750. A Sith by any Other Name - Raezyr

"Well, I guess we'll just continue to call you Jahn Doh until your real name comes back to you," Jael Thracen said with a smile.

"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."

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.

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."

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."

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.