up. We’ll finish when it passes. These small storms don’t last long . . . not like the Teeth of Tatooine.” All the troopers turned to the older moisture farmer, “The Teeth of Tatooine?” asked Danz. Darklighter nodded, “That’s right. There are several deserts that make up the Dune Sea. Most of Tatooine is uninhabited by humans, only Sandpeople and some Jawas venture much beyond the edges of the settlements outside Anchorhead, Mos Espa and Mos Eisley. Not far out from here in the Dune Sea is a transitional area where two of these deserts meet. One is on a higher plateau than the other, and when the afternoon comes, the changing temperatures and air pressures cause the cooling air of the higher desert to shift and rush down into the lower plateau in a blinding daily sandstorm that hurls sharp rock shards along the sloping region, shredding anything left out in the open . . . hence the name, The Teeth of Tatooine.” 0600 tapped Rogue on the shoulder, “We should get started with why we came . . . to see if we can find anything left behind that might help. The techdome and the power generator are total losses . . . the oils and fuels out there made for a pretty intense fire, but the hydroponic growing rooms down below us, and the living quarters may still be somewhat intact . Rogue nodded in agreement, motioning for the others to follow, “You civilians wait here. When the storm passes, bury your dead and be on your way, this homestead is part of our investigation and off limits until further notice” as he eyed Fixer “off limits” and headed off down the hallway. The others followed him down the hall until he stopped and turned around, “We’re going to need to dig in from here” gesturing to a collapsed portion of the tunnel. “Luckily, 0600 and I have a bit of experience with that.” He pulled off his bucket, grinning “. . . right?” He turned and began clearing out some of the larger stone pieces, shoving them back to be moved out of the way. “It looks like just pieces of the tunnel frame casing . . . the sand here is packed almost as tight as rock.” 0600 pulled off his bucket and set to work as the others did the same and moved in to help. * * * The slow-moving Ithorian moved a few feet further into the alley . . . off the main street and away from anyone who might have wanted to overhear. He leaned against the back wall of the Mos Eisley cantina, feeling the vibrations from the music inside in his bones. “Ben Kenobi, huh” he sighed deeply, silently gathering his thoughts, and silently apologizing to his friend, whom he still felt he was betraying, regardless of what he had been told. I met Ben Kenobi almost 20 years ago now, right here in this bar” he said, running his long fingers across the wall behind him with a bit of an unfocused, far away look in his eyes as he recalled the past. “The day had been long, full of intricate experiments with my Bafforr trees and I was in for a drink to help me relax and re-focus . . . .” “You ever do anything except mess around with those plants?” asked Wuher. “You ever do anything except mess around with those drinks?” replied Nadon, sardonically, tipping up his drink. Wuher snorted . . . “Touché. What’s so damned interesting about them anyway?” he said as he continued mixing and concocting the next drink. Nadon tasted his drink as he formulated his response, “These trees are special . . . they are aware . . . they have a living awareness, not just a shadow or presence in the Force.” Wuher laughed, “You a mystic too . . . or a Jedi? I could use the money I’d earn by turning you in” he laughed. “Nadon laughed as well, “No, my friend, I’m hardly Jedi material, although I have had no problems feeling the Force, sometimes stronger than others.” Nadon didn’t notice the cloaked young man further down the bar taking a sudden interest in their conversation. The music streamed across the open room and smoke hung thick in the air tonight. Wuher was busy keeping up with the drink orders for the heavy crowd. “I paid a pretty penny for each of my trees, and have been experimenting with their Force-presence and the effects of Ysalimiri on them and the Force around them.” Wuher had stopped mixing the drink and was staring blankly with a dense expression on his face. The conversation had definitely taken a turn, moving it far above his comprehension level. Nadon smiled a small smile, “It’s not terribly important work, but it keeps me interested, busy . . . and out of trouble.” He raised his cup and downed the last of his liquid intoxicant. “Thank you for the drink . . . but I must be on my way.” As he stood up from the bar, Wuher absently waved once with a free hand . . . he was mixing yet another new drink . . . trying to find that perfect blend . . . that perfect taste. As the Ithorian ascended the steps to the front door, the cloaked patron further down the bar lay several credits down, threw back the rest of his drink and made his way toward the door as the dark-goggled Kubaz at the table in front of the band turned to watch him go. Nadon was on the darkened, empty street making his way toward his speeder when the second, human bar patron stepped out into the cool evening air. As the Ithorian climbed into the speeder, the human drew nearer, “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear about your interest in Bafforr trees and Ysalimiri.” Nadon turned his head ‘round trying to make out the face of the cloaked figure in the pale moonlight. The human sensed his uneasiness and reached up, pulling back his hood, revealing a gentle face, “Hello there. Don’t be afraid, I mean you no harm . . .I swear. I’m interested in your discussion with our bartender friend. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the presence of a Bafforr tree, and was curious about your findings . . . with the Ysalimiri. I’ve heard rumors, but do they really generate an area where the Force cannot exist?” Nadon leaned a little closer, “I feel you in the Force, my new friend, quite strongly . . . in the past I felt others with the same presence as you . . . another lifetime ago, before the madness. Yes . . . if I recall correctly . . . they do have Bafforr trees in the gardens of the Jedi Temple . . . don’t they?” Kenobi straightened up a bit, hand moving to the side of his belt. “Don’t worry, friend” said, the Ithorian, looking around the dark streets, “ I am as much a refugee as you are. I pose no threat to you . . . and have no interests in revealing your presence here . . . I promise. Would you like to see them . . . and judge for yourself about the Ysalimiri?” After a brief moment of silence as Nadon’s words sunk in fully, “Absolutely” came Kenobi’s response. The arborist motioned for the Jedi outcast to join him in the speeder, “We don’t receive many visitors, the trees and I . . . in fact . . . you are the first.” Kenobi’s face broke into a smile as he climbed into the passenger compartment and Nadon pulled away into the darkness heading for his home. “You said you were a refugee also. What happened to you to make you seek refuge here?” The speeder glided along as Nadon relayed the details of his life as a High Priest and highly esteemed arborist, and his banishment as they disappeared into the night heading toward his small dwelling nestled in the foothills on the outskirts of Mos Eisley. * * * It burned cold now, like fire-ice in his veins, racing through him, pulsing with his heartbeat, warming . . . and chilling him at the same time. There could be no doubt that his old master was near . . . and had been concealed onboard the Millenium Falcon when she was dragged onboard. Vader remained silent as Tarkin’s meeting closed and his top consultants left the room. He watched as the last one . . . senior Imperial Commander in charge of operations, Admiral Motti stepped silently into the corridor outside. He was an arrogant peddler of the technological might and ultimate battle superiority that this new Death Star would bring to the Empire . . . Vader detested him. “I should have strangled him when I had the opportunity” escaped his lips and was faithfully reproduced by the synthetic voice enhancers in his helmet. Tarkin swiveled his chair slightly, staring coldly as the door to the corridor slid shut. “He’s one of my top men for a reason. He understands the necessary show of power it will take to keep the local systems . . .” “He is an imbecile” Vader interrupted, “. . . a child in an adult’s arena . . . but we have more important matters that have surfaced.” Tarkin stood, “What matters?” Vader paused momentarily, “I reviewed the helmet recording from the trooper on Tatooine. I saw a disturbing image on it . . . one which I have been replaying over and over . . . seeking clarity and not reaching any. With the capture of the Millenium Falcon, I have come to discover that my first impressions from the images are true. My former master is alive, and . . . He is here.” “Obi-Wan Kenobi? What makes you think so?” scoffed Tarkin, standing up from his chair. Vader responded matter-of-factly to him “A tremor in the Force. The last time I felt it, was in the presence of my old master.” Images of the violent eruptions on Mustafar and the searing pain of the lightsaber wounds dissolved as Tarkin replied. “Surely he must be dead by now.” Vader turned to him “Don’t underestimate the Force.” “The Jedi are extinct . . . their fire has gone out of the universe. You, my friend are all that’s left of their religion.” As he finished his sentence, the comm on the table sounded. He keyed it on, “Yes?” The voice on the line replied, “Governor Tarkin, we have an emergency alert in detention block AA-23.” The significance of the number sunk in as he keyed the comm again, “The princess? Put all sections on the alert.” Vader took a step closer, “Obi-Wan is here. The Force is with him.” Tarkin glared at his dark friend, “If you’re right, he must not be allowed to escape.” Vader knew better what lay ahead . . . the inescapable destiny that had been set in motion when Obi-Wan had foolishly left him for dead, “Escape is not his plan. I must face him . . . alone.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 Several annoyed Dewbacks shifted around, fighting for space in the small, pungent pen adjacent to the entrance to the Cantina as BoShek paced back and forth, carefully watching where he stepped. “How many times do I need to tell you the same thing? I knew of him, and flew him in a few things over the years, but I didn’t know him. I didn’t drink with him, we never played cards together . . . he was a job . . . nothing more. He had specific requests and paid on time. He came in yesterday looking for Chewbacca . . . the Wookiee from Solo’s ship, the Falcon, and a fast flight out. I couldn’t help him out with the flight . . . I have a job that was already loading up and takes me out outta here tomorrow. I had seen Chewie in the back with Solo just before the old guy came in, so I motioned for him to join us at the bar. I moved down to let them have room to talk, and I finished my drink. I didn’t hear any part of their conversation while they were at the bar, it was too noisy. Then, the kid that was with him must have upset old Doc Evazon and his Aqualish friend. They were about to extend the number of death sentences on their heads from twelve to thirteen when Kenobi pulls out a lightsaber and slices Evazon in two and peels off the Aqualish’s arm. Who uses those things anymore? I moved around to the other side of the scene to get a better look. Doc had eluded many a bounty hunter, and old Ben had dispatched him without breaking a sweat. After he switched off the lightsaber and helped the boy up off the floor, he introduced the kid to Chewie, and they walked past me on their way to see Solo. Now, my Wookiee’s not that good . . . I couldn’t make out what Chewie’s part was, but as they walked by I heard Kenobi say ‘He is still alive, but that is all I can say, my friend.’ And that’s all I know about yesterday, I swear.” “You said you shipped in various things over the years . . .” said Topolev, “What types of things?” Falker and Etz turned their gaze to the pilot as he rocked his head back, staring up into the sky in thought. Falker pushed one of the Dewbacks away, as it had wandered a little too close. “I’m thinking . . . it’s been a long time, guys, and it was only an order or two. If I remember correctly, on one of the orders he said he wanted some security sentries because he lived alone . . . yeah, now I remember . . . the order was for six or seven seeker remotes with shock and stun settings only, no kill. I was only able to find ones with all three, but he said he could disable the kill function himself. I think there was an order for cable and cable fastening hardware, some tools . . . nothing real exotic or questionable.” “He had been seen with Mamow Nadon, the Ithorian from the bar, over the years . . . do you know anything about him? asked Etz. He thought a second . . . “Nadon . . . I’ve had a few jobs for him too over the years, as well as some of the the parts suppliers in Mos Eisley and Mos Espa, Jabba, the B’Omarr monks . . . anybody willing to pay. The Hammerhead paid me to ship in trees, flowers, herbs. He really likes his plants . . . and a few small animals over the years too. I know he’s into plants, but why he would want plants in a place like this is beyond me . . . too much work. Go somewhere green and lush and live there . . . much easier.” Falker spoke up, “What animals did he want?” “Little, fuzzy lizard-things . . . I picked them up from a trader in the markets on Corellia. I think he called them Ysalimanders or something like that . . . said he got them on Myrkr, just off the Perlemian Trade Route . . . you know, in the Colonies . . . near Tenaab.” Topolev glanced over to Falker and Etz . . . then turned back to BoShek, “Where’s your current job taking you? We may need to speak to you again.” “Bespin. I’m hauling out some mining machinery that was salvaged from the far side of Tatooine near the pit.” Topolev looked puzzled, “The pit? I thought this planet was only inhabited in the areas around here?” BoShek grinned, “Well, it is . . . now. Back when the Empire was busy coring out this rock, there was a huge facility on the far side that did the mining and shipping of the ore offworld, so as not to disrupt the locals. Check it out next time you’re heading out, the far side has a huge coring entry point . . . this place is essentially a dead planet . . . a lot of Tatooine’s core has been cut away. Don’t worry, I’ll be back after I make the delivery. This is just the first of several runs I’m making. One of the Bespin mining operations is having all kinds of supply problems and labor issues. Any automation I can supply, they’re willing to pay quite well for. I’ll be back gentlemen. I have nothing to hide . . . this time” he laughed. Etz looked over to Topolev and he nodded, “OK, you’re free to go. If we need you, we’ll find you.” The detainee slipped out of the gate and headed back into the bar as Topolev leaned over to Falker, What do you think Kenobi meant by He’s still alive? Who?” One of the dewbacks groaned. “Let’s attach a homing beacon to his ship just to be sure we know where he is.” Falker nodded and stepped out of the pen, glancing toward the Cantina door, then heading toward the spaceport. * * * Nadon shook his large head as he looked off beyond us, “Has it really been that long? I guess it has . . . where have the years gone.” I pressed him a bit, raising my blaster somewhat, “So, Kenobi was a fugitive Jedi and you did nothing to identify him or turn him over to the local authorities all these years?” He coughed a bit, then responded, “After we went to my home and he saw the trees and Ysalimiri, the gentle person I had seen in the street was gone. He ignited his lightsaber, held it to my neck and told me that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if I ever revealed his secret, or failed to help him with trees and other supplies he needed. He said I’d never see it coming.” Watching our body language closely, Nadon made certain that his lie had been believed. He and Obi-Wan shared no love for the Empire, and he had certainly never been threatened by the ousted protector of peace and justice for the Old Republic. Ddraig urged him to continue, “Tell us more about old Ben.” The Hammerhead drew in a long breath, letting it out evenly and slowly as he remembered the events of the past . . . carefully adjusting them ever so slightly . . . making Kenobi out as a dangerous threat. “I took him to my home and when we stepped inside he was amazed at the work I had been able to accomplish in such a barren place as this . . . .” “Incredible.” said Obi-Wan, “You must have several dozen trees growing in here!” The Ithorian smiled “Four and a half dozen to be exact.” Kenobi walked further back into the room, surrounded by the Bafforr trees, he breathed in deeply, closing his eyes, smelling the richness of the bark and leaves, the very small, pure presence of the Bafforr, stirring the Force . . . for a brief instant it felt as if he were in the safety and beauty of the gardens of the Temple. He missed his home, the only one he remembered having . . . he missed his many friends, now dead. The collective cries of their voices rose to an overwhelming roar in his ears. He opened his eyes and pushed the screams further back into the calm of the Force. Memories, he thought. He knew that his friends were no longer screaming, they were one with the energy of the Force now . . . the screams were echoed memories, screams of anguish and betrayal . . . betrayal by the Jedi that was his padawaan . . . the padawaan that was his responsibility to raise and train and teach. He had failed so miserably with Anakin, and now the galaxy had been made to bear the burden of his failure. The weight of the responsibility bore down on him constantly, eating at him like a hungry animal. “Are you all right?” asked Nadon. Ben nodded. Nadon raised his head, looking up into the branches, “These Ysalimiri, when grouped in relatively close proximity, not only shroud themselves and the trees from the Force, they also create an area surrounding themselves that is a deadened zone, where the Force is not disturbed . . . effectively concealing a meditating Jedi from unwanted detection. You are more than welcome to come and meditate here in my home whenever you like. I understand your need to do so without making any ripples in the Force, giving your presence away.” Kenobi smiled as he glanced around at the trees, “I imagine keeping all these plants watered must cost quite a bit.” Nadon coughed a bit more, as he nodded his head, “I feel like I own a small portion of Darklighter Water.” They both smiled. Then Ben stepped closer to his new friend “If I were able to secure a way for you to water your plants without paying, would you grow me several trees and breed Ysalimiri for each?” The Ithorian blinked several times at the offer, “You have a way to do such a thing?” he asked. “The moisture farmers around here own all of the evaporative units.” Kenobi nodded his head “I do. When I first arrived here, I was given two broken down ‘vaporators by an acquaintance who owns a local farm. I have repaired and restored one to working order, which provides more than enough water for my needs. I can do the same for the second, and bring it to you in exchange for the trees and Ysalimiri.” Nadon breathed in deeply as he contemplated the offer . . . and Ben continued. “I have a need for an area in which the Force can be used, without its use being felt or perceived in the slightest outside the perimeter of the trees . . . that is of the utmost importance. How many trees and Ysalimiri would afford me a space the size of . . . say, twice the space of Chalmun’s?” The high priest from Ithoria calculated the space in his head, “A dozen should work nicely . . .” he said smiling, “I’ll get to work on them right away.” Kenobi smiled and twisted a bit of his beard alongside his chin as he began making mental notes for supplies he would need. He only had a short amount of time before the training must begin. That had been the problem with Anakin from the beginning . . .his age . . . and too many attachments. He was determined to not repeat his mistakes with Luke . . . there was far too much at stake. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 Vader closed the file from the Inspection Team. Tyrell and a small band from Zeta Squad had been destroyed. The sole survivor from the unit, TK-1023 - Davin Felth, was still on-planet with the newly formed Moisture Farm Patrol. The missing plans had been carried overland by maintenance and protocol ‘droids who had somehow managed to deliver them to Obi-Wan, who had escaped Tatooine with plans for the Death Star along with a young moisture farmer named Luke. Luke. That was the name he had heard his Padme utter in his vision as he had seen Obi-wan holding an infant. What did it all mean? His child had died with Padme. Who was this Luke? It was all very unclear. What was clear to him now was why the traitorous Princess from Alderaan had traveled to Tatooine . . . to seek the help of the hidden Jedi Knight and former General of the Republic Army. When the Devastator followed her ship through hyperspace from Toprawa, and her scheme for a personal visit and appeal to Obi-Wan for help fell apart, she entrusted the future of the Rebellion with two service ‘droids. She was desperate to reach him and coax him from seclusion and into service once again. Her desperation must have been vividly conveyed to him by the ‘droids for him to leave the safety of the hiding place that had protected him all these years. He must have sensed the urgent need to deliver the plans to someone in the Rebellion who could use them. But, if there was such a dire and urgent need to get offworld with the plans, why would Obi-Wan have bothered to bring along a young farmhand? Anakin had seen his master’s dislike for pathetic lifeforms many times on their missions together. His master was near, of that he was certain. All these years thinking he had been robbed of dispatching Obi-Wan . . . and now . . . that act he had dreamed of so many times was close at hand. The silence of his open meditation chamber was interrupted by sporadic reports on the open communication channel he had left open. He had been scanning helmet communications for any indication that the passengers of the Millenium Falcon had been located. He wished members of the 501st were still onboard the station, but with its completion, they had been reassigned. Even though his personal group was not present, the station’s troops would find them, it was just a matter of time. “Base, we’re entering detention block AA-23 to inspect camera malfunctions and reports of a reactor leak.” “Copy that.” The information was followed by a short burst of static from the helmet of the reporting trooper, then silence as the Dark Lord pondered Obi-Wan’s involvement, and the pathetic lifeform he had dragged along. The silence was again broken by a short flurry of communications over the comm . . . “We’re taking heavy fire . . . Watch out! . . . Step over him and get out there! Send more troops, we’ve got them cornered, they’ve retreated down one of the cell bays.” Vader turned his helmeted head toward the comm. “More troops dispatched to your location . . . watch it, they’re good . . . several officers down, send med ‘droids. Wait . . . the firing’s stopped . . . ‘lotta smoke in here . . . switch to infrared and thermal imaging . . . advance . . . check all the cells, the Princess’ is open and she’s gone. Wait . . . what the . . . they blew a hole in the hatch covering . . . whew . . . what a smell . . . it’s the garbage chute to the economy level . . . the trash compactors.” Vader keyed in the location on a small console, bringing up the spot on a schematic of the station. He noted the location of Leia’s cell and accessed the grid for the economy unit assigned to that bay. The screen flickered and then returned a number, 326-3827. He opened the scheduling screen for the trash compactor and keyed on the comm, “Good work. I have them from here.” The trooper replied, a bit startled to hear Vader in his headset, “Yes, sir. Recall troops dispatched to the economy level.” Vader initiated the COMPACT sequence for the unit . . . a step usually reserved for dumping garbage before high-speed travel on the station, or a hyperspace jump on a Destroyer. The screen flashed an indicator note COMPACTING . . . he would soon be done with Obi-Wan, the boy and the crew of the Millenium Falcon and the plans would once again be under Imperial control. Vader stood and exited his chamber, walking across his private room and disappearing into the corridor outside . . . his cape billowing behind him. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 “Secure this area until the alert is canceled.” The trooper receiving the order nodded, “Give me regular reports.” The rest of the group left two troopers standing on a narrow gantry, guarding access to the power generators that control the station’s tractor beams. “Do you know what’s going on?” The other shook his head, “Maybe it’s another drill.” They failed to see the cloaked form of the elderly knight on the opposite side of the generator on a walkway no wider than his feet, high above a deep chasm. His old hands held on firmly to the structure as he deactivated the generator and found his thoughts drifting back over the sea of years to another energy generator . . . to the day he lost his master to the blade of a Sith. He remembered bursting through the dropped energy barrier to avenge Qui-Gon’s death, and in doing so had decisively stepped into the darkness, embracing the anger and rage that had welled up and uncontrollably poured from him in a blinding flurry of chopping, hacking aggression. In the moment, they had felt right . . . powerful and fulfilling. As he had lived with the memory of those actions over the years, he had come to realize that while the outcome was achieved, he had overstepped the line and felt the seductive pull of the dark side. He saw how easily someone could crave more and more of the intoxicating power, as Anakin had by embracing the mantle of Darth Vader. Methods he had learned over the years of communing with Qui-Gon under the Bafforr trees and the Ysalimiri on Tatooine would serve him well this day. The future was always in motion, but he felt deeply in his core that his ultimate purpose, his meaning . . . his part in the final correction of his failure would come as he sacrificed himself so that Luke might escape. While he knew this to be true, it was incredibly dangerous ground. He had lived and felt everything Luke would feel, seeing his master taken from him. A calm came over him as he watched the power level indicator slide steadily toward empty. He trusted that his own control of the Force would allow him a brief moment to reach and calm Luke enough to allow for his escape. If he could not pass this final Jedi trial, all would be lost. Luke could very easily wallow in the hate he would most definitely feel for Vader. The memory of a larger than life Jedi father he loved simply for being his father had already been lost to the Dark Lord . . . losing the only remaining tie he had to information about that man might be more than he could stand. I cannot lose him the way I lost Anakin, he thought . . . I will not. He drew in a breath, continuing to feel the presence of his former Padawaan, and worked his way around the rest of the narrow foot path to make his exit, stopping to eye the troopers. Motioning with his hand, he called on the Force to create a distracting sound in the corridor beyond them, toward which they turned to investigate, “What was that?” asked one of the troops. Kenobi slipped from his cover and out of sight completely unnoticed as they looked the other way. “It’s nothing . . . “ said the other trooper guard “. . . hard chassis, don’t worry about it.” * * * An Imperial aide was walking toward him as Vader neared the compactor cluster on the economy level. “They’ve escaped, mi’ Lord. Only their concealing armor was left behind.” Vader erupted, the Force shock waves flinging the officer against the wall. He fell to the ground grabbing at his throat, gasping for air as the Dark Lord whirled away heading for the turbolifts. He had to make his way to the bay that held the smuggling ship before they did. His old master would not elude him again. His mind raced as he entered the lift . . . they’re trying to get the Princess and the plans out of here. The lift pod he was riding in was whisked away toward the docking bay level. When it stopped, he stepped out into the empty hallway. He turned and briskly walked until he could see the Millennium Falcon through the open blast doors ahead. His troops were still guarding the ship . . . he had made it in time, but Obi-Wan was very near . . . the sensation was growing stronger and stronger. He removed his lightsaber from his belt clip and ignited it with a snap-hiss . . . the hallway was deserted and he stood alone silently waiting . . . accompanied only by the hum of the energy blade held still in his grip, and the repetitive mechanical breathing that was the legacy of his last encounter with his old master . . . it was almost time. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 The last of the large stone pieces was moved aside, and Rogue was finally able to slip through into the dark corridor beyond, “That’s it. It’s open from here on.” The others grabbed their buckets and followed as Danz turned back to check on the Moisture farmers. As he walked along, the only sound he heard in the narrow hallway was that of the wailing winds above and the slight clatter of his boot heels hitting the uneven stony floor. Darklighter and the gathering of kids were sitting on the stone floor, waiting silently for the winds and the destructive flying sand to pass. Huff glanced over at Danz as the trooper stuck his head around the corner, then looked toward the ceiling of the alcove nodding, “It’s starting to die down a bit now . . . we won’t be here much longer. It’ll take a short time to find the other graves, but then we’ll bury them and be gone”, he said, indicating the wrapped figures on the floor. Danz looked from Deak and Windy over to Huff, “Other graves?” “Owen removed the markers from Cliegg and Shmi’s graves . . . years ago now for some reason . . . they were his father and step-mother. I remember approximately where they used to be. I promise once we find them we’ll finish up quickly and leave you to your investigation.” Danz nodded as his electronically-enhanced response issued from his helmet, followed by a short burst of static, “Alright.” Satisfied, he turned and disappeared down the dark hallway toward the living quarters. Blade and Felth were busy rummaging through the room that had been Luke’s as he walked past, while 0600 and Rogue were pouring over the private chambers of Owen and Beru just down the hall. Danz continued on and joined them while the others tore through Luke’s room. There was a small sleeping area, a small storage area for clothing and a workbench with a stool. There were various parts strewn across the workbench along with flimsies containing design ideas for adding extra thrust to a landspeeder, ‘droid modifications, ‘vaporator schematics and a partially completed application packet for the Imperial Naval Academy. Felth was rifling through the storage area as Blade picked up the application, turned it over in his hands, then continued searching, holding on to the flimsies. There did not appear to be a connection to Luke and Ben Kenobi . . . at least in this room. 0600, Rogue and Danz were in a similar, albeit larger room and had already strewn the contents of several small containers and those found on the top of a desk tucked back in the corner. It was a small desk, and judging by the manner in which it was neatly kept, it was Beru’s. Rogue was sorting through the bound flimsies and records as 0600 poured yet more on the pile before him. Danz joined in, helping to sift through the information, looking for something they could use. As they searched for meaningful information, 0600 returned to the desk, and was pushing one of the empty drawers back in when it jammed and would not go in the rest of the way. Kneeling down, he took off his bucket and pulled the drawer back out, then leaned over to look inside the opening. It was dark inside . . . he reached for his belt, opening a small compartment, retrieving a small black and silver handlamp. He switched it on, shining the beam into the darkness of the desk. There, jammed up against the back was a stack of flimsies, bound in Ronto leather. A narrow strip of the leather was attached to one side of the cover and wrapped several times ‘round to secure it. 0600 reached inside and pulled it out, turning it over in his hands, gently wiping away the fine dust. He switched off the handlamp and returned it to his belt. Then he began unwinding the leather strip, until he was able to open the cover to the first page of faded, aged flimsy. It was written in a woman’s neat handwriting in journal format, although the entries were not dated, and judging from the content, were not recorded every day. The pages revealed insight into the daily lives of these moisture farmers, but 0600 was looking specifically for content of interest, scanning the pages superficially when he happened across mention of “the new arrival” and of Kenobi . . . he began to read . . . . . Our world will never be the same following the events of this day. Living out here in the barren expanses just shy of the Dune Sea has proven an enormous test for my endurance and spirit. Owen works hard to afford us a fine life, even more so after his father’s death, but for a girl from Anchorhead, the absolute isolation is overwhelming at times. Much of my time has been spent keeping our home, feeding and tending to the crops growing in the hydroponic gardens, and having meals prepared and ready when he returns home each evening. I sometimes talk to myself, the droids and the plants just to hear the sound of a human voice . . . with Owen out working all day, the silence is suffocating at times. He’s been on edge ever since our first meeting with Ben. We were told there was nowhere else to turn . . . everyone he knew and trusted had been killed or was missing and he urgently needed help to protect an infant, to protect a new hope for the future . . . our help. He said he would return soon with the child, the son of Owens deceased step-brother Anakin, and asked that we keep him safe. Although he will never admit it, after all the struggling we’ve endured trying to have one of our own, this new arrival, this little bundle from the stars has rescued Owen and me as much as we have him. At long last, I have a child to raise as my own. We argued at dinner about the whole arrangement. He knows we are family and are obligated to take the child in . . . I think it hurts him to know that we were not the first choice. He also knows Kenobi will want to train the boy, teach him all the mystical ways of the Jedi the way he did Anakin. He left our conversation quite distraught . . . as we left the homestead entryway and stepped out into the sand, he let go of my hand and walked away to stand at the edge of the pit, staring out into the fiery molten setting of the twin suns. His thoughts were clouded with anger and resentment. He had only met Anakin once . . . his step brother had lived far away, in the temple, following the teachings of his master, only to be killed in the wake of these horrible, turbulent Clone Wars. It was then that Kenobi appeared, just before dark, slowly riding in over the sand on his Eopie. Owen saw him coming and turned away, searching for a way to do the right thing. The animal settled to the ground near the techdome as I watched. Ben dismounted carefully, carrying the child over to me. I took it from him, unwrapping his covering a bit to see a little face staring up at me. Kenobi smiled and backed away, as if his presence were endangering the child somehow. The infant’s tiny hand wrapped around my finger tightly as I walked with him to join Owen. Kenobi rode slowly away into the night . . . looking back several times, as if questioning his decision to leave the child behind. I know this baby, Luke, will be safe here . . . I will keep him safe . . . I am a simple woman, but I clearly understand the importance of that. Luke Skywalker . . . there hasn’t been a Skywalker in this house since his grandmother died . . . I wish that she were still here. . . I wish that he could have known her, and his own parents. There’s plenty of time to figure out how to deal with that . . . tonight I’m just enjoying the innocence of him and the quiet we share. 0600 looked up from the page, “I think I’ve got what we came for.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 * * * Falker disappeared into the hallway leading to the docking bays as Etz and Topolev watched the activity of the street. Topolev pushed one of the Dewbacks away and turned to Etz, “We’ll make a Sandtrooper out of you yet, Etz” and pointed to the sandy-colored dust clinging to what had been the stark white Impervium of Etz’s legs. Engedi looked down, nodding “I guess so. Who would’ve guessed that a street kid from Corellia would end up a Sandtrooper on Tatooine.” Topolev turned to him “I’m from Corellia too . . . what part are you from?” Etz looked up momentarily, then back out to the street “Well, I’m not really from Corellia that I can be sure of, that’s just the earliest memory I have.” He adjusted the pouches on his belt, “My parents were probably indigents, traveling planet to planet looking for a chance to work . . . I don’t really know for sure. As an orphan I grew up living on the streets in and around the Naval shipyards . . . there were a lot of kids living on the street there. I remember one day watching a squad of Stormtroopers arrive, assigned to oversee the construction of a huge Super Star Destroyer. I was completely taken with the polished look of the troopers in formation. Over the years during the construction, I ran errands and helped with equipment and armor repairs, earning their trust along with fresh food and water. By the time I was old enough to do so, the troopers I had come to know encouraged me to enlist, and here I am . . . how ‘bout you?” Topolev thumbed off his E-11 and slipped it snugly in his holster, snapping it firmly in place as he spoke, “My old man was an Army recruiter. I was pretty much expected to be a soldier. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not something I didn’t want, but the huge footsteps for me to follow in were several generations old by the time I was ready for my turn at filling them. I attended a private military academy until I was old enough to ship out to Carida.” Etz pulled off his bucket and grinned, “Don’t worry . . . I won’t hold that against you.” Topolev removed his helmet, smiling and continued, “I did my basic training and was assigned to a security detail at an Imperial prison on Dathomir. After several attempts to transfer out of that boring post, I was finally assigned to Desert Combat training on Dantooine . . . quite a change from the jungles I had grown accustomed to surrounding the prison. My armor has never been the same since. On one of my training exercises we pulled off a raid against several spice smugglers . . . worked with Special Ops. I must have done a good job . . . they gave me a black pauldron when I headed out to my new post on the Leviathan, where I trained recruits for the next year or so.” Etz looked over to him “Sounds like a pretty solid path . . . how’d you end up here?” Topolev grabbed a loose saddle strap on one of the Dewbacks and cinched it a bit tighter, “An officer I knew was engaging in inappropriate conduct with one of the female trainees. On one of the training missions that we were providing support for, the two of us were arguing about what was going on, and there was an accident. Several trainees were injured and the officer died. Although it was never formally declared my fault, that was the aftertaste that lingered once the hearings were concluded. The next thing I knew I was reassigned and put on a shuttle. I got picked up from the Leviathan . . . in the Talus sector a few days ago and ended up here, just like you. If they only knew they were doing me a great favor . . . I always enjoyed my desert assignments.” Falker walked up to the other side of the corral wall as Topolev finished speaking, “Transponder's planted . . . we’ll know exactly where he is.” “Great . . . ” said Etz, pulling on his bucket , “let’s go find Ddraig and Deckard. . . see what they’ve found out from the Hammerhead. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 Ddraig and I sat on several of the discarded intoxicant crates littering the alley as we listened to the story of Ben Kenobi. Falker, Etz and Topolev came around the corner and walked up behind us. Nadon looked up at the additional troops, but continued his tale, not missing a beat . . . “I knew of several places that might possibly work for what he had in mind, but the location we finally decided on was within the wreckage of the B’Omarr starship. One of the cargo bay outriggers that was deeply embedded in the sand seemed to be a perfect location. It would provide the much needed shelter from the suns and winds, and protect the site from the damage inflicted by sandstorms. Aside from being sheltered it also afforded Kenobi the necessary mounting points for securing cables and enough expansive area to set up an effective Bafforr tree perimeter. You see . . . he was creating a training arena . . . a secure, secret spot from which to impart the knowledge he had gained as a knight in the Jedi Order. The dozen Ysalimiri and their Bafforr tree nutrient hosts were my contribution to the scheme . . . . Nadon and Kenobi climbed over the stone and sand of the slope as they made their way up the hillside, noting the protruding starship thrusters of the ancient, ill-fated B’Omarr starship. Finally, they reached a slight leveling of the terrain, and stopped a moment to catch their breath. The edges of the Jundland Wastes were nearby, with the edges of the great Dune Sea, lapping at the base of the rocky formations. Nadon turned away from the amazing view and walked over to small pile of crumbling ruins they were looking for. Kenobi followed, and they both stepped up to the remnants of what had been a stone archway . . . an entrance created long ago by the surviving B’Omarr monks leading into a first, primitive shrine in which to meditate. Nadon waded through the rubble, moving toward what had been the rear of the small room. “The B’Omarr that survived the crash built this not only as a place to meditate, but a way to protect the entrance to their supplies” said Nadon as he lowered his shoulder to a stone slab and pushed with his incredibly strong legs, sliding the stone aside, revealing an opening with uneven stone steps leading down into cool darkness. Kenobi stepped up, putting his hand on the edge of the opening and leaning his head inside, looked around and asked, “How far down is it?” Nadon pulled out and lit a handlamp, “Not far” as he moved past Ben and began the descent. He was careful to step over the remnants of a rope lying across the uneven, narrow stone steps and point it out to Kenobi. On any other planet, this carved tunnel might have been damp, but not here. Sandy dust rose with every step they took, curving deeper and deeper beneath the sand of the hillside until the descending tunnel finally led them down to a small hollowed out alcove alongside the exterior skin of the starship. Nadon moved to the right, running his hands along the durasteel skin until he found a small, recessed latch. He pressed it in with his hand, grabbed the center handle and twisted slightly. Gears could be heard slowly turning within the door followed by a hollow thunk as the latch released. The door pushed in and slid to the side with a scrape. Nadon turned back to look Ben in the eye, “Welcome to your new temple, Master Jedi” motioning for Kenobi to enter. He followed Ben through the opening, feeling and tasting a change in the air. They emerged on a small landing, surrounded by a durasteel railing on the edge of a huge space. Ben stepped up to the rail, wrapping his hands around it, staring into the stillness of the dim chamber, raising his head to take in the enormous tubular structure they were now inside. To the left, the floor inclined slightly, angling toward the surface. Light streamed through openings in the skin of the starship’s ceiling that was still above ground. A number of the skin panels had ripped off during their fiery descent through the atmosphere and headlong crash into the sand and stone of the wastes. To the right, the massive bay grew darker and sloped down into the sand where it had come to rest all those years ago . . . after falling from the stars. It was here, in the darker, more protected areas that we would set to work. The pair turned away from the railing and traced the catwalk along to a ladder which we descended down to the floor. “There are several levels of walkways, ledges and overhead framework and rigging that we could use to place the Bafforr trees and the Ysalimiri on. Each tree location will shield approximately a ten meter sphere around itself. If we place them out correctly, you can have a good sized training room in here with no worry about stirring the Force at all” said Nadon. Kenobi nodded, looking off up to the ceiling as he twisted the hair of his beard, deep in thought. He was seeing himself training young Luke, showing him how to use the Force to balance himself on the stretched cable as if it were a wide walkway. He saw a small swarm of remote seekers buzzing around the young, blindfolded boy . . . saw him moving through the room, balancing on the wire and wielding his father’s lightsaber to deflect all of the energy bursts like the skilled younglings that were slaughtered with it. He envisioned Luke meditating and centering himself in the Force enough to control any anger against his father he would have. “This could work” said the Jedi. “When will the trees and Ysalimiri be ready to bring out here?” Nadon scratched his arm, “About three months to grow to a size that will begin to afford you the veiling you require.” Kenobi nodded as Nadon continued, “Come, I have more to show you” and he took Kenobi by the arm, leading him deeper into the wreckage. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 A small group of troopers hurried through the Death Star hallway searching for the fugitives. Kenobi slipped out of the shadows, feeling the presence of his old Padawaan much stronger now as he watched the troops disappear down the passageway. With a swift motion, he unclipped the lightsaber from his belt, drawing it up as he cautiously looked around . . . leaving it deactivated, but in readiness for the confrontation he knew was about to occur. Silently he hurried along the dimly lit tunnels of the enormous battle station, slipping unnoticed toward the hangar that housed the Millenium Falcon. A deep concentration enveloped the old Jedi Master as he walked, envisioning the escape that Luke and the others must be allowed to make if there was to be any chance of undoing the tragedy of Vader. Centering himself in the Force, he made his way closer and closer to the ship. He was almost there . . . perhaps his visions had been incorrect, perhaps it might be possible to make it off the station alive . . . to continue the beginnings of Luke’s training on Dagobah with Yoda. As he rounded the slight curve in the hallway that emptied into the hangar, his visions of that possible future path dissolved as he came upon the still and silent form of Vader . . . shimmering red saber drawn . . . waiting for his old master. Ben stopped, taking in the view of the man that was once his Padawaan . . . his brother . . . his friend, as the dark Lord began moving slowly toward him. He saw the horrible, grotesque angles of the breath screen and helmet that encased the many faces of Anakin Skywalker. Kenobi saw past the protective blackness to the face of the young boy who had raced pods . . . who had fought alongside him . . . who had engaged him on Mustafar as an enemy, embracing the dark side of the Force, falling from the grace intended for the chosen one. Obi-Wan reluctantly depressed the activation switch on his lightsaber, remaining perfectly still . . . in his defensive stance, breathing the stale air. “I’ve been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again at last. The circle is now complete . . . when I left you, I was but the learner . . . now I am the Master.” Kenobi stared at him, hearing the ego of his old padawaan echoing through the deep tones of his new, simulated voice . . . he had learned nothing. “Only a Master of evil, Darth” acknowledging the Sith before him . . . Anakin Skywalker was dead and gone. Vader, enraged by the comment, lunged at Kenobi, who moved to block the strike. Obi-Wan’s body pulsed from the flow of the Force racing through him, illuminating him, binding him to the knowledge and strength of all those that had gone on before him . . . he felt every one of their hands on his saber hilt. The old knight had worked hard over the many years on Tatooine, hiding in the darkness of the wrecked starship . . . training amidst the Bafforr trees and Ysalimiri that had been intended to shroud the training of Luke. He had fought to remain in top form, knowing that this day would come. He also knew that he needed to toy with Vader . . . give the illusion of a tired, weak old man . . . occupy him and his attentions so that Luke might escape unnoticed . . . allowing the small ripples the boy was beginning to make in the Force to be overlooked by his father. Ben sensed Luke nearby, and knew that once the guards were distracted, Luke and the others would be clear to board and escape . . . he felt the presence of Qui-Gon behind him . . . the large hands of his master gently resting on his shoulders like a proud father . . . “Keep your thoughts centered on the here and now, Obi-Wan.” He relaxed, and defended a flurry of slashes and attacks from Vader as they moved rapidly, searing the walls in a shower of sparks as they circled each other. “Your powers are weak, old man” said Vader, pausing . . . wishing to continue toying with this feeble old knight a bit longer. Ben confidently held his ground, eyes locked on the tinted lenses of the black mask, “You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.” Vader slashed at him again, locking sabers . . . energy flashes illuminating the hallway as the hum of the lightsabers crackled in the silence “You should not have come back.” There was a flurry of motions, sabers screaming and hissing, protesting the fury with which they were being slammed against the competing energy of the other. Ben and Vader moved toward and then apart from each other, whirling to avoid the deadly blade in their opponent’s hand . . . switching sides in the hallway. As they did so, the troopers that were gathered at the entry ramp of the Millennium Falcon noticed the fight and double-timed it around the cargo lift to get a closer view of what was going on. As he stepped back, noticing the troopers closing in on the other side of the open blast doors to watch the fight, Ben felt a small wave in the Force, deep down beneath the coursing and churning on the surface . . . a very subtle movement . . . Luke had seen them. He turned his eyes to the hangar, spotting Vader’s son. His mind flashed over the many years he had spent protecting this boy, keeping watch from just out of sight . . . in silent agony. Leia was being helped to safety by Solo and Chewbacca, and the ‘droids were already boarding. His gaze drifted back to Vader . . . trusting in the Force that the long-concealed boy would turn the tide, would restore all that had been lost . . . would redeem one, if not two damaged knights. He closed his eyes as he reached deep into the Force silently repeating his final warning to Luke as he raised his lightsaber up before his face and stood silently awaiting his fate. Vader was not sure what to make of it at first. Then, the anger engulfed him . . . he was finished with the toying. He was enraged at the man who had turned against the Republic, turned his Padme against him and left him for dead. A wide, sweeping red arc of light cut through the air as he swung his saber sharply around, slicing through Obi-Wan at the waist. Kenobi felt no pain, only the explosion of his physical body transforming instantly . . . merging with the pure, warm, fluid energy of the Force . . . he was immediately overcome with the feeling that he was home once again. The others that had gone so savagely before him at the hands of the clones welcomed him. His tattered Jedi robes fluttered for an instant in the air and settled to the floor, his deactivated lightsaber dropping on top. Having seen Ben cut down by Vader, Luke screamed “NO!” The transfixed troopers whirled around at the noise, firing on the group escaping toward the Millennium Falcon. Numbed by what he had witnessed, Luke finally raised the E-11 in his hands and returned their fire. He cut through several of the troopers before they had a chance to retaliate. The others in the group fired back, throwing bright red energy bolts sizzling past him. Wary of a trick, Vader stepped on the piled fabric of the old man’s cloaks with one his black boots several times . . . making sure that he was finally rid of the thorn that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Solo blasted one of the troopers and yelled at him over the noise, “C’mon!” Leia yelled also “C’mon . . . C’mon. Luke it’s too late!” Solo screamed at him “Blast the door, kid!” He managed to fry the blast door control panel and continued firing as the doors closed, sealing Vader in the hallway and trapping the remaining troopers. Solo and Leia retreated up the ramp into the ship under heavy fire as Luke continued to blast away at the troops. The Living Force was churning with the focused energy of the newly received Jedi Master . . . his life energy was determined and focused to fulfill his one final task, pass his final trial . . . pass on a final warning. He had trained and meditated and followed the guidance of Qui-Gon for years. All of his learned discipline and patience converged in this moment of his passing. Somewhere . . . deep down in his core, Luke felt a momentary calm wash over him and he sensed the unmistakable presence of Obi-Wan . . . and felt the urgency and emotion in his words “RUN Luke, RUN!” Without thinking, he obeyed . . . and began his journey toward a deeper understanding of the Force as he ran to the safety of the Millenium Falcon. Solo and Chewbacca jump-started the cold engines of the Corellian smuggling ship and recklessly lifted off, slipped backwards out of the hangar, careened around to an attitude of escape, and fired the main engines, blasting away from the station. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 Crossing the voids of space, sweeping worlds the galaxy over, waves of change radiated through the Force from the epicenter onboard the Death Star. For most of the living, there was no indication that anything had changed . . . life went on as it always had. For Force-sensitives throughout the galaxy however, a momentary tugging at their insides was felt as the energy equilibrium was upset followed by a slow, steady calming . . . just as a disturbance caused by a rock thrown into a still pond eventually ripples back to stillness. As the wave raced through the galaxy, the tugging sensation washed through a small creature seated in the warm, flickering firelight of a small, dark room. It grabbed at the cloak around its shoulders with a small, three-fingered hand as the thunder rolled and heavy rains poured outside. Eyes that had been held shut in meditation opened wide in the dim light as the realization of what had happened settled within. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 The Hammerhead stared off past us as if he were watching the events he was relaying unfold before him. “Having surveyed the darkened areas for constructing the Jedi training area, we moved to the extreme front of the huge storage bay and stepped through and over a gaping wound in the crumpled skin and twisted frame of the ancient starship to find ourselves in another stony corridor littered with rocks and debris. As we moved further into the depths, the darkness was closing in around us when finally we began to see a faint light from somewhere up ahead. The huge chamber of the starship we had left behind was completely dwarfed by the immense opening we spilled into at the end of the tunnel. I watched as Kenobi came through behind me and took in the view for the first time as he planted the soles of his seasoned boots on the monolithic stone bridge that spanned a dizzying drop into the darkness below. I watched as he placed a hand on the stone wall and leaned back, tipping his head to take in the sheer size of the cavern we were now in. Light filtered down from an opening far up in the hillside somewhere, but the stillness and pressure of the air here was suffocating. As we moved out onto the bridge, we could see several others to our left, similar to the one we were standing on . . . one at the same level and others at varying depths, both higher and lower. The starship had impacted into the sand and stone of the hillside and broken through into an enormous underground complex carved from the stone of these caverns . . . .” “What is this place?” asked Kenobi as his eyes washed over the intricate carvings in the stone bridges and arches. “I’m not sure” replied the Ithorian, I stumbled into it some time ago when I was first exploring the wreckage. However, from what I can make out from the carvings and primitive symbols, whoever it was that built them pre-dated even the Tuskens and the Jawas.” Topolev spoke up as Nadon paused momentarily in his narrative, “We’ve seen the wreckage, but haven’t been inside. You’re going to need to take us there and show us everything . . . we need to see it all and check for more information, it’s all important at this point.” I nodded, “Exactly what I was thinking. C’mon old timer . . .” I said as I took the Hammerhead by the arm, “We have some exploring to do.” “Rogue and the others have the shuttle . . . it’ll have to wait until they get back” interjected Ddraig. I looked over at Etz, “Wanna see if your discovery from earlier works?” He nodded and stood up, “I’ll go see if I can bring her online, you guys head for the courtyard behind the barracks . . . I’ll meet you there soon.” I nodded and began moving Nadon away as Falker looked at Ddraig, “What discovery?” Topolev pulled his bucket on as we spilled out onto the street, “You’ll see.” Etz walked through the command center toward the barracks and the rear storage room as he pulled off his helmet. He grabbed the metal lever, pulling it down as he stepped away onto the center lift platform. As the lift settled to a stop, he stepped off through the open doorway into the underground cache and walked toward the bay doors they had left open. The transport sat waiting to be used as he advanced across the stone floor toward it. He jumped up onto the rear tailboard, moved forward into the cockpit area and set his bucket down as he looked over the controls. They were a little unusual, but not too far out of the realm of his training. Several switches were flipped, dials adjusted and then he pressed a rocker switch forward to bring the engines online. As he did this, he heard a slight clicking sound and a small indicator meter in the panel lit up and flashed, showing that the batteries were depleted. He stood up and moved to the tailboard, jumped off and headed back to the other room. The luminaries overhead flickered and came on as he flipped the wall switch. The cannons were still in the way of the equipment racks, so he squeezed between them, looking the supply shelves over for another power cell. His eyes moved quickly over the contents of the racks . . . rifles, rations, blaster power clips. He bent down to look over the lower shelf . . . a thick metal slab of some kind, on top of which were more power clips, a few miscellaneous mechanical parts, and finally two power cells. Pressing the indicator tab on top of both showed they were at full capacity. As he grabbed them and went to pull them away, the wiring harnesses caught on something, some protrusion from the thick slab on the bottom. He unwrapped the wires and pulled away the twin cells revealing a human hand, thrust up from within the cold metal. He fell back across the aisle into the rack behind him, then raised himself to one knee and leaned forward to look at his new discovery. The hand was human, but encased within the metal of the slab. He looked left and right . . . taking note of the size of the slab as he stood and made his way back to the transport to install the new power cell. Topolev, Ddraig, Falker and I took our time as we moved Nadon to the courtyard behind our barracks. “Let’s move up here and wait for Etz” I said, leading Nadon up to the loading platform. As we all filed on, the sand began to shake in the open courtyard, vibrating, leveling out. “What the . . .” said Falker as a mound of sand began to rise in the middle of the open space before us. As the sand dome rose higher still, the loose sand began to slide to either side until the fine sand rained down on both sides revealing the smooth surface of a magnetic shield being pushed skyward by something beneath it. Finally, the magnetic membrane barrier was breeched by the upper hull of the transport, pushing through the stretched shield, rising up from our underground hangar bay and slipping into the air. Now we could hear the faint whine of the engines as Etz brought her to a still hover above the shield as the bay doors closed beneath it, “Everybody In.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 0600 and Rogue were in the cockpit bringing the engines online as the others filed in and found their seats. Danz was about to board, when he turned and walked over to Huff Darklighter, “What were the names of the other dead . . . the unmarked graves?” Darklighter was watching Fixer, Deak and Windy operate the sand disrupters to dig deep enough in the sand to properly bury the dead. He spoke without removing his watchful eye from them, “Cliegg and Shmi Lars. They were Owen’s father and step mother.” Danz nodded and turned to go, when he stopped and turned his head back, “What was Shmi’s name before Lars?” Darklighter tensed a bit as he sensed even more danger for his son’s friend, Luke, than the boy had already managed to find on his own, “Skywalker.” Danz nodded and moved away toward the shuttle. Darklighter turned his head slightly, watching the trooper go. What had Luke gotten himself caught up in, he thought to himself. The shuttle ramp stowed as the ship lifted from the sand and throttled away from the farm, leaving the small group of locals and their dead behind. Our troops were well on their way back to Mos Eisley when they were suddenly swarmed with flanking swoop bikers and small speeders. The lead swoop rider motioned for them to set down. 4120 glanced over to Rogue who cautiously said, “Let’s see what they want.” He unbuckled and called down the small flight of stairs into the troop area, “Weapons on and drawn . . . we’re making an unscheduled stop.” As he powered on his own weapon, a communication from Topolev came over his bucket commlink, “We’re en route to the B’Omarr starship ruins, just checking in on your current position.” Rogue responded, “We’ve left the moisture farm and are on course back to Mos Eisley . . . we’re currently stopping to see what a group of local swoop riders wants with us. Lock into the beacon I’m sending out and head our way . . . you can catch them off guard and come in behind . . . just in case things turn sour.” “Roger that . . . beacon received . . . we’re about 5 minutes out and throttling up”, replied Topolev. The shuttle settled into the sand and the swoop riders circled around several times, then came to a stop just beyond their speeders, several meters from our extending boarding ramp. Rogue stepped down from the cockpit, talking over his shoulder to his pilot as he descended the stairs to the troop area, “Keep her idling and warm . . . just in case.” 4120 replied “You got it.” Rogue slipped past the troopers on his way to the ramp as they unbuckled, his E-11 drawn, “0600, Blade come with me . . . Danz, you and Felth cover us from the ramp.” Topolev crackled in his headset as he stepped down the ramp, “ETA to your position, 2 minutes.” He stepped off the ramp with his weapon lowered but drawn. 0600 and Blade stepped off also, flanking him. The lead swoop rider switched off his engine and casually dismounted, slowly crossing the remaining gap to meet Rogue. Several leathery-faced Weequay watched attentively from the speeders, weapons at the ready. The dirty, Ronto-leather bound rider looked at the troops on the ramp for a moment, then over to Rogue’s crew, “Jabba the Hutt has been watching you and your men since you arrived. He requests a meeting today . . . now . . . at his palace. We’ve been sent to escort you to his chambers.” As he finished his sentence, our troop transport slipped in behind the Hutt’s men. Everyone turned to look as Etz allowed the rear of the transport to slide around, exposing Topolev, Falker, Ddraig and me standing on the tailboard, weapons trained on each of Jabba’s speeders and swoops. Falker called out, “Everything OK here?” Rogue locked eyes with the man before him, then replied, “Everything’s fine here” he called back to Falker, “It seems that Jabba’s ready to meet us . . .” he said looking over to the transport, “ . . . I knew it wouldn’t take long.” He shifted his attention back to the swoop rider, “We’ll follow you. Etz, fall in behind the shuttle” and he turned to re-enter his ship passing Danz and Felth “Here we go.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 The superheated engines of the Outrider gave up some of their heat to the dry, blistering afternoon winds in rippling, vaporous waves as Dash Rendar released the Rancor’s stun collar from its bulkhead mounting. The dazed, semi-responsive beast slumped to the repulsor sled floating just above the deck beneath it, nearly knocking Dash over. He knelt down and adjusted the settings on the collar to ensure his continued safety. His last-minute decision to take a slight side trip to Corellia had taken longer than he would have liked. By the time Jabba decided he wanted something, he was already impatient for it to be delivered. He pushed the sled down the extended boarding ramp into the heat. Stepping foot into the sizzling sand, he breathed in the hot air as he scanned the edge of the Wastes behind his ship. He had spent a great deal of time on this next-to-forgotten planet, but he was always struck by the untamed, rugged, stark beauty of the Jundland Wastes. The repulsor sled glided easily over the sand as he maneuvered it toward the base of one of the plate durasteel ramps just ahead. One of several large access hatches in the stone wall behind it had been opened by one of the crime lords many minions. He knew it led into the lowest level of the maze-like bowels that snaked beneath Jabbas palace . . . he had been through each of these hatches at one point or another over the years making various deliveries. He paused, leaning back to look up the almost vertical cliff face toward the summit where the domed turret of the main palace entrance was located. Nysad, the Kajain’sa’Nikto guard that had opened the hatch, now pressed himself into the shadows, up against the stone wall as the sled with the Rancor slipped past him. Rendar paused and looked back over his shoulder as a swarm of speeders and swoops came rushing past followed by an Imperial shuttle and a final, large speeder. The group of ships raced past . . . the swoops and speeders snaking along the winding path the led toward the summit . . . the shuttle throttled up and ascended the cliff . . . something unusual was up. Rendar shook his head and pushed his delivery inside as the large hatch coarsely ground closed behind him. Our transport silently approached the massive durasteel main chamber entry, pulling up behind the shuttle which had just lowered its extended gear into the sand with wings locking in the upright position. The swoop riders had dismounted and were awaiting Rogue and the others as the entry ramp began lowering from beneath the jutting cockpit of the elegant ship. Etz cut the thrusters and we slowed to a halt. Topolev grabbed his helmet and pulled it on as he stepped off the tailboard “This prototype gets my vote.” Falker agreed “Yeah, I’ll take a ride like that any day . . . I like that it’s open to the air . . . how does she handle, Etz?” Engedi climbed out of the pilot’s chair and slipped through the narrow corridor to the open rear section “It’s Cygnus Spaceworks . . . pre Sienar Fleet Systems merger . . . older technology, but very smooth . . . like a cross between the control sticks of a T-16 Skyhopper and a TIE fighter, but with the power of a TIE interceptor.” I slipped my bucket on and powered up my E-11 as I stepped off the rear deck following Etz, “T-16s are nicely powered with twin DCJ-45 repulsorlift engines for liftoff and an impressive Incom E-16/x ion engine for thrust, but they’re definitely no match for the interceptor.” “Very true Deckard . . . very true” said Ddraig, securing Nadon to the floor of the transport with restraints. Under the watchful eyes of Jabbas men, our group circled around the transport heading for the rest of the 104th. The Weequay from the speeder closest to the huge entrance gate was checking in with the weathered sentry ‘droid. The bulbous, lighted eye darted to us and back again, then retracted abruptly into a small portal. A few moments passed when the massive gate lurched with the shrieking scrape of unlubricated metal on metal as the giant locking teeth of the lower edge disengaged from their recessed receptacles and the huge gate slowly retracted upward. Under the glare of the twin suns, the cavernous space behind the entrance was shrouded in darkness . . . the imaging sensors in our helmets had not yet activated, and were useless for seeing what lay ahead, as we were still in the light. One of Jabbas men stepped into the darkness and another motioned for us to follow. I stepped between two of the recessed receptacles on the threshold and into the darkness. The others followed. The heads up displays in our helmets immediately flashed on as we moved out of the light. What had been hidden in shadow was now revealed . . . we were walking back into a huge entry hall. The high stone ceiling above us was spanned by heavy support ridges every fifteen feet as if we were inside the ribcage of a mammoth animal . . . we were quite literally entering the belly of the beast. We were herded across the sandswept stone floor toward an archway leading off to the left. Several spider walker ‘droids silently ambled out of our way, each with a clear brain canister hanging below the body . . . fluid gently sloshing this way and that with a monk’s brain suspended inside. Etz kept a wary eye on them as we passed through a dim shaft of light streaming through an open port near the ceiling. A pair of Gamorreans stood guard, one on each side of the arch. The pungent, stale odor of Gamorrean body odor radiated from their stained, well-worn leather armor as we passed between them and stepped beneath the arch. We were led into an empty, medium-sized room and our Weequay guide indicated that we should wait behind for a moment. He left us in the still silence as he stepped outside and spoke with the guards. They told him that Jabba was not yet ready for the Imperial visitors. He had dispatched his men to intercept these new troops and bring them to him. Tatooine was Hutt-controlled, and while he felt his authority was not in question, he was determined to make sure there was no room for doubt. Then, one of the guards was notified of Jabba’s return to his throne in the main audience chamber. Several moments later our escort returned, leading us out of the room and across the courtyard to another arch. We all stepped through the opening, beginning our descent down a staircase that lazily spiraled downward. A tall, male Twi’Lek entered the staircase from the bottom and made his way several steps up to meet with the Weequay leading our group. They spoke in hushed tones, and the Twi’Lek looked our way several times, then turned to head back down. The Weequay motioned for us to follow, as the Twi’Lek pushed his way through the crowded room, clearing a path toward the raised stone dais on which Jabba was stretched out. He was relaxing . . . smoking his pipe and conversing with several well-known bounty hunters. I recognized the Mandalorian armor of Boba Fett. Dengar Roth, IG-88, the execution droid, and several other low-life guns for hire all seemed to hover around the crimelord like a group of vultures, perched and waiting for their meal to finally die. Smoke curled from his flaired nostrils as Jabba spoke, “Mel wanta chim en Wookiee, jee Nolata tah da po nikee pa poonoo . . . gee nula sotta.” (I want him and the Wookiee, but I want them alive . . . I want them to pay for what they’ve done to my business . . . I can’t afford to appear soft.) I stepped off the bottom step behind the Weequay as did the rest of the group, filling into the space that had been created in the crowd of shadowy onlookers as the Twi’Lek made his way up beside the reclining Hutt. The air was heavy with the thick smell of spice and a mixture of fragrant smoke. As we pushed closer we saw what had captivated the rest of the audience . . . they had all been gathered around a large grate in the floor. As I stepped over it and moved to the front of the Hutt’s stone platform, I saw down into a deep cavern beneath the chamber floor . . . the sandy floor about forty meters below. Several men were removing a collar from a stunned animal. My eyes drifted up from the scene far below and scanned the faces in the room as the rest of the 104th filed in around me. Minions from several dozen races encircled us. The Twi’Lek stepped off the dais before us, catching the eye of the beautiful green-skinned female Twi’Lek dancer that sat, feet dangling in front of the mass that was the Hutt. As he passed, he ran a hand lightly over her lekku, making her shudder, eyes closed . . . repulsed by his touch. She turned away . . . it was then that I saw the heavy chain that connected to a band around her neck, the other end trailing up to and passing through Jabba’s hand to continue on to an anchored fitting on his throne. "Chowbaso!" thundered Jabba. “Welcome!” echoed the Twi’Lek, glancing back to Jabba, waiting on his next words. “Kee chai chai cun kuta? Kee madda hodrudda du wundee, della Tatooine.” “What are you doing here? Tell me why you are here on my planet, on Tatooine?” said the Twi’Lek. Rogue took a step closer to the Hutt, “We’ve been sent here to reactivate a presence in the city . . . in Mos Eisley. We’ve been charged with ensuring safety for the moisture farmers and the harvesting of their crops . . . we fully acknowledge that Tatooine is Hutt-controlled and we have no interest in your business, holdings or dealings, so long as they don’t interfere with our official agenda.” Jabba’s eyes narrowed a bit as he looked us over. Topolev and I were scanning every corner of the room searching for the concealed cameras that had supplied our predecessors with their datacard recordings. Jabba snorted a bit and laughed in a deep, rumbling laugh, “** ** ** **” and waved a hand at us as he looked away, finished with us . . . and just like that, the conversation had ended. The Hutt’s attention was now on to his dancing girl, Oola. “Da eitha!” (Sit by me now!) She cried out, “Na chuba negatorie. Na! Na! Natoota…” (No, No . . . please, no!) The Hutt’s voice thundered in the small room as we were being led out, “Boscka!” Topolev looked over to me . . . I shrugged and kept walking up the stairs toward the grand hallway above. Something didn’t feel right . . . it was too easy. The Hutt would be watching, that much was certain. The tall Twi’Lek moved to the center of the room as we left, speaking to Fett and the others, “And now the matter of the reward offered for the . . . shall we say, disappointment . . . bounty hunters, come with me.” Someone coming down the stairs pushed past me on his way down toward the throne room. . . it was the human that had been unloading the animal in the pit. I heard him burst into the room, talking to Jabba . . . “I’m glad you like him . . . he is young, but should grow to a nice size for you in a few years. Malakili seemed happy to finally have something to train. He’s been far too long down there without a pet.” Jabba laughed deeply and ran his hand down the his dancer’s back, licking his lips as the man continued, “What would you say if I told you I could get you a pleasure ship . . . a sail barge complete with . . .” The voices of the throne room trailed off and were now overtaken by the sound of our footsteps on the stone stairs as we slowly made our way up to the main hall. Jabbas men escorted us past the Gamorreans, through the echoing entry chamber and just outside the main gate. One of the guards was waiting for us to pass outside into the fading sunlight. He turned away from us, retreating inside with the others as the gate began to slowly scrape down. It rumbled closed, sealing the palace, and we were left alone, standing in front of our ships, with the late afternoon wind blowing. “Where did this come from?” said Rogue as he walked toward the transport. “Etz found it”, I said. Topolev joined in, “When we diverted to meet you, we were on our way to follow up on a lead from information supplied by Nadon . . . there’s something we all need to check out . . . a possible lead for more information about Ben Kenobi . . . at the B’Omarr starship wreckage. Rogue looked back at him, then over to 4120 and 0600. Topolev continued, “It seems our outcast Jedi was working on a scheme to secretly train new Jedi.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 The small, furry Jawa hand gently closed around the grip of her Ion blaster. She was on her own for another three days until the ‘Crawler came by and she needed this food. Breathing slowly and steadily, she took aim at the gathering of desert scurriers in the shadows ahead. When the majority of the little creatures were in range, she gently tapped the trigger and a blue haze of energy was flung out of the muzzle, washing over them. Five of the nine fell to the ground dead. The remaining four, which had been shielded by the others, ran away and hid amongst the rocks. Smoke rose from the less fortunate animals as she came out from behind her rock, holstering the blaster and muttering to herself as she set to collecting her dinner, dropping them one by one into a small sack. As she did, the rock beside her popped several times, sparks flying, immediately followed by the report of a rifle. Cursing in her native tongue, she dove back behind the rock, rolling into the sand. Sandpeople, she thought to herself. Her hearts were beating hard now as she rolled over and crawled forward to get a look at where the fire was coming from. Glowing eyes peered out from beneath the darkness of her hood as she scanned the top of the cliff where it met the darkening sky. Nothing. She scanned back across the ridgeline again and this time caught some brief movement as a raider’s head protruded momentarily above the rocks. It raised its’ head up again as she watched, the reddish-orange sunlight glinting off the metal eyepieces and spikes thrusting out of the wrapped bandages. It was looking for her, trying to find her again among the rocks. The Tusken Raider slowly moved its’ rifle back and forth over the stone, staring through the sight and taking aim on her general area as it sought her out. Then he fired several shots which ricocheted in a shower of sparks on the stone above her. One of two Tuskens grunted as he worked to get a better firing angle, leaning out over the edge of the rock . . . and right into the center of Danz’ targeting reticle. The seasoned Sandtrooper watched as the Raider moved its’ head squarely in to the center of his sight imaging. He gently squeezed back on the trigger of his rifle, releasing a bolt of energy which burst through the head of the Tusken as it roared one final time. Immediately there was a second blast, taking out the other Raider, who slumped forward across the flat rock. The little Jawa cautiously raised herself to her knees, dinner in hand, peering from behind her rock. She looked over to where the blast had come from. A kneeling Sandtrooper was rising to his feet, powering off his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder as he ascended the boarding ramp of his ship . . . a beautiful Imperial shuttle. The little Jawa’s eyes glowed brighter as she momentarily dreamed of stripping and salvaging it. She came back to reality as she remembered that she was alive because of its owner. A moment later, Danz reappeared, emerging from the ship with an armful illuminators to mark their descending path in the hillside. The hatch to the ship closed as he moved away, starting back up the cliff toward the tiny B’Omarr shrine near the top. The little Jawa gathered up her bag of food and scampered off toward a small cave to prepare her meal. She glanced over her shoulder once or twice to make sure no more Tuskens were watching . . . and to have another look at the shuttle. * * * The air in the depths of the ancient wreckage was completely still. Light filtered in from ripped openings in the hull far above. As Ddraig stepped off the last rung of the durasteel ladder to the floor, Nadon turned and continued to lead us further along the gentle slope into the darkness. He took several steps beyond the light, and just as my thermal imaging kicked in, I heard a woooshing sound fly past me on the left, then on the right. As I looked around to see what it was, a faint glow began to fill the room . . . a glow emanating from a dozen points around the room. I saw Nadon, arms raised up with hands open and extended, silhouetted by the glow from . . . trees. I stepped a bit closer and pulled off my bucket, as did the others, taking in what we were seeing a little clearer. As I lowered the helmet away from my face, there were several more woooshing sounds that flew past me and disappeared into the darkness. The glow from the trees steadily grew brighter until we could clearly see that the glow came not from the trees, but from small creatures clinging to their trunks. The arrangement of trees was circular around the floor of the room, and arranged at evenly spaced intervals up the walls and across the catwalks near the roof. At their bases, were large watering basins filled with the roots and sealed around the bottom of the trunks to prevent moisture from escaping. Cables were stretched tight across the room, side to side at varying heights. Nadon stood in front of a small, crude bench with a coil of cable on the lower shelf and several small items strewn across the top. Danz came walking up behind us, and dropped an illuminator to the ground next to several medium sized storage crates as he pulled off his bucket. Nadon, with eyes closed in concentration, lowered his hands and lay them out flat in the air, spreading his long fingers just above the surface of the bench. As he did, the woooshing sounds streaked past us as a half dozen remote seekers flew in from the recesses of the darkness, silently whisking past and coming to hover just above the Ithorian’s hands, rotating ever so slightly. Nadon opened his eyes and turned to us, gesturing with his arm, “Ben Kenobi’s Jedi training arena.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 Laid out flat on the table, his entire body flinched and he reflexively closed his mechanical hand tightly around the rail along the table’s edge as the med ‘droid raised the control box away from the front of the bio suit and slipped the electrodes and tubes abruptly out of his chest. It immediately inserted a temporary replacement breather unit into his damaged lungs as the malfunctioning control box was taken away. The flesh around the insertion site burned in the cool air. His glorious, seething power, his ability to wield the dark side and bend it to his will as he had enjoyed on Coruscant and Mustafar, was now as illusive and impotent as seeds scattered in the hot Tatooine winds of his youth. While he was still the most powerful of the Sith Lords to date, the chosen one would never realize the true depth of his abilities, never indulge in the intoxicating, sweet syrup of ultimate power he had but tasted. While his Force abilities had been heightened and sharpened as a result of his injuries, the ability to channel it and command his cybernetic limbs, as he would have living tissue, was a constant struggle. Mastery over his new limbs . . . and pushing them beyond their calculated operating parameters required incredible focus, and routinely resulted in the need for painful re-fittings . . . recurring reminders of the now-distant pain that drove him to the darkness . . . reminders of that horrible, cold fear. He gasped as the ‘droid coldly removed the temporary unit and slipped the tubes of a new control unit deep into the spongy flesh of his lungs. His teeth clenched tight and eyes squeezed shut beneath the hard, dark angles of his mask as he fought to escape the searing pain . . . he reached into the Force, wrapping the dark side energy around himself as the ‘droid secured the bindings and sealed the edges of the entry site into his skin with infection resistant adhesives. He felt the pain dissipate as he regained his focus on the duties that now lay ahead. The Millennium Falcon had been allowed to leave with a transponder hidden onboard. When they slipped out of hyperspace, a trace marker would send back their position and they would be instantly located, Tarkin would see. Obi Wan’s death had not secured the safety of Bail Organa’s daughter as he had hoped. The Princess and her rescuers might have made off with the plans, but as soon as the Death Star was in position, that insignificant Rebellion would be eliminated, and the age-old Alderaanean cries for a return to democracy would finally be silenced, as the last of her royal house was snuffed out. The old man had died in vain . . . he should not have come back. * * * Nadon sat on one of the storage crates as Obi Wan balanced, blindfolded on one of the cables above the arena floor. Four of the seekers whizzed past and around him firing random blasts as they flitted about. The blue flash of his lightsaber moved at blurring speed, deflecting the blasts away as he continued his walk across the taught wire. “There must be a way!” said the Ithorian. One of the seekers abruptly slammed into the ankle of Obi-Wan's boot. He allowed it to be knocked off the wire, while he maintained his balance with the remaining planted foot, “Blast!” He lowered the lightsaber in front of his body, deflecting several bolts as the ramming seeker circled the room preparing to dive toward his one remaining planted foot. As it streaked toward him, Kenobi reflexively raised the crate Nadon was seated on from the floor below. The Ithorian grabbed on to the sides to keep from falling off, as the crate flew up between the Jedi and the seeker. The small orb slammed into the side of the crate and fell away to the sand below. Kenobi deactivated his blade and removed his blindfold, maintaining a firm Force-hold on the crate. He clipped his saber hilt back on his belt as he returned the displaced foot to the cable, and gently lowered the startled Nadon back to the floor. The remaining seekers whisked away from him and regrouped just above the bench on the ground below. As the crate settled back to the sand, Nadon slipped off and moved away. Kenobi jumped off the wire into a backflip and landed with a spray of sand on the ground nearby. Blindfold in hand, and distressed look on his face, he turned to Nadon, “I cannot force Owen to comply. I know the need for Luke’s training, but I will not revisit the paths of my failure . . . I cannot do that with him. I tried to deliver Anakin’s lightsaber to Luke once before . . . Owen would not hear of it. He has the boy thinking his father was a navigator on some spice freighter. When the time is right, and the will of the Force has revealed itself, I will be waiting to uncover more information about his father.” The Hammerhead closed his eyes, and exhaled, “Dangerous this course of action is.” Obi-Wan turned to face the exiled high priest, smiling, “You sound very much like an old friend. Point taken, but the information I reveal to the boy will be that of a very specific, certain point of view. Timing of the revelations is critical. He needs to know that his father was an incredible pilot, and a Jedi Knight who fought alongside me during the Clone Wars . . . that his father was deceived and destroyed by the dark side . . . by Darth Vader. Hopefully this will serve to fuel his desire to train and fight against Vader and the Emperor. He doesn’t yet need to know that his father still lives.” Obi Wan stared off into the darkness, “The pain of that revelation is one that must be handled very delicately.” Closing his eyes, he saw images of his dying master, Qui-Gon, and remembered defeating Darth Maul in the duel that followed. He had stepped dangerously across into the darkness, allowing his anger to flow. He lowered his head, ashamed at the memory, “Any trust Luke may have in me could be shattered. Unless he is prepared properly to deal with the darkness that lies within us all, everything could be lost.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 We all stepped closer, into the warm, amber glow that broke the darkness. Topolev stepped into the middle of the arena floor and looked up as the rest of us followed, fanning out to take in the makeshift Jedi Academy. He leaned over to Nadon as he stared up into the trees, “Ysalimari?” The Ithorian nodded at Topolev and kept walking, “Yes, to shield the ripples that training would have created in the Force." We had all heard the stories of the secretive Jedi ways, the training facilities within the Temple, and the rigorous demands involved in mastering control of that flowing energy field that all living things created. I stepped up to the waist-high bench and saw tools from various worlds, a small thermal blast furnace, dirtied abrasive polishing cloths and several tubular devices of varying sizes laid out on a draped cloth. Danz moved past me, dropping another illuminator into the sand as he stepped beneath the stretched cables overhead. I reached out and picked up the smallest device, rolling it over in my hand, wiping off a fine layer of dust. It was very simple . . . and I believe had originally been machined and intended as part of a thrust sequencing unit from a small ship, its type unknown to me. Somehow, though, I didn’t think it would ever see service as a thrust sequencer again. One end was sealed with a cap. The length of the shaft had been fitted with a series of traction grips, and set into the handle was a button. What appeared to be the business end of the device culminated in a small concave dish, with an emitter of some type mounted down inside. I held it out upright before me and pressed the button. As the button made contact with the internal components, I felt a subtle, shuddering vibration in the palm of my hand as a shimmering blue blade sprang up from the emitter, extending to a length of about 2 feet. I could feel the pulsing, coursing energy rippling from the handle as the others whirled around to see what I had found, the blue light dancing in highlights across their armor. The abbreviated blade length was puzzling. I had seen lightsabers before, but never with a blade so short. I swept the blade back and forth, the low, rumbling static humming as I did so. Nadon stepped over to me as the others gathered around, “Training sabers. Ben built these for training Jedi of all ages.” He reached for the saber, and I released it to him. “They’re strong enough to deflect a low grade energy burst, but weak enough to only deliver a mild burning sensation” and he swiped the blade across his free arm, with no damage. “Full intensity blades would not be a good idea for training younglings” he said, as he snapped off the lightsaber. He placed the hilt back on the bench as his hands drifted over the others, “There are several here of varying sizes and diameters, to accommodate the growth of the child’s hand and increasing ability levels. All of these are training sabers. The student, or Padawaan, as the Jedi call them, must ultimately build their own lightsaber after passing their trials, as one last symbol of attaining their full Jedi Knight status. That’s what the little blast furnace was for, cooking and refining the crystals to a pure enough state for use in building these.” Felth stepped closer to the table, his eyes moving across the bench, taking note of the number of sabers laid out across the cloth. Rogue picked up several small square devices from the benchtop, “Holoprojectors?” Nadon nodded, blinking his tired eyes, “He created holographic images of himself moving through classic fighting styles to use as a training tool for the Padawaans. As it turns out, Ben was the only one who ever used this place.” Felth looked up, “You mean no Jedi were trained here?” Nadon nodded again, “That’s correct.” The trooper looked annoyed, “You expect us to believe that this old guy was hiding out here since the Old Republic fell and he never trained a single Jedi?” The Ithorian refugee stared back at him and replied, “Yes, that’s correct. It was his intention to be a beacon, and to build a safe haven to any surviving Jedi or possible Jedi candidates, but the rapidly growing influence of the Empire and the fear of repercussions kept anyone from ever coming forward. After several years, he resigned himself to the fact that he must be the last of his Order, and used this facility to meditate and keep himself active, but it was never used for instruction, as its design was intended. The galaxy eventually came to realize that the Jedi had not abandoned them, but had in fact been the first victims of deception, destroyed by the Emperor because they stood in his way. By the time that realization occurred, there were no Jedi left.” Felth flipped on the power switch on his E-11 and drew his blaster, pointing it at the Hammerhead, “I should kill you right here for that kind of treasonous talk.” It was a fantastic show, fabricated to show a loyalty to the Empire that Felth no longer possessed. The Ithorian stared blankly back at the trooper without flinching, “ I am old, and no threat to you. My death will not serve the Empire, but if that is my fate, kill me.” Rogue put a hand on the muzzle of Felth’s blaster, lowering it, “That won’t be necessary, trooper.” He had killed more Ithorians on Belliran V than he cared to remember, he did not need the blood of another on his hands, “ I have searched the holonet databases searching for a "Ben Kenobi" since we learned his name, and have turned up nothing of interest except Kenobi Freightways, headquartered on Bakura. What is this Jedi’s true name?” Nadon paused. He knew Kenobi was dead, he had felt the passing and his connection with Kenobi shift as his friend had become one with the Force. “You will find record of him as General Obi-Wan Kenobi.” * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
RoCKo Posted December 19, 2006 Share Posted December 19, 2006 man, that is awesome! thanks for sharing with us!!! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 19, 2006 Author Share Posted December 19, 2006 man, that is awesome! thanks for sharing with us!!! Thanks Rocko! Part II is not complete...it is still a work being written. I will put up new posts here as they are written, but I think the 10 chapters of Installment I and all of Installment II so far will keep everyone busy until I can post up some more. Think of it as an early Christmas gift. If you don't celebrate Christmas...it is merely a holiday gift. Enjoy, and please shoot me some feedback! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SethB6025 Posted December 19, 2006 Share Posted December 19, 2006 I have been following this story at the MFP boards, and it really is well done! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 20, 2006 Author Share Posted December 20, 2006 I have been following this story at the MFP boards, and it really is well done! Thanks Seth. I appreciate your kind words, and would love to hear feedback from you and everyone as to what you like, don't like, would do differently, and what you would like to see. I have enjoyed writing this more than I can tell you. Once ROTS was finally in place, the history was defined, and the OT characters deepened and made so much more complex. I am enjoying writing the flashbacks of Obi-Wan. In case anyone hasn't checked out the PDF version, it has pictures that I carefully collected and photoshopped to help convey what I was seeing in my head as I wrote. Check it out if you haven't! I should have more posted up soon. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Robster Posted December 20, 2006 Share Posted December 20, 2006 T-man awesome bro!!!i will keep reading and if i have any ideas i will send them to you via pm!!! Keep up the good work trooper Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 20, 2006 Author Share Posted December 20, 2006 T-man awesome bro!!!i will keep reading and if i have any ideas i will send them to you via pm!!! <!-- s:salute: --><!-- s:salute: -->Keep up the good work trooper <!-- s:td: --><!-- s:td: --> Thanks VERY MUCH! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! <!-- s:dance: --><!-- s:dance: --> Here's a little more: Two of the three silvery moons orbiting the planet now illuminated the sands under a gleaming canopy of stars as Rogue closed his holonet fieldpack. The findings of our search to date had successfully transmitted. Everything we had uncovered about the old Jedi, BoShek, Momaw Nadon, the Lars’ and Luke Skywalker was now waiting for the Dark Lord’s review. Vader needed to be kept abreast of the unfolding search and any new findings about Ben, Obi-Wan, Kenobi. The smallest detail might seem insignificant, but could prove monumental in the recovery of the stolen data and the apprehension of the last Jedi and his apprentice. While it was of top importance, we still needed more detailed information about this Jedi Training Arena before it was officially reported. The crisp night air was a sharp contrast to the blasting heat of the day. Rogue reclined back against the rock behind him and breathed in the cool air as the black thermal glove kicked in beneath the plating of his armor, sensing a dip in skin temperature. It was now warming him using energy captured from the twin suns. The trip back to Mos Eisley would be a long one, and he was tired from the events of the long day. They had the meeting with the moisture farmers in the morning, and being around the Hammerhead unnerved him quite a bit . . . too many memories from Belliran V, but he decided they would camp here for the night. * * * Data intensive status reports scrolled rapidly across several large illuminated screens, but Wilhuff Tarkin sat swiveled ‘round, staring out the large portal behind his desk. His face was coldly emotionless . . . his thoughts were not of his precious statistics, but of the power that was now under his control . . . the power to simply wipe planets from the heavens if they dared resist the Emperor. He had worked long and hard to finally be seated here watching Imperial history unfold around him. Many had died to bring this station and his new command to life . . . not nearly enough of those dirty Wookiees, he thought. The stars slipped silently past as the Death Star advanced on the Yavin system. Vader’s little plan had worked. He had successfully located the Millennium Falcon and set course for the fourth moon in the system. Although his grand creation lacked hyperdrive, it was tracking along quite nicely at sub-light speeds. It had left the debris field that had been Alderaan in its wake, slipped silently past Phindar, and was now bearing down on the giant, gaseous planet of Yavin. The moon in question was in mid-orbit, on the far side, and would soon be in range of the main Superlaser. Tarkin amused himself as he thought of the Rebels hidden somewhere among the jungle forests and the abandoned temples of the once-proud Massassi, scurrying to find a way to escape the deadly shadow cast by the monstrous station. He stood, straightened his tunic and exited his chambers, heading for the Superlaser observation deck . . . he wanted a good view of the end of the Rebellion. * * * Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tyranus Posted December 27, 2006 Author Share Posted December 27, 2006 Just curious if anyone had started to read any of the story, and what you think of it? I'm always up for feedback, and would love to hear from you here and by email at terek_deckard@yahoo.com. Thanks, and Happy New Year everyone! Let's make 2007 a great one! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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