Tyranus

Here are some pics of my battery boxes and test fitting them on the feet. I filed, steel-wooled, degreased, dried, primed and painted them today. They are hanging up to cure, but I will snap a few pics of them once they're all done. I just happened to notice the time in the background as I was snapping pics. Kind of appropriate!

I picked up two scooter motors for the foot drive system: And I got the Shoulder Hubs: The centers are machined seperately - so precise. I love Aluminum droid parts! They are found inserted in this piece of the shoulder:

I also picked up the motor for R2's dome rotation: Here are the specs: Pittman® gear reduction DC motor - GM9236C364 Rated 19.1 vdc, useable from 6vdc to 24vdc Measured RPM, No-load Current (Amps) Voltage: Gear/Motor 6vdc : 135 / 1550 rpm, 110mA 9vdc : 205 / 2350 rpm, 120mA 12vdc: 275 / 3100 rpm, 130mA 19vdc: 435 / 4980 rpm, 150mA 24vdc: 550 / 6630 rpm, 160mA Rated 100 oz/in. continuous torque Dimensions Overall Length (excluding shafts): 4-12" Gearhead diam.: 2-1/16" Motor diam.: 1-1/8" Gearhead Shaft: 1/4" x 5/8" Motor Shaft: 5/32" x 1/2" Now I need to find a wheel to use with it. A lot of r2 builders use one made by a fellow R2 Builder that looks like this ($38). It offers the 1/4" shaft that will fit my motor. It will mount like this to the frame and the wheel will press against the inside of the large bearing that runs around the outside edge, turning the dome. I will most likely make my own spring loaded mounting bracket like this one:

A few updates: Here are some updates: I was able to squeeze in some work time - drilling out the pilot holes for the Knurled Hose Fittings in R2's feet. This is where the braided hoses that connect to the battery boxes will go. It wasn't a great deal of work accomplished, but it felt good to work on him some as the weather is getting nicer! I had to pick up a step bit to do the job right. $32 - OUCH!! But I have it in my toolbox for future uses as well, and it worked like a DREAM right through the steel foot casings:

It is awesome Skutch. One question: When are you making Part II for us to edit on the end of this one!!! This one rocks!! I just want more!!

Thanks Scootch!

I have a question for the MEPD "Powers that be": Is the current FX lid approved for MEPD deployment? I have a trooper asking. I was under the impression that FISD was the only detachment saying no.

Thanks so much! You can get all of them here: http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/ The only thing is that Part I has been edited. Part II has not been edited - it appears as it was posted and written on the fly and raw. It's still OK, just not as polished as I might like.

Thanks guys! Someone did contact me about the deployment pics, but I don't think I have any "bucket on" pics to use for it. I will have to check for one, or have one taken at the next event. Thanks!

Hi everyone! I just wanted to let everyone know that has been reading The Sandtrooper's Story, that the story has been nominated in the SAGA FANFIC AWARDS on TheForce.Net. The story as a whole was nominated in the Most Underrrated category Smaller portions that were taken from the story were also nominated for: Best Vignette Best Canon Interpretation, Male Best Villain Links to the snippets nominated can be seen here in the SAGA FANFIC AWARDS thread: http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_res...304/30144195/p1 Just scroll down until you see the nominations by category. Voting for SAGA awards is: July 10 - July 19 I'd love it if everyone who is reading would go vote for me! Thanks guys!

As Han and Wedge split away from Luke heading toward the command center, Carlist Rieekan calmly approached the young rebel. “Commander Skywalker, a moment?” “Of course.” Luke followed him into a dark, unfinished branch passageway off the main corridor. As he activated the datapad in his hands, the glow from the small screen revealed the troubled mask Rieekan’s face wore. He spoke to the young Commander, not taking his eyes off the device as he worked. “I want you to see something.” He tapped a few commands into the screen, opening the sensitive information he wanted to share. “I want you to understand the importance of your upcoming missions. I think this may help.” Luke took the datapad, turning it around so he could see the screen. It was the transcript from what looked like a field intelligence report. His eyes scanned the screen, reading every aurabesh word as Rieekan watched for a reaction. He saw Luke’s eyes widen a bit as he read. The frigid temperature of the hallway felt absolutely balmy in comparison to the chills running up Luke’s spine as he continued to scan the scrolling screen. “Vader is dispatching . . . thousands of probe droids to look for us?” He looked up. Rieekan nodded gravely. “I received that information from an embedded source that had been feeding information to codename ‘BASE ONE’. Luke looked up. “Dodonna?” Rieekan nodded. “That’s right. The information says the scale of probe ‘droid deployment is unprecedented in the history of the Empire. Vader wants us found. I’m betting the Emperor is leaning on him to deliver something after the failure of the Death Star. Whoever is on the other end of these reports didn’t realize Dodonna was dead. I have assumed the ‘BASE ONE’ codename so that we might keep receiving the intelligence, but I have no way of validating it. Whoever this person is, they’re in a very sensitive spot and from what I can make out, and he’s just a grunt, a Desert Stormtrooper in a unit somewhere in the Outer Rim most likely.” Luke looked up and over to the General. “Just before the Empire invaded Yavin IV, Dodonna gave me a datacard filled with information from an embedded informant. It must be the same source, and if it is, I can vouch for the information, it’s very real. I’m also pretty sure they’re stationed on or near Tatooine.” “Tatooine?” asked Rieekan. “That’s pretty far off the beaten path. What makes you think the Empire would even bother having troopers out there?” Luke looked back down to the datapad. “Well, sir, I grew up on Tatooine, and the information given to me spelled out very specific landmarks leading to a place that Ben, uh, General Kenobi, constructed while in exile there. I spent my fair share of time racing skyhoppers all around the wastes and canyons near most of the inhabited parts, and I recognize the areas mentioned, just from his words.” Rieekan nodded as Luke continued. “I was able to return to General Kenobi’s home, but ran out of time and was unable to visit the site mentioned. With your permission, General, I’d like to return there while conducting our first round of reconn flights.” Luke cleared his throat and stood up a bit taller, straighter. “And while I’m there, I need to inform Biggs Darklighter’s father of his death. He and I grew up together. He was my best friend. I owe him and his father that.” Rieekan exhaled as he weighed the request. “How much time are we talking about, Commander?” Luke thought about it for a moment. “I only need a day or two, three at the most on-planet, but it could be beneficial, and who knows, I might possibly be able to make contact with our source. Can you reply to him, let him know I’m coming?” Gentle creases deepened at the corners of his eyes as the General smiled slightly at the younger man’s impulsive, naive nature. He looked at the datapad, thinking about his question. “I believe so. If you can meet him, you might be able to relay some of our specific informational needs, and see if he can help us. Just remember Commander . . .” He dropped his eyes and pursed his lips as the possible darkness beneath the surface was exposed. “This could be a wonderful break for us. But it could also be an elaborate setup designed to lower our guard and draw us out.” * * *

Actually, if you consider David Carradine, then Ed McMahon and Farrah made three. Michael begins a new set of three. I wonder who the other two will be. It is a pity, but somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice is saying he might have faked his death to finally live in obscurity away from the media and instantly boost his sales. Then in about 10 years, he resurfaces with a killer new album like Elvis returning from the grave. That's just me, and that annoying little voice. But I wouldn't put it past him.

Wedge Antilles briskly marched through the dimly-lit ice hallway toward the hangar bay. His pilot’s helmet was tucked firmly under one arm. His left boot was slightly tighter than his right; a little too tight for his liking, and he could feel the pulsing of his heartbeat in the leg where it cut into his skin. The day had just begun wrong, as it seemed to most every year on this date. Distracted by his own thoughts, he quietly slipped through the crowd of technicians and pilots. The loud whirring and hum of ice cutters filled the massive room, mingling with the sound of voices and droids, all echoing off the frozen ice walls, but didn’t seem to penetrate Wedge’s ears. He was listening to the sounds of his memories. His brow was furrowed in a thoughtful scowl as he walked across the grid plate pathway lying atop the ice floor, his mind racing with thoughts of his parents. He could vividly see the tanker pulling away from their starship depot with the fueling lines still attached. He felt the rocking blast concussion of the resulting explosion and saw the look of terror on their faces; their screams silenced by the blast door that separated them. He saw them burning . . . Suddenly he resurfaced from the images projected in his minds’ eye as he reached his ship, stopping momentarily beneath the wide wings of the X-wing fighter, steadying himself against the extended landing gear. He turned his attention to his ship, running a gloved hand over the durasteel skin of the wing overhead. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, exhaling forcefully as he opened them again, as if he could blow the memories and pain out with his expelled breath. As he looked up, he caught sight of Luke and Captain Solo just entering from a corridor on the far side of the hangar, walking his way. He couldn’t make out who it was, but someone followed closely behind them. He watched them as they threaded their way through the busy crowd, crossing the wide hangar, busily discussing something as they walked. Luke was dressed out in his pilot’s gear. Captain Solo wore the familiar, relaxed look Wedge had come to expect from him with the addition of a long-tailed thermal coat. The man who walked behind them also wore a flight suit and followed several steps behind Luke, careful to match the speed and gait of other man’s walk. As they drew closer, he caught the tail end of their conversation. “ . . . online as of this morning. The power distribution grid two levels down should go live within several days.” Han nodded. “That’s great, kid. So as soon as the grid is hot, we can power the shield doors and seal off this place, right?” Luke nodded, then looked over to Antilles. “Wedge, I have a new recruit for the Reconn flights. He’s been assigned to Rogue Squadron – Biggs’ slot.” Wedge rolled this over in his mind as he rolled his left foot around, trying to loosen his boot some. “I hear you two have been paired up for this one too, huh?” Luke grinned and Han rolled his eyes as he replied. “Yeah. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this kid.” Luke stepped out of the way, moving over beside Wedge. “Here’s your new recruit.” The young pilot behind him quickly stepped forward, putting his hand out to enthusiastically shake Wedge’s. “Dack. Dack Ralter. I heard you’re going to be running some Reconn missions and don’t have enough pilots to cover everything. I just want a chance to prove myself to you.” Wedge looked him over, then over to Luke, then back to Dack. “What kind of experience do you have, Ralter?” “I trained with the pilot corps on Tierfon and I’m new to the Rogue Squad.” Wedge nodded. “OK. You and I will be flying together until I feel more comfortable with your abilities.” He looked back to Luke as a small cargo ship entered through the main hangar door, floating in on her repulsor field, settling to the ground behind Dack. “Missions are set to begin tomorrow. Briefing is at daybreak, right here. Dack, your ship is that one there, next to mine. Make sure you’re assigned an astromech from the labor pool.” “Thank you, sir” replied Dack. Wedge, Luke and Solo walked off discussing the upcoming flights as Dack stepped away, walking over to his ship; HIS ship! He could hardly contain his excitement as he grabbed the rail of the ladder mounted on its side and climbed up to the cockpit. He was getting the feel of the instruments when a soft voice called out from down below, a voice he hadn’t heard before. “Hello?” He leaned over the rim of the cockpit, peering down. A beautiful young girl stood at the base of his ladder looking up at him. “Hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but I just arrived on that ship and have no idea where I’m going or who to talk to. I’m a communications expert recruited on Talasea. My name’s Toryn Farr.” Dack stared at her for a moment too long before he realized it. “I’m Dack. Dack Ralter. If you’re in communications you probably need to go to what will be the Command Center.” He stood up, throwing a leg over the side of the ship and descended the ladder twice as fast as he had climbed it, jumping over the last few rungs to the ground. “I’ll make sure you find it.” He said, smiling at her. She smiled back at him. “Thank you, Dack” His smile widened as he walked with her across the busy hangar. His day was definitely looking up. *

As the tissue on the slide plate gradually came into focus, the frosty, rigid skin of the desert corpse finally began to give up its secrets. Doctor Shurte’s strong, thick fingers gently adjusted the knobs on the magnifier back and forth a bit as he peered in through the eyepiece, bushy eyebrows hanging wildly over the top. His nose whistled slightly as he breathed in and out. To look at him out of this setting, one might have thought him to be a hermit or recluse. His nails were long, however well maintained; his beard was thick and bushy; his graying hair was long and pulled back in a braid running down between his shoulder blades. Absently, he looked up from the eyepiece, scribbling a brief note on the sheet of flimsy beside him before returning to his scrutiny of the flesh sample, half whispering to himself. “Mirroring of cell structure, intact genetic code sequence, but with extra components, additional markers . . . .” He looked up from the sample, staring off across the room at nothing in particular, his mind rolling thoughts over slowly, carefully. More notes were hastily scrawled out before he stood from his stool and walked into the next room where the patient was. More than a week had passed since Holder’s seizure at the condenser, and although he had briefly been lucid in the desert after spewing what seemed to be nonsense, he had unfortunately lost consciousness prior to his arrival here. He lay motionless on the bed, monitors silently supervising his vital signs. Blade walked through the doorway from the front room, removing his helmet. “Doctor Shurte, how’s he doing?” There was no response as the doctor scraped a small tissue sample from Holder’s arm. “Doc?” The physician looked up this time, glancing over to Blade as he emptied the collected tissue on a slide tray. “Hello.” He looked back to Holder as he spoke. “Oh, him? He’s been through a lot, but I really expected him to be awake by now.” He walked past Blade to the magnifier, exchanging the corpse’ slide with that displaying tissue gathered from Holder. Once again, his thick fingers moved over the adjustment knobs as he peered through the eyepiece, bushy eyebrows hanging wildly over the top. Blade stepped closer. “So doc, got any idea why the corpse was so important to Holder, or what might have caused the convulsions?” The physician stood up straight, looked him briefly in the eye and without a word, crossed to the far side of the room, to the morgue trays set into the wall. He passed four of the shiny metallic doors, opened the fifth and slid out a narrow metal tray with a draped body on top. He pulled back the drape to reveal the body of the man Holder had identified only as Watcher. He looked down at the frozen body of the ragged, scarred old man as he spoke. “I’m at a loss for the cause of the seizure. Given his history with the unusually long carbon freeze, it could be just about anything. There’s just no research on carbonite restraint of that length.” At that moment a group of young men and women entered the room through a back door carrying small bags of equipment and supplies, shaking sand from their feet, unwrapping their heads and removing goggles and drapes from their faces. One of the woman was arguing with one of the men. “All the evidence in the artifacts we have found so far points to a civilization going back several thousand years. If we have any hope of finding the graveyard, we need to move on it now. The Harvest is almost here, and then it’ll be Winter. If there was in fact a meteorite involved in the great Death we should be able to . . .” All conversation stopped as they suddenly realized they weren’t alone. Doc Shurte stepped away from Blade to speak to them. “I know you’ve not been here, but please use the front door from now on. I have a patient in here now.” They nodded, quickly slipping through the door to the front part of the building. The doctor moved back to where Blade was. “My apologies, they’re part of an archeological expedition from Balmorra that I’m hosting. Now, where was I.” Blade watched as the doors swung shut behind them. “You were talking about his containment duration.” He wagged his index finger in the air. “YES, of course, his containment! The seizure could truly have been from a number of things, but . . . what I do know is . . .” He paused momentarily, making sure they were alone. He held a hand out, motioning at the corpse. “This man is a genetic duplicate of Holder. Watcher was a cloned Commando just like Holder, and from what I can tell, was from the same generation and incubation vat.” *

Thanks guys! Here's the link to the newly-posted page: http://iceflow.com/riverbabble/Welcome.html It's an on-line fiction magazine published by Pandemonium Press. It goes up twice a year, at the Summer Solstice (overnight between the 20th and 21st of June) and again for the Equinox in Winter.

“No.” The Wook growled a throaty response. “I know they need the work, but not right now.” Chewbacca quietly grunted his disagreement from the co-pilot’s chair as he watched his captain shut down the Falcon’s various systems and leave the cockpit rubbing the bandage on his forehead. The warm leather seat beneath the Wookiee’s furry body squeaked a bit as he shifted his weight. The hydraulic lines to the landing gear needed work badly. Even if the others didn’t need the repairs, the central landing claw was losing compression on a regular basis. He would have to steal the time to do the work when Solo was otherwise preoccupied. He stood up as he saw Yané pass by. He fell in behind her and they silently followed Solo to the open main hatch and lowering boarding ramp. Han stepped out on it as it lowered, holding on to the framing, riding it down to the icy ground outside with a bump. His frosty exhale floated in the crisp air as he noticed the chill and how underdressed they all were for the cold. Leia Organa walked over from across the hangar. She was dressed in thermal gear, her hair in braids woven across the top of her head, her arms crossing as she stopped in front of him. “Security must be asleep. They’re letting anybody in here.” A cocky, sarcastic Han wrinkled his brow up faking pain from the impact of her comment and locking eyes with her. “Whoa, your worshipfulness! Nice to see you too, princess.” He noticed the wisps of hair at each of her temples; her dark brown eyes. Chewbacca howled a greeting and slipped past, grabbing the princess in a furry hug, lifting her off the ground slightly. Leia released the Wook as she noticed the woman stepping off the boarding ramp behind Han. Yané stepped up beside the Corellian, dipping her head slightly. “I am Yané, retired royal handmaiden from Naboo.” Leia’s eyes cut from Yané to Solo, then to Chewbacca and back to Yané as she dipped her head slightly in response. “Welcome.” Han rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story.” “I bet. Why are you here? I thought you were off to take care of an old debt?” Her eyes questioned his presence here as much as her voice did. He grinned a moment, then it faded. “So did I.” * * *

The words of the last reply still hung in the frigid air of the hangar between them. Mon Mothma thought carefully, selecting the words for her response. “While that may be true, these two things must occur simultaneously. First, mock reconn flights over densely vegetative planets similar to Yavin must begin immediately to divert attention away from our true location. Second, real reconn flights must also be under way to locate the next rendezvous point and base location.” “I’m sure you’re right, but in the immediate future we have a number of trials to overcome before we can even finish this base. We don’t have the resources” stressed the Alderaanean Princess. “Leia, so often when we speak, I see your father in your actions, and hear him in your words. Believe me, I know and understand your concerns. They are the same concerns he would have raised with me. This course of action will absolutely take resources we do not have to spare, and yet it must be done.” The leader of the Alliance paced away a few steps, passing her quiet attendant, Alia before speaking again. “The bitter truth is that no matter how secretive or how careful we are, sooner or later the Empire will find us. When that happens is not the time to be scrambling looking for an escape route. It will be precisely at that moment that we need an emergency evacuation and rendezvous scenario in place that all personnel understand intimately and are ready to activate.” She stopped a moment, looking over the plans for the ice base, her fingertip scanning across the page, coming to stop at a remote cavern removed from the base. “How are the permanent power generators coming along?” Alia stepped aside as Leia moved closer. “Commander Skywalker is overseeing their installation. All components have finally been purchased and all but the final pieces have been transported here. I’m told if all goes well, and the shipments are on time, they should be online and functional within several days.” Mon Mothma closed her eyes a moment, and smiled slightly, turning her head to Leia as she opened them. “Ahh yes, Commander Skywalker. We were certainly lucky to have him at Yavin; and a Force-sensitive as well.” A surprised Leia turned to look her in the eye. “You know? We made a point not to tell anyone. If he is to be the first of the new Order . . . . ” “Yes, I know, and no one told me anything. His secret is safe with me. Truthfully though, if what I’ve felt is accurate, he’s far more than a sensitive. Trust me, Leia, I’m no Jedi and my interests and undeveloped dabblings are far from mastery, but Force sensitivity has run in my family for generations. I feel Commander Skywalker has a great potential to lead us out of the darkness shrouding the glory that was the Republic. I feel he can lead us back to what we once were.” Leia sighed. “I hope you’re right.” As she spoke, the forward-mounted floodlights of the Millennium Falcon appeared out of the darkness as the YT-1300 freighter slipped past under the curving, natural ice arch into the enormous cavern and set down on her landing gear alongside several transport ships Mon Mothma drew a shallow breath. “I have faith that he will.” But even as she had faith in his naïve purity, Mon Mothma was terribly troubled and concerned as well. If her memory of his family name, and her intuition regarding the worn lightsaber hanging on the young Commander’s belt, and the dark history and lineage behind it was correct, Commander Skywalker was someone to watch closely. *

Thanks Remo!

It's a typo, I think they advertised it wrong. They were really looking for a 3-SOM, not 4-LOM.

I just received word that my third submission WILL be published online! It will appear under the title "NO PLACE LIKE IT". When I get a link to the page I'll post it up. The page should go live apprximately June 16th. Here's a copy of the email text I received from the site: Dear river writers, Once again, we had an abundance of submissions to choose from. Our reading committee had to reread the entries several times before their final decisions were made. Thank you all for submitting. To accommodate the large number of fiction and poetry selected, we will not have a featured writer for this issue. And, unfortunately, we had to reject some of you. We hope this doesn't discourage you and that you will consider submitting work for Winter 2010. The theme for Winter 2010, issue 16 is "Here Comes the Sun." For riverbabble 15, we have selected the following: Fiction: Margot Comstock: Reno Renaissance Sara McAulay: Gift and Giver Kate LaDew: It Only Feels Like Waking Up Bev Vines-Haines: Picking Up the Pieces Patsy Covington: On the Road with Jonesy David Woodruff: Raccoon People Rick Spuler: Road Trippin' Thomas Kearnes: Across the Skin, Behind the Heart Andrew M. Lopas: Economy D. Ward Jones: No Place Like It Marjorie Carlson Davis: The Music in Him Poetry: Rafael Jesús González: "Green Tara Moon," "I Received the News Today," "No One." Francine Witte: "Road Signs," "Rescue." Anthony Pino: "This Old Road." Julene Weaver: "Airport Security." Charles Brooks III: "Road to the Coast." Luigi Monteferraante: "On the Road." Jason Everett: "Waking up in Central Gansu Province." Paul Lobo Portugés: "Sea to Shining Sea." Jesse Bradley: "Check Yes." Prose Poems/Flash Fiction: Doug Mathewson: For Phil, Tupelo Regressions Christine Swint: Dusk Andrew M. Lopaz: Blue And here is the piece: NO PLACE LIKE IT “I want to go home” was all she had whispered. He angrily turned around and came toward her as the racks of clothes and walls of the little Kansas consignment shop fell away, melting into the ethereal mists now engulfing her. Her head swam, and nausea swept over her as the hushed scream in her throat finally gave birth to actual sound, echoing off the brick walls of the nearby buildings. She felt faint as the fog slipped away, somehow leaving her alone on a dark and deserted street. Her back was pressed against the cold metal of a lamp post, and the sound of distant lumbering locomotive cars accompanied the subtle vibrations her feet felt in the ground beneath. Her feet. She quickly slipped off the red shoes as if they had bitten her. She remembered that he had stopped for a break from the road; from the endless driving and running in the little town of Cherokee, Kansas. Images of her morning began to align themselves in her head. She recalled he had taken her into the consignment shop to find some cheap, used clothing and shoes that wouldn’t match her last description. Yes. She remembered now. She had been trying desperately to be noticed by someone, anyone, without alerting or angering him. She had been looking at clothing and trying on a pair of shoes . . . beautiful red slippers that glittered like rubies in the dim light of the shop. Surprisingly, they had fit so wonderfully. As she looked at herself in the mirror, the heels inadvertently clicked together as she turned to the right, then again as she turned back to the left, and a final time as she moved back to center to see them from the back. It was then that she had uttered the whisper, “I want to go home” and he had turned toward her. But where was she now? Reaching back to steady herself on the lamp post, her hand came to rest on a flyer. She turned for a look. It was one of those washed out, photocopied flyers of a missing child made by a frantic family. She looked closer at the paper, realizing it was her face. She sank to the ground, exhausted and paranoid, looking over her shoulder and down the street, in every doorway, every shadow for him. She drew her knees up to her chest and gathered the shoes up in her arms, happening to notice a worn name label inside the heel of one. It read, D. Gale. It was at that moment that a slow-cruising police car turned the corner, its floodlight cutting across her. It quickly pulled to the curb alongside her, and the officers stepped out to help. As the shaking girl caught sight of the name of the city on the car door, tears streamed down her face, and she clutched the ruby slippers close to her chest. She was safe. She was home.

Holder rocked back off his knee and sat in the sand. He lowered the commando helmet in his left hand to the ground beside him as he stared into Watcher’s face, flashes and bits of memories racing before his eyes. He blinked twice and shook his head to clear them away. “Who the **** is Watcher?” asked Rogue. All eyes turned to Holder, whose eyes had now rolled back in his shaking head with a frothy foam forming on his lips. “****” yelled 4120. “He’s convulsing!” Hessio tore off his leather belt and quickly forced a section of it between Holder’s clenching teeth as Rogue and 4120 fought to hold his arms down. “Grab his legs” said 0600. He and I each grabbed one, struggling against his flailing limbs, but holding them down firmly. “What’s wrong with him?” asked Huff. Felth replied, turning to him, “Extended carbonite containment. Whoever Watcher is, seeing him must have triggered memories or something that was disconnected along the way.” Suddenly, the clenched jaws relaxed and Holder began babbling something. Hessio pulled the leather strap out of his mouth and we tried to listen. His eyes were now looking up at the sky, over as he spewed his nonsense. “08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. 08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. Into the belly of the beast we go, only to be revealed by the sands of time. Eroding sands of time. Belly of the beast. Belly of the Beast.” Holder’s eyes were wider now as he continued his incoherent rant. “08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. No mistakes.” Rogue turned to Etz, “Get the med kit from the transport and sedate him now that the seizure is over. We need to get him back to the doctor in Bestine.” Etz nodded, turning and racing toward the transport. “I have a staff physician back at my home. I would be more than happy for him to see your man” offered Huff. “Thanks, but the doc in Bestine is the one who treated him when he came out of carbon freeze. He knows the history and has the medical records. We need to get him back there for evaluation” said Falker. As Etz returned and began preparing the sedative injection gun, Rogue turned to Topolev, “Bag that other guy. We’ll need to look him over closer and see if the doc can use him to trigger more memories and try and make sense of these ramblings.” Topolev nodded, motioning to Danz and Ddraig for help. “Come on, let’s get this guy loaded.” The man who had been standing guard over the body moved out of their way, as did Hessio and Vehuji. Hessio was busy staring at the bite marks that almost went completely through his thick belt. Topolev went back to the transport and circled it around between our ‘vaporator and the neighboring one, backing the tailboard in closer to where the body lay. Ddraig and Danz lifted the body and placed it gently on the floor in the speeder. When they turned back to the group, Etz was re-capping the sedative injection gun, putting it back in the med kit. A moment later, Holder’s eyes slowly closed and his body went limp. Rogue looked up to the rest of us. “OK, let’s get him loaded. Easy!” We all helped lift him into the back of the transport, lowering him to one of the bench seats. Darklighter, Hessio, Vehuji and the guard all boarded as well. Once they were settled, Topolev throttled up and headed back to the Darklighter estate. A wisping wind kicked up as our transport headed for the horizon. Sand was sprayed lightly in small gusts against the base of the ‘vaporator where Watcher’s body had been. As our speeder disappeared from sight, a small mound of sand near the adjacent condenser shifted slightly, moving and draining away revealing something hidden beneath. It peered out through twin lenses, watching us go. When it felt we were far enough away, it lowered the macrobinoculars. An old man rose up from his belly where he had been lying, appearing from beneath a sand-covered fabric wrap. He eyed the ground near the ‘vaporator where we had been, and then turned his head in our direction as he sipped a bit of water through a tube from a small, collapsible bladder. One ice blue eye squinted in the afternoon’s last blinding rays of sunslight as he stared in the direction we had gone. “Into the belly of the beast we go.” * * *

Welcome Gunnar!

The crowd in the darkened square erupted in a frenzy of screaming people running in all directions, dropping their lanterns and signs. All were trying to avoid the flurry of uncoiling blue-ringed stun rays and tear gas fired by several squads of Stormtroopers that poured out of an adjacent alley in full riot gear. Toryn Farr was one of those people running, in the middle of everything, hoping to find someone to connect her with the Rebellion. She had wandered aimlessly through the city here on Talasea for some time trying to find a likely rebel contact and having no luck. It was mid afternoon earlier today in a moment of doubt, just as she began to fear she would never make the contacts needed, that the flyer for the protest had blown across her path on the street. COME PROTEST ALDERAAN!! was printed in bold across the top of the flimsy. Coming tonight had been a long shot, but she hoped to perhaps find a contact, a beginning, a stepping off point to begin her journey. She vehemently protested Alderaan’s destruction and figured kindred spirits, if not rebels, would be present tonight. Crimson blaster fire exploded out of the crowd now, firing back at the troopers, dropping several of them to the ground. Those that were running away from them panicked even more now, as the stakes had just been raised. One of the Stormtroopers fired up his backpack in the middle of the crowd, lifted several meters into the night air and began firing indiscriminately into the crowd. Those who were hit fell and were trampled by the stampeding crowd. In the violent pushing and shoving of the bodies in the crowd, Toryn felt someone grab her wrist, pulling her out of the way just as a volley of blaster fire took out several people where she had been standing. She pushed a woman out of her way as she fought to see who had grabbed her only to see . . . no one. Looking quickly down to her hand and saw a young boy pleading with his frightened face and eyes for her to continue following him out of the square. A blaster bolt sizzled past, and the man running behind her was hit in the shoulder, falling with all his weight into her, grabbing her shoulders and clothing, trying to keep himself on his feet. She was terrified as she looked back at him and the smoking blaster in his hand. Her terror quickly shifted to resolve as several more blasts burned by. Toryn reached down, grabbed the wounded man’s good arm, threw it around her neck and lifted him up, grabbed his blaster and ran with her added burden as best she could, following the running boy. Suddenly, from out of the sky, a trooper with a backpack landed in front of the running boy, his weapon drawn. The boy skidded to a stop, falling down and backpedaling on the ground, looking up in terror at the stormtrooper. Without thinking, Toryn raised the blaster in her free hand and squeezed the trigger several times, blasting the trooper dead center in the chest, throwing him off his feet to the ground. Smoke curled from his chest as she moved forward to help the boy up. They quickly made a sharp turn into a darkened side street just as a bolt crashed into the corner of the building, shattering it and spewing dust and debris across their backs. They ran, making their way down the winding street, until the boy beckoned for them to follow him into a bar. He opened the door and disappeared inside as the injured man finally lost consciousness, his weight now pulling harder on her, threatening to pull them both down to the street. She fought to drag him closer to the door as two men appeared in the opening and hurried over to help. They lifted his weight from her, and rushed Toryn inside, quickly closing the door behind. It was a small place, with only one patron quietly sitting at a table with his drink. As he saw them burst through the door, he jumped to his feet and hurried ahead of them, opening the door to the back room. The boy raced to the door, locking it as the bartender shut off the lights, “SHHHH! Don’t make a sound.” Toryn, the wounded man and the others slipped into the back room followed by the boy. The bartender stood at the door, his ear pressed to it listening. He heard the clammering footsteps of others fleeing the square as they raced down the street. He heard the ZING of several blaster bolts sizzling past. Then, there were a few moments of silence followed by the clattering of the troopers boots, running after them. “They went that way. Move it!" A short burst of blaster fire cut the silence of the street outside. "They’re getting away. Squad two, move in. We’re going to corner them two blocks over, in the alley. Roger that. Coordinate efforts to . . . . ” The sounds began to fade, and finally silence returned on the dark street outside. The bartender stepped cautiously away from the door and walked behind the bar through the door to the back room. The young boy sat watching the three men as they worked in flickering candlelight on the injury. Toryn sat in the corner, shaking and looking down at the blaster now cradled in her lap. “When will this kind of thing stop?” The boy looked to the bartender, who moved next to her, sat down and put an arm around her. “Not soon enough for any of us, that’s for sure. Are you fed up too?” Toryn looked over at him, nodding shakily. “I lost my entire family on Alderaan.” He thought for a moment, watching his friend being worked on. “Are you prepared to sacrifice and do your part to make a change?” Again she nodded, still catching her breath. “That’s why I was there tonight.” Still trying to be vague about her intentions. He nodded, watching her. “You saved my friend. For that I’m grateful, and it’s clear you have no love for the Empire.” He dipped his head, indicating the blaster. He looked in her eyes, sizing her up as he stroked his beard. “I have a friend that might be able to help you. He’ll need to talk with you more to make the final decision, but if you’re looking for a way to make a difference with the resistance, tonight missy is your lucky night.” * * *

The main buildings of Darklighter water had long since disappeared beyond the rippling waves of heat along the horizon as Topolev finally let up on the thrust and steered us toward the next condenser. With the afternoon now rapidly fading, we all jumped from the tailboard of the slowing transport. Huff Darklighter and his men stepped down once it had come to a full stop. As he approached Rogue he spoke. “Vehuji, Hessio. Show them.” A slight wind kicked up, blowing a light haze of sand across the ground as the two men walked ahead toward the ‘vaporator. Both wore coverall jumpsuits bearing the Darklighter Water company logo. One had black hair, the other brown. Rogue, 0600 and 4120 followed as Topolev stepped down to the sand, joining us the rest of us. Vehuji and Hessio, now a good ten meters ahead of the group, reached the draped body first. The man standing guard stepped back a few paces as Darklighter, Rogue and 4120 approached. Vehuji and Hessio were both now kneeling in the sand in the long shadow of the condenser. They gently pulled back the covering, exposing the victim. The sprawled body was face down, and that of a simple man wearing loose-fitting desert clothing common to the region. He wore a hood and face drape in an attempt to block exposure to the damaging suns rays. Darklighter nodded, "Vehuji?” The black-haired man beside the body reached down under and rolled the corpse over onto its back, then pulled aside the face drape. Although closed, the victim’s eyes were noticeably deep-set and recessed. He had a leathery, weather-worn face full of pronounced creases, and a full, snow-white beard. His wrists had each been tied with leather straps and his arms crisscrossed over his belly. The straps continued from each wrist around behind him and were tied tightly in back to the strap from the other wrist. 4120 dropped to one knee in the sand to get a closer look. He pulled back the face wraps a bit more, revealing an old, healed scar that ran from the man’s ear down across his neck to the collarbone on the opposite side. It was a horrible looking thing, from what must have been an equally horrible injury. Vehuji had been looking at the pouches on the man’s belt. “All of his belt pouches are open and empty. Whoever did this removed any identification.” Rogue leaned down, “**** that’s a mean scar.” The rest of us were standing behind, gathered in a group looking down at the unfortunate victim. Holder was beside me still working on adjusting a stubborn strap when he glanced over and caught sight of the old man’s face. “Let me see that scar?” Rogue turned his head to Holder and moved to one side. Holder bent down, and dropped to one knee, his eyes staring intently. He reached out with his finger and traced the path of the scar from the ear to the collarbone across the wrinkled old skin. “Can you untie him? I need to see his left hand.” Vehuji nodded as he went to work on the knot of leather. Holder was perspiring a bit more than the rest of us as he leaned a little closer, and cut his eyes to 4120. “If I’m right about this, he’s missing the index finger from his left hand.” The knot finally came loose, and Vehuji unwrapped the bindings from both hands. “There’s a scar on his left hand across the base of the left index finger, but it’s still intact.” Holder reached out and touched the finger, then grabbed the skin of the digit tight and yanked hard away from the hand. In a flurry of movement, 4120 grabbed holder’s wrist and Rogue grabbed his shoulder struggling with him. “What the **** are you doing?” There was a horrible ripping sound as the skin tore at the scar and slipped off the finger. In the fiery glow of the late Tatooine afternoon, the removed skin revealed a gleaming mechanical prosthetic finger. Rogue and 4120 let go of the Commando and stared at the hand. Holder’s eyes grew wide. “Watcher!” * * *

There was a crowd of shabbily dressed, weather-worn men and women pushing and shoving around the base of a lone ‘vaporator out by the garage as we drew closer to the main building at the Darklighter place. Topolev slowed the transport to a smooth stop, and we all jumped down from the open tailboard. Holder jumped down behind me, looking over at the small group as he adjusted his dated and ill-fitting commando armor on his now-smaller frame. I stopped a condenser mechanic walking by to ask about the crowd. “What’s their story?” He looked over to them, then back to me. “Them? They’re outcasts, vagrants. They live in the caves over there beyond the ridge” he said, squinting and pointing. “in Beggar’s Canyon. They need water and have no money, so old man Darklighter lets them work small day jobs in exchange for it.” Some movement behind me caught his eye, and he looked away from me for just a moment, then back to me. “Sorry, I have to get to work.” And he walked away, throwing a heavy tool belt over his shoulder. As he did, Holder and I turned to see what his distraction had been. Darklighter and a small entourage were descending a steep set of stairs from the main house. It was a sprawling, bleached-white complex of buildings in sharp contrast against the dark blue sky. Rogue stepped out in front of us as Huff Darklighter waved off his followers and closed the distance between the bottom step and us. “Thank you for coming so quickly. One of my workers discovered the body when he went out to reset an alarm on one of the condensers.” “You said it’s not one of your men?” He nodded his helmet slightly as the tiny speakers issued a slight burst of static. Now it was Huff’s turn to nod, “That’s right.” “One of them?” asked Rogue, turning and dipping his head in the direction of the crowd collecting water. Huff shook his head, and turned to move away from the main building with Rogue following. “No, it’s not one of them. Not one I’ve ever seen anyway.” The rest of us followed a few steps behind, keeping an eye on the vagrants and Darklighter’s men. “We’ll need to see the body.” Huff nodded. “Of course. It’s been undisturbed, and is being watched where it was found at the condenser out near the perimeter of our collection fields.” “We have plenty of room in our transport, if you’ll just have one of your men help with the navigation.” Topolev turned and double-timed it back to the transport. The rest of us followed, with two of Darklighter’s men joining us. *