Jahn Dhoe looked behind him to the squad that was following him down the street. All were armed with automatic slug-firing rifles, carbines or pistols along with any other weapons the had been able to come up with. All around them the deserted city streets were littered with debris and burned out hulks of ground cars. The opposition had been fierce, the the debtors and mudders that were with him had managed to drive the Vondumian Judicial Forces back. The sheer numbers were just too many for the small army to handle.
Jahn himself carried a slug-throwing pistol in a holster strapped to his left thigh, but in his right hand he carried an unsheathed vibro-sword. Since he had found it in Eli Dipsatch private cache of weapons, he had somehow felt more comfortable with the hilt than with a gun stock. He hefted it, comforted by it's balance and weight.
"Commander, we're nearing our target... another few blocks and we'll be home free," the man standing next to him holding a paper map and an assault carbine told him.
"Thank you, Dael," Jahn replied. Suddenly he had a bad feeling and spoke louder so all his men could hear him. "Keep your eyes open for hostiles."
Gunfire broke out to their right. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, yet leaving him free to move. The big man sidestepped the incoming flight path of the projectiles, then pushed Dael out of the way of another. He watched as his team began diving for cover, but saw they weren't going to make it.
He acted on instinct. Moving toward the slugs he began weaving his way into the barrage and using his vibro-sword to deflect their paths. It took only moments, but Jahn's squad made it to cover and began to return fire.
Rage coursed through his body, infusing him with the raw power that seemed to energize him and fuel his supernatural abilities. Instead of taking cover with his men and women, he charged toward the snipers, using the Power to enhance his movements.
Over the last few weeks since he had killed Dipsatch and taken over the pudgey man's criminal empire, his ability to call on the Power became almost second nature and although it still worked best when he didn't think, but let it come instinctually instead.
It was a good thing too because Eli Dipsatch's captains and lieutentants took a bit of convincing at first. Jahn had only to kill a few of them in the presence of their cohorts for them to warm up to the idea of freeing the debtors. Soon Jahn Dhoe had put Dipsatch's entire criminal network to good use, contacting and organizing the mudders and other debtors, some of whom were treated in atrocious manner, kept in squalor and filth and fed just enough to keep them working at mass production jobs, sewing or operating huge machinery in poor working conditions.
Once the idea caught hold, it had spread like wildfire and the debtors had rallied to Jahn.
The government had also responded quickly, but in a different manner, sending in their Judicial troops to try to enforce the law and return the debtors to their jobs.
The confrontations had quickly escalated to violence as Jahn publicly promised that he'd crush the existing government and bring forth justice whether they liked it or not.
Rumor had it that the debtors had begun referring to their champion as "King Jahn," and his bride, "Queen Jael." The newly weds laughed about it in the little time they had together. "When this is all over we'll get away for a while, just you and I, your Majesty," Jahn had promised her, and they both laughed.
At the moment, Jahn had more perilous things to worry about. His crew covered him as he sprinted across the intersection toward and over turned ground car. The gunfire was coming fom behind it.
When he was still several meters out, Jahn launched himself into the air using the Power to propel his body higher than even he had thought possible. In the air, he twisted himself and landed in a crouch, his sword held wide at the ready.
The shocked looks on the faces of the three Judicials told him this was not what they had expected. To confirm it, they dropped their weapons. "We surrender," one of them said as the others nodded.
"Very well," Jahn said, then ended their lives with three lightning quick slashes.
He reached down and grabbed a scarf from the neck of one of them and wiped his blade clean. "Should have thought about that before you started shooting at me," he said under his breath.
His squad moved up to his position and saw the bodies. Dael looked at his commander. "Sir, I've never seen anything like that... I mean, you deflected those slugs then jumped the ground car. I simply can't believe it... and I saw it with my own eyes." The rest of the squad nodded in agreement.
Jahn didn't answer. He was already thinking about what was to come. They had to move quickly if they wanted to take the Prime Minsister's Palace. Currently, all that stood between them and the end of this coup was the lightly armed Judicial footsoldiers and troopers they had been dealing with.
That wasn't the problem. They could handle the troopers. The debtors vastly out numbered the judicials and had been making steady progress across the city in squads of ten to fifteen, all taking different routes, forcing the Judicials to split up and defend and there just wasn't enough of them to do it.
What Jahn was worried about was the intel rumors which said the Vondumian Elite Troopers had been summoned. They were heavily armed and well trained and if they were to get into place before Jahn and his troops could take the Palace then the chances of successfully taking the Prime Minister's Palace would be slim indeed.
December 27, 2011
December 16, 2011
754. A Sith by any Other Name - Raezyr
Eli Dipsatch had been right. No one would fight him, no matter the odds. One man had died in the ring. A second had died after the fight from the crushing blow he had taken to the sternum, and the third man had slammed so hard into the unbreakable glass that his spine had snapped, leaving him paralyzed from the waist down. No one wanted a piece of a man who could do that.
A funny thing had happened though, and Eli had actually come clean about his part: Jahn Dhoe was supposed to have lost that last fight almost 8 weeks ago.
Despite going up against 3 men, Jahn had been favored in the odds. The movers and shakers in Vondume's underground world of pitfighting had all been betting against Jahn, for only they knew his opponents would have weapons.
Even Eli had bet against Jahn. Except the runner who had placed the bet had screwed up. He had accidentally bet on Jahn.
When the fight was over, Eli Dipsatch not only came out the big winner, but half the criminal scum on Vondume owed him vast sums of money, leaving Dipsatch one of the most powerful men on the planet. He had been so exstatic about it he had made the former Mudder his personal bodyguard.
The job didn't pay nearly as well as the pitfighting had, but it was still better than being a Mudder. The only problem was that for the first time, Jahn was able to see the full underbelly of the planet, and he found out that despite the back breaking work, the mudders were the fortunate ones.
Initially he had assumed that debtors were treated like prisoners here on Vondume. He was wrong. Debtors were nothing but slaves and slave labor. Men like Dipsatch traded debtors like currency, then kept them in hovels doing menial tasks and back-breaking jobs while providing just enough food and shelter to keep the debtors alive.
The entire subject happened to be the topic of conversation between Jael and himself. "I don't see how you can stand there and watch Dipsatch treat these people this way, Jahn," she told him. They had just finished supper in his quarters.
The apartment was provided to him by Dipsatch, and since his employer wanted him close at all times, it was right downt he hall from the penthouse suite in one of the upscale apartment buildings in the city center. It was posh and it had a great view.
Jahn walked out onto the specious balcony. He needed some air. "I don't know what you want me to do, Jael. I don't like Dipsatch either, but there's nothing I can do about it right now."
The beautiful dark-skinned woman had followed the big man outside. She stepped up and put her hands on his chest, shaking her head. "That's not true, Jahn. You can use your powers to stop him. You have them for a reason. I refuse to believe that you have this amazing gift and can only use it to protect a man like Dipsatch."
"Jael, I love you, but these people... they did this to themselves... it's their own fault they're debtors and I don't see why I should care," Jahn said, turning away from Jael and refusing to meet her eyes.
"If you don't care, then maybe you're not the man I thought you were."
They stood silently for a long time. Jahn thought he was preparing himself for her decision to leave him, but what she said next caught him by surprise.
"Jahn... They fired me from the Hospital."
It was such a nonsequitor that it took a moment to comprehend. "Why would they do that?"
"Because of you... because of the company you keep," she said. "They told me they don't want employees hanging around unsavory people like your boss. They wanted me to stop seeing you. I told them to walk on."
"And they let you go?" Jahn asked. "No problem. You'll get another job soon."
"You don't understand... all my educational loans came due the instant I was unemployed," she told him.
------------------
Jahn Dhoe flung open the doors and marched into Eli Dipsatch's office, Jael Thracen two steps behind. "I need a favor, boss."
Dipsatch leaned back in his oversized nerf-hide chair and stuck a cigarra in his mouth, it's acrid smoke rising and encircling his head, making him look almost comical. "Oh, I know what you're going to say, Jahn."
Jahn cocked his head slightly. "You do?"
"Oh yes, and I'm way ahead of you," the pudgy man got up and walked around the big wooden desk. He stopped in front of Jael and eyed her up and down.
Neither Jahn nor Jael liked the famished look in his eye, and she slid her hand in his as if it could hide her from his leering.
"Yes, you're little girlfriend became a debtor today. Oh, don't look surprised. I keep my eye on the lists for interesting names," he explained. Dipsatch then looked up at the big bodyguard. "Don't think I haven't noticed your disapproving looks as of late.
Dipsatch stepped toward Jael and ran his fingers down her bare arm. She cringed at the touch. "Yes, I already saved her from the Mudders for you."
"I guess... uh... thanks?" Jahn said.
Don't thank me yet, Jahn," Dipsatch said. "She doesn't get a free pass. Not yet, anyway. For now, she's going to be my little insurance policy to ensure you stay loyal to me."
"No," Jahn said so quietly only he could hear it. Realization was beginning to dawn on him. His jaw clenched and he began slowly shaking his head, revulsion and rage beginning to take over.
"She's going to be working at the Teegar House," Dipsatch explained further. There was no mistaking the look on his face as he stared at Jael.
"No!" Jahn shouted through clenched teeth. He could feel the anger burning inside him like a fire.
Dipsatch went on in a conspiratorial whisper, seemingly oblivious to Jahn's state. "I always check out the new girls to make sure they're up to standards."
"NOOOOOOOOO!" Jahn shot his hand forward, and bluish purple bolts of electricity shot from his hands, surging through the pudgey man. Dipsatch was blown backwards across the desk and into the wall as Jahn walked toward him, continuing to scream in rage, all the while pouring more energy and rage into the writhing, charring bulk of flesh.
When he finally stopped, little remained of former boss beyond a smoking, stinking pile of burned organic matter.
Jahn turned around to see Jael staring at him with a mix of awe, horror and admiration.
"You wanted me to do something about the debtors? Well, this is the start," he said, his jaw set in determination. "Will you stick by me through the end of this?"
"I will," she said, running to him and wrapping her arms around him. She looked up into his eyes. "I love you, Jahn Dhoe."
"Then will you marry me?"
"I will."
December 14, 2011
753. A Sith by any Other Name - Trychon
The wealthy man hadn't been lying. Minutes after he had shown up and left, one of the officers approached and told Jahn to return to his bunk. At first, Jahn thought that it was a trick, and waited in his bunk for the local law enforcement to show up and take him away to a real jail. Instead, an official showed up with papers to sign (he was not given a choice) that released him from his debt to the government and put him in debt to one Eli Dipsatch.
After being taken to his new 'home', Jahn's new reality was explained bluntly to him. Mr. Dipsatch had bought him so that he could be used for entertainment and gambling.
Now, here he sat, several weeks later, trying to mentally prepare himself for another fight. He imagined it would be easier without the muted noise of the crowd chanting and yelling for the fights going on in the dirt arena just down the hall. Of course, Jael's constant prodding his various wounds and asking him how they felt wasn't helping either.
Finally she gave up, frustrated by his silence. "This is insanity Jahn." She threw her hands up in the air. "Five weeks, and you've been put into eight fights already. It has to stop." She waited for a response, but only got a raised eyebrow. "I know we've talked about it, and I don't really have any experience with this sort of thing... but I've done some checking. There's a lot of talk about you around town, Jahn. Because nobody's been put through the sort of thing you are now."
"This is my out." Jahn finally opened his eyes. "I'm paying down my debt faster than any of the mudders can dream, and in time I'll be done with Dipsatch and his games. Whatever training or experience I had in my past, it's giving me the edge I need to get out of this."
"Whatever training you may have had in the past is no better than instinct now, and soon enough that may not be enough. That same instinct is what's causing them to raise the odds against you each time and move the fights closer and closer to keep the bets coming in." She sat down next to him, and grabbed his hand.
When he turned and met her eyes, she pleaded. "They're trying to find your breaking point, Jahn. Everyone has a breaking point, regardless of how special they may be."
"What choice do I have? I..." Jahn started, only to stop as the door handle turned and Eli Dipsatch entered. He was wearing one of his finer black suits, though it fit tightly around his midsection. He also wore a black cape with red underlining that he seemed to think had a slimming affect, though it didn't.
"Jahn! How's my favorite fighter doing tonight?" The large man laughed. "I'm kidding... of course you're doing great! Everyone's doing great... especially my banker!" He continued to laugh.
Jahn could see Jael steeling herself to confront Eli for the man she was growing to love. He glared at her, hoping to keep her from getting herself into a predicament that neither of them could handle. "Mr. Dipsatch, sir.... please listen to me..."
"Yes, yes of course dear." Eli interrupted. "There will be plenty of time to chat later. Now, it's time for our boy Jahn here to go into the preparation room."
Jael started to try again, but Eli wouldn't have any of it, interrupting before she could get more than a word out of her mouth. "Now, now... don't you worry. A lovely woman such as yourself belongs in the best seats in the arena with me. Come along, and I'll get you a drink."
He waved for her to follow him as he turned and left the room.
Jael shook her head. She was furious, but she did her best to control herself. Her being upset was the last thing that she wanted Jahn to think about while he was out there, facing what ever ridiculous match Eli had set up for him. Instead, she needed him to be thinking positive and to the time they'd be able to spend together after the fight. She always took care of him after the fights.
"Oh well." She admitted. "Even if we could convince him, there was no chance in space that he'd postpone a match he already had set up and wagers placed."
She turned to face him directly and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him into a desperate kiss. "You take care of yourself out there. If you could somehow get those instincts to kick in before you've taken a massive beating for once, I could spend less time cleaning you up... and more time getting dirty." She winked at him and gave him another kiss before leaving him to go get ready.
-----------------------
Jahn stepped out into the dirt arena to the raucous mixture of cheers and jeers so loud that he could not distinguish them. With a loud clack, the spotlights cranked on him, and he could no longer make out the crowd, but he was familiar enough with the setup by now. Beyond the lights was glass barricades that the fighters wouldn't be able to break through with any of the objects that they may have in the fight.
He looked straight forward and up as he tightened the protective cloth wraps he had around his hands. He knew that the luxury box was up there, and that was where Jael would be now, with his boss. She'd be relatively safe up there from the mob of violence crazed individuals who wasted their money on guessing how much of a beating he and others could take. Hopefully the money he'd made Dipsatch would help protect Jael from the wandering eyes of some of his unsavory friends as well.
One more reason to make this quick, if he could.
The rest of the spotlights turned on, signalling Jahn that his contest was about to begin. As expected, two large men entered through the second entrance. They were both quite a bit larger than he was, but no bigger than his previous opponents. He seemed to be getting the largest the planet had to offer, though it was possible that larger fighters had come and gone. He'd heard the shelf life was pretty short for this profession.
Then a third figure stepped out into the light, slightly larger than even the other two. He carried with him three swords, and he unceremoniously handed one to each of the other men. Jahn had faced others with weapons before... but rocks or blunt objects, not swords. Eli really was upping the ante this time.
Then Jahn noticed something else. The third man to enter was limping a bit. It took a few more seconds for recognition to hit him. The man who brought the swords in was the same man who had attacked him back when he was still a mudder, securing his release to Eli.
The man had likely asked for a chance at redemption, or he simply wanted revenge. It didn't matter to Jahn though, and as soon as the men were in striking distance, he launched his attack.
The large man was starting to say something, likely a taunt, but he didn't get much of it out as Jahn swept to flank them. By attacking them from the left, he put one of the men in between himself and the others, buying himself at least a second where he did not have to worry about the other two.
A quick punch to the face of the man on the left struck before he could prepare himself at all. It was followed with a few quick punches to the midsection while the man struggled to keep his balance. As the other two began to circle around, Jahn had to take his real shot.
A strike to the wrist currently holding the sword caused it to fall to the ground, and a hard hit to the face caused the man to finally stagger back and fall.
It was too late though, as an attempt to reach for the sword would have exposed Jahn to attacks from either side, and he couldn't take the chance against blades like these. Reluctantly, he backed away.
The large man was talking again, but Jahn couldn't hear him over his own thoughts. He was desperately trying to figure out how to stay alive. He tried to swing around quickly to flank one of them again, but they were prepared for it and would not allow it.
It didn't take long for him to be facing all three men again. He was wildly dodging and ducking under their lazy swings, but he knew it was only a matter of time before one of the managed to connect, and things would go downhill from there if that happened.
In his previous matches, he had started out well enough, but ultimately only took full control of the fight when things began looking rather bleak for him. For some reason, his training and experience from his former life only returned when he was under extreme duress, and Jael was right after all... he couldn't afford to wait for those instincts to kick in for him in this fight.
And then it happened. The cold metal bit into his right arm and while he tried to hold in his scream, he failed.
He was barely able to move out of the way of the next few swings, but his opponents gained confidence in seeing the flow of blood down his arm. His left arm took a glancing blow and also began to bleed.
Rather than finish him quickly, they began toying with him. No matter which way he moved or how he tried to get some space to recover, he was met quickly with blows from the hilts of the swords.
His vision began to go, and everything became fuzzy. He may have passed out. He wasn't sure, yet somehow he ended up restrained from behind by one of the men, while the poke in the chest from the tip of a blade brought his head back around.
Now he could hear the taunts from the large man. "Poor little man isn't so good against blades, is he?"
Jahn wasn't sure when he had been struck in the mouth, but he spat blood back in response. "Pitiful big man isn't so good with fair fights, is he?"
The man ignored him. "I think I know how you became so ugly, little man." He placed his blade over the scar that ran down from his hairline through his eye.
Something in Jahn broke, and he felt anger that he hadn't ever felt before. He yelled again, and the man who was restraining him was blown backwards from him inexplicably.
The large man took a step back in shock, his mouth open with confusion. Jahn turned to the third fighter to his right and punched him square in his sternum. There was a sickening crunch and the body flew meters away.
Jahn stretched his hand towards the large man, who had no more taunts for him. Once again, it was as though he wasn't in control of his own body or mind, he just did things. The man began floating into the air, grasping at his throat.
There was a loud buzz that deafened the arena, to signal the end of the fight. All it did to Jahn though was cover the sound of a spine being crushed before the body fell to the ground lifeless.
-------------------
Jael entered his prep room first. He could somehow feel that she was happy he was ok, but it was hidden behind concern for his wounds and whatever else had taken over him in the ring.
Eli Dipsatch followed only seconds after. "Well, Jahn... I think I may have to find another way to take advantage of your... skills." There was a bit of concern on his face as well, though it was more likely tied to the end of a high revenue fight ticket. "Nobody will likely bet against you again." He flashed a smile, as cheesy and fake as Jahn had ever seen.
After being taken to his new 'home', Jahn's new reality was explained bluntly to him. Mr. Dipsatch had bought him so that he could be used for entertainment and gambling.
Now, here he sat, several weeks later, trying to mentally prepare himself for another fight. He imagined it would be easier without the muted noise of the crowd chanting and yelling for the fights going on in the dirt arena just down the hall. Of course, Jael's constant prodding his various wounds and asking him how they felt wasn't helping either.
Finally she gave up, frustrated by his silence. "This is insanity Jahn." She threw her hands up in the air. "Five weeks, and you've been put into eight fights already. It has to stop." She waited for a response, but only got a raised eyebrow. "I know we've talked about it, and I don't really have any experience with this sort of thing... but I've done some checking. There's a lot of talk about you around town, Jahn. Because nobody's been put through the sort of thing you are now."
"This is my out." Jahn finally opened his eyes. "I'm paying down my debt faster than any of the mudders can dream, and in time I'll be done with Dipsatch and his games. Whatever training or experience I had in my past, it's giving me the edge I need to get out of this."
"Whatever training you may have had in the past is no better than instinct now, and soon enough that may not be enough. That same instinct is what's causing them to raise the odds against you each time and move the fights closer and closer to keep the bets coming in." She sat down next to him, and grabbed his hand.
When he turned and met her eyes, she pleaded. "They're trying to find your breaking point, Jahn. Everyone has a breaking point, regardless of how special they may be."
"What choice do I have? I..." Jahn started, only to stop as the door handle turned and Eli Dipsatch entered. He was wearing one of his finer black suits, though it fit tightly around his midsection. He also wore a black cape with red underlining that he seemed to think had a slimming affect, though it didn't.
"Jahn! How's my favorite fighter doing tonight?" The large man laughed. "I'm kidding... of course you're doing great! Everyone's doing great... especially my banker!" He continued to laugh.
Jahn could see Jael steeling herself to confront Eli for the man she was growing to love. He glared at her, hoping to keep her from getting herself into a predicament that neither of them could handle. "Mr. Dipsatch, sir.... please listen to me..."
"Yes, yes of course dear." Eli interrupted. "There will be plenty of time to chat later. Now, it's time for our boy Jahn here to go into the preparation room."
Jael started to try again, but Eli wouldn't have any of it, interrupting before she could get more than a word out of her mouth. "Now, now... don't you worry. A lovely woman such as yourself belongs in the best seats in the arena with me. Come along, and I'll get you a drink."
He waved for her to follow him as he turned and left the room.
Jael shook her head. She was furious, but she did her best to control herself. Her being upset was the last thing that she wanted Jahn to think about while he was out there, facing what ever ridiculous match Eli had set up for him. Instead, she needed him to be thinking positive and to the time they'd be able to spend together after the fight. She always took care of him after the fights.
"Oh well." She admitted. "Even if we could convince him, there was no chance in space that he'd postpone a match he already had set up and wagers placed."
She turned to face him directly and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him into a desperate kiss. "You take care of yourself out there. If you could somehow get those instincts to kick in before you've taken a massive beating for once, I could spend less time cleaning you up... and more time getting dirty." She winked at him and gave him another kiss before leaving him to go get ready.
-----------------------
Jahn stepped out into the dirt arena to the raucous mixture of cheers and jeers so loud that he could not distinguish them. With a loud clack, the spotlights cranked on him, and he could no longer make out the crowd, but he was familiar enough with the setup by now. Beyond the lights was glass barricades that the fighters wouldn't be able to break through with any of the objects that they may have in the fight.
He looked straight forward and up as he tightened the protective cloth wraps he had around his hands. He knew that the luxury box was up there, and that was where Jael would be now, with his boss. She'd be relatively safe up there from the mob of violence crazed individuals who wasted their money on guessing how much of a beating he and others could take. Hopefully the money he'd made Dipsatch would help protect Jael from the wandering eyes of some of his unsavory friends as well.
One more reason to make this quick, if he could.
The rest of the spotlights turned on, signalling Jahn that his contest was about to begin. As expected, two large men entered through the second entrance. They were both quite a bit larger than he was, but no bigger than his previous opponents. He seemed to be getting the largest the planet had to offer, though it was possible that larger fighters had come and gone. He'd heard the shelf life was pretty short for this profession.
Then a third figure stepped out into the light, slightly larger than even the other two. He carried with him three swords, and he unceremoniously handed one to each of the other men. Jahn had faced others with weapons before... but rocks or blunt objects, not swords. Eli really was upping the ante this time.
Then Jahn noticed something else. The third man to enter was limping a bit. It took a few more seconds for recognition to hit him. The man who brought the swords in was the same man who had attacked him back when he was still a mudder, securing his release to Eli.
The man had likely asked for a chance at redemption, or he simply wanted revenge. It didn't matter to Jahn though, and as soon as the men were in striking distance, he launched his attack.
The large man was starting to say something, likely a taunt, but he didn't get much of it out as Jahn swept to flank them. By attacking them from the left, he put one of the men in between himself and the others, buying himself at least a second where he did not have to worry about the other two.
A quick punch to the face of the man on the left struck before he could prepare himself at all. It was followed with a few quick punches to the midsection while the man struggled to keep his balance. As the other two began to circle around, Jahn had to take his real shot.
A strike to the wrist currently holding the sword caused it to fall to the ground, and a hard hit to the face caused the man to finally stagger back and fall.
It was too late though, as an attempt to reach for the sword would have exposed Jahn to attacks from either side, and he couldn't take the chance against blades like these. Reluctantly, he backed away.
The large man was talking again, but Jahn couldn't hear him over his own thoughts. He was desperately trying to figure out how to stay alive. He tried to swing around quickly to flank one of them again, but they were prepared for it and would not allow it.
It didn't take long for him to be facing all three men again. He was wildly dodging and ducking under their lazy swings, but he knew it was only a matter of time before one of the managed to connect, and things would go downhill from there if that happened.
In his previous matches, he had started out well enough, but ultimately only took full control of the fight when things began looking rather bleak for him. For some reason, his training and experience from his former life only returned when he was under extreme duress, and Jael was right after all... he couldn't afford to wait for those instincts to kick in for him in this fight.
And then it happened. The cold metal bit into his right arm and while he tried to hold in his scream, he failed.
He was barely able to move out of the way of the next few swings, but his opponents gained confidence in seeing the flow of blood down his arm. His left arm took a glancing blow and also began to bleed.
Rather than finish him quickly, they began toying with him. No matter which way he moved or how he tried to get some space to recover, he was met quickly with blows from the hilts of the swords.
His vision began to go, and everything became fuzzy. He may have passed out. He wasn't sure, yet somehow he ended up restrained from behind by one of the men, while the poke in the chest from the tip of a blade brought his head back around.
Now he could hear the taunts from the large man. "Poor little man isn't so good against blades, is he?"
Jahn wasn't sure when he had been struck in the mouth, but he spat blood back in response. "Pitiful big man isn't so good with fair fights, is he?"
The man ignored him. "I think I know how you became so ugly, little man." He placed his blade over the scar that ran down from his hairline through his eye.
Something in Jahn broke, and he felt anger that he hadn't ever felt before. He yelled again, and the man who was restraining him was blown backwards from him inexplicably.
The large man took a step back in shock, his mouth open with confusion. Jahn turned to the third fighter to his right and punched him square in his sternum. There was a sickening crunch and the body flew meters away.
Jahn stretched his hand towards the large man, who had no more taunts for him. Once again, it was as though he wasn't in control of his own body or mind, he just did things. The man began floating into the air, grasping at his throat.
There was a loud buzz that deafened the arena, to signal the end of the fight. All it did to Jahn though was cover the sound of a spine being crushed before the body fell to the ground lifeless.
-------------------
Jael entered his prep room first. He could somehow feel that she was happy he was ok, but it was hidden behind concern for his wounds and whatever else had taken over him in the ring.
Eli Dipsatch followed only seconds after. "Well, Jahn... I think I may have to find another way to take advantage of your... skills." There was a bit of concern on his face as well, though it was more likely tied to the end of a high revenue fight ticket. "Nobody will likely bet against you again." He flashed a smile, as cheesy and fake as Jahn had ever seen.
December 08, 2011
752. A Sith by any Other Name - Raezyr
Jahn stumbled into his room and began stripping the dirt and sweat soaked work coveralls from his body, tossing them into the hamper. New sets would be waiting for he and his roomates in the morning. When that was finished, he stumbled into the sanisteam. He stood there for few minutes letting the heat soak into his sore muscles and stared at his hands. They were torn and raw from the brutally hard manual labor he'd been engaged in for the past week. Apparently whatever his former life had involved, it hadn't been manual labor.
Although his muscles were sore, he had really expected them to be much worse. After spending so long in the hospital he had expected them to have atrophied to some extent, but judging by how they seemed to be adapting to the hard work, and the muscled physique he saw in he mirror, he was evidently a firm believer in calisthenics.
When he finally stepped out of the sanisteam, all Jahn really wanted to do was flop on his bunk and sleep, yet that just wasn't on the schedule just yet. It was the weekend, and instead of the usual eleven hour work day that he'd been working for the last seven days, they had only worked seven. Tomorrow it would be the start of the work week again and back to eleven hour days, but for the evening, he had some extra time off, and he had plans.
Jael had invited him over for the evening meal, extensibly to give him a check up and maybe work on trying to get his memory back, but he didn't care much about that at the moment. It would just be nice to relax for a bit and talk.
As he walked out of the barracks and down the steet, he kept thinking that someone should be trying to stop him from leaving, but no one seemed to pay any attention. The fact was that it wasn't a prison. There was nothing really from stopping him from leaving, except that they had implanted a sub-dermal tracking device, or at least that's what they told him.
He wasn't sure exactly what to believe. There was such a mixture of high and low technology that it was often confusing. On one hand, all transactions on the planet were conducted through the tracking chips, and debtors couln't buy a thing for themselves as there was no curency, but on the other hand people in the streets rode horses or drove horse or nerf drawn wagons, or noisey, polluted fossil-fuel powered, motorized vehicles on wheels. There were no air or land speeders, except a few belonging to the uber wealthy.
And everyone carried slug-throwing weapons. Jahn had yet to see a single energy weapon. He couldn't remember specifics, but he was pretty sure none of this would be considered normal where ever he was from.
He finally arrived at the address which Jael had given him over the comm, and it turned out to be an apartment building in a decent neighborhood, yet even here the doors weren't automatic. He looked around for a comm switch, but there was none. Finally he just tried the door and it swung inward with a quick turn of the knob.
In the small foyer he saw a list of last names next to apartment numbers and as he ran his finger down the list, stopping at "Thracen 4F," he caught himself whistling a tune his co-workers were fond of singing. It was some ballad they seemed to sing often; the story of someone named Jayne Cobb.
Apparently sometime in the past someone had tried to stand up to the system, robbing and stealing from the elite only to give it to the debtors. Jahn suspected there was probably a lot of information that the ballad left out, but as of now the song was all that was left of the incident. Still, the tune was not only catchy, but addicting as well.
Jael opened the door to his knock and he was stunned. She seemed even more beautiful than he remembered, even though it had been only a week since he'd seen her. "Oh, man, I missed you," he said a bit breathlessly.
She smiled demurely, then hugged him and gave him a small kiss on his cheek. "It's good to see you too, Jahn."
Supper was already prepared and laid out on the table, and everything smelled delicious. "This smells and tastes so much better than the stuff the Mudders eat," he told her as they began the meal.
"Mudders?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's what the debtors call themselves... I guess it stems from being covered in so much dirt and sweat after a long day," Jahn explained.
They talked quietly throughout the meal, mostly Jahn explaining what he had gone through so far. Finally she commented, "You look to be in pretty good shape for all the poor food and hard work."
"It's getting easier. I think it's this nasty grog they drink... they call it 'Mudder's Milk,'" he told her. "It supposedly has all the protein, vitamins and carbs of your grandma’s best tarkle dinner, plus 15 percent alcohol. Tastes like Hell, but it's satisfying and helps you sleep easy."
After supper they sat and talked for a while, sitting together on the couch. She went over some mental exercises that were supposed to help him bring his memory back, but finally he stopped her. "I'm not sure I want my memories back, Jael."
"I'm not sure I want your memories back either."
Jahn pulled her in close and kissed her deeply. When they finally parted, she whispered in his ear. "You don't have to go."
"I don't want to, but I have to," he said sadly. Every fiber told him to stay, but he stood up to leave. "The work day starts early for a Mudder."
She walked him to the door. "I wish I could pay off your debt, Jahn."
"If you tried, you'd only end up in there with me."
----------------
The work day did come early, and as usual, the day was hot and dry and the work itself was back-breaking and brutal. They were in the middle of building a large earthen dam, but most of the work was being done by hand.
It was mid-afternoon and Jahn was sweaty and tired. He'd been shoveling dirt all day into wheel barrows and as one was pushed off to it's destination, the next one was arrving to be filled with little break time inbetween.
Suddenly a shovelful of dirt hit him square in the back. He paused and looked over at the guy who had tossed it. He was a huge hulk of a man, standing almost 25 to 30 centimeters taller than Jahn and his shoulders were even broader. The man's shirt was tied around his waist and Jahn could see the man's chest and arms had several knife blade scars on them. Exactly how he knew they were from blades, Jahn couldn't say, but he knew what they were. He went back to work deciding that it wasn't worth making an issue of it.
As soon as he did, another shovelful of dirt hit him in the back. "Hey man, watch where you're throwing that," Jahn said and went back to work, only to have a third shovelful hit him. "You dig like an animal," he said.
He stood up and the man had a look in his eyes that Jahn recognized. Instantly he knew this would only end one way.
"Oh, so I'm an animal, eh?" the hulk said to him, throwing the shovel to the ground and heading in Jahn's direction.
"No, I said you dig like one, or do you have dirt in your ears?"
"And I'm deaf too, eh?"
"No, I just think you're too stupid to realize the mistake you're about to make." Jahn didn't know what prompted him to say that, but prepared for what was now inevitable.
The big man swung a long, lazy, looping punch aimed for Jahn's head. Jahn ducked and struck hard and fast, landing two punches into the man's rib cage causing the brute to exhale.
"You hit hard, little-" a fist slammed into the brute's mouth, staggering him. Jahn had no intention of standing around and talking. Instead he followed up with hard blows to the body.
The brute swung a kick for Jahn's groin. He dodged the kick, but not the fist that came after. It caught him on the side of the head, and lights exploded. He shook his head and backed up, trying to clear the cobwebs and focus.
It was the opening the brute was looking for and he moved in swinging away with haymakers and uppercuts. Jahn tried to dodge most of them, but several landed indirectly. Glancing blows they may have been, but they still hurt, and he went down under the onslaught.
The man kicked his ribs and pain shot through him. The big brute reached down and grabbed Jahn by his shirt front, clearly intending to finish this fight once and for all, but something had clicked inside Jahn.
He didn't know what it was, but time seemed to slow down, clarity returned and he felt and exhilerhating, raw power surge through his body, re-energizing him.
Jahn sprang to life and to his feet, out of reach of the brute. He began throwing puches. The brute tried to counter, but Jahn was too quick, bobbing and weaving in and out of his reach and under and around blows, all the while landing fist after fist.
Finally he swung his leg, kicking the brute in the side of the knee and sending the beast to the ground. Jahn was on him in an instant, continuing his rain of fierce blows.
Suddenly he felt hands trying to pull him backward, up and off the brute. Jahn allowed them to pick him up, but shook them off when he had made it to his feet.
Jahn stood there over the unconscious body, his fists dripping with the brute's blood and barely recognizing the bloody pulp of flesh that was once the bully's face.
"You nearly killed him," a voice came from the silent crowd that had gathered, stunned to silence by the violence they had just witnessed.
"No... I didn't do that," Jahn said, breathing hard as his senses started to return to normal. "The foolish and the weak will always find a way to destroy themselves."
Suddenly the crowd parted and a pudgey man dressed richly, escorted by two big men made their way toward Jahn.
"That was quite an impressive display of skill... Jahn Doh, is it?" the pudgey rich man asked.
"Who're you?" Jahn asked. Somehow he knew he'd regret the answer.
"Why, my name is Eli Dipsatch... and I'm the guy who just paid off your debt."
Although his muscles were sore, he had really expected them to be much worse. After spending so long in the hospital he had expected them to have atrophied to some extent, but judging by how they seemed to be adapting to the hard work, and the muscled physique he saw in he mirror, he was evidently a firm believer in calisthenics.
When he finally stepped out of the sanisteam, all Jahn really wanted to do was flop on his bunk and sleep, yet that just wasn't on the schedule just yet. It was the weekend, and instead of the usual eleven hour work day that he'd been working for the last seven days, they had only worked seven. Tomorrow it would be the start of the work week again and back to eleven hour days, but for the evening, he had some extra time off, and he had plans.
Jael had invited him over for the evening meal, extensibly to give him a check up and maybe work on trying to get his memory back, but he didn't care much about that at the moment. It would just be nice to relax for a bit and talk.
As he walked out of the barracks and down the steet, he kept thinking that someone should be trying to stop him from leaving, but no one seemed to pay any attention. The fact was that it wasn't a prison. There was nothing really from stopping him from leaving, except that they had implanted a sub-dermal tracking device, or at least that's what they told him.
He wasn't sure exactly what to believe. There was such a mixture of high and low technology that it was often confusing. On one hand, all transactions on the planet were conducted through the tracking chips, and debtors couln't buy a thing for themselves as there was no curency, but on the other hand people in the streets rode horses or drove horse or nerf drawn wagons, or noisey, polluted fossil-fuel powered, motorized vehicles on wheels. There were no air or land speeders, except a few belonging to the uber wealthy.
And everyone carried slug-throwing weapons. Jahn had yet to see a single energy weapon. He couldn't remember specifics, but he was pretty sure none of this would be considered normal where ever he was from.
He finally arrived at the address which Jael had given him over the comm, and it turned out to be an apartment building in a decent neighborhood, yet even here the doors weren't automatic. He looked around for a comm switch, but there was none. Finally he just tried the door and it swung inward with a quick turn of the knob.
In the small foyer he saw a list of last names next to apartment numbers and as he ran his finger down the list, stopping at "Thracen 4F," he caught himself whistling a tune his co-workers were fond of singing. It was some ballad they seemed to sing often; the story of someone named Jayne Cobb.
Apparently sometime in the past someone had tried to stand up to the system, robbing and stealing from the elite only to give it to the debtors. Jahn suspected there was probably a lot of information that the ballad left out, but as of now the song was all that was left of the incident. Still, the tune was not only catchy, but addicting as well.
Jael opened the door to his knock and he was stunned. She seemed even more beautiful than he remembered, even though it had been only a week since he'd seen her. "Oh, man, I missed you," he said a bit breathlessly.
She smiled demurely, then hugged him and gave him a small kiss on his cheek. "It's good to see you too, Jahn."
Supper was already prepared and laid out on the table, and everything smelled delicious. "This smells and tastes so much better than the stuff the Mudders eat," he told her as they began the meal.
"Mudders?" she asked.
"Yeah, that's what the debtors call themselves... I guess it stems from being covered in so much dirt and sweat after a long day," Jahn explained.
They talked quietly throughout the meal, mostly Jahn explaining what he had gone through so far. Finally she commented, "You look to be in pretty good shape for all the poor food and hard work."
"It's getting easier. I think it's this nasty grog they drink... they call it 'Mudder's Milk,'" he told her. "It supposedly has all the protein, vitamins and carbs of your grandma’s best tarkle dinner, plus 15 percent alcohol. Tastes like Hell, but it's satisfying and helps you sleep easy."
After supper they sat and talked for a while, sitting together on the couch. She went over some mental exercises that were supposed to help him bring his memory back, but finally he stopped her. "I'm not sure I want my memories back, Jael."
"I'm not sure I want your memories back either."
Jahn pulled her in close and kissed her deeply. When they finally parted, she whispered in his ear. "You don't have to go."
"I don't want to, but I have to," he said sadly. Every fiber told him to stay, but he stood up to leave. "The work day starts early for a Mudder."
She walked him to the door. "I wish I could pay off your debt, Jahn."
"If you tried, you'd only end up in there with me."
----------------
The work day did come early, and as usual, the day was hot and dry and the work itself was back-breaking and brutal. They were in the middle of building a large earthen dam, but most of the work was being done by hand.
It was mid-afternoon and Jahn was sweaty and tired. He'd been shoveling dirt all day into wheel barrows and as one was pushed off to it's destination, the next one was arrving to be filled with little break time inbetween.
Suddenly a shovelful of dirt hit him square in the back. He paused and looked over at the guy who had tossed it. He was a huge hulk of a man, standing almost 25 to 30 centimeters taller than Jahn and his shoulders were even broader. The man's shirt was tied around his waist and Jahn could see the man's chest and arms had several knife blade scars on them. Exactly how he knew they were from blades, Jahn couldn't say, but he knew what they were. He went back to work deciding that it wasn't worth making an issue of it.
As soon as he did, another shovelful of dirt hit him in the back. "Hey man, watch where you're throwing that," Jahn said and went back to work, only to have a third shovelful hit him. "You dig like an animal," he said.
He stood up and the man had a look in his eyes that Jahn recognized. Instantly he knew this would only end one way.
"Oh, so I'm an animal, eh?" the hulk said to him, throwing the shovel to the ground and heading in Jahn's direction.
"No, I said you dig like one, or do you have dirt in your ears?"
"And I'm deaf too, eh?"
"No, I just think you're too stupid to realize the mistake you're about to make." Jahn didn't know what prompted him to say that, but prepared for what was now inevitable.
The big man swung a long, lazy, looping punch aimed for Jahn's head. Jahn ducked and struck hard and fast, landing two punches into the man's rib cage causing the brute to exhale.
"You hit hard, little-" a fist slammed into the brute's mouth, staggering him. Jahn had no intention of standing around and talking. Instead he followed up with hard blows to the body.
The brute swung a kick for Jahn's groin. He dodged the kick, but not the fist that came after. It caught him on the side of the head, and lights exploded. He shook his head and backed up, trying to clear the cobwebs and focus.
It was the opening the brute was looking for and he moved in swinging away with haymakers and uppercuts. Jahn tried to dodge most of them, but several landed indirectly. Glancing blows they may have been, but they still hurt, and he went down under the onslaught.
The man kicked his ribs and pain shot through him. The big brute reached down and grabbed Jahn by his shirt front, clearly intending to finish this fight once and for all, but something had clicked inside Jahn.
He didn't know what it was, but time seemed to slow down, clarity returned and he felt and exhilerhating, raw power surge through his body, re-energizing him.
Jahn sprang to life and to his feet, out of reach of the brute. He began throwing puches. The brute tried to counter, but Jahn was too quick, bobbing and weaving in and out of his reach and under and around blows, all the while landing fist after fist.
Finally he swung his leg, kicking the brute in the side of the knee and sending the beast to the ground. Jahn was on him in an instant, continuing his rain of fierce blows.
Suddenly he felt hands trying to pull him backward, up and off the brute. Jahn allowed them to pick him up, but shook them off when he had made it to his feet.
Jahn stood there over the unconscious body, his fists dripping with the brute's blood and barely recognizing the bloody pulp of flesh that was once the bully's face.
"You nearly killed him," a voice came from the silent crowd that had gathered, stunned to silence by the violence they had just witnessed.
"No... I didn't do that," Jahn said, breathing hard as his senses started to return to normal. "The foolish and the weak will always find a way to destroy themselves."
Suddenly the crowd parted and a pudgey man dressed richly, escorted by two big men made their way toward Jahn.
"That was quite an impressive display of skill... Jahn Doh, is it?" the pudgey rich man asked.
"Who're you?" Jahn asked. Somehow he knew he'd regret the answer.
"Why, my name is Eli Dipsatch... and I'm the guy who just paid off your debt."
December 06, 2011
751. A Sith by any Other Name - Raezyr
For the next several weeks, Jael worked with her patient on a daily basis, helping him rehabilitate from his injuries as Jahn's leg wasn't the only thing wrong. The blow to his head had also slightly affected his motor skills, but as she worked with him, they quickly returned to normal.
As the rehab moved along, Jael did her best to explain the way things worked on the planet of Vondume. She told him the planet was colonized about 1500 years ago by some long defunct mining corporation, but when the ore proved to be too low-grade to make it worth transporting from so far out on the Outer Rim they abandoned the project, although not before shipping in several large nerf herds.
When the company decided to leave, many colonists chose to stay thinking that the nerf herds would sustain them, knowing full well that they may never see another freighter from the Republic again. The nerfs didn't do very well in the climate as it was warm, dry and arid, with little water or vegitaton, and as ranches failed and farmers failed to grow enough crops in the rocky soil to satisfy their colony, and the number of people who couldn't pay their debts began to grow.
The makeshift government did the only thing they could. They bailed out the people who were in debt, in return for manual labor on government projects, building dams, canals, roads and buildings.
In time, the population grew and a vast gulf began to seperate the wealthy from those who had nothing. The government bailout became mandatory once it was determined a person couldn't pay their debts in order to keep the labor force stocked. Rarely did anyone ever pay off their debts and usually died after years of hard labor, indebted to the government. The debtors became little more than indentured servants.
It didn't take long before the rich wanted in on the action too, and the government was only happy to oblige, allowing private citizens to then buy off an individual's debts from the government, thus making the debtor beholden to whichever person or company bought them.
It had all started out innocently, but by the time it was recognized what had truly happened, only the rich were left in charge and there was no way they were going to change it at that stage. The only thing that ever kept the debtors from rising up and revolting was the vegetable dangling on the end of the string, the hope the could one day pay off their debt for good.
The problem was that the few who actually managed to do so quickly found they had worked themselves out of a job and a home and often became destitute, living a miserable existence on the streets or would find a way to get back into debt, just to have somewhere to go.
Jahn couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Legalized slavery?" he asked incredulously. "That's madness."
Jael shrugged. "It's reality. The thing is, it also ensures that people work hard and get an education so they don't end up a debtor."
Jahn agreed that it might have its benefits, but in his mind he could easily think of dozens of ways to corrupt a system like that, and if occurred that quickly to him, it had probably been thought of by others long ago. He was willing to bet just about anything that there was a whole world under the surface that Jael didn't know about.
As the weeks passed, and Jael helped him rehab, the doctors often came in to check on him to make sure he was progressing and they always seemed pleased. They also seemed to wonder why Jael was spending so much time with this one patient. A few times he caught them asking her if she had other patients to attend to, or they seemed surprised that she was working that day.
The big man didn't mind. The sooner he got out of here, the better he'd feel, and besides, he enjoyed her company and the fact that she was easy to look at didn't hurt matters either.
Finally, the day came when the doctor entered the room and told him he was well enough to leave. "You've made an amazing recovery, faster than we expected."
"I had a good therapist," Jahn Dhoe said, smiling over at Nurse Thracen.
"I know you don't have your memories back, but that's something you'll have to work on from outside the hospital," the doctor informed him. "We can set you up with some therapist appointments in a few minutes but first..." The man in the white coat paused and picked up a stack of paperwork, then looked at Jahn.
"But first, we need to figure out how you're going to settle your bill."
December 01, 2011
750. A Sith by any Other Name - Raezyr
"What if it doesn't come back?" Jahn said, absentmindedly fingering the scar on his face again.
"Then you can pick a new name, I guess," she replied, putting her hand on his arm reassuringly. "Let's not worry about that right now; Time enough for that later."
The big man surveyed his body, noting the various bandages and studied the cast on his leg for a moment when he suddenly noticed a bit of metal sticking out from the edge of the blanket covering his other foot. He pulled it back and gaped in horror at the metal appendage which was his other leg and foot, all the way up to just above his knee. "What did you do to me?" he asked in disbelief.
"We didn't do that, but it's amazing, isn't it?" Jael said in wonder. "We don't have the technology to do this kind of work here. We've heard of it, but we're so isolated out here that we're lucky to see the random trade ship or freighter but once or twice a year."
"Speaking of 'here'", Jahn asked, "where exacty is 'here' and just how did I get 'here?'"
"You're on a planet called Vondume, located on the edge of the what the Republic calls the 'Unknown Regions,'" she explained, "and as for how you got here, well, once again we were hoping you could tell us. All we know is that your ship crashed."
"My ship? As in space ship?" the patient asked his nurse. "I need to see it. Maybe there's a clue as to what happened."
"Jahn, the ship was completely destroyed in the crash... I'm sorry."
"There has to be something, ship records, computer memory banks, something... I've got to go," he said urgently, once again trying to sit up.
Jael grabbed his shoulders gently. "No, you don't understand. There's nothing." She let that sink in for a moment. "Your ship... Jahn... let me put it to you this way: It was salvagers who found you and rescued you. It's a miracle that you were even alive. Not a single thing came made it through the crash but molten and twisted metal... and you.
"The only thing we know about you is what I've already told you, and the fact that you were delerious when you were found and you said a few things before slipping into a coma," she continued. "You wanted to destroy a child's play vehicle... you kept saying something like, 'Die, bike, die."
"That makes no sense."
"I know."
"Well, I still need to go through the wreckage myself," Jahn told her. "Maybe there's something that will trigger a memory or something."
The dark-skinned woman shook her head sadly. "It's already been salvaged. You were in a coma for seven weeks," she informed him. "I'm so sorry, Jahn, but when I said there was nothing, I really meant it."
The realization of what all of that meant hit him like a wall of duracrete. It meant that he was on a planet in the middle of nowhere, with no one who knew him, and no way of finding out where he had come from. The best that he could hope for was that someone had known he was coming here and would eventually wonder what had happened to him.
A thought rose unbidden to his mind, and he knew as sure as the night was black, that it was the truth. "My brother will come for me."
"Your brother?" Jael said with surprise. "Oh good, you're starting to remember already!"
Jahn shook his head sadly. "No, I don't remember anything about my brother, but deep down, somehow, someway, I know that that statement is the truth."
November 28, 2011
749. The Makings of a Henchman pt. 3 - Trychon
Jenkins and Johnson sat in the debriefing room for nearly an hour, waiting. The red light on the camera wasn't on, which meant that they weren't recording the eventual conversation. That was a mixed message.
Eventually, the captain entered the room. The camera was still off. This was beginning to feel more like an interrogation than a debriefing.
The captain pulled out his chair and sat. He placed in front of himself several papers. He looked as though he was searching for the right words to begin the conversation.
Jenkins started it for him.
"What is going on?"
"It's over."
"What do you mean it's over? We had them!"
"I mean the war, boys." He shook his head. "I tried to comm you. Command's given into the requests of the Alliance. The history books will say that we've lost this battle as well as the war, regardless of what we've done and seen, and paying little mind to whatever concessions the Independents were able to bargain for."
Jenkins and Johnson weren't expecting that, of all things for their Captain to say. After the shock wore off, they began venting very loudly simultaneously. It wasn't often that they spoke over each other, but neither stopped for several minutes.
The Captain let them rant about the evils of the 'Black Boots' and the noble 'Red Shirts' cause and all it and they had stood for. He waited for them to get it out. He couldn't blame them one bit, and was proud and not one bit surprised that they were showing more emotion over the news than anyone else in their entire group.
When they had calmed down and were asking questions that were no longer rhetorical, he was ready to answer them.
"What happens now?"
"In general, most of our soldiers will be absorbed into the Alliance." He allowed another short outburst before interrupting them. "Yes, I know it sounds offensive to work for them after fighting against their control... and some soldiers will be opting out. Others may stay in. I, myself have a family to feed."
There was silence for the first time, he'd shocked them badly. "I know how horrible that sounds, but let me explain." They nodded, still silent.
"We all got in this to protect our planet and to fight against joining the Alliance. We can't fight the Alliance anymore, but out here on the rim and near Hutt space... there's plenty still to protect our planet from. Nobody who doesn't volunteer will be shipped out to 'bring other systems into line'. We won't be part of the conquering force, we'll just be serving our planet all the same. Maybe even bring some good changes from the inside. Who knows."
Johnson looked down at the table, still visibly upset. "We can't do that, Captain. We can't join them."
"No. You can't. You're being charged with the murder of Alliance soldiers in violation of the peace agreement."
"That's insane." Jenkins laughed.
"Yep. And exactly what we'd expect from the Alliance." Johnson added.
The Captain tossed them a security card. "I've informed HQ that you two overpowered me, and have stolen a ship... and won't likely show up for the hearing. They'll have investigators here before too long." He turned to walk out of the room.
Johnson called for him to wait a moment. "Captain... if we're being charged with murder... why were you trying to convince us to join the Black Boots?"
"I wasn't trying to convince you to join me. I was trying to convince you not to hate me. I'm sorry."
----------------------
The various authorities were still not organized and there was no opposition for them as they left the system.
An hour passed as they stared into the streaking stars that represented their unknown future.
Jenkins clenched his eyelids shut against the moisture that grew there. "I would have died for our cause, Johnson."
"As would I. Gladly. That's what we were in for. Now we're not just tossed aside, but outlaws."
"I'm not sure... what to do now."
Johnson stared at the course they'd set in and couldn't find a single system that provided an answer. "We find a cause worth dying for. Worth living our lives for."
Jenkins nodded emphatically. "One that won't compromise and will allow us to serve as we wanted to all along."
"We'll need new identities."
Jenkins smiled for the first time since they left for battle the night previous. "Call me Shirt."
Johnson laughed, and tried to come up with a similar moniker to pay homage to their lost cause, as he would never be referred to as 'Boot' again. "Call me.... Red?"
"Reed." Schyrt amended for him.
Eventually, the captain entered the room. The camera was still off. This was beginning to feel more like an interrogation than a debriefing.
The captain pulled out his chair and sat. He placed in front of himself several papers. He looked as though he was searching for the right words to begin the conversation.
Jenkins started it for him.
"What is going on?"
"It's over."
"What do you mean it's over? We had them!"
"I mean the war, boys." He shook his head. "I tried to comm you. Command's given into the requests of the Alliance. The history books will say that we've lost this battle as well as the war, regardless of what we've done and seen, and paying little mind to whatever concessions the Independents were able to bargain for."
Jenkins and Johnson weren't expecting that, of all things for their Captain to say. After the shock wore off, they began venting very loudly simultaneously. It wasn't often that they spoke over each other, but neither stopped for several minutes.
The Captain let them rant about the evils of the 'Black Boots' and the noble 'Red Shirts' cause and all it and they had stood for. He waited for them to get it out. He couldn't blame them one bit, and was proud and not one bit surprised that they were showing more emotion over the news than anyone else in their entire group.
When they had calmed down and were asking questions that were no longer rhetorical, he was ready to answer them.
"What happens now?"
"In general, most of our soldiers will be absorbed into the Alliance." He allowed another short outburst before interrupting them. "Yes, I know it sounds offensive to work for them after fighting against their control... and some soldiers will be opting out. Others may stay in. I, myself have a family to feed."
There was silence for the first time, he'd shocked them badly. "I know how horrible that sounds, but let me explain." They nodded, still silent.
"We all got in this to protect our planet and to fight against joining the Alliance. We can't fight the Alliance anymore, but out here on the rim and near Hutt space... there's plenty still to protect our planet from. Nobody who doesn't volunteer will be shipped out to 'bring other systems into line'. We won't be part of the conquering force, we'll just be serving our planet all the same. Maybe even bring some good changes from the inside. Who knows."
Johnson looked down at the table, still visibly upset. "We can't do that, Captain. We can't join them."
"No. You can't. You're being charged with the murder of Alliance soldiers in violation of the peace agreement."
"That's insane." Jenkins laughed.
"Yep. And exactly what we'd expect from the Alliance." Johnson added.
The Captain tossed them a security card. "I've informed HQ that you two overpowered me, and have stolen a ship... and won't likely show up for the hearing. They'll have investigators here before too long." He turned to walk out of the room.
Johnson called for him to wait a moment. "Captain... if we're being charged with murder... why were you trying to convince us to join the Black Boots?"
"I wasn't trying to convince you to join me. I was trying to convince you not to hate me. I'm sorry."
----------------------
The various authorities were still not organized and there was no opposition for them as they left the system.
An hour passed as they stared into the streaking stars that represented their unknown future.
Jenkins clenched his eyelids shut against the moisture that grew there. "I would have died for our cause, Johnson."
"As would I. Gladly. That's what we were in for. Now we're not just tossed aside, but outlaws."
"I'm not sure... what to do now."
Johnson stared at the course they'd set in and couldn't find a single system that provided an answer. "We find a cause worth dying for. Worth living our lives for."
Jenkins nodded emphatically. "One that won't compromise and will allow us to serve as we wanted to all along."
"We'll need new identities."
Jenkins smiled for the first time since they left for battle the night previous. "Call me Shirt."
Johnson laughed, and tried to come up with a similar moniker to pay homage to their lost cause, as he would never be referred to as 'Boot' again. "Call me.... Red?"
"Reed." Schyrt amended for him.
November 22, 2011
748. A Sith by any Other Name - Raezyr
He tumbled through the black, tossed by the lightless depths beneath what must surely be a stormy sea, yet which way to swim? No direction seemed correct so he picked one, striking out and hoping. When the noise finally registered, he realized he'd been hearing it all along, for what had seemed like forever. A steady beep, beep, beep, never wavering in tone, always steady, forever sounding off since the dawn of time.
But where? Where was it coming from? He turned himself this way and that, looking for the source of the noise. Finally he found it, right there behind him. The droid. It was black, black as obsidian and it was coming for him. He turned and ran down the stark white corridor. He had to get away from it. Had to get away from the noise. He kept looking back over his shoulder and each time he saw it, the black droid, never moving, always following. He ran harder, faster, but the end of the hallway was still so far away. He looked into the rooms as he ran past; each one was filled with people. People just staring.
But what were they staring at? He approached the people. They were surrounding... something. That something was making an incessant beeping noise. Beep, beep, beep. Constant. There was a faint murmur from the vast crowd as he pushed through trying to see what they were staring at. He strained hard to listen to the words. "I can't be sure," one person said. "The chances are slim," said another.
"What aren't you sure about?" the big man asked the crowd around him. "What chances are you talking about?"
A young, dark-skinned woman with raven black hair turned to him. She was beautiful and her eyes were deep pools of dark brown. "Beep," she said when her mouth opened.
"What?"
Her mouth stayed open. Beep, beep, beep. She started moving toward him. He tried to move past her, but there, behind her. A man.. a big man. Broad shoulders, thick chest and arms. He wore the darkest blue armor. He knew this man. The warrior removed the midnight blue helm and to his horror, the face was black.
No, not black... it was... void. There was nothing. A familiar voice beside him said, "It's you. It always has been you."
He looked down to see a beautiful red-haired woman. Somehow, he should know her. He strained to think who she might be, and the lack of remembering was distressing, although he didn't know why.
Then she shoved him.
He tumbled through the air, falling faster and faster. He wildly grasped for the branches and vines, trying to slow his fall. The birds swarming the air around screamed at him. Beep, beep, beep, they called in a steady, machine like tune.
The vines reached out and caught him, wrapping themselves around his wrists, arms, ankles, legs. Spikes from the vines penetrated the skin of his arms and other vines slithered like snakes up his torso and around his head. He closed his mouth as they tried to force their way into his body. Vines found their way into his nostrils and finally forced his teeth apart. He choked and gagged. He couldn't breathe, yet he took deep breathes at the same time.
------------------
The big man sat bolt upright and looked around him. He was lying on a bed in what appeared to be some sort of sterilized room, possibly a medical room of sorts. Next to him was a machine, it was beeping steadily as lines across the display face jumped up and down in time. He recognized that it was monitoring his heart.
He looked down and saw the many wires stuck to his body, and sticking into his body. There was something in his mouth. He reached up and slid a tube out of his throat and did the same for the tubes in his nose before reaching down and removing the antiquated IV lines from his arms.
As he pulled the patches from his chest, the machine next to him suddenly went into a steady tone.
A woman came running in just seconds later. She was a dark-skinned woman with black hair pulled back tight into a bun and beautiful eyes. Her worried look turned to relief when she saw he was sitting up. "You need to leave those on for right now," she said with a smile, which turned out to be as beautiful as her eyes.
She crossed the room and eased him back down onto the bed. He tried to struggle against her for a moment, but felt weak. For some reason that felt... wrong.
"Don't fight, please," the woman said. "Besides, you're not going anywhere for a while with that leg."
He looked down and for the first time saw that it was immobilized, wrapped in some sort of white plaster and gauze, or so it appeared. He opened his mouth to speak, and a croak came out.
She poured him a glass of water and held it for him as he took a sip. "Easy now."
He finished the sip and tried again. "Who are you?" the big man asked.
She smiled. "I'm your nurse, Jael Thracen. A better question though, would be, 'Who are you?'"
"My name is..." he began and paused. He looked around the room for a moment, finally settling his gaze on the reflection in the mirror across the room. He saw the close cropped dark hair and then fingered the scar running down over the left eye and across the cheek bone. He just kept staring.
"I'm sorry, what is your name?" she prodded politely.
"I'm... not really sure."
But where? Where was it coming from? He turned himself this way and that, looking for the source of the noise. Finally he found it, right there behind him. The droid. It was black, black as obsidian and it was coming for him. He turned and ran down the stark white corridor. He had to get away from it. Had to get away from the noise. He kept looking back over his shoulder and each time he saw it, the black droid, never moving, always following. He ran harder, faster, but the end of the hallway was still so far away. He looked into the rooms as he ran past; each one was filled with people. People just staring.
But what were they staring at? He approached the people. They were surrounding... something. That something was making an incessant beeping noise. Beep, beep, beep. Constant. There was a faint murmur from the vast crowd as he pushed through trying to see what they were staring at. He strained hard to listen to the words. "I can't be sure," one person said. "The chances are slim," said another.
"What aren't you sure about?" the big man asked the crowd around him. "What chances are you talking about?"
A young, dark-skinned woman with raven black hair turned to him. She was beautiful and her eyes were deep pools of dark brown. "Beep," she said when her mouth opened.
"What?"
Her mouth stayed open. Beep, beep, beep. She started moving toward him. He tried to move past her, but there, behind her. A man.. a big man. Broad shoulders, thick chest and arms. He wore the darkest blue armor. He knew this man. The warrior removed the midnight blue helm and to his horror, the face was black.
No, not black... it was... void. There was nothing. A familiar voice beside him said, "It's you. It always has been you."
He looked down to see a beautiful red-haired woman. Somehow, he should know her. He strained to think who she might be, and the lack of remembering was distressing, although he didn't know why.
Then she shoved him.
He tumbled through the air, falling faster and faster. He wildly grasped for the branches and vines, trying to slow his fall. The birds swarming the air around screamed at him. Beep, beep, beep, they called in a steady, machine like tune.
The vines reached out and caught him, wrapping themselves around his wrists, arms, ankles, legs. Spikes from the vines penetrated the skin of his arms and other vines slithered like snakes up his torso and around his head. He closed his mouth as they tried to force their way into his body. Vines found their way into his nostrils and finally forced his teeth apart. He choked and gagged. He couldn't breathe, yet he took deep breathes at the same time.
------------------
The big man sat bolt upright and looked around him. He was lying on a bed in what appeared to be some sort of sterilized room, possibly a medical room of sorts. Next to him was a machine, it was beeping steadily as lines across the display face jumped up and down in time. He recognized that it was monitoring his heart.
He looked down and saw the many wires stuck to his body, and sticking into his body. There was something in his mouth. He reached up and slid a tube out of his throat and did the same for the tubes in his nose before reaching down and removing the antiquated IV lines from his arms.
As he pulled the patches from his chest, the machine next to him suddenly went into a steady tone.
A woman came running in just seconds later. She was a dark-skinned woman with black hair pulled back tight into a bun and beautiful eyes. Her worried look turned to relief when she saw he was sitting up. "You need to leave those on for right now," she said with a smile, which turned out to be as beautiful as her eyes.
She crossed the room and eased him back down onto the bed. He tried to struggle against her for a moment, but felt weak. For some reason that felt... wrong.
"Don't fight, please," the woman said. "Besides, you're not going anywhere for a while with that leg."
He looked down and for the first time saw that it was immobilized, wrapped in some sort of white plaster and gauze, or so it appeared. He opened his mouth to speak, and a croak came out.
She poured him a glass of water and held it for him as he took a sip. "Easy now."
He finished the sip and tried again. "Who are you?" the big man asked.
She smiled. "I'm your nurse, Jael Thracen. A better question though, would be, 'Who are you?'"
"My name is..." he began and paused. He looked around the room for a moment, finally settling his gaze on the reflection in the mirror across the room. He saw the close cropped dark hair and then fingered the scar running down over the left eye and across the cheek bone. He just kept staring.
"I'm sorry, what is your name?" she prodded politely.
"I'm... not really sure."
November 18, 2011
747. The Makings of a Henchman pt. 2 - Trychon
Johnson looked around, knowing full well it wouldn't do him any good. After their planning meeting, they waited until the next evening to execute, as usual. The dark clouds that had become increasingly common since the valley had become nearly lifeless made the night times eerily dark. He could barely see Jenkins, a mere two meters away. Lieutenant Rigger was supposed to be on Jenkins' other side, but he was out of view. Most sensor technology was also rendered useless in the valley, which is why it was so hard to locate the enemy, but also why they had a shot at taking them out.
The upside was that their camouflage was nearly unnecessary. Even without the unnatural cloak of dark, crawling through the mixture of dirt, dust, and ash created a much more effective disguise. Within minutes, they looked more like the dead valley itself than they did soldiers.
At least with the captain still at the base, they didn't have to listen to complaints about the war ravaged landscape or the resulting smell. At least, not unless he decided to radio them about it.
Careful to cover even the small glow of the non reflecting screen they'd brought as a map, they checked their progress. They only had a few more turns to go, and then they would hopefully be taking out any sentry guards they could find before the Captain radioed for the second, larger wave to sweep in.
They headed forward through the black, trusting their ability to remember the map. The one upside to the ashen terrain was that it helped them to move in near silence. One unlucky step at the wrong moment though could mean trouble, and it was a sifter card's draw as to whether they saw the sentries first or they got noticed. Jenkins and Rigger had their blasters pointed forward as they went, while Johnson held a vibroblade, hoping they could be as stealthy as possible.
After counting their paces for several minutes, they stopped. Watching and listening carefully for any sign of the inevitable trouble, they finally let out their collective breaths. Carefully, they took three more steps to the left, and found the landmark rock wall they were hoping to.
Jenkins was about to whisper something when they all barely caught sight of a shadow. Their breaths simultaneously stopped again. The shadow took half a step towards them and as they finally made out the human form, it turned its back to them. They could hear muffled whispers, presumably through a mouthguarded comm.
It wasn't how they planned it, but Johnson struck as quickly as he could as soon as the figure stopped speaking. It wasn't silent, but it was fast enough. The loudest sound of the night to that point by far was the gurgling noise the man made as he bled out through his neck and slumped to the ground. Fortunately, Johnson had the sense to rip away the comm unit as he attacked.
Their own comms crackled in their ears just moments later. The orders weren't making it through the natural jamming of the area though. Rigger cursed quietly, earning himself a nasty look from Jenkins. They knew what it meant though, the Captain realized they had gone beyond range and had given the order to advance prematurely. They had to act quickly.
A quick check of their map confirmed that they weren't far off from the next expected waypoint. They oriented themselves as best they could and headed forward in formation. They had to give up a bit of their stealth for increased speed. It was risky, but they had no other options.
As they neared the upcoming location, they began to hear a fighter closing in on them from behind, and it gave them immediate pause. They were out of time, and if there were other enemy sentries nearby, they would be hearing the noise too. Worse, if they were carrying anti-ship missiles, there would be trouble.
After another curse from Rigger, he turned on his rifle mounted lamp while Johnson quickly switched his blade for his own rifle. They doubled their speed forward, led by the light from the Lieutenant's weapon, and gave up all hope of remaining silent. As they expected, it didn't take long for them to be noticed.
A guard poked his head around a rock outcropping and nonchalantly tried to make out what the source of the light was. He was surprisingly unprepared for the two blaster bolts that greeted him. The first nailed his helmet, jerking his head back, and the second scored his throat as black as the valley night.
As winded as they were already becoming, they put on every last bit of speed they had to get to and turn the corner that guard had popped around. They managed to make it there without incurring any return fire, but they could see that there was light beginning to fill the area. Enemy reinforcements were no doubt about to flood out.
They hastily took cover, prepared for the sound of a few dozen boots double-timing it to them. When the sound hadn't hit them within a few seconds, Jenkins switched his stance so that he could peer over the rock. His inevitable reaction was delayed due to the fact that what he saw made absolutely no sense.
The light was coming from the open hatch of what had to be their bunker, and standing in front of it was one single soldier wearing his signature black boots, simply looking around. He was as unprepared as his compatriot had been, and with less reason to be so.
Jenkins grabbed his rifle, and had time to square his aim before taking the man's life in a single accurate shot.
Dropping back behind cover, he signaled to Johnson to toss him a grenade quickly. After he had it in hand, he prepared to arm it and look over the rock long enough to toss it into the hole leading into the enemy base.
Then their vision went blank as the entire area was overengulfed with light. It only took a moment for them to regain their senses, but when they did, they saw their fighter overhead. It was blaring every landing and flood lights right at them.
Over the loudspeakers, their Captain's voice rang. "Stand down. I repeat: Stand down. Order confirmation Sigma Delta 00963. Stand Down."
The upside was that their camouflage was nearly unnecessary. Even without the unnatural cloak of dark, crawling through the mixture of dirt, dust, and ash created a much more effective disguise. Within minutes, they looked more like the dead valley itself than they did soldiers.
At least with the captain still at the base, they didn't have to listen to complaints about the war ravaged landscape or the resulting smell. At least, not unless he decided to radio them about it.
Careful to cover even the small glow of the non reflecting screen they'd brought as a map, they checked their progress. They only had a few more turns to go, and then they would hopefully be taking out any sentry guards they could find before the Captain radioed for the second, larger wave to sweep in.
They headed forward through the black, trusting their ability to remember the map. The one upside to the ashen terrain was that it helped them to move in near silence. One unlucky step at the wrong moment though could mean trouble, and it was a sifter card's draw as to whether they saw the sentries first or they got noticed. Jenkins and Rigger had their blasters pointed forward as they went, while Johnson held a vibroblade, hoping they could be as stealthy as possible.
After counting their paces for several minutes, they stopped. Watching and listening carefully for any sign of the inevitable trouble, they finally let out their collective breaths. Carefully, they took three more steps to the left, and found the landmark rock wall they were hoping to.
Jenkins was about to whisper something when they all barely caught sight of a shadow. Their breaths simultaneously stopped again. The shadow took half a step towards them and as they finally made out the human form, it turned its back to them. They could hear muffled whispers, presumably through a mouthguarded comm.
It wasn't how they planned it, but Johnson struck as quickly as he could as soon as the figure stopped speaking. It wasn't silent, but it was fast enough. The loudest sound of the night to that point by far was the gurgling noise the man made as he bled out through his neck and slumped to the ground. Fortunately, Johnson had the sense to rip away the comm unit as he attacked.
Their own comms crackled in their ears just moments later. The orders weren't making it through the natural jamming of the area though. Rigger cursed quietly, earning himself a nasty look from Jenkins. They knew what it meant though, the Captain realized they had gone beyond range and had given the order to advance prematurely. They had to act quickly.
A quick check of their map confirmed that they weren't far off from the next expected waypoint. They oriented themselves as best they could and headed forward in formation. They had to give up a bit of their stealth for increased speed. It was risky, but they had no other options.
As they neared the upcoming location, they began to hear a fighter closing in on them from behind, and it gave them immediate pause. They were out of time, and if there were other enemy sentries nearby, they would be hearing the noise too. Worse, if they were carrying anti-ship missiles, there would be trouble.
After another curse from Rigger, he turned on his rifle mounted lamp while Johnson quickly switched his blade for his own rifle. They doubled their speed forward, led by the light from the Lieutenant's weapon, and gave up all hope of remaining silent. As they expected, it didn't take long for them to be noticed.
A guard poked his head around a rock outcropping and nonchalantly tried to make out what the source of the light was. He was surprisingly unprepared for the two blaster bolts that greeted him. The first nailed his helmet, jerking his head back, and the second scored his throat as black as the valley night.
As winded as they were already becoming, they put on every last bit of speed they had to get to and turn the corner that guard had popped around. They managed to make it there without incurring any return fire, but they could see that there was light beginning to fill the area. Enemy reinforcements were no doubt about to flood out.
They hastily took cover, prepared for the sound of a few dozen boots double-timing it to them. When the sound hadn't hit them within a few seconds, Jenkins switched his stance so that he could peer over the rock. His inevitable reaction was delayed due to the fact that what he saw made absolutely no sense.
The light was coming from the open hatch of what had to be their bunker, and standing in front of it was one single soldier wearing his signature black boots, simply looking around. He was as unprepared as his compatriot had been, and with less reason to be so.
Jenkins grabbed his rifle, and had time to square his aim before taking the man's life in a single accurate shot.
Dropping back behind cover, he signaled to Johnson to toss him a grenade quickly. After he had it in hand, he prepared to arm it and look over the rock long enough to toss it into the hole leading into the enemy base.
Then their vision went blank as the entire area was overengulfed with light. It only took a moment for them to regain their senses, but when they did, they saw their fighter overhead. It was blaring every landing and flood lights right at them.
Over the loudspeakers, their Captain's voice rang. "Stand down. I repeat: Stand down. Order confirmation Sigma Delta 00963. Stand Down."
November 16, 2011
746. A Sith by any Other Name - Raezyr
The shuttle was no where near as fast as the Jet Razor, and the trip was taking much longer than the Sith warrior was normally used to. The problem was that when you're a 'respectable businessman' you're not really expected to be flying around the Galaxy in a heavily armored and armed, highly manuverable starship. Questions were raised, or so his brother constantly reminded him.
So Raezyr was stuck flying around in a luxury shuttle. Actually, he wasn't even flying the ship which would have at least made him somewhat happy. Instead, he was stuck in the passenger compartment while a two man crew flew the ship.
Apparently well-to-do businessmen didn't fly themselves places, either. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that having hirelings on board meant that he was unable to practice lightsaber combat or accessing his holocron. He was reduced to reading and studying tomes if he wanted to continue learning to master the dark side of the Force.
The big Sith sat alone in the passenger lounge, pretending to read his data pad, which currently displayed the text from an ancient Sith tome, a history of Darth Andacon and his exploits which, Raezyr guessed, ended with the Sith Lord dying some horrible death. He had lately noticed that many histories of Sith Lords tended to end the same way, with the servant of the Dark Side finding his or her way to Hell due to some situation the over-confident Sith had put him or herself into.
He was glad that Trychon and he were much more cautious than these fools. Their stories made for good "what not to do" parables.
Raezyr was brought to the present by a sudden change in engine noise. Rather than the usual thrum they normally emitted, a grinding wail now pierced the shuttle.
He reached over and hit the ship's intercom, "Report!"
It took a moment for his call to be answered, and when it did, the annoyance came through as clear as day, "Sir, we're having some minor technical difficulty. We're handling it."
Raezyr had to swallow his retort and remember that the fool had no clue who he was really talking to. As far as the pilot knew, Raezyr was just some upper-class businessman with no real knowledge of ships and such. "Believe it or not, I can be of real use. Please give the details of our situation." It nearly killed him to bite back his real response.
"Sir, something is wrong with the hyperdrive," the man said. "When we attempted to exit hyperspace and change course for the next leg of our trip, the drive jammed into overdrive instead. My co-pilot has gone back to see what he can do." The man's voice sounded calm, but with the Force, Raezyr could sense the panic. He could sense the panic from both of them.
And with good reason, too. The ship had continued on it's course, speeding up as well. They were no longer travelling according to any calculated coordinates. Without the proper calculations they could fly through a star or a black hole and that would end their trip pretty quickly.
Raezyr leapt to his feet and began running down the corridor toward the engine room to help the co-pilot. He only made it half-way when an explosion rocked the ship, knocking him to the floor. Heavy metal panels and conduit fell from the ceiling and struck the Sith in the head.
He layed there on the cold durasteel floor, his vision swam for a moment, then went black.
So Raezyr was stuck flying around in a luxury shuttle. Actually, he wasn't even flying the ship which would have at least made him somewhat happy. Instead, he was stuck in the passenger compartment while a two man crew flew the ship.
Apparently well-to-do businessmen didn't fly themselves places, either. It wouldn't have been so bad, except that having hirelings on board meant that he was unable to practice lightsaber combat or accessing his holocron. He was reduced to reading and studying tomes if he wanted to continue learning to master the dark side of the Force.
The big Sith sat alone in the passenger lounge, pretending to read his data pad, which currently displayed the text from an ancient Sith tome, a history of Darth Andacon and his exploits which, Raezyr guessed, ended with the Sith Lord dying some horrible death. He had lately noticed that many histories of Sith Lords tended to end the same way, with the servant of the Dark Side finding his or her way to Hell due to some situation the over-confident Sith had put him or herself into.
He was glad that Trychon and he were much more cautious than these fools. Their stories made for good "what not to do" parables.
Raezyr was brought to the present by a sudden change in engine noise. Rather than the usual thrum they normally emitted, a grinding wail now pierced the shuttle.
He reached over and hit the ship's intercom, "Report!"
It took a moment for his call to be answered, and when it did, the annoyance came through as clear as day, "Sir, we're having some minor technical difficulty. We're handling it."
Raezyr had to swallow his retort and remember that the fool had no clue who he was really talking to. As far as the pilot knew, Raezyr was just some upper-class businessman with no real knowledge of ships and such. "Believe it or not, I can be of real use. Please give the details of our situation." It nearly killed him to bite back his real response.
"Sir, something is wrong with the hyperdrive," the man said. "When we attempted to exit hyperspace and change course for the next leg of our trip, the drive jammed into overdrive instead. My co-pilot has gone back to see what he can do." The man's voice sounded calm, but with the Force, Raezyr could sense the panic. He could sense the panic from both of them.
And with good reason, too. The ship had continued on it's course, speeding up as well. They were no longer travelling according to any calculated coordinates. Without the proper calculations they could fly through a star or a black hole and that would end their trip pretty quickly.
Raezyr leapt to his feet and began running down the corridor toward the engine room to help the co-pilot. He only made it half-way when an explosion rocked the ship, knocking him to the floor. Heavy metal panels and conduit fell from the ceiling and struck the Sith in the head.
He layed there on the cold durasteel floor, his vision swam for a moment, then went black.
November 10, 2011
745. The Makings of a Henchman pt. 1 - Trychon
Tranquility valley was turning out to be anything but. Not that that was a surprise to Captain Alzo, affectionately referred to by his men as 'Zoe'. This entire area had been nearly razed to the ground in the few months since he'd gotten there. Not in a single devastating attack, but rather through slow attrition from the seemingly endless battle for position. The 'Black Boots' and the 'Red Shirts' had really created a ruin of this place, in the the process of trying to kill each other to prove their point.
What seemed like such a noble fight two years ago, now seemed like a waste of time and life on the rare occasions he was able to look out on the remains of the once lush valley. He tried once, writing his wife, to describe the sounds and smells of the unnatural state his surroundings had taken. The most descriptive word he was able to conjure was 'indescribable'. There simply were no other words, at least not in Basic, to describe what scorched ground was like, after it was scorched three more times.
Not that she'd want to understand anyhow. Nobody would, in their right mind. It was the only thing that kept him from being depressed about the lack of a view in his 'office' as he liked to think of his six square meters of space, even though he also slept there.
A knock at the door surprised him nearly enough to jump. Instead, his eyes simply regained their focus on the map readings that were in front of him. He straightened his red uniform shirt and called the person in.
"Captain Alzo, sir?" Lieutenant Rigger stuck his head through the opening.
"I'm sitting down, Lieutenant. You can call me 'Cap' like everyone else does." He sighed. "Weren't you supposed to be our recon tonight?"
"Negative... er... 'Cap'." The junior officer sat down opposite him. "I said I'd take care of it."
Alzo rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me."
"Jenkins and Johnson volunteered." The Lieutenant confirmed. "You know how they are." He cut off the rebuke before his Captain could fit it in.
Unfortunately, he did. Everyone did. Those two were about as giving as you could ever want in a soldier. They took the meaning of 'Volunteer' to a whole new level. Everyone in the bunker was a volunteer. Jenkins and Johnson volunteered for everything though, not just their service.
Yes, they were all volunteers at one point... though there was no getting out now. Yet the more the unit's outlook was bleak, the more those two would offer to do anything to help. In confidence, they told him that they figured every small bit could help morale, and every bit of morale was needed to win. They would nearly literally do anything and everything for the good of the group.
He had to admit that it had worked. Everyone may have given up by now if it weren't for those two. "You know I worry about them getting taken advantage of. You should have checked with me." Deep down, he knew that they were probably the best ones for the job. Nothing seemed to shake them, and they were the most likely to come back alive or with results. They spent all their time trying to help everyone else's morale, yet theirs remained like the duraplast bunker they were all stuck in. "Even those guys deserve their downtime. Hell, those guys especially deserve their downtime."
"And we'll get it too!" Jenkins busted in the door and stood at a salute.
"Kriffin' a... We all will." Johnson followed in the same manner.
Alzo could never get over how similar the two were, at least not considering they hadn't met but a year previously. He wondered sometimes if they sat in their bunk and planned out some of their interactions and such, like they did their little skits they performed for the company, as Shirt and Boot the loveable but mishap prone mascots of the two warring factions.
He was looking at the two now, and they were as excitable as their two comedic alter egos. They clearly had something to say and were merely waiting permission to share. He waited a few moments until they looked ready to burst, before giving them an at ease order and suggesting they sit down. They refused to sit, so he asked them for their report.
"We found it." Johnson started. "We think it's the big one!" Jenkins finished.
Alzo looked at them intently to make sure they weren't pulling his leg. It would be too good to be true. "Do you think you were seen?"
Jenkins shook his head no. Johnson shrugged as he answered. "We're here, aren't we?"
They were right. If the 'Boots' had seen them, they probably wouldn't have made it back alive. Several soldiers had gone missing on similar missions, and that was what had most likely happened to them as well. The enemy was entrenched in portable bunkers similar to their own. Placed in the middle of the night under the cover of a lot of air cover and misdirection, once such a structure was placed, they were darn near impossible to find. To take one out, you had to know exactly where it was, and that was the trick.
It still wouldn't be easy, but with knowledge of where one of the enemy bunkers was... or even a command center as they thought they'd found... perhaps they had a chance to finally turn this battle.
He grabbed a cigarra and rolled it between his fingers before sticking it between his lips and getting just a hint of its sweet spices. "Alright. You boys stay. Rigger, assemble the rest of the officers. We have some planning to do."
What seemed like such a noble fight two years ago, now seemed like a waste of time and life on the rare occasions he was able to look out on the remains of the once lush valley. He tried once, writing his wife, to describe the sounds and smells of the unnatural state his surroundings had taken. The most descriptive word he was able to conjure was 'indescribable'. There simply were no other words, at least not in Basic, to describe what scorched ground was like, after it was scorched three more times.
Not that she'd want to understand anyhow. Nobody would, in their right mind. It was the only thing that kept him from being depressed about the lack of a view in his 'office' as he liked to think of his six square meters of space, even though he also slept there.
A knock at the door surprised him nearly enough to jump. Instead, his eyes simply regained their focus on the map readings that were in front of him. He straightened his red uniform shirt and called the person in.
"Captain Alzo, sir?" Lieutenant Rigger stuck his head through the opening.
"I'm sitting down, Lieutenant. You can call me 'Cap' like everyone else does." He sighed. "Weren't you supposed to be our recon tonight?"
"Negative... er... 'Cap'." The junior officer sat down opposite him. "I said I'd take care of it."
Alzo rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me."
"Jenkins and Johnson volunteered." The Lieutenant confirmed. "You know how they are." He cut off the rebuke before his Captain could fit it in.
Unfortunately, he did. Everyone did. Those two were about as giving as you could ever want in a soldier. They took the meaning of 'Volunteer' to a whole new level. Everyone in the bunker was a volunteer. Jenkins and Johnson volunteered for everything though, not just their service.
Yes, they were all volunteers at one point... though there was no getting out now. Yet the more the unit's outlook was bleak, the more those two would offer to do anything to help. In confidence, they told him that they figured every small bit could help morale, and every bit of morale was needed to win. They would nearly literally do anything and everything for the good of the group.
He had to admit that it had worked. Everyone may have given up by now if it weren't for those two. "You know I worry about them getting taken advantage of. You should have checked with me." Deep down, he knew that they were probably the best ones for the job. Nothing seemed to shake them, and they were the most likely to come back alive or with results. They spent all their time trying to help everyone else's morale, yet theirs remained like the duraplast bunker they were all stuck in. "Even those guys deserve their downtime. Hell, those guys especially deserve their downtime."
"And we'll get it too!" Jenkins busted in the door and stood at a salute.
"Kriffin' a... We all will." Johnson followed in the same manner.
Alzo could never get over how similar the two were, at least not considering they hadn't met but a year previously. He wondered sometimes if they sat in their bunk and planned out some of their interactions and such, like they did their little skits they performed for the company, as Shirt and Boot the loveable but mishap prone mascots of the two warring factions.
He was looking at the two now, and they were as excitable as their two comedic alter egos. They clearly had something to say and were merely waiting permission to share. He waited a few moments until they looked ready to burst, before giving them an at ease order and suggesting they sit down. They refused to sit, so he asked them for their report.
"We found it." Johnson started. "We think it's the big one!" Jenkins finished.
Alzo looked at them intently to make sure they weren't pulling his leg. It would be too good to be true. "Do you think you were seen?"
Jenkins shook his head no. Johnson shrugged as he answered. "We're here, aren't we?"
They were right. If the 'Boots' had seen them, they probably wouldn't have made it back alive. Several soldiers had gone missing on similar missions, and that was what had most likely happened to them as well. The enemy was entrenched in portable bunkers similar to their own. Placed in the middle of the night under the cover of a lot of air cover and misdirection, once such a structure was placed, they were darn near impossible to find. To take one out, you had to know exactly where it was, and that was the trick.
It still wouldn't be easy, but with knowledge of where one of the enemy bunkers was... or even a command center as they thought they'd found... perhaps they had a chance to finally turn this battle.
He grabbed a cigarra and rolled it between his fingers before sticking it between his lips and getting just a hint of its sweet spices. "Alright. You boys stay. Rigger, assemble the rest of the officers. We have some planning to do."
November 08, 2011
744. The Accidental Escape - Epilogue - Raezyr
The bearded man looked up from his cook fire to the night sky. He could visibly see the glowing ship moving across the sky. It couldn't be missed, really. It was the biggest, brightest object up there, standing in stark contrast to the rest of the stars and space junk.
He'd seen many ships orbiting various planets in his time, but this one was massive, and that was unusual for this back water planet.
He picked up his crutch. It was old and almost polished, worn smooth from years of use. He placed it under his good arm and hobbled through the entrance of his home then struggled up the wooden stairs and into the cargo bay of the old space craft.
The ship hadn't moved in years, not since it first landed, and it was nearly covered with jungle growth, both inside and out. Once it would have taken him anywhere in the Galaxy had he chosen to leave... but the reality was that this had been just as good of a place as anywhere else.
He knew that eventually they would come for him, he just thought it would be sooner than this.
Jonas sat down at the controls in what once was the shuttle cockpit and wiped away the grime from the main computer screen. He began entering the start-up sequence, not to fire the engines as he knew that would have been useless although it did cross his mind anyway, but just to check the scanners. He wanted to double check what he was sure he already knew.
It took a few moments to coax the circuits back to life after lying dormant for so long, but eventually the readouts came. Sure enough, the ship overhead was a Republic... Imperial now, he corrected himself, star cruiser... a large capital ship which identified itself as a "Star Destroyer," whatever that was.
He sat watching the readouts for a few minutes, noting that the Imperial ship's sensors were now scanning his location. He had forgotten that active scans of a ship, as opposed to passive, usually got its attention. Especially one that big which had crew working around the clock.
The crippled man sighed. No sense in lying to himself. He hadn't been careless about the scans. Deep down, he had known exactly what he was doing. There was really no sense in delaying the inevitable at this point. All he had done was shorten the waiting period. The man struggled to his feet and made his way back down to the main living quarters, crawled into bed and, his mind no longer worried about how long it would take to them to find him, he went to sleep.
The sounds of the repulsor lifts passing overhead woke him from his restful slumber a few hours later. He sat up, scratched his beard and reached for his ever-present crutch, then made his way down the stairs and outside. He watched the shuttle land a few kilometers off and noted that it wasn't all that different from his, despite the years.
They came a short while later. The clone troopers. No, not clone troopers... at least not dressed like he remembered. The armor was similar, yet different. He wondered if those faces underneath the gleaming white helmets were all the same or if there were real people under there.
They were led by a massive man dressed in nightmare black armor with a flowing cloak billowing behind and he could hear some sort of respirator assisted breathing coming from him as well, but what stood out the most was nothing visual. The man... or thing... was a Force user. Except not a Force user like any he'd ever sensed before.
Somehow the Force surrounding the figure, while powerful indeed, was tainted and twisted, coated in corruption. Just the mere presence nauseated the crippled man, although he tried not to let it show. Yet there was something familiar about the man that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He stood up as they approached. "May I help you with something?" he asked, still holding out some slim hope that maybe they weren't here to arrest him. His body had never healed right after the fall and the explosion, and he knew he'd never be able to handle prison.
The black figure stopped several meters away. "Zan Jonas, I presume." It wasn't a question.
"Do I know you?" Jonas replied.
"Once perhaps," the black demon said waving his hand, dismissing the subject as of no consequence. "You disapoint me. I was expecting much more of a challenge from someone who has managed to elude me for so long."
The ever present intake and expulsion of each breath was disconcerting. "Challenge?" Jonas said, confused. "I offer no challenge. I will let myself be arrested, I'm in no condition to resist."
"I'm not here to arrest you," the man in black replied.
Jonas let out a sigh of relief, misunderstanding the meaning of the statement.
Suddenly, realization dawned on him. He knew who this was... but it couldn't be! "I know you!" the crippled Jedi exclaimed. "I recognize you now... but why?"
At the same time, the black figure raised his gauntleted fist and slowly began pressing his fingers closer together, making a squeezing motion.
At the last second, Jonas tried to defend himself, shielding himself with the Force, but the Imperial representative blasted through his defenses almost as if they weren't there. He was entirely too powerful.
Slowly, Jonas could feel his windpipe and trachea constricting. Breaths were harder and harder to draw until his air supply was completely choked off. He pulled reflexively at his throat as if he might be able to loosen the grip of the unseen force that was slowly killing him.
Finally, unable to struggle any longer, Zan Jonas felt the world around him slip into darkness.
-------------------
Darth Vader held the grip for a few minutes more until he felt the life force completely leave the pathetic Jedi's body before finally dropping his hand. Wordlessly, he gestured to the Storm Trooper squad leader to clean-up before spinning on his heel to head back to the ship.
"All too easy," the Sith Lord said to himself.
He'd seen many ships orbiting various planets in his time, but this one was massive, and that was unusual for this back water planet.
He picked up his crutch. It was old and almost polished, worn smooth from years of use. He placed it under his good arm and hobbled through the entrance of his home then struggled up the wooden stairs and into the cargo bay of the old space craft.
The ship hadn't moved in years, not since it first landed, and it was nearly covered with jungle growth, both inside and out. Once it would have taken him anywhere in the Galaxy had he chosen to leave... but the reality was that this had been just as good of a place as anywhere else.
He knew that eventually they would come for him, he just thought it would be sooner than this.
Jonas sat down at the controls in what once was the shuttle cockpit and wiped away the grime from the main computer screen. He began entering the start-up sequence, not to fire the engines as he knew that would have been useless although it did cross his mind anyway, but just to check the scanners. He wanted to double check what he was sure he already knew.
It took a few moments to coax the circuits back to life after lying dormant for so long, but eventually the readouts came. Sure enough, the ship overhead was a Republic... Imperial now, he corrected himself, star cruiser... a large capital ship which identified itself as a "Star Destroyer," whatever that was.
He sat watching the readouts for a few minutes, noting that the Imperial ship's sensors were now scanning his location. He had forgotten that active scans of a ship, as opposed to passive, usually got its attention. Especially one that big which had crew working around the clock.
The crippled man sighed. No sense in lying to himself. He hadn't been careless about the scans. Deep down, he had known exactly what he was doing. There was really no sense in delaying the inevitable at this point. All he had done was shorten the waiting period. The man struggled to his feet and made his way back down to the main living quarters, crawled into bed and, his mind no longer worried about how long it would take to them to find him, he went to sleep.
The sounds of the repulsor lifts passing overhead woke him from his restful slumber a few hours later. He sat up, scratched his beard and reached for his ever-present crutch, then made his way down the stairs and outside. He watched the shuttle land a few kilometers off and noted that it wasn't all that different from his, despite the years.
They came a short while later. The clone troopers. No, not clone troopers... at least not dressed like he remembered. The armor was similar, yet different. He wondered if those faces underneath the gleaming white helmets were all the same or if there were real people under there.
They were led by a massive man dressed in nightmare black armor with a flowing cloak billowing behind and he could hear some sort of respirator assisted breathing coming from him as well, but what stood out the most was nothing visual. The man... or thing... was a Force user. Except not a Force user like any he'd ever sensed before.
Somehow the Force surrounding the figure, while powerful indeed, was tainted and twisted, coated in corruption. Just the mere presence nauseated the crippled man, although he tried not to let it show. Yet there was something familiar about the man that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He stood up as they approached. "May I help you with something?" he asked, still holding out some slim hope that maybe they weren't here to arrest him. His body had never healed right after the fall and the explosion, and he knew he'd never be able to handle prison.
The black figure stopped several meters away. "Zan Jonas, I presume." It wasn't a question.
"Do I know you?" Jonas replied.
"Once perhaps," the black demon said waving his hand, dismissing the subject as of no consequence. "You disapoint me. I was expecting much more of a challenge from someone who has managed to elude me for so long."
The ever present intake and expulsion of each breath was disconcerting. "Challenge?" Jonas said, confused. "I offer no challenge. I will let myself be arrested, I'm in no condition to resist."
"I'm not here to arrest you," the man in black replied.
Jonas let out a sigh of relief, misunderstanding the meaning of the statement.
Suddenly, realization dawned on him. He knew who this was... but it couldn't be! "I know you!" the crippled Jedi exclaimed. "I recognize you now... but why?"
At the same time, the black figure raised his gauntleted fist and slowly began pressing his fingers closer together, making a squeezing motion.
At the last second, Jonas tried to defend himself, shielding himself with the Force, but the Imperial representative blasted through his defenses almost as if they weren't there. He was entirely too powerful.
Slowly, Jonas could feel his windpipe and trachea constricting. Breaths were harder and harder to draw until his air supply was completely choked off. He pulled reflexively at his throat as if he might be able to loosen the grip of the unseen force that was slowly killing him.
Finally, unable to struggle any longer, Zan Jonas felt the world around him slip into darkness.
-------------------
Darth Vader held the grip for a few minutes more until he felt the life force completely leave the pathetic Jedi's body before finally dropping his hand. Wordlessly, he gestured to the Storm Trooper squad leader to clean-up before spinning on his heel to head back to the ship.
"All too easy," the Sith Lord said to himself.
October 28, 2011
743. The Accidental Escape Pt. 2 - Raezyr
The time at the landing site was mid-morning, and the clone trooper set the shuttle down in a grassy clearing near the top of a large hill. All around were small, but steep mountains with deep valleys in between. The steepness was softened a bit by the jungle that covered almost everything the eye could see, making everything seem a bit more even.
Zan Jonas went back to the cargo bay and began putting together the equipment he would need to capture and transport the specimens, as well as checking over the cryostasis pods. If those weren't in working order, there wasn't much use trekking out into the jungle.
He hoped it wouldn't take more than a couple days to meet the quota they had given him. On Republic affiliated worlds, he tried to stay in hostels and inns as often as possible, but a trip like this would force the Jedi to camp out, especially if he wasn't able to make it back to the ship for the night.
He glanced over as the clone trooper entered the cargo bay and began going over his equipment. Mostly weapons, Jonas noted. "I doubt you'll need all that hardware, Corporal," he said, voicing his thoughts.
"Never hurts to be prepared for the unexpected, sir," the clone said, continuing his preparations. He finished his packing and began donning his green and brown mottled armor.
When they had finished, they pushed the control button which dropped the whole cargo bay to the ground under the fuselage of the shuttle and stepped out. Already the heat and humidity was oppressive and Jonas had to resort to Force techniques to compensate. He wondered briefly how the corporal could stand wearing that helmet and armor without passing out.
"I won't tell if you want to leave that armor here at the ship," he said, trying to give the clone a way to be a bit more comfortable in this climate.
He laughed underneath his helmet. "Good one, sir."
Apparently he thought it had been a joke.
Jonas shrugged and closed his eyes. He stretched out with the Force, ranging farther and farther, concentrating on the insects he was looking for. Generally, the smaller and less intelligent the creature, the harder it was to sense with the Force. Right now, all he was getting was a vague sense that he out to travel in a Northerly direction.
"That way, Corporal," he said, pointing the way he wanted to go, and they both strode out.
The going wasn't easy, and often the Scout Clone Trooper had to pull out his machete, or Jonas had to use his lightsaber to clear the underbrush to make a path. It was the most use the Jedi weapon had seen in a long time.
By mid-afternoon, the pair stopped at the top of a tall steep hill to take a breather and for Jonas to get his bearings. He had yet to come across anything but faint sensations and his hopes of finding the insects quickly were growing dimmer by the minute.
The Jedi stood there on the edge with his eyes closed, sensing that he should still move forward. He opened his eyes and looked down, calculating the possibility of navigating straight down. It was even steeper than he had imagined at first, but there were enough saplings and underbrush that it might be possible. One misstep and that would be it, though.
He was also taking into consideration the fact they'd eventually have to come back up, and wondering if an easier way down might be close by when it dawned on him that the trooper standing just a couple meters to his side was talking.
Jonas looked over and realized the soldier was getting some sort of a communique through the comm in his helmet.
"I copy you. Order 66. Roger that. CC1558, out," was all Jonas was able to catch.
"Something up, Corporal?" Jonas asked.
Time slowed to a crawl for the Jedi. Several things registered at almost the same instant, and his brain processed it nearly as fast. First, he sensed in the Force a sudden aggressive feeling from his escort. Second, he felt the Force trying to warn him of imminent danger, and third, he saw the corporal grasp his carbine and begin to swing it up in Jonas' direction.
Jonas' first thought was that the trooper was going to shoot him, but just as quickly he dismissed that as ridiculous. The clones were allies of the Republic and the Jedi worked side by side with them, commanding them and fighting with them. That assessment of the situation just wasn't possible.
Jonas' second thought seemed to be the correct one. Some dangerous beast had come up behind Jonas when he had been concentrating on finding the insect, and the trooper was attempting to do his duty and protect the Jedi.
Time seemed to speed back up as the Jedi acted on instinct, spinning to face the danger and drawing his lightsaber at the same time.
As he spun, a rock rolled under his foot, throwing the Jedi off balance and to the ground. The only problem was that at the point in time when he expected his body to hit the dirt, he kept falling instead.
Two things he noticed then. One, he had fallen down the hill, and two, the clone trooper had swung the barrel of the carbine once again in his direction and was sending a salvo of blaster fire his way.
As he hit and bounced for the first of many times, the only thought running through Jonas' mind was that the trooper really was trying to kill him.
---------------
How much time had passed, Jonas didn't know. He opened his eyes and tried to look around and his head screamed. He forced himself to sit up and assess his situation. He was pretty sure his arm was broken, as was a leg and several ribs, and he guessed he probably had a concussion, from the his head felt and the waves of blackness that kept threatening to wash over him.
He had to remind himself that if it weren't for the clumsy tumble down the hill, he'd be dead right now, although he wasn't sure that death wasn't preferable to his current situation.
Jonas looked down in his hand and was surprised to see himself clutching a familiar metal cylinder, and then he vaguely remembered doing his best as he fell to try and cushion himself using the Force and concentrating on holding on to that lightsaber.
At the same time he flicked it on to see if it would still work, he noticed a crack running down the side of the hilt. He tried to flick it back off, but it was too late. A high pitch whine began to build, getting louder and louder. The core of the powercell had been damaged and it was going to blow.
Jonas tossed the tube as far as he could and gathered the Force around him to once again protect himself from the concussive impact.
The explosion was huge, and the Jedi suspected that if not for the Force, he'd have been killed despite the toss.
Suddenly it dawned on him, that through the Force, he had felt... something... die. A big something.
He began to crawl as best he could toward the site of the explosion. He started to crawl over a log, then stopped.
It wasn't a log. Rather, it was the charred remains of a human.
No, not a human.
A clone.
October 26, 2011
742. The Accidental Escape Pt. 1 - Raezyr
Zan Jonas sat in the passenger compartment of the small shuttle and dozed. He wasn't at all happy. Master Yoda had insisted that he take along an armed escort. The little green Jedi Master had explained that the war between the Republic and the Trade Federation led Confederation of Independent Systems had spread far beyond imaginable reach, and a lone Jedi on a planet in hostile territory was not safe, no matter how remote the world was, or how peaceful the mission of the Jedi was.
Who knew that collecting some rare herb samples for scientific study could turn out to be such a hassle?
Jonas sighed to himself and absentmindedly fingered the metal cylinder clipped to his belt. It had been years since he'd activated the standard weapon of the Jedi, and he'd never killed anyone with it. It wasn't that he'd been inept, although at times he wished he had been, he'd just spent most of his time with his nose in the books, studying. Had his lightsaber skills been deemed "lacking," he would have been delegated to the Jedi Service Corps or Educational Corps by the Council of Reassignment, which was really what he had hoped might happen.
Still, his role was a useful one. Often, as was the case now, samples needed to be collected from some remote, yet dangerous world and those in the Educational Corps would come to him for an escort, or to go retrieve the items or specimens himself.
Normally he liked to bring the academics along for some intelligent conversation, but this time all he had was a clone trooper. Jonas couldn't remember exactly what his designation was. CC15 something or other. The clone was a corporal in rank, so that's what Jonas had been calling him.
He had tried to talk to the... being (he wasn't sure a clone classified as a person)... in the beginning of the trip, but the clone wasn't inclined to idle chit chat, and even when Jonas had gotten him to open up, all he talked about was field stripping his DC-15S and other mundane military topics. The Jedi soon stopped trying to engage him in any meaningful conversation.
Jonas looked down at the lightsaber again. He tried to think back to the last time he'd even turned it on. One of these days he'd have to practice with it... on the off chance he actually needed to use it.
Of course, he doubted he'd need it on this mission. All he had to do was capture several insect specimens that were only found in the tropical forests on SaDarval, a remote world which was about half water and half land, and had a vast array of climates and terrain, ranging from dry and rocky to wet and icy, from flatlands to tropics, to mountains, to deserts.
He'd have to put them into the cryostasis containers that he had brought along and stored in the cargo bay as nobody had successfully transported live specimens off planet, as far as anyone knew anyway.
He still didn't understand why he needed a clone trooper. There was nothing on SaDarval that was particularly dangerous. Most of the native species of plant and animal life were no more dangerous than anywhere else. There were no gundarks or rancors to watch out for, and as long as he stayed away from the human settlers, he should have no trouble at all.
The comm crackled to life bringing the Jedi's thoughts to the present and the corporal's voice came across. "Sir, we've just exited hyperspace."
"Thankyou Corporal. I'll be right up," Jonas replied. He shut off the comm and sighed as he got out of his seat. He looked down at the paunch that had accumulated around his mid-section and decided that maybe he should attempt to lose that one of these days.
Yoda as well as his old Master had always stressed that being physically fit directly correlated to one's mental capabilities. Jonas always meant to exercise, but somehow seemed to be too busy doing other things all the time.
He pushed the button on the door and entered the cockpit. He slid into the co-pilot's couch wordlessly and pulled up a surface map of SaDarval without even glancing at the bluish-green orb hanging in the blackness ahead.
Finally Jonas found what he was looking for: a remote tropical forest, big enough to possibly contain the insect specimens he was looking for, but far enough away from any settlements so as to avoid any contact with locals who might take a disliking to a Republic shuttle landing on their CIS affiliated world. He transferred the coordinates to the navcomp, and pointed it out to the clone trooper.
"Here's a good spot," he said. "See if you can find a decent place to put down around there, Corporal."
"Roger that, sir," the trooper responded.
Zan Jonas sighed.
October 21, 2011
741. Night Flight - Raezyr
The young blonde haired boy looked around the corner quietly. He listened carefully to the even breathing coming from within the room, indicating its occupants were fast asleep. The boy breathed a sigh of relief and slipped stealthily toward the garage.
Once securely seated and strapped into the cockpit of the Incom T-16 Skyhopper, the nine year old Luke Skywalker began the preliminary engine run-up. Thankfully, the hangar was sound proofed and he knew he didn't have to worry about waking up his guardians. Luke was sure that Uncle Owen would skin him alive if he knew what Luke was about to do.
Still dark, the boy piloted the air speeder across the desert sands to the outskirts of Tosche Station. Luke cautiously peered out the door and into the darkness. A figure emerged from the shadow of a building.
"So," the person said, "you did have the guts to show up."
"Of course I did, Biggs," Luke replied to the older boy. "Hurry up and get in. Uncle Owen will have a fit if I'm not back before he wakes up."
The dark haired 14 year old climbed up and into the ship and they both sat down in the cockpit. "Let's see what this old hunk of junk can do," Biggs Darklighter said. Despite their difference in age, the two boys had become great friends, fueled by their extreme competitiveness when it came to piloting.
So far in their lives, they had primarily been limited to landspeeders like the beat up old X-34 SoroSuub landspeeder which he often matched against Biggs' XP-38. Tonight was different, however. For the first time they were going to make a few time trial runs in an airspeeder through the easiest part of Beggar's Canyon.
Biggs had goaded the younger boy into "borrowing" his uncle's T-16, rather than run the risk of getting himslef in trouble for borrowing one of his father's. He grinned to himself, wondering just how much trouble Luke was going to get into when he got home.
As the young blond-haired pilot approached Beggar's Canyon, he slowed up and began a high fly-over of the area.
"What's the matter, Luke?" Biggs taunted goodnaturedly. "You getting cold feet?"
"No way," he said. "I'm just makin' sure I get a good look at the first part of the run."
The two boys stared intently at the scanner readouts, depicting the entire canyon. The canyon itself had been formed millennia ago by the junction of three rivers, back when Tatooine had been covered with plenty of water and vegetation. Near the end of the canyon lay a rock formation that was known as the Stone Needle. It was a jagged hole in the rocks at the top of a spire which was just wide enough to allow swoops and speeders to pass. All the older kids talked about threading the needle, but only the craziest and bravest pilots ever attempted it during a race. Every couple of years some hotshot young pilot would get killed trying to pass through it.
Biggs and Luke checked out the deadly formation on the scanner as they passed near. "One day I'll thread the needle," Biggs boasted.
"Can I have your swoop after you try?" Luke ribbed him back.
The dark haired boy ignored the comment. Instead he grinned. "Quit stalling, farm-boy. Time to make your run."
They had agreed on running the first leg, since it was night time and up until the first junction the canyon was a bit wider and the turns not quite as sharp. The one with the fastest time would get bragging rights.
Someday they'd run the whole thing, but not now, not at night.
Luke Skywalker flipped his shaggy blond hair out of his face as he strapped into the pilot's couch. He noticed Biggs do the same, and Luke gripped the controls.
"Here we go... aaaand, START!" Luke yelled and punched throttle the same instant the Darklighter boy started the timer.
He dropped low, mere meters from the bottom of the canyon, as sweat began beading on his forehead. It was nearly all instrument flying as it was a pitch black night and not even the moonlight reached the bottom of the canyon.
Suddenly a small signature appeared on the scopes, clinging to the wall of the canyon. Luke recognized what it was instantly and dropped his cross heirs on the object which was barely 2 meters in size. He squeezed off a shot from the T-16's blaster cannon and the energy bolts struck true, obliterating the womp rat.
"Bullseye!" Biggs yelled from his seat. He looked over to see a grin spread across the face of his younger friend despite being locked in concentration on the manuevers.
The blond boy banked hard around corners, increased his throttle coming out and slowed up just enough to make the next tight corner. Finally as he came up on the junction, he slowed and pulled up out of the canyon. He exhaled long and hard, realizing he must have forgotten to breathe as he manuevered the course.
"Not bad, kid, not bad," Biggs said looking at the timer, "but now it's time for me to show you how it's done."
"Yeah, yeah," Luke replied. "It's all talk until you've made your run." Luke set the air ship to auto pilot and the youths switched seats, with Biggs taking over the controls.
The dark haired youth flew back to the start and gave his friend the signal to start the timer as he began his run.
Immediately Biggs saw another womp rat on his scopes and he tried to replicate Luke's shot but missed wide to the right, but not by much.
"Oh, man," Luke said with sincerity. "Almost."
Biggs said nothing but continued to concentrate on flying the best course he could. Although the two were competitive, they were still friends and enjoyed cheering each other on and seeing each other do well.
Finally, the elder boy came around the final corner and pulled up as he reached the junction. They both looked down at the timer.
"Yeehaw!" Biggs yelled. "Beat you by two and a half seconds!"
Luke crossed his arms across his chest. "It's not fair! You got to see me do it first and learn from my mistakes!"
"Oh, quit whining, Farm-boy," Biggs said haughtily. "I beat you fair and square."
Luke suddenly grinned. "But you missed that womp rat by a mile, while I bullseye'd it!"
Biggs conveniently ignored the comment, but looked at his wrist chrono. "Oh, dang, Luke. We gotta get home!"
Luke looked down at his own chrono. They had been out much later than they had planned. "Boy, am I gonna get it!"
Luke dropped his friend off at Tosche Station, hovering just long enough for Biggs to jump to the sand below and run for his land speeder before taking off for home.
Skywalker set the T-16 down in the small hangar and shut all the systems down. Hopefully his aunt and uncle hadn't awakened and he could slip back into bed. He exited the ship and slipped as quietly as he could back into the house.
As he tip-toed silently through the main living area toward his bedroom, the lights flickered on.
"Do you mind explaining where you've been for the last 3 hours?" came the stern voice of Luke's uncle, Owen Lars.
Luke's shoulders sagged and he hung his head as he turned to face his uncle, the man who had raised him for as long as he could remember. "I took the air speeder out for a night flight," he admitted, not wanting to lie, yet feeling it was probably better not to reveal the full truth that he had flown Beggar's Canyon.
Luke's aunt, Beru Lars, came into the living room, cinching the tie around her robe. "Luke, we were so worried about you. It's dangerous to fly at night, you know that."
"I know," Luke admitted.
"Then why the hell were you out there, if you knew?" Owen barked.
"I just wanted to have some fun, a little excitement, I didn't think you'd even notice," Luke replied.
"Damn it, Luke," his uncle continued, "you've got your head in the clouds. What if you had wrecked? Even had you survived, how do you think we would have replaced that speeder? It wouldn't fix itself, you know."
"I know," the boy said. "I'm sorry."
"Damn right, you're sorry," the moisture farmer finished. "Now, get cleaned up for breakfast," he added in a lighter tone.
Luke trotted out of the room and down the hall.
Once the boy was out of ear shot, Owen walked over and put his arm around his wife. "I just don't know what we're going to do with that boy."
"Luke's just not a farmer, Owen," the dark haired, middle aged woman said. "He has too much of his father in him."
Owen scratched his thin beard, thinking, then kissed his wife on the top of her head. "That's what I'm worried about."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)