Tyranus
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‘Sabela Arlen, in a black hooded robe, sat motionless in the shadows of the spaceport watching Guri’s ship. The small communicator in her palm began to vibrate. She held it close to her mouth, barely daring to whisper, “Are you in place?”
1265’s voice whispered in response, “I’m in place. Kaird’s ship is looking pretty quiet. You OK?”
Without taking her eyes off the ship, she replied as there was a small movement in the cockpit, “I’m good. Let me know if anything changes, otherwise silence.”
Inside the vessel under surveillance, Guri sat forward in the cockpit to the edge of her seat, positioning her face into the range of the holo-receptor’s scanning beams. She appeared human, and was athletic with strong features. The hologram of a restless figure paced on the console before her. He was a tall, green-skinned Falleen; humanoid in appearance with the subtle, residual features of his ancient reptilian ancestry. A thick topknot of black hair erupted from his otherwise bald head. He turned, looking to one side as Guri began, in a warm, throaty voice.
“Kaird is here, sir. The Port Authority confirmed that his ship is here now.”
He thought carefully, replying slowly at first; surgically selecting his words.
“The conversation”, he paused. “That brief conversation with the Hutt, and the events that followed on that recording must never again see the light of day. Matalla tried to tell me about the Jedi, but I silenced him. He tried to warn me that the Jedi he had seen carried with him an infant, and how uncharacteristic that was for a Jedi. I couldn’t be bothered with his observations of some warrior refugee; that was the obsession of the Emperor’s new Dark Lord.”
He took a few steps, lowering his gaze, but still staring off into nothing, as if once again visiting that dark hallway in his mind.
“I had no way of knowing then, but I now believe that the Jedi he saw was Kenobi, and the child mentioned grew to be mentored in the Jedi way, and went on to obliterate Tarkin and his Death Star.”
His eyes darted from side to side. “If that were to be revealed to Vader; if Kaird were to recover that recording and present it to the Dark Lord, all of Black Sun’s contracts that I worked so hard to negotiate would be finished, and the Emperor’s servant would hunt me relentlessly.”
He turned to look squarely at her now, his perfect white teeth gleaming as he spoke.
“If Kaird locates that recording first, he’ll destroy me with it. He’ll be searching alone, though; he won’t involve the Hutts. He can’t afford to bring them into it. I thought I was rid of this concern long ago, but now he’s determined to dig up the past for his own gain. You know what must be done where Kaird is concerned.”
She nodded, “And what of the Imperial troops also searching for it? How should they be dealt with?”
He looked off again, “Even if they make the find, they may not know the full extent of what they have beyond the evidence of murder, but that’s a chance I am not willing to take.”
He turned back to her again. “That recording can never leave Tatooine, Guri, are we clear?”
The blonde-haired human replica ‘droid stared back with pale and clear blue eyes. “Clear as Adegan crystals, Prince Xizor.”
His holographic image dissolved, and she took a deep breath, mimicking human behavior beautifully.
*
“Yes R2, I was able to fix it this time, but you need to be more careful.”
The little ‘droid gave a sheepish groan of apology as they made their way down to the X-wing fighter below. It sat waiting, atop a flat stone clearing at the base of the canyon.
“C’mon around here R2, and I’ll quick-charge the repulsor packs so we can get you loaded in and . . .”
His sentence broke mid-stream as he noticed a figure dressed in black leaning against his boarding ladder. He reflexively unclipped his newly restored lightsaber, igniting it. The milky blue blade flashed out from the hilt, illuminating his face and arm in the dim twilight of the canyon; the low rumbling snarl of the energy beam cutting through the silence between them.
The dark figure stood up straight, but drew no weapon. Luke listened as he strained in the dim light to see; there was no cold, mechanical breathing; it was not Vader.
Suddenly it spoke, “I’m not armed. I was hoping to meet you. You are Skywalker, right?”
The voice was not menacing or threatening. Luke stood in silence, wondering who could have known he was here, let alone his name. He did not reply, allowing the silence to stand as he waited for more information. R2 whimpered slightly.
“I received a holonet message from ‘BASE ONE’ advising that you were on-planet. They gave me the coordinates to locate your ship. I’m the one that’s been funneling information to you and the rebellion.”
He paused for just a second and stepped forward into the saber’s glow as he continued. Luke lowered his blade slightly, looking the other man in the eyes.
The figure took another step closer, staring back at him.
“My name is Davin Felth.”
* * *
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I have FULL and LITE AM Armor kits ready to go!
Drop me and email and they can ship the same day.
tupperwaretk@yahoo.com
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The rear courtyard was now completely submerged in shadow, and Daegan was fuming and muttering under his breath as he stepped from doc’s speeder. “I don’t get it, what’s got us stalled here tonight? Doc was told to be here by sundown, and we all rushed to get here on time.” He checked several straps across their loaded down supply sled.
“It was as much a change for us as for you” I said, watching the heat trails rippling off the speeders’ side thrusters as they wound down. “Rogue told us we were leaving tonight, and then suddenly changed his mind based on some information about increased Tusken activity in the area; raiding parties coming in closer and closer every night. He felt, since we’re traveling with you civilians, it would be safer to set out at first light.”
I turned my head back to him, “We’re not leaving from here anyway. Our drop ship is going to put us on the ground outside of town, at the edge of the Dune Sea. Our guide, Sandie, says there’s a Tusken stronghold not too far out where several Bantha herds are known to gather, and thinks that it should be a good place to begin.”
“Fort Tusken” confirmed Daegan. “I know the place. It dates back about 100 years or so. Some of the settlers from Bestine Township built it and gave the name Fort Tusken to honor the island of Tusken on their homeworld, Bestine IV.”
“A new island in an altogether different sea. So is that one of the places your team is studying?” I asked.
“Yeah” he nodded “but from the surrounding hills with macros. The Sandpeople guard the place pretty fiercely. It’s rumored that in the lower levels it houses a spring-fed pool of water. Whether that’s true or not has yet to be proven. You think this place is desolate now? Back when the settlers were still in control of the fort, they were all alone out here. The Sandpeople attacked and raided it relentlessly, eventually earning them the ‘Tusken Raider’ nickname. ‘Lina knows more about them than I do, though. She was here studying them on her own once before. I’ll let her fill you in on the details. I’d probably get them wrong.”
I stretched my neck to one side and then the other, cracking the stiff vertebrae. “She may be interested in a series of caves we accidentally found out in one of the nearby canyons. They’ve got burial chambers and cave art from some of the earliest Sandpeople, and structures that pre-date even them, going back to the Ghorfa and Kumumgah. At least that’s what we were told by some of the local moisture farmers. I’ll have to show her and the rest of you sometime, maybe when we get back from our little expedition.”
Daegan grinned, almost laughing. “Sandie? Are you kidding me? Sandie? Is that really the guide’s name?”
I concealed any amusement as I responded, nodding my head. “Our snitch, the one who found him for us, says he’s known around here as ‘The Sandman of Tatooine’. The old guy suggested we call him Sandie for short to make things easier. He never did give us a real name. I guess it’s not really important though, as long as he knows where he’s going and how to find what we’re looking for.”
“So, what are you looking for? ‘Lina knows, but she’s not talking.”
Now it was my turn to grin as I dodged his question, “That’s a bigger question than I’m cleared to share right now. C’mon, let’s head inside, the morning’s going to come early. If Rogue gives the OK, I’ll let your whole team know.”
*
Felth nodded, agreeing, “I’ll have the ship ready for the morning, but there’s something wrong with the thrust sequencer on the starboard engine.”
Rogue shook his head as Felth read his silent concern.
“It’ll be ready, but I need to get over to the docking bay to make a few repairs and adjustments and give it a test flight.”
A moment of silence passed, then Rogue gave a nod. “Go ahead. I’ll have 4120 finish the packing out back.”
He paused and Felth turned to go, then he continued. “Just make sure it’s ready to be loaded by dawn. We’ll leave as soon as everything is aboard.”
Felth gave a half-hearted wave of his hand and nodded without turning back as he opened the door, pushing past me and Daegan. Rogue exited the front office, disappearing into the bunk room to find 4120 as I closed the front door. Daegan followed after him and I brought up the rear a few moments later.
Every spare bunk we had in the next room was now occupied, and several bed rolls lay on the floor. ‘Lina and Miren sat on Ddraig’s bunk, fascinated as he worked on the astromech, explaining to them what he was doing and why. ‘Lina was young, probably mid twenties and quite flirty. Miren was in her early thirties and quite attractive, but was clearly an archaeologist and scientist first.
Blade entered the room from the front, moving past me as Daegan sat down and joined Bem, Erek, Doc and Ash in their game of Sabacc. Danz and 1265 stood watching the card game while Zu sat adjacent to them on her bunk, cleaning her field stripped blaster and occasional eyeing the cards in play herself. Blade moved through the crowd, pulling 1265 aside for a brief, private conversation.
Etz, Topolev and Holder were busy packing their gear bags, while Falker and 0600 stretched out on their bunks, relaxing and watching everyone else. Sandie lay on one of the bed rolls in the corner, trying hard to watch the group, but fighting a losing battle with heavy eyelids and sleep. 1265 nodded twice to Blade, then returned to his bunk to grab his helmet and head out through the front.
At about the same moment, 4120, wearing only his black flight suit and boots, entered from the rear store room, heading past me toward the front.
“Hey, is Rogue still back there?” I asked as he passed me.
He looked back quickly, but kept moving, “Yeah but he’s headed down to the cache.”
I watched him disappear through the front door and then noticed Falker also watching him.
“Deck, does he look OK to you?”
“I guess so. Why?”
He shook his head slowly as 0600 cut his eyes over, listening. “I don’t know exactly, can’t quite put my finger on it. I mean he’s usually pretty laid back, but lately he’s looking a little rough around the edges; seems preoccupied and jittery; kinda on edge.”
I looked back toward the front door. “Huh, I hadn’t noticed.”
*
Keeping his distance, so as not to be discovered, 4120 followed Felth through the twisting streets and hallways to the spaceport, watching as he descended the steps to the docking bay below. Something just wasn’t right. There had been nothing wrong with the starboard engine thrust sequencer the last time HE had flown the ship.
Each step he took following Felth down to the bay was taken slowly and deliberately to avoid detection until he could safely watch from behind several cargo containers in the safety of the shadows. Crouched down behind them afforded him a clear view.
Felth glanced up and around the walls of the pit as he opened the maintenance hatch on the side of the engine in question for a quick look. Almost immediately, he pulled his head back out and stepped over to the toolbox, grabbing a small device with coiled cords leading to a probe.
4120 immediately identified it as a sequence analyzer and calibrator, but a puzzled look took over his sweaty face, and he pushed trembling fingers through his disheveled hair as Felth reached back inside the hatch to use the tool.
He appeared to be taking a reading, and making adjustments, then replaced the tool with the others in the box and cut only his eyes up to hovering security ‘droids near the rim of the pit. He closed the access panel and wiping his hands together, disappeared up the boarding ramp into the ship.
4120 heard the power plant come on-line from somewhere within the ship, followed by the engines. They steadily rose in pitch as he rolled the whole situation over in his head. What was Felth up to? He held the swollen, red stump above his cybernetic hand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up his arm. The ship lifted from its landing gear, slowly at first, simply hovering, and then rose with certainty above the rim of the open pit, disappearing into the darkening sky as the main engines engaged.
As Felth slipped away, a perplexed 4120 walked over to the tool box, looking at the tool that had been used. It was clearly marked SEQUENCE ANALYZER/CALIBRATOR, but something was very wrong and 4120 knew it. With shaking hands, he quickly unwrapped a small stick of spice, pushed it in his mouth and bit down hard, crushing it in a shower of blue sparks that spilled out over his lips as he scratched at his infected wrist. The rush was immediate, and the pain in his arm quickly faded away
He had used that same tool before, many times at his post on Ralltiir, but it was for analyzing and calibrating the firing sequence of onboard mounted guns and cannons; it had absolutely nothing to do with engine thrust sequencer calibration on this, or any other ship.
*
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Fantastic work!
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The spiked cleats strapped to Solo’s boots dug in to the sheer face of the ice wall, and he slammed the pickaxe into the frozen slope, pulling his way up the slick trail toward the mouth of the cave. The rest of the search team was below him, beginning their ascent.
Just outside the rough cut opening ahead he could see several soldiers standing guard with rifles drawn and energized; two facing the room, and two facing in toward him. Behind the guards he made out the figures of Leia and Mon Mothma. Both of their faces wore the pallor of extreme concern and worry as they paced; expectantly awaiting his return.
He emerged from the dim passage, breathing heavily from his climb, pulling off his goggles and hood as he stepped into the room. One of the guards shouldered his rifle and offered him a drink of water as he sat down on the idle ice cutter’s treads.
Leia caught his eye, looking for a clue, anything; and for an instant he returned her worried stare with a solemn one that offered no hope. Mon Mothma also saw his expression as he looked up. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as tears fell, realizing Alia was gone.
Han took a breath and began as delicately as he knew how. “We followed every path, every corridor down there, and they’re extensive. We killed several of those things, but there was nothing, no sign of her . . . until we came to the spot where it empties to the outside. There was . . .”
He paused a moment, staring off into space at the image of her mangled remains stained across the ice; staring vacantly at him, and now forever imprinted in his memory.
“There was . . . evidence . . . that she was gone.”
He looked down at the goggles in his hand as Leia comforted Mon Mothma, helping her from the room toward her quarters.
Han exhaled hard. That poor kid didn’t have a chance against those things.
He watched them disappear into the hallway. Several moments later, the rest of the search team emerged from the cave opening. They silently made their way past him, carrying a black body bag. Two of the guards followed them out, and two remained behind.
The Corellian smuggler sat in silence atop the cold tread plates of the ice cutter. All he could see was Alia’s dead face, her vacant eyes open and staring up at him. He had seen more than his share of death over the years. ****, he had looked through the smoke curling from the barrel of his blaster into the dead eyes of many he had helped along their journey to death, but it was always the innocent ones that got to him; the ones in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sound of his heart pounded louder and louder against his eardrums.
A group of techs startled him out of his daze as they entered the room followed by several loader ‘droids. The mechs that brought up the rear were large, lumbering creations and carried large crates of equipment; panels and electronics for installing a locking power door over the jagged mouth of the cave to keep those creatures out. He stood up, goggles in hand as they set to work sealing the opening.
* * *
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Thanks everyone!
Lots more work to do.
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Inside the crumbling ruins of the tiny B’Omarr shrine, backed as far into the corner as he could get, the little blue astromech awaited his master’s return. The extended lifeform scanner, slowly turning back and forth above his dome revealed his master, beyond the stone wall beside him, and several dozen meters below.
The shimmering blue of the Tatooine sky would soon fall victim to the ambers and reds of another blazing decline into the black of night. Recalled memories of another night on Tatooine coursed through the little droid’s processors. Memories of roaming the empty canyons alone in search of a settlement; vivid memories of descending a sloped stone, right up to the instant the hidden Jawas fired the immobilizing ray at him.
His frame shook a bit, and a very slight electronic whimper escaped from somewhere beneath his dome, which now turned nervously, this way and that. If a ‘droid could hope, he was most certainly hoping that Master Luke would return quickly.
Far below, his master carefully followed the stony, descending path in the dim light of Obi Wan Kenobi’s youthful image floating above the activated holocron. The young Alliance Commander gripped the luminous cube in his right hand. In his left was a small leather pouch of tools from his mentor’s home.
Kenobi’s voice echoed off the walls in the still, quiet air, “Continue down this grade and through the opening in the wall ahead.”
Luke stepped beneath the dark stone arch and through the twisted breech in the downed B’Omarr starship’s wrecked hull into the emptiness of the even darker room beyond. The holocron sensed its proximity to a small metallic trigger placed somewhere among the rocks to the left; just where Ben had left it.
The glowing image flickered and fluttered before disappearing, almost immediately replaced with a new and different image of Kenobi. The one that appeared was of a much older Kenobi with white hair and beard, as Luke remembered him.
The image smiled, “Hello Luke. The fact that this recording has been triggered indicates that you have found your way to my training arena.”
Luke reached down into a calf pocket on his flight suit and removed a rescue flare. He twisted the metal end cap, activating it, and stood up straight, raising the brilliant white light high above his head to get a good look around as Kenobi continued.
“I converted this wrecked cargo bay into an instructional space many years ago, when you were still a toddler. I did so with the hope that someday your uncle would allow me to train you as a Jedi. With each passing year, that possibility decreased exponentially as his dislike for, and mistrust of me grew. I will also assume that since my marker triggered this particular recording, and that the holocron has led you here and not me personally, I am gone. Consider this place an extension of my home and the cave. All three are yours to do with as you see fit. Take notice of the cables overhead for balance training. The trees positioned around the arena are Bafforr trees.”
Luke moved the flare to one side and the other, revealing the trees suspended around the room.
“Within their branches live Ysalimari; small creatures that 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 rippled or disturbed; effectively concealing a meditating or practicing Jedi within this ring from unwanted detection by others.”
Luke glanced around the room at the trees as the holo continued.
“On the bench to your left are several lightsabers for training. Any one of these should yield parts useful for repairing a hilt.”
Luke wedged the flare between the planks of a large crate beside him and stepped over to the bench, setting down the holocron. Carefully, he unclipped the damaged lightsaber from his belt and placed it gently on the bench. After opening the bag of tools, he reached down to the shelf below for one of the training sabers. They were all the same; the simple hilts nearly smooth except for several small protrusions sticking out as he rolled it over in his hands.
The black grips on the trainer were tightly screwed in place to the metallic tube of the nondescript saber. He nodded approvingly as he glanced over to his own weapon with grips that were quite loose and hopelessly askew.
As he studied the trainer, he noted that it had no glass eye lens and no bubbled activation stud, only two knurled metallic knobs with inset red buttons like the one found on his hilt and a simple circuit board activation sensor strip, but it looked to be part of the clamping collar.
Aside from having a textured band around its center, the clamp was the same as his. There was definitely nothing elegant about it, but he figured it would get the job done if he could simply swap his for this one.
He turned to the patiently waiting holographic image of Kenobi and spoke aloud, “Lightsaber repair.”
Ben’s smiling image retracted into the cube, replaced with detailed schematics as Luke grabbed one of the tools from the bag and set to removing the silver screws from the notched grips.
Hopefully the repairs wouldn’t take very long.
* * *
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Thanks!
Not all have such a heavy duty frame.
This one is aluminum for added strength.
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I decided to change over to an aluminum frame for more stability.
In addition to that, I did some work on R2 yesterday, finishing the construction of his second leg and he finally stood for the first time!
Check it out:
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A little more:
Blade looked quickly to the left, then the right and exited the small room into the hall of the Dowager Queen. Two Jawas leaning against the dusty wall several doors down stopped their jabbering and turned to watch him go, their amber eyes piercing the blackness of their cloaked faces. Their gaze then moved slowly to the still-open door he had come from.
His auburn-haired shadow, ‘Sabela Arlen, slid into the narrow gap between the door and frame he had vacated, watching him go.
As the doors of the turbolift closed with him inside, she silently disappeared behind the closing door of her room; echoes of their brief conversation playing over in her head as she leaned back against the inside of the door. It clicked shut and she locked the heavy bolt. She needed to know more about Kaird and Guri. If they were tailing Blade’s group, she needed more information.
She thought about him again; Ardan Drone, aka Blade. He didn’t want her to follow; he wanted her to be safe. The more she thought about it, the less she could fight the smile creeping across her face. He was worried about her.
She went to the window, leaning toward the pane, her face pushed into the musty, diaphanous curtains that hung to the floor watching. As he walked away into the masses on the sandy street below, a bent, hooded figure bumped into him in the street. Reflexively she jumped, but the stranger retreated immediately, bowing and apologizing. Flipping the safety back on, her hand moved slowly off the grip of her blaster and she relaxed as Blade disappeared into the crowd.
*
The door to our building slid open, and Garindan entered, trailed by a crusty, weathered old man in a hooded cloak with desert wraps covering his body and face, and dark goggles shielding his eyes. Rogue and Felth looked up from their seats at the holonet console, as the door slid shut behind their snitch.
Garindan began speaking in squeaks and squawks as Rogue motioned for him to wait. “Hold on.” He reached inside his helmet, turning on the translator and switching to broadcast speaker mode. He looked back at his Kubaz spy nodding for him to continue.
The translated voice came from the helmet speakers. “I have found your guide, sir. For years he has claimed to have knowledge about the location you seek.” Garindan stepped aside, bringing the man forward.
Rogue looked him over. “Who are you?”
The old man lifted and pushed back his hood, then pulled down the wraps from his face, revealing a leathery, crease and wrinkle-ridden face, and a thick head of stark white hair. He grabbed his goggles, pushing them up into the snowy tangle, revealing two ice-blue eyes that stood out against his dark, tanned skin.
“Most folks around here call me ‘The Sandman’ ‘cause I generally live outside the towns, out in the sand. Why don’t you call me Sandie? It’ll make things easier.”
Rogue stood up. “OK Sandie . . . I’m Rogue. Why don’t you tell me what you know about the place we’re looking for.”
The old man got a twinkle in his eye, and a slight smile crept onto his face; only the very corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “The place you seek hides from everyone.”
He looked off vacantly into a scene from his mind’s eye, a sandscape from somewhere in his past travels.
“It sends instruments reeling, readings spike and fall off, and false headings breed confusion. The first time I found it completely by accident; after a sandstorm. An entrance was revealed to me when the ‘Sea shifted. I quickly noted the rock landmarks, and it’s a good thing, because another storm blew through soon after, covering the entrance I had found while simultaneously revealing another.”
He looked back to Rogue, “The sands both conceal and disclose in their own time, like the swelling waves of a vast liquid ocean rising and falling; those things caught beneath lie patiently; waiting to be discovered.”
Rogue interjected “It has many entrances?”
Sandie nodded. “I told you, it hides. It doesn’t want to be found.” He pulled a small collapsible bladder from his belt and took a drink. “Do you have water for a refill?”
“I’ve got this” said Felth, taking it from the man, and disappearing into the back.
Garindan spoke up, looking toward Sandie. “He’s a little rough, but if anyone knows where this place is, my money is on him.”
Rogue leaned to his right, unlocking a small box on the console. He reached in a pulled out a small wrapped parcel which he then placed in Garindan’s hand. “I think this should catch us up on what we owe you.” The Kubaz eyed the unmistakable package of wrapped spice sticks in his palm.
Felth reappeared, handing the container back to Sandie and taking a seat behind the holonet console.
“Thank you. Oh! It’s cold too!” Sandie looked gratefully over to Felth, then back to Rogue. “I am at your disposal. When do we leave?”
Rogue nodded. “At first light. We were planning on leaving tonight, and get some traveling done at night when it’s cooler, but we’ve had reports of increased Tusken activity once the suns go down, at least around here. Felth here will be air-lifting us to a point out of the city, at the edge of the Dune Sea. We’ll leave from there. Maybe when we get out a bit we can switch to nights.”
Garindan jumped in as he turned to the front door. “I must leave now to bring your pack animals around back and ready them.”
Rogue nodded as the snitch through the front door. As he exited, Holder stepped in, pulling back his hood. Ddraig, Etz and I entered from the back with a crate. Etz released the crate, turning to face the commando. “Hey Holder, you feeling any better?”
He nodded once. “Yeah, much better.”
Rogue flicked his eyes to Holder. “Is Doc here already? I was expecting him shortly, but not this soon.”
Sandie watched with squinting eyes as Holder responded.
“No, I left last night; wanted some time alone before we left. Doc should be here soon though. You said sundown, right?”
Rogue nodded. “Right. This is Sandie. He’ll be our guide for the search.”
Holder looked at the old man, reaching out a hand. Sandie took it, giving a firm shake; his ancient eyelids trembling a bit.
“Is it OK if I get him his gear?” asked Holder.
Rogue nodded. “Sure.”
Holder led Sandie into the back as Ddraig, Etz and I continued loading charged blaster clips into a crate with Topolev keeping count. When we were done, and had sealed the container, Topolev turned and handed the page to Rogue for his inventory.
He was heading toward the bunk room when Rogue stopped him. “Tops, have you seen 4120 or Blade? We’re almost ready and they’re not here.” He handed the count to Felth.
Topolev stopped, turning back to reply. “No, I haven’t seen them.”
Ddraig jumped in, “4120’s with Garindan out back in the courtyard harnessing up the Eopies. Blade said he’d be back soon. One last sweep I guess.”
Rogue nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “OK” remembering that Blade was going to speak to his “shadow”.
*
Tiny blue sparks popped and fizzled inside 4120’s mouth as he quickly re-wrapped the last remaining spice stick in his hand. Several of the Eopie’s grunted. One spit into the sand as it shifted its weight on long legs anxiously. Garindan’s eyes, hidden beneath his black goggles, darted from one side of the courtyard to the other as he secured a buckle on the last animal.
4120’s eyes rolled back in his head a bit, and he leaned back against the half wall of the loading dock, savoring the strong flavor on his tongue and the rush as a wave of chills swept over him. His heart began beating a bit faster and the intolerable itching at his wrist began to slowly subside.
The cloaked snitch took a handful of credits and passed him two more darkly –wrapped packages before disappearing into the shadows. 4120 pulled himself together as he stood up straight, stuffing the spice into an empty belt container. As he did, Falker came out of the narrow, side alley into the courtyard. “Hey, c’mon and grab your gear. Rogue just said Doc and his crew are almost here. We’ve got to figure out a place for them to bed down for the night since our evening departure has been canceled. How many of them are there? I thought maybe we could put them in . . . .”
Falker and 4120 headed out through the narrow alley toward the front door leaving Garindan behind with the animals. Blade watched silently from the shadows across the courtyard. Even the Kubaz spy didn’t notice him.
*
The Emperor sat alone; motionless with eyes closed. He was as still and rigid as the carbonite-entombed captives that populated the macabre garden surrounding him. Behind his closed eyes, a vision began to emerge from the ever-changing clouds that were the future. He saw himself, overseeing a confrontation between Vader and the missing son the Sith Lord sought.
The boy in question, Luke Skywalker, snapped at something his father said, attacking in an anger-fueled rage, driving the Dark Lord back. Lightsabers slashed and sizzled as his apprentice stumbled and fell. Luke aggressively took advantage of this, continuing his attack with a flurry of saber hacks, ultimately severing his father’s sword hand. He held the tip of his blade to Vader’s throat in certain victory as the image began to fade into more clouds.
A smile formed on Palpatine’s warped face as he realized the potential in Luke as a new apprentice; potential he had once seen in Anakin. He cackled in amusement; his evil laughter echoing off the stony walls, glass floor and carbonite slabs. Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.
Beneath the glass floor of his Carbonite Garden, two Royal Guards in pressurized breathing suits moved carefully over the rocks and around the scattered bodies of dead Jedi until they were directly beneath the Emperor.
One looked up to adjust their position, making sure they could be seen just in front of the throne. When he was sure they were in place, they both knelt with the capsule they carried. On activation, it slid open. The second guard reached in, pulling out an armful of tattered brown cloth. The other guard reached in now, pulling out more brown cloth. Carefully they laid it out on the rocks. Both pieces came together at a clean, burned slice in the center.
Once arranged, it was clear that the cloth was in fact two halves of a heavy, brown hooded cloak. Although a body had not been recovered, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Jedi robes, collected by the recovery team onboard the Death Star were finally a part of the Emperor’s grisly display from the Jedi Purge.
It was at that moment that they saw Lord Vader enter the garden above, walk to the spot directly above them, and come to kneel before his master.
* * *
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Kathy Lagoli, please email me again.
For some reason your email was not allowing replies.
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I used satin on mine:
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I can get you the measurement of mine, but you can also check out the tutorial of my build for some help:
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I have kits in both color styles.
The Black kits for the TX designation are dwindling, so if you want one, get it now.
I have LITE white kits ready to go, and more LITE and FULL white kits ready in about 2 weeks.
Drop me a line for more information if interested:
tupperwaretk@yahoo.com
Thanks!
-
Beneath the metal cage and glass that separated him from the six rain-soaked people standing in the lobby on the other side slid ten one hundred-dollar bills. The balding attendant’s mouth hung open a bit as it was pushed toward him. He slipped on his glasses and licked his lips, setting down the television remote and picking up the bills.
As he thumbed through them, he noticed several grains of rice stuck to one, and the red smear of fresh blood across Franklin’s face on another. He glanced up nervously, over the wire-framed reading glasses perched down low on his nose, into the face of the man on the other side.
“I want to rent a suite. That should cover two months, right?” said Leon, pointing to the sign of posted rates on his side of the glass.
The old man returned his gaze to the money. “Yes, yes, that’s fine. I just don’t want any trouble.”
Roy leaned forward, resting his chin on Leon’s shoulder, smiling. “Do we look like trouble?”
The old man spun slightly on the creaky stool and grabbed a set of keys from the wall rack to his left. “You just surprised me is all. Most folks that come in here just want a room for a few hours or days at most.”
He put a ring of two keys down on the counter and pulled up a ledger on his vid-screen. “What’s your name?”
Rainwater dripped in tiny splashes on the counter as the man replied. “Kowalski. Leon Kowalski.”
The attendant tapped the name into the touch-screen, keyed the room number and pressed enter, saving the registration. He slid the keys under the wire cage and glass toward Leon. “I put you in #1187. Welcome to The Hunterwasser Towers.”
* * *
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For anyone who has a NOOK or KINDLE e-reader, all chapters to date of The Sandtrooper's Story are now available for either reader in epub and MOBI formats.
If you would like a copy to load up and explore, email thesandtroopersstory@gmail.com and request the version that is right for you.
NOOK = epub
KINDLE - MOBI
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A mixed roaring of both the new energy blades and the older mechanical cutting claws rebounded from the frozen walls and ceiling as the crews scraping the base layout from the ice continued their work. The newer digger models used energy blades that vaporized the ice on contact, but there were only two of those and funding wasn’t there for more.
The older diggers were far cheaper and easier to come by and were equipped with long rows of spinning durasteel blades which ground deeper and deeper into the ice walls as it advanced. All the while, a fine spray of ice shards was ejected from beneath them until the repulsor bins attached below were sufficiently loaded. When they were, a small sensor within the bin activated an alarm on the operator’s datapad console as the cutter was automatically disengaged and the digger shut down.
Once released from the main vehicle, the robotic bins wound their way through the tunnels and hangars of the slowly growing rebel base to the outside. As they traveled, the container full of ice shards was slightly heated and compressed, and then allowed to re-freeze in the frigid Hoth air, creating large ice blocks. These were then deposited for ground crews outside the base before the bin returned to its digger. The blocks were then used for creating ice walls around lookout posts and along the fronts of the defensive trenches.
This small piece of Hoth was slowly and begrudgingly giving up the shelter and storage they needed to house the rebel forces. Leia watched as one of the robotic bins returned from the main hangar level above, reattaching itself to its digger which immediately resumed cutting.
“Progress is being made Mon Mothma, but perhaps not as fast as we might like. The crews are working nonstop in shifts, but most of the equipment is outdated. They can’t go much faster.” The Princess was nearly shouting to be heard over the noise.
Mon Mothma’s aide, Alia, who had been standing quietly between the two women, took a step back so as not to block the eyeline between the two leaders. The slightly greying, more mature rebel leader responded slowly, carefully selecting her words.
“I have no doubt they are working as quickly as they can, Leia, and I’m sure the base will be completed soon. However; my time here grows short. I must soon return to the rest of the command fleet. Admiral Ackbar has quite a task trying to keep a group of ships that large from being discovered, and there is work still to be done bringing new systems and resources to our cause.”
Leia was watching Mon’s face as she spoke. “There’s something else. Something you’re not saying. What is it?”
The older woman cut her eyes quickly away to the ice shredding machines. “Walk with me, Leia.” She turned to her aide, raising a gentle hand in the air. “A private moment please, Alia? This will only take a moment.”
Alia bowed her head and stepped back, “Of course, milady.” Her eyes followed them as they turned to walk out into the privacy of the hallway.
Thankfully the dim corridor was a bit quieter, affording them a calmer exchange. Mon glanced back into the room to see Alia taking an interest in the cutter machines and talking with the crew. The noise level in the adjacent room was sufficient to cover their conversation anyway. She turned to face Bail Organa’s daughter.
“I hear Commander Skywalker has disappeared again.”
“Mon, I’m aware of this as is General Riek . . . .”
“I know Leia, I know. I do not question your ability to lead, but I am quite concerned with our newest Commander. There is no debating that his actions at the Battle of Yavin saved us all, and the Rebellion. And yes, I know he has left us to further his understanding of the Jedi way.”
Leia cut in, “In order to be a more effective opponent of the Empire.”
Mon Mothma took a few steps away, looking off down the corridor, far away as if looking into another time. She took a moment to draw in a slow breath from the frosty air, and then exhale deeply.
“What troubles me is not his current absence; it is the ghosts of the past that he and his antique Jedi weapon have resurrected within me. It could be brought to bear on us as it once was many years ago against the members of another group. He wields his lightsaber for good, but that weapon has caused more agony, anguish and turmoil than you may realize. Seeing it on our young Commander’s belt raised the hair on the back of my neck, Leia. That name, that weapon; we must be certain. We must be certain of his intentions, and he must be watched closely going forward.”
“His name? Why do you fear him so?” asked Leia. “He was led to us by Obi-Wan Kenobi. Surely he knew what he was doing and was a powerful enough Jedi to see a favorable future with Luke on our side.”
“I have known General Kenobi for many years, and I am confident that he had only our best interests in mind where Commander Skywalker is concerned, but . . . it wouldn’t be the first time he put too much faith in a pupil.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground, again choosing her words very carefully as she danced around the painful truth and past she and Leia’s parents had fought so hard to keep hidden. She mentally worked to bury her thoughts, her emotions. They could be read all too easily.
“Leia, for all that you know of the birth of the Empire and the Rebellion, there is much that you do not. There are only a handful who knew all the entanglements and complexities surrounding the descent of the Republic into the darkness cast by the Empire. Most of those who do are now dead, leaving only myself and one or two others. Trust me when I say it is neither a weight that can be shared with you at the present time, nor a mantle you would want to be burdened with. As a bit of a Force-sensitive myself, I can tell you that the ebb and flow of the Force can pull strongly to dark areas we may not wish to go. Vader and his Emperor are both ruthless and must be stopped at all costs. We cannot risk losing young Skywalker to that dark path. Watch him closely. He could be our salvation, but if he turns . . . he could also be our undoing.”
The last of Mon Mothma’s comments lingered in the air, increasing in weight as the moments passed. Suddenly that silence was interrupted by a hideous roar, immediately followed by screams and blaster fire coming from the room they had just left. Both women turned abruptly to look.
Bright flashes and the sound of more blaster fire was immediately followed by first one, and then several from the ice cutting crew running out of the room into the corridor toward them. Another loud howl echoed off the walls.
The running troops stopped just short of where Leia was standing and turned, dropping to one knee, leveling their blasters. One of the ice cutters ripped off his goggles and turned his red face to the startled women as he powered on his blaster, “There’s ice creatures in there! One of the cutters broke through into a natural ice cave behind one of the walls. When it pulled back to take a look, they came pushing through!”
“Let’s get you both out of here” insisted one of the troopers, attempting to herd Leia and Mon Mothma away to safety.
“Where is Alia?” screamed Mon, wide eyed. “Where is my aide?”
The trooper turned to her grimly, “One of them took her; back into the cave. We tried to stop it, but it grabbed her and was gone. It all happened so fast.”
More howls rolled down the corridor as one of the beasts made its way into the hall. A flurry of blaster fire erupted, bright crimson flashes illuminating the dim space, as the creature howled louder before stumbling to his knees and crashing dead, face-first to the durasteel floor grates.
A second of the huge beasts burst through the opening, followed by a third.
“Retreat!” yelled one of the cutting crew as they stood up and turned to run.
* * *
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The elusive shadow of Garindan slunk almost invisibly through the streets. He knew where to find the pack Eopies needed for the journey, and was running through a mental list of people who could possibly lead the troops and scientists on their search as he walked. There were several crusty old scrap dealers he knew that had crisscrossed the Dune Sea in search of salvageable parts. On any given night, after a few drinks, they spun elaborate tales of an immense boneyard out in the ‘Sea. No one had ever taken the drunken fools seriously, until now.
As he was nearly to the first of the parts shops, another person suddenly came to mind with a flash. He stopped short in his tracks, his mind reeling. It baffled him why he hadn’t thought of the ‘Sandman of Tatooine’ sooner. Delighted with the recollection, he disappeared into the shop to interview the first of the parts men on his list. His questions would reveal if they were promising, and a good fit for the team, or merely a drunken cantina storyteller.
*
Doc Shurte held a hand up before his face, deflecting the fine sand spray thrown up from the departing ‘speeder. He watched it accelerate away across the flats as his Rodian assistant headed for home.
Holder’s bed was empty and he was gone, as was the swoop bike that had been chained up out back. The aging doctor sighed. Hed have to call rogue and let him know the Commando was missing.
A slight wind carried on it the distant wailing of womp rats as Daegan approached him from behind.
“Uncle, it’s time.”
Shurte looked from the horizon down to his feet. “The clinic is locked up, are all the supplies ready?”
“Everything's ready. All supplies are packed and on the repulsor sled. It’s nearly midday and the crew is irritated enough about having to go to the troops instead of them coming here. They’re anxious to head out so we can make it to Mos Eisley before nightfall. It’s going to be slow going dragging that overloaded sled behind your old speeder.”
The older man nodded silently, his brow furrowed with unspoken concern.
* * *
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Right now the helmet project is shelved for the time being. No ETA unfortunately.
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I have more LITE and FULL kits if anyone is interested. And a few Black kits left too!
Drop me a line!
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Throbbing sounds and strobing lights leaked from the smoky entrance to the Taffy Lewis Online bar, and were reflected in the wet sidewalk as the front doors were flung open. The bouncer standing outside in the rain looked over his shoulder toward the door. Rick Deckard pushed his way through the crowd of costumed Halloween patrons and out the opening into the cool of the night. He turned up his drink, finishing the last of it before placing the empty glass in the unbelievably large man’s hand. “Happy Halloween.”
“See ya later, Deck.”
As he stepped down to the sidewalk, the clearly intoxicated Blade Runner stopped a moment, squinting glassy eyes as he turned back. He barely noticed the steady rain as his face effortlessly drew itself up into a lopsided smile. He remembered having said ‘See you later’ once to his grandfather, and the joking reply that followed, as he finally was able to focus on the bouncer. He pointed at the large man, still smiling.
“Not . . . Not if I see you first.”
The big man chuckled as Deckard pulled the collar of his coat up against the back of his neck and managed to point himself in the direction of his car. The fogged exhalation of his breath drifted silently away on the cool night air as he walked.
Taffy’s wasn’t far from Animoid Row, and he soon found himself absent-mindedly window shopping as he made his way through crowds. Every synthetic animal imaginable could be found here. A tiger paced back and forth within one Indian storefront window while chattering monkeys swung from vines overhead.
Another Moroccan store specialized in smaller animals like dogs and cats. Horses, llamas, elephants, sheep, goats and cows could be purchased through their Vid-screen ordering kiosk, but delivery would be made several days later, batteries not included. However, most of the stores carried a fine array of long-life batteries and memory cards as well for an additional fee. Special order animals, such as rare or exotic snakes and birds took a bit more searching to locate among the Brazilian, Dominican and Egyptian dealers, but they were all there for the having if you had the means.
The lure he had felt for a new beginning had been powerful, but he now realized that the romantic thoughts he had had of dealing in these creatures off-world were a knee-jerk reaction to Iran’s sudden departure. He stood with his palms and forehead pressed to the thick glass pane, rain washed down in rippling waves that splashed against his skin. One of the synthetic monkeys on the other side threw synthetic feces at the glass. He couldn’t imagine the bottom of the barrel being any further down than this.
A large group of six pushed past him, stepping off the curb and crossing the street as he faltered for solid footing. One of the women in the group stopped several shops down, admiring the exotics in the window of the Egyptian dealer, and disappeared inside with the other two women. The three men waited outside. One of them pulled a carton of Chinese food to the top of a bag he was carrying and popped it open, eating from it with chopsticks while he waited outside for her.
Deckard was busy trying to keep his sea legs as things suddenly decided to pitch and roll again like the open ocean, and had taken no notice of her or the rest of her group. The alcohol had taken the edge off his irritable mood, but had also served to magnify his depression. He held on to the brick frame beside the window as the world took another sudden dip to the right. His drunken laughter almost imperceptibly transformed into silent weeping that shook him. Raindrops and tears streamed down his face as others walked by, not noticing the pain of his destroyed world. Everything he thought he had known was gone.
Swallowing his pain and pulling himself together, he pushed away from the window, angry at himself for letting it out. He walked on through the rain until he spotted the car. He fumbled with his keys as he walked around to the driver’s side and stopped short as he looked up. Dave Holden was leaning against the front fender, waiting for him.
He put one hand on the roof of the car to stabilize himself and wiped the rain water from his eyes with the other to make sure Dave was really there. “What are you doing here?”
“I was hoping to find you, Deck. We need to talk. Bryant figured you might be down here. Look, you’re in no shape to . . . Give me the keys, let me drive you home.”
A dispatcher’s voice squawked out of the small radio on Dave’s belt, alerting any available police unit of a reported multiple homicide.
Deckard bent down to the car door, trying unsuccessfully to get his key in the lock opening. “What’d you want to talk about?”
Dave took the keys from his friend’s hands and walked him to the passenger side. “Bryant got some news he thought you should hear, but it can wait buddy. It can wait. Let’s get you home.”
* * *
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Having made their way through the marina, the small band of skin-soaked replicants approached the streets of the city beyond. They held back as Roy carefully stuck his head out around a blind corner. He peered up and down the street, checking for any hazards; rain spattering on his face.
Several young children walking under umbrellas in a small pack on the far side of the street stopped at a restaurant’s door. It opened and an Asian man wearing an apron stepped out to the sidewalk and was bathed in the red neon light from the flickering sign in his window.
The little girl was dressed as a witch and several of the boys walking with her wore the grey face makeup of the undead, the others the sheets of a goblin. “Trick or Treat!” they all chimed in unison. He reached inside the door, retrieving a medium sized bowl, and then turned back to the children, their smiling faces faintly illuminated by the glow rods of their umbrellas.
Roy watched in absolute fascination as the man dropped a handful of candy into each of their sacks. The old man watched carefully as the kids made their way along the sidewalk to the next shop before returning inside.
Leon appeared impatiently beside Roy. “Everything OK?”
Batty turned slightly, eyes cutting sharply toward him; rain water running off his brow and down his face. “It is now. Tell the others to stay here, and you come with me.”
He started across the street as Leon motioned back to the others, and then followed across to the restaurant.
As he caught up to Batty, the two stepped up on the curb into the red glow of the sign. As they drew near, the man with the apron opened the door, bowing slightly and motioning for them to come in. Roy went through first as Leon closed the door.
The restaurant owner grabbed two menus from the stand beside the door. “You eat?”
Leon moved past them heading toward the kitchen. Roy shook his head slowly, a slight smile creeping onto his face. “Trick or Treat.”
He grabbed the man’s head and spun it hard around, shredding the spinal column inside. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped like a stone to the floor as Leon entered the kitchen to take care of the rest of the staff.
Roy turned to the window, grabbed the pull chain of the neon sign and switched it off. He then grabbed the COME IN, WE’RE OPEN sign and flipped it slowly over to the SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED side. The others across the street saw the store window go dark. They looked both ways to make sure they were alone, and then hurried through the rain toward him.
* * *
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The vivid people and situations that fleshed out my dreams began to evaporate into darkness as I mentally ascended toward consciousness. In those last few moments of sleep, I could hear the sounds of morning in the barracks before my eyes ever opened.
When my brain was fully functioning at a level that told me what I was hearing was real, my eyelids slowly parted, letting reality in. The still dim room was fairly out of focus, so I blinked again. This time I opened my eyes to crisp detail.
Topolev, 1265 and Falker were carrying supplies from the front office through to the storeroom in the back.
4120 was sitting on the bunk adjacent to mine. He had the small metal case containing his cybernetic replacement hands open, and was unwrapping the synth-skin at his wrist. “Finally decided to join us, eh Deck?”
My eyes fell shut again and I rolled onto my back, feeling the bones in my neck crack as they realigned. I exhaled slightly. “Yeah, and lucky me, the first thing I see is your sorry ***.”
We both grinned without seeing the other do so, and he continued. “You know, you snore like a dying Bantha.”
He shot a look my way as the artificial skin came loose from his arm revealing the implanted metallic stump and the attached modular hand. He looked back to the gleaming joint as he moved the hand around. Rogue and Felth walked past discussing supply needs for our search party.
I was still grinning a little as I lay a forearm across my eyes. “Well, I guess that’s better than taking after you; looking and smelling like the other end.”
Again we both grinned.
I moved my arm off my eyes and sat up. “What’s wrong with the hand?”
He scratched at his real skin where it disappeared beneath the stump cap. It was bright red and looked swollen.
“It’s been irritated for a week or so now; it itches something fierce. It’s giving me a banging headache and the synth skin won’t stay attached.”
I leaned closer for a better look. “It looks like it might be infected. You should have the doc look at it before we head out. We may be gone a while. You don’t want that thing getting any worse.”
He attached the sticky end flap of a new roll of synth-skin to the back of the cyber hand and began wrapping the joint. “If I have time to, I will.”
I looked around; making sure the others had emptied from the room before turning back to him. “Do you get a weird vibe from Felth, or is it just me?”
He kept wrapping. “What do you mean?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Something just seems off about him. I can’t put my finger on it specifically, but there’s something about him. Things I’ve seen him do or not do, messages he’s sent over the holonet. Maybe just keep an eye on him?”
He looked over to me as he kept wrapping and nodded slightly, “Yeah, sure.” I nodded back as Felth and Rogue walked hurriedly through again, heading for the rear storeroom.
We both silently followed him with our eyes.
*
-
The calm of the empty street was broken as Etz, Danz and Blade stepped out of the barracks into the still morning air. Though ambient sunslight now filled the sky, the gleaming twin suns had not yet arisen beyond the horizon.
As the door slid shut behind them, a cloaked shape walking their way hastily slipped into the shadows of an alleyway further down the street. Etz and Danz slipped on their helmets and set off for the morning patrol loop of the spaceport, having missed the figure’s quick retreat into the darkness.
Blade stood in his black flight suit, watching as they walked away. Then he turned sharply, heading off in the opposite direction, making his way toward the center of town. He was preoccupied, having promised Rogue he would speak to the shadow; the incredibly attractive shadow woman that waited at the Dowager Queen.
For the upcoming mission, he would need her to stay behind and not trail him, for her own safety. The search for the lost security recordings could be very dangerous, and he needed to be sure that anyone tracking his group was a target, not a friend. He shook his head; he didn’t even know her name.
Holder peered from beneath the deep cloak as Etz and Danz disappeared onto an adjacent street. He watched silently, deep in thought, as Blade moved further away. Should he follow him, or the other two? He looked down to the small cylindrical transmitter in his palm, and then back in the direction the others had taken. Having made his decision, and when he felt comfortable with the distance between them, he pulled the thick cloak in closer around his face and cautiously stepped out into the empty street to follow Blade.
*
The Sandtrooper's Story - Part II (Fan Fiction WIP)
in The Barracks
Posted
It was deep in the murk of a dense mental haze that 4120, quite certain he was falling to his death, suddenly jolted awake. His arms reflexively splayed out wide back to the stone wall he sat against; his wild eyes and rapid breathing conveyed the terror of the very real sensation.
His disjointed mind raced, trying to make sense of the mental clutter in his head, trying to determine just how much time had elapsed since he had ingested the Spice stick. Like some synchronized, mechanical stamping tool, the blood pounding rhythmically through his brain created small flashes of light, strobing in the darkness behind his now closed eyelids.
From out of the darkness of the courtyard, the wide, rough tongue of one of the Eopies licked the side of his face from jaw to hairline as it lowered its head to inspect. 4120 leaned forward suddenly, reaching for his mouth as his stomach spasmed involuntarily and he vomited into the sand. The animal jerked its head away suddenly, disturbed by the abrupt sound, and the foul smell that followed. It watched as the trooper wiped his mouth and stood up, staggering; moving slowly closer to the supply sleds.
He looked around. Somehow before blacking out from the Spice rush, he must have made his way back to base and finished packing the supplies. He glanced skyward noting the blackness and stars. It’s still night, he thought to himself.
Mustering all the strength and balance possible, he took the stairs up to the loading dock and opened the back door to the barracks. Quietly he navigated his way through the tangle of sleeping bodies to his bunk and rolled in. As his eyes fell closed again, he noticed Felth lying in his bunk asleep; it registered on some level in his spinning brain, and he quickly descended into a deep sleep.
* * *
Deep in the bowels of the Star Destroyer, Seether, a unit of Stormtroopers files into the cramped ships’ armory to replace damaged gear and replenish supplies.
As they enter the small room, several remove their 02 tanks and wait in a line to refill them.
One trooper, helmet in hand, moves past this group directly to the repair counter and strikes up a conversation with the technician, pointing to damaged thermal imaging sensors inside his helmet.
Another sizes himself for a new pair of boots.
One sits on a bench, emptying his damaged utility belt and transferring its contents to a new belt. As he pulls out his med kit, a small datacard drops to the deck plate. He bends over to pick it up, and holds it to the light. It is cracked, in a spiderwebbed pattern with the smeared words “Base one” on it. His mind flashes back to the jungles of Yavin IV.
He remembered bending down during the assault on the rebel base to pick up a dropped clip from the ground. It was then that he noticed the datacard, stuck in the crack between two of the metal floor grates. He remembered the smell of the explosions, the smoke, the screams and the smeared label which read “Base One”. It had been stepped on and crushed; fractured in a splintered, spiderwebbed pattern. He remembered tucking it into his utility belt.
Turning the card over in his hand, he looked up, thinking a moment. Then, he gathered up his new belt and supplies, hastily leaving the room. As he rushed along a busy hallway, he passed a group of officers, then turned back, holding up the card and addressing the group.
“Sir, I found this when we infiltrated the rebel’s base on Yavin. I forgot to turn it in when I got back, but it could be helpful. Can you pass it along?”
One of them turned back, looking his way as the other officers in his group went on without him. He took the datacard, his eyes never leaving the trooper. He was annoyed at both the interruption and being left behind by his peers. “I’ll see it’s looked into.”
* * *
In a relatively quiet portion of the Expansion Region, following a course composed of short, zigzagging hyperspace jumps, the rebellion’s ‘Renegade group’ pushes on toward Hoth. Their mission is simple: escort the transport of two Ion Cannons and the Praetor-class ship reactors to power them safely to Hoth.
From somewhere further back in the convoy, a voice crackles in Commander Narra’s headset.
“Renegade Leader, this is Renegade Two.”
“I copy Renegade Two, go ahead.”
“Sir, one of the two transport ships is reporting a critical energy bleed from her port engine. The crew leader of the Allantrid says the containment shielding has failed completely. They’ve had to evacuate the area and are being forced to shut down the reactor and engine. Unless they can stop long enough to make repairs, they won’t be able to limp along fast enough to keep up with us.”
“We’re already out beyond the fringe of this system’s inhabited regions” replied Narra. “Ask them if they think they can make it to Derra IV. We’ve got an outpost there. It’s not much more than a storage dump, but the techs on the orbital platform should be able to fix the shielding problem.”
The comm went silent.
The Commander broke from his lead position in the formation, rolling his X-wing to the right. He came around, peering through the transparisteel of his canopy, across the empty gulf of space to face the damaged transport.
A crackle came through his headset as Renegade Two patched him through directly to the crew. He heard a somewhat garbled message, filled with electronic distortion and transmission static.
“Affirmative, Renegade Leader, Allantrid should be able to make Derra IV.”
“Copy that, Allantrid. Renegade Two let’s get them an escort detail. The rest of us will move on ahead and alert the station.”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
The blinding brightness of the day flooded into the rear of the open drop ship. Even though still quite hot by human standards, the temperatures of the Tatooine days and nights had begun their annual decline, signaling the beginning of the harvest and the advent of winter on this Outer Rim planet. To see the rippling waves of heat rising from the brilliant, lifeless sand at the bottom of the loading ramp, one might find that hard to believe, but the planet that had already proven to each of us that it’s heat was harsh and unforgiving, was gearing up to reveal a second, ugly face that was just as brutal.
Most everyone else had unloaded, but Doc was still strapped into his harness, sitting in one of the folding, metal jump seats along the side bulkhead of the drop ship. He pulled a heavily worn pair of desert goggles from his pack and was busily wiping the dirty crimson lenses. Zu noticed what he was doing and walked over to sit beside him.
She grabbed her newer-looking goggles with the blue lenses, and pulled them off her eyes, dragging them up to rest on her forehead as she eyed the old ones in doc’s hands.
“How long have you had those antiques?” she asked.
He gave her a silent glance as he adjusted the straps, pulling them a bit tighter across the back of his silvery hair. Fuzzy eyebrows spilled this way and that over the red lenses as he slid them into place, working them down on his eyes to a comfortable spot, adjusting the side blinders.
He glanced around and then leaned in close to her. “I didn’t have any, so . . .” He paused a moment, looking around again and finally back into her eyes. “I kinda borrowed them from Watcher’s personal effects.”
A mischievous smile formed on her face as she stood up, staring back down at him.
“Well . . .” she began, patting him gently on the shoulder. “He won’t be needing them, I don’t think.”
Doc smiled back at her as he cinched the top of his pack closed and stood up. Falker and Danz pushed past them, maneuvering one of the overloaded supply sleds down the ramp to the sand, followed closely by Topolev and Ddraig pushing another.
Doc and Zu followed them out of the relative comfort afforded by the shady interior of the ship and stepped out into the sand, walking over to the others in the archaeological team. Falker, Topolev and 0600 had hitched the Eopies to the repulsor sleds and lined them up, readied to move out.
Felth and Rogue walked down from the cockpit and out from within the ship, down to the edge of the ramp. “I’ll be on call if you need an emergency pick-up, supplies, and when you find the recording.”
Rogue nodded, looking out into the bleaching sunslight through squinted eyes as Felth returned to the cockpit. The first trickle of perspiration ran down the side of his face. He stepped off into the sand, as he adjusted the settings on his pack. Moments later, as he walked toward the others, a cooling wave coursed through his black body glove.
The wide ramp lurched and slowly closed behind him as the engines came online. The drop ship lifted silently away from the blistering sand on repulsor power, then pulled away as Felth engaged the main drive.
Rogue turned to watch until the accelerating ship was gone from sight, heading back to base. He unclipped the personal memo recorder from his belt and held it to his mouth, pressed the record switch and hesitated momentarily. Clicking off the recorder, his eyes moved over the baked sands stretching out in all directions as far as he could see. Finally, they came to rest on the archaeologists and his guide, none of whom he knew or trusted fully.
He pressed the recorder’s activation button again as he looked over to the rest of us.
“What the **** have I gotten us into?”
*