Pretty much, I remembered it enough that I liked itCrazedwraith wrote:Very Nice. Was that trick Ibbie pulled like the one that crippled Luke's X-Wing in Heir to the Empire?
.Endless Night(revised)
Moderator: LadyTevar
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Ghost Rider
- Spirit of Vengeance
- Posts: 27779
- Joined: 2002-09-24 01:48pm
- Location: DC...looking up from the gutters to the stars
.MM /CF/WG/BOTM/JL/Original Warsie/ACPATHNTDWATGODW FOREVER!!
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
-
Ghost Rider
- Spirit of Vengeance
- Posts: 27779
- Joined: 2002-09-24 01:48pm
- Location: DC...looking up from the gutters to the stars
2-9
Syovar gazed out at the view port, staring at the point where the Seredipity jumped into Hyperspace. No one said anything, afraid of the ire or terror he would unleash, all except one man whose boots were clanging on the deck as he approached the purple cloaked figure.
“Now that was a shame,” the taller of the two said. “You almost had them.”
Syovar half heard the remark as he listened to the crew following standard procedure with such a simplistic operation. The destruction of one of the projectors meant nothing, the escape was not enjoyed but it did prove something to Syovar, the tracker his Gungan spy worked perfectly.
He stirred and quickly turned to face his associate. He looked at the taller man, and mused at the thought, three seconds and he thought he was the older of the two. Syovar shook his head and brushed past him to the bridge pit. “Dracoj, do you for one moment even comprehend, that maybe I intentionally did what I did?”
“You are not that cunning, little brother.” Dracoj chided with a broad grin.
“Of course not Dracoj, I just let them think such a silly ancient ploy worked against me.” Syovar said as he led the way to the aft stairway. “So how did your puerile plot to accelerate the time table go?” Dracoj grimaced as his brother looked at the readout and nodded and tapped with a light pen a schematic on the display. “I believe it failed horribly, and we lost a valuable agent in the field.”
“We lost no such thing.” Dracoj muttered. “He was one of the hundreds of expendable we train on Korriban, and now that academy may be in danger...”
Syovar raised a hand and smiled as he looked over his shoulder. “And how is it in danger?”
“They might find the secret that our master did, and then...”
“And then, what?” Syovar shrugged. “It is not as if they will leave the planet alive, or can you not handle that particular project?”
“I can easily handle any two simple Jedi.” Dracoj growled.
“See that you do; besides you did fail to hide everything from Derith, such a folly.”
“Unlike yourself or Fearghul I know how much the master invested into that Jedi, I merely underestimated his resolve, not his abilities.” Syovar said smiling.
“Indeed, and with your current project is something according to our master a calling of his.” Dracoj said walking away. “You would do well to hope he doesn’t find about this project, little brother.”
“What can one Jedi possibly do?”
“Indeed, what can one Jedi do?” Dracoj said. “Given who trained this one, pray you never find out that answer.”
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In front of I’Brat, every scope and display glowed with diagnostic lines, most of them bordered in red. Beyond the displays, through the cockpit window, she could see what was before them. The stars glowed with their own brilliance and the between the motes of light, the darkness of space.
And that was it. No noticeable sun, planets or any such bodies. No ships of any sort, be it war, freight, transport, cruise. No signs of satellites, asteroids, or probes.
“We’re stranded.” Connor said staring out into the void.
I’Brat ignored the comment as she waited for the diagnostics package to come back. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Connor said indignantly. “I’m sorry, but did you read your own ship’s report?”
“Look, the stunt saved us.” I’Brat said as she frowned at Connor. “Unless you had a better idea?”
Connor brought his hands up, and rolled his eyes. “No, but right now we can’t leave, we aren’t likely to be found, and we can’t call for help. Does that sum up the situation?”
I’Brat nodded. This really wasn’t good, her little trick with reversing the compensator created a feedback loop. Not enough to cripple the ship, but enough to damage the main Hyperspace motivator and the backup was not in any good condition. At the speeds they were going, and for the length of time, she calculated they had jumped about twenty light years. Another wonderful side effect is that the Subspace antenna was cooked. A bit more boost and they could get to Korriban and dock at Tirisfal, but they needed to get there first. “Yes, it does...so are you going to sit there and bitch and moan?” I’Brat said getting up and walking towards the back of the ship. “Or are you going to help me?”
Connor sighed as he got up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, to stave off the hopelessness he felt at the moment. He was a Jedi; fear was something he would not succumb to. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to make sure how much we can salvage from the motivators. I should be able to take apart the main one of our number one engine and see if I can’t salvage a perfectly usable one.”
“Okay, and for me?” Connor said, following her into the back of the ship.
“I want you to get into a sealed suit and give a report on the engine status as well get a few of the actuators...we don’t need them to get to Tirisfal.” I’Brat said fishing for a toolkit.
“This is not going to be easy.”
“I’m not asking for it to be easy, but if we work together it’s possible.”
“I guess.” Connor said with a pessimistic sigh as he walked to the airlock and began suiting up. I’Brat for her part was continuing to fish for a specific Hydrospanner. “Y’know you could use a good kiss.”
I’Brat poked her head out with a sly grin, and with a deep low purr. “You’re right Connor, I could. Now find me a real man to kiss.”
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“Ochena etuo wakka!” The large Hutt bellowed. Kuja just shook his head in disgust, more at the spittle coming in his general direction, then what the large slug was screaming. This combined with the heat and variety of smells made Kuja on the verge of gagging. He was still unsure, why they were here or even if this was just some macabre test of will.
“Yes, I’m accusing you Zarbo.” Derith repeated not even throwing a glance to survey the room. “Who else is in the business of smuggling Vong warriors?”
“Koppa Chun!” Zarbo said as he stuffed his mouth with something squirming. Kuja shifted himself slightly, drawing upon every lesson Master Phongn ever taught him about composure. He remembered a lesson that involved that most races found something displeasing about others. Though even Master Phongn he remembered had the most unusual and displeasing tales about Hutts. What was displayed before Kuja had to be the height of irony, a Hutt leading Vong, and not only leading but apparently one of the major smugglers of this defeated race. It was said in the history texts, literally the Vong brought them low, destroyed their homeworld and brought countless indignities to them, but somehow the slugs survived. Now they founded another pair of worlds and renamed that poor planet into Nal Hutta, in honor of the destroyed one, as well as another Nar Shaddaa. Amazingly the star charts only changed in correspondence with the thought that they had to insert the planets and remove the old. The names barely registered to the Alliance as a whole.
Though right now, Kuja was glad to be reviewing some history then reviewing where he was. The place was worse then the sewer they were in. The air was muggy and felt heavy, with the smell of some rotting beast pervading every smell. The only real light, for which Kuja was glad was where they were, in front of the dais where this slovenly being sat and devoured...something.
“A rival?” Derith said shaking his head. Always the same thing with this one, games within games and never a straight answer. Bad enough the slug always talked in some bizarre Huttese dialect, it got worse since this was his only true lead anywhere.
“Ka-Ku” The Hutt muttered as he adjusted himself on his dais.
“So does that mean you no longer have to charge them the enormous graft and ridiculous fees on their bounties?” Derith said with a raise of an eyebrow.
“Nyuck Chando, despo brrach.”
“Oh, of course,” Derith smiled as he walked closer to the large Hutt. “You offer only what you meager sources can provide. So tell me within your meager brain why did you send a squad down there?”
“Kack Kuck Cheota.” Zarbo blurted.
“That was not one of your groups?” Derith said with a nod. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“Boh paok.” The Hutt retorted.
“Of course, of course,” Derith said as he walked calmly up the dais and looked directly in the eyes of the Hutt. “Now that we have the stupid pleasantries out of the way, start talking you fat slug.”
“KOSBA...” Zarbo was about to bellow until a small glint caught his eye.
“Oh good, you can see.” Derith said wiggling the small golden urn in his right hand. “Now, if I remember this thing is valuable to you. Now I’m sure, you’ll be far more receptive to my questions.”
Kuja leaned in unconsciously, preparing for anything. He considered the odds at the moment, not in their favor by any means. The dozen he counted when they entered, blossomed into at least twice that amount. He continued sweeping his eyes and noted not a single Vong had moved forward. Good, if the time came they could either run or easily dispatch as many to make an effective escape.
“Cheebo...” Zarbo begged as Derith held it just out of reach.
“Now, tell me why were they there?”
“Doobshan, numas!” Zarbo bellowed to a couple guards who scurried off. “Lapnuta los!”
“She’s not worth wha...I can have who?” Derith said confused, with his eyes following where the guards had gone. In a few seconds he heard the sounds of struggle and a woman’s voice and his face dropped.
“Get your grubby smelly hands...Flyboy!” The woman exclaimed as she was shoved into the room.
Derith just sighed as he watched them bring her into full view, with a sigh he tossed Kuja the urn, much to the complete dismay and horror of Zarbo who lunged with his pudgy arms, missing the urn by easily a couple meters.
“You?” Derith said in a low monotone as she ran up to him, “What do you have to do with any of this?”
“Any of what?” Crimson said with a smile. “Nevermind that, it’s good you came when you did...I think they were starting to think to sell me. Can you believe it? Me!”
“That desperate?” Derith said as he glanced to the Hutt.
“Desperate?” Crimson growled. “I’ll have you know not counting the bounty on my head; I am easily worth ten times any normal Twi’lek!”
“So twenty credits and a cup of Jawa juice?” Derith smirked.
“Why you scruffy looking...”
“Master?” Kuja interrupted as he leaned in closer. “Can we take this elsewhere?”
“Who’s this?” Crimson said pointing a thumb at Kuja, who promptly ignored her.
Derith just rubbed his temples. “He’s....my Padawan.”
Crimson thought what that meant, and then she remembered the hierarchy of Jedi Order. “Oh, so he’s like mini you?”
“Not quite, but nonetheless, let’s leave. It seems this trail has gone cold.” Derith said with finality.
“Fine, fine...you won’t need this ugly thing.” Crimson said as she grabbed the urn and tossed the object to Zarbo. Derith simply turned with mouth open...
And froze. Zarbo gently cradled the object and pressed a single button on his dais, which swiftly flew upward. The last thing Derith heard from the Hutt was languorous bellow. With that, every shadow in the room suddenly began moving. He could hear each Vong gripping their amphistaves tightly and see a grin mark their features.
“That was bad.” Crimson noted as she got behind Derith.
“Master!” Kuja said urgently.
“I see them,” Derith muttered. Watching all the Vong at once, Derith casually moved his hands to his lightsaber, with each Vong noting each movement and hardening the staves. “Good, they are paying attention to me.”
“Master?” Kuja said as he began to claw for his saber.
“Get her out of here,” Derith said in a low whisper. “I’ll meet with you later.”
With that Kuja took Crimson’s hand and before the first word came out of her mouth they were far away from the arena. Derith smiled as he locked his wrists and bent his knees low. An emerald fountain lanced from his hand and he let himself become engorged with the Force.
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It nearly took Connor three hours to get past all the cables and tubing, and properly assess the engine. He really didn’t like what he saw.
“How bad?” I’Brat asked again.
“First tell me how bad the motivator looks, and I’ll give you a professional assessment of the engines.” Connor said blandly over the comlink. I’Brat sighed, when she looked down at the two heaps before her.
“It’s pretty bad.” I’Brat said shaking her head. “The secondary motivator is riddled with hundreds of small cracks, mostly hairlines but completely unusable in any sort of jump.”
“Oh that’s not good, that not good at all.”
“So how does this mesh with the engines?” I’Brat asked, fearing the worst. She had done plenty of maintenance on her ship, and knew enough that without an intact superconducting shield for the Hyperdrive motivator, the whole thing was nothing more then a batch of spare parts and useless wiring. What worried her is she knew there was one way out and she could almost read what Connor was going to tell her.
“Not good, it blew out at least part of the reactor and currently we are leaking fuel. Not much, mind you, but we are leaking.”
“Any good news?”
Connor looked over the engine one more time and noted that at least the hull was intact and the comm system was completely fried. For a long moment he just hung there, gently bumping against the hull of the ship, wondering just what in the Force were they going to do. He took in a long deep breath, maintaining his composure, realizing that if he let fear take him now, he was worth calling himself a Jedi. Besides he told himself, this wasn’t as bad as the time Derith and him were trapped inside that temple with the insane cultist. Of course at that time he wasn’t a hundred light years from any inhabitable world.
No, he was better then giving into despair. He looked around him trying to figure something out or at least give I’Brat an answer that didn’t sound as if he wanted to fly home back to the Temple and cry in a corner for the next month. He fished around the part and a thought came to mind, something he knew was so completely insane that if it worked, it would save them but well...
“I’ll tell you when I get inside.” Connor announced, replacing the access panels and collecting his tools. He grabbed and pulled his way into the ship. Upon entering he saw I’Brat standing there, her arms across her chest, her feet tapping loudly on the ship’s floor.
“Well?”
“It’s salvageable.” Connor said cracking his neck, and not looking directly at her. “But well, the ship is definitely going to need major repairs.”
“Well, you didn’t tell me out there, but what is your plan?”
“There is one more shield casing. The current ones we have can’t be used for the Hyperdrive motivator but they can be substituted, albeit extraordinarily jury rigged to replace the one good one we have.”
I’Brat simply shook her head at the notion, wanting to scream and retaliate how utterly suicidal and idiotic it was, but she also knew how honest it was. She weighed the thoughts in her mind. They could jury rig a comm system and maybe, maybe wait out for a number of weeks to get somewhere. The ship itself carried supplies enough for two months and given they were both Jedi they could stretch this out tenfold, but that would not accomplish the mission set forth. No, Connor came up with not only the most logical, but possibly the only workable solution. She just hoped that there might have been another way. “The only problem is the wiring.”
“We can get that pretty easily from the subspace antenna.” Connor offered.
“Great, we’re going to cannibalize my ship.” I’Brat muttered.
“I...”
“Don’t worry Connor, besides this should take too long with the two of us, besides I know someone on Tirisfal that owes me...a lot.”
“I hope he owes you a ship.” Connor said as he opened a hatch into the bowels of the vessel.
“Lot more then that,” I’Brat sighed as she walked off. Connor looked up and just catalogued it for later.
It took them nearly an hour to root out the needed parts and get the wiring for the situation only to find the amount of wiring was inadequate for the job at hand. The largest problem was that neither Connor, nor I’Brat had even the slightest clue of how bad this would damage the ship’s engine of having a faulty casing covering the main drive.
It took another hour for the both of them to get the entire array’s wiring out of the ship, strip it off the core of the antenna’s, and move everything into a jury rigged position on the engines. Jury rigging to feed the wire as well as protecting the whole thing from being cooked took another hour, and a final half hour to make sure the ship still worked.
At which point all they could do was hope.
I’Brat slumped in her chair as she began the Hyperdrive sequence. Connor sat in his chair smiling. For her part she gave held her breath as she let her gaze sweep one last time. If this didn’t work...well no reason to worry about that now. It was time to put faith in their work and may the Force guide them. As she put her hand on the ignition lever, she felt Connor’s over hers.
“May the Force be with you.” Connor said with a smile.
She smiled back and forced the lever up and in the next second the stars merged into a stream of light and they were gone.
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The tunnel was dark, dank and quiet except the flutter of staccato footsteps fluttering in the breeze. Staring through a sensation she had never experienced, Crimson barely had enough time formulate her words as suddenly the world returned to her.
She stood there for several seconds, her heart pounding in her chest. Her rescuer calmly smoothed his tunic and cloak out and look none worse for the wear. Crimson ignored him for second trying to regain her balance and then remembered the last thing that happened to her.
“Flyboy!” Crimson snapped as she looked around.
“Master Derith?” Kuja inquired as he sloshed about trying to see where he was. “Oh I’m sure he’s handling the situation.”
“You’re so certain of that?” Crimson mocked as she put her hands on her hips.
Kuja just sighed and grabbed her arms, which she pulled back harshly. “Look, I am just taking you up to the surface, where he will undoubtedly greet us with a smil...what was that?”
“What was what?” she asked as Kuja put a finger on his lips and stood there.
For several minutes they both stood in silence, Kuja could hear the distant dripping of water and the rush of the sludge beneath them, but there was nothing else. No sounds, no movement, and no threats he could sense, except something on the edge of his periphery. It gave his an odd sensation that he felt a twinge of danger but could not fully identify the source in any shape or form. He took a deep breath and let it out.
In the darkness, a metallic hand reached out and tried to seize his wrist.
For Kuja, there was no time of thinking only reaction. In the first half second he retracted his wrist and shifted his body away from the attacker in what looked to be falling but was just merely bending his knees and shifting his mass away. His eyes caught a slight glimpse of large cloaked mass that scurried away on the ceiling.
Then something flipped down faster then any eye could detect, and stood before Kuja in the darkened tunnel, the only light came from its own internal circuitry and eyes, which both glowed a sickly green.
“Hello Jedi,” The thing intoned as it hunkered and stared at him.
“And who might you be?” Kuja asked as he held himself in simple defensive stance.
“No concern of yours, boy; except I want the woman.” The thing asked. “I will even be merciful and let you live, to a degree, if you hand her over.”
“I will have to say I respectively decline,” Kuja said with a smile, “For such an event would anger my master, and I fear his lecture on my lack of ability far more then any clunky bucket of bolts.”
The thing rose to its full height and lowered his head like an angry Bantha at Kuja, the green glare focused upon the young Jedi. “To the death, then.”
Kuja smiled as he waved Crimson away. “If you wish.”
The strange thing shook his cloak off, revealing on his arms were retractable blades. He stepped back and spread his arms wide, with a green glow now emanating from his grinning skull features. “You aren’t the first Jedi I have brought low.”
Kuja’s only response was a burst of blue energy from his hands.
Suddenly in response the being arms split along the edges into four arms and four hands, each with a snap blade in the wrists. The blades snapped to life with a low hum and a blue glow surrounding them. He spun them so fast and with such velocity that they seemed closer to a wall of blue metal then four separate objects. To Crimson all she could see was a figure glowing with the light from the blades.
“Now boy, come for me!” It bellowed.
Kuja just shook his head and before his eyes even opened he charged into the mass with ease. He was facing a tornado of energy and mass, and his only thought was if he couldn’t defeat this droid, he was not worthy of being Derith’s apprentice.
The electrodrivers powering of the thing’s arms let out an attack thrice a second; all integrated into an internal computer that had a combat algorithms of thousands of combat hours against hundreds of foes. The being’s electronic network was fully joined with another internal network of peripheral processors. It rained twelve strikes per second with each blow coming at a different angle and speed and intensity. It was an unpredictable rain of slashes, chops and stabs all designed to kill one’s opponent instantly.
Not one touched Kuja. Each blow was dodged, parried, and deflected with no effort on Kuja’s part.
The strange being leapt a few meters back, giving himself a bit of room, analyzing his attacks.
“Tired?” Kuja asked as he held his ground with a stance that held his lightsaber pointing upwards.
The being snorted, as he straightened to his full height again. “Boy, I never tire.” And mid sentence he lunged again and struck only empty air.
“Good, because neither do I.” Kuja said as his riposte came a second too late.
“So the boy has never heard of Necron?” The being muttered. “I’m disappointed.”
Kuja’s attack came at blinding speed as he snuck under the first two blades and as he was prepared for the next two, he was not prepared for simple hands. He shifted his weight to avoid one, but got caught by the left’s one durasteel grip and for a brief second tried to channel the force to break it.
He was unsuccessful as he was effortlessly slammed into the far wall.
Kuja regained himself feeling the shift in the air as the blade descended towards him. A minimal effort to shift his weight and it slammed into the wall and he ducked another charge. A simple flip and tuck and he was once again between Necron and his quarry. The thing simply just turned and snarled again.
Necron, snarling fury, ramped up the intensity of his attacks by an order of magnitude. Fourteen, sixteen, twenty blows rained with increasing velocity and power. His attacks were overloading even Kuja’s Jedi senses, so Kuja just simply stopped defending.
A subtle shift in the angle of his blade of his last parry brought Kuja’s blade into contact with Necron’s durasteel arm. The blade attached to the arm flew within a hairsbreadth of Kuja’s head. It hit the wall and then made a dull burp as it sank into the murk they were standing in.
Necron turned to see his limb severed and turned to look at the boy again, his eyes pulsing with a steady gaze that belied what he was thinking. He lifted his maimed limb and stared at the cooling appendage for a brief second.
Kuja just grinned.
Necron lunged.
Kuja parried.
Another clatter splattered into the water.
Necron looked again at the stump and then in the fraction of a second it took him, made a decision. He hurled two silver orbs and ran.
Kuja’s eyes grew from slit of victory to wide horror as he realized what the orbs were. He immediately called the Force to cover him and plunged himself and Crimson into the green murk as the thermal detonator erupted.
A couple seconds later Kuja quickly emerged to see that Necron had fled to wherever he came from, and all he had to show was being drenched. As he slowly got up he moved his head a couple centimeters to avoid a fist surging from the waters.
“Get off of me!” The voice screamed, reverberating off the tunnel walls.
Kuja dashed off the place he was crouching to see the woman get up haggard and wet, and smelling as of five day sewage.
“Some rescue, boy!” She screamed as she shook her head.
Kuja for his part just crossed his arms and stared at Crimson. “I’m sorry to save your life, next time I’ll let him take you.”
“No, you idiot,” Crimson said as she walked ahead stumbling a bit in the darkness. “Why didn’t you throw the detonators back at him?”
Kuja walked over to her, and guided her in his direction, not looking directly at her. “Not enough...time.”
“Right, whatever,” Crimson moaned. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Kuja simply nodded and for the next half hour they continued their walk in silence. Upon reach the cover, Kuja was about to pop the cover as it was opened and he was greeted by the sight Derith in immaculate condition and holding his arm outstretched. “What happened, Kuja?”
“Long story, master,” Kuja said as he climbed out and shook his head again. “Let’s just say a large droid was very interested in her.”
“Droid?” Derith said as he helped Crimson out.
“Yeah, it called itself Necros, or Necron.”
Derith just nodded and looked directly at Crimson with a cold gaze. “So Raine, what are you?”
“You want to prevent intergalactic war, flyboy?” Crimson muttered. “Then get me someplace nice, warm and clean!”
Syovar gazed out at the view port, staring at the point where the Seredipity jumped into Hyperspace. No one said anything, afraid of the ire or terror he would unleash, all except one man whose boots were clanging on the deck as he approached the purple cloaked figure.
“Now that was a shame,” the taller of the two said. “You almost had them.”
Syovar half heard the remark as he listened to the crew following standard procedure with such a simplistic operation. The destruction of one of the projectors meant nothing, the escape was not enjoyed but it did prove something to Syovar, the tracker his Gungan spy worked perfectly.
He stirred and quickly turned to face his associate. He looked at the taller man, and mused at the thought, three seconds and he thought he was the older of the two. Syovar shook his head and brushed past him to the bridge pit. “Dracoj, do you for one moment even comprehend, that maybe I intentionally did what I did?”
“You are not that cunning, little brother.” Dracoj chided with a broad grin.
“Of course not Dracoj, I just let them think such a silly ancient ploy worked against me.” Syovar said as he led the way to the aft stairway. “So how did your puerile plot to accelerate the time table go?” Dracoj grimaced as his brother looked at the readout and nodded and tapped with a light pen a schematic on the display. “I believe it failed horribly, and we lost a valuable agent in the field.”
“We lost no such thing.” Dracoj muttered. “He was one of the hundreds of expendable we train on Korriban, and now that academy may be in danger...”
Syovar raised a hand and smiled as he looked over his shoulder. “And how is it in danger?”
“They might find the secret that our master did, and then...”
“And then, what?” Syovar shrugged. “It is not as if they will leave the planet alive, or can you not handle that particular project?”
“I can easily handle any two simple Jedi.” Dracoj growled.
“See that you do; besides you did fail to hide everything from Derith, such a folly.”
“Unlike yourself or Fearghul I know how much the master invested into that Jedi, I merely underestimated his resolve, not his abilities.” Syovar said smiling.
“Indeed, and with your current project is something according to our master a calling of his.” Dracoj said walking away. “You would do well to hope he doesn’t find about this project, little brother.”
“What can one Jedi possibly do?”
“Indeed, what can one Jedi do?” Dracoj said. “Given who trained this one, pray you never find out that answer.”
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In front of I’Brat, every scope and display glowed with diagnostic lines, most of them bordered in red. Beyond the displays, through the cockpit window, she could see what was before them. The stars glowed with their own brilliance and the between the motes of light, the darkness of space.
And that was it. No noticeable sun, planets or any such bodies. No ships of any sort, be it war, freight, transport, cruise. No signs of satellites, asteroids, or probes.
“We’re stranded.” Connor said staring out into the void.
I’Brat ignored the comment as she waited for the diagnostics package to come back. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Connor said indignantly. “I’m sorry, but did you read your own ship’s report?”
“Look, the stunt saved us.” I’Brat said as she frowned at Connor. “Unless you had a better idea?”
Connor brought his hands up, and rolled his eyes. “No, but right now we can’t leave, we aren’t likely to be found, and we can’t call for help. Does that sum up the situation?”
I’Brat nodded. This really wasn’t good, her little trick with reversing the compensator created a feedback loop. Not enough to cripple the ship, but enough to damage the main Hyperspace motivator and the backup was not in any good condition. At the speeds they were going, and for the length of time, she calculated they had jumped about twenty light years. Another wonderful side effect is that the Subspace antenna was cooked. A bit more boost and they could get to Korriban and dock at Tirisfal, but they needed to get there first. “Yes, it does...so are you going to sit there and bitch and moan?” I’Brat said getting up and walking towards the back of the ship. “Or are you going to help me?”
Connor sighed as he got up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, to stave off the hopelessness he felt at the moment. He was a Jedi; fear was something he would not succumb to. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m going to make sure how much we can salvage from the motivators. I should be able to take apart the main one of our number one engine and see if I can’t salvage a perfectly usable one.”
“Okay, and for me?” Connor said, following her into the back of the ship.
“I want you to get into a sealed suit and give a report on the engine status as well get a few of the actuators...we don’t need them to get to Tirisfal.” I’Brat said fishing for a toolkit.
“This is not going to be easy.”
“I’m not asking for it to be easy, but if we work together it’s possible.”
“I guess.” Connor said with a pessimistic sigh as he walked to the airlock and began suiting up. I’Brat for her part was continuing to fish for a specific Hydrospanner. “Y’know you could use a good kiss.”
I’Brat poked her head out with a sly grin, and with a deep low purr. “You’re right Connor, I could. Now find me a real man to kiss.”
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“Ochena etuo wakka!” The large Hutt bellowed. Kuja just shook his head in disgust, more at the spittle coming in his general direction, then what the large slug was screaming. This combined with the heat and variety of smells made Kuja on the verge of gagging. He was still unsure, why they were here or even if this was just some macabre test of will.
“Yes, I’m accusing you Zarbo.” Derith repeated not even throwing a glance to survey the room. “Who else is in the business of smuggling Vong warriors?”
“Koppa Chun!” Zarbo said as he stuffed his mouth with something squirming. Kuja shifted himself slightly, drawing upon every lesson Master Phongn ever taught him about composure. He remembered a lesson that involved that most races found something displeasing about others. Though even Master Phongn he remembered had the most unusual and displeasing tales about Hutts. What was displayed before Kuja had to be the height of irony, a Hutt leading Vong, and not only leading but apparently one of the major smugglers of this defeated race. It was said in the history texts, literally the Vong brought them low, destroyed their homeworld and brought countless indignities to them, but somehow the slugs survived. Now they founded another pair of worlds and renamed that poor planet into Nal Hutta, in honor of the destroyed one, as well as another Nar Shaddaa. Amazingly the star charts only changed in correspondence with the thought that they had to insert the planets and remove the old. The names barely registered to the Alliance as a whole.
Though right now, Kuja was glad to be reviewing some history then reviewing where he was. The place was worse then the sewer they were in. The air was muggy and felt heavy, with the smell of some rotting beast pervading every smell. The only real light, for which Kuja was glad was where they were, in front of the dais where this slovenly being sat and devoured...something.
“A rival?” Derith said shaking his head. Always the same thing with this one, games within games and never a straight answer. Bad enough the slug always talked in some bizarre Huttese dialect, it got worse since this was his only true lead anywhere.
“Ka-Ku” The Hutt muttered as he adjusted himself on his dais.
“So does that mean you no longer have to charge them the enormous graft and ridiculous fees on their bounties?” Derith said with a raise of an eyebrow.
“Nyuck Chando, despo brrach.”
“Oh, of course,” Derith smiled as he walked closer to the large Hutt. “You offer only what you meager sources can provide. So tell me within your meager brain why did you send a squad down there?”
“Kack Kuck Cheota.” Zarbo blurted.
“That was not one of your groups?” Derith said with a nod. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“Boh paok.” The Hutt retorted.
“Of course, of course,” Derith said as he walked calmly up the dais and looked directly in the eyes of the Hutt. “Now that we have the stupid pleasantries out of the way, start talking you fat slug.”
“KOSBA...” Zarbo was about to bellow until a small glint caught his eye.
“Oh good, you can see.” Derith said wiggling the small golden urn in his right hand. “Now, if I remember this thing is valuable to you. Now I’m sure, you’ll be far more receptive to my questions.”
Kuja leaned in unconsciously, preparing for anything. He considered the odds at the moment, not in their favor by any means. The dozen he counted when they entered, blossomed into at least twice that amount. He continued sweeping his eyes and noted not a single Vong had moved forward. Good, if the time came they could either run or easily dispatch as many to make an effective escape.
“Cheebo...” Zarbo begged as Derith held it just out of reach.
“Now, tell me why were they there?”
“Doobshan, numas!” Zarbo bellowed to a couple guards who scurried off. “Lapnuta los!”
“She’s not worth wha...I can have who?” Derith said confused, with his eyes following where the guards had gone. In a few seconds he heard the sounds of struggle and a woman’s voice and his face dropped.
“Get your grubby smelly hands...Flyboy!” The woman exclaimed as she was shoved into the room.
Derith just sighed as he watched them bring her into full view, with a sigh he tossed Kuja the urn, much to the complete dismay and horror of Zarbo who lunged with his pudgy arms, missing the urn by easily a couple meters.
“You?” Derith said in a low monotone as she ran up to him, “What do you have to do with any of this?”
“Any of what?” Crimson said with a smile. “Nevermind that, it’s good you came when you did...I think they were starting to think to sell me. Can you believe it? Me!”
“That desperate?” Derith said as he glanced to the Hutt.
“Desperate?” Crimson growled. “I’ll have you know not counting the bounty on my head; I am easily worth ten times any normal Twi’lek!”
“So twenty credits and a cup of Jawa juice?” Derith smirked.
“Why you scruffy looking...”
“Master?” Kuja interrupted as he leaned in closer. “Can we take this elsewhere?”
“Who’s this?” Crimson said pointing a thumb at Kuja, who promptly ignored her.
Derith just rubbed his temples. “He’s....my Padawan.”
Crimson thought what that meant, and then she remembered the hierarchy of Jedi Order. “Oh, so he’s like mini you?”
“Not quite, but nonetheless, let’s leave. It seems this trail has gone cold.” Derith said with finality.
“Fine, fine...you won’t need this ugly thing.” Crimson said as she grabbed the urn and tossed the object to Zarbo. Derith simply turned with mouth open...
And froze. Zarbo gently cradled the object and pressed a single button on his dais, which swiftly flew upward. The last thing Derith heard from the Hutt was languorous bellow. With that, every shadow in the room suddenly began moving. He could hear each Vong gripping their amphistaves tightly and see a grin mark their features.
“That was bad.” Crimson noted as she got behind Derith.
“Master!” Kuja said urgently.
“I see them,” Derith muttered. Watching all the Vong at once, Derith casually moved his hands to his lightsaber, with each Vong noting each movement and hardening the staves. “Good, they are paying attention to me.”
“Master?” Kuja said as he began to claw for his saber.
“Get her out of here,” Derith said in a low whisper. “I’ll meet with you later.”
With that Kuja took Crimson’s hand and before the first word came out of her mouth they were far away from the arena. Derith smiled as he locked his wrists and bent his knees low. An emerald fountain lanced from his hand and he let himself become engorged with the Force.
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It nearly took Connor three hours to get past all the cables and tubing, and properly assess the engine. He really didn’t like what he saw.
“How bad?” I’Brat asked again.
“First tell me how bad the motivator looks, and I’ll give you a professional assessment of the engines.” Connor said blandly over the comlink. I’Brat sighed, when she looked down at the two heaps before her.
“It’s pretty bad.” I’Brat said shaking her head. “The secondary motivator is riddled with hundreds of small cracks, mostly hairlines but completely unusable in any sort of jump.”
“Oh that’s not good, that not good at all.”
“So how does this mesh with the engines?” I’Brat asked, fearing the worst. She had done plenty of maintenance on her ship, and knew enough that without an intact superconducting shield for the Hyperdrive motivator, the whole thing was nothing more then a batch of spare parts and useless wiring. What worried her is she knew there was one way out and she could almost read what Connor was going to tell her.
“Not good, it blew out at least part of the reactor and currently we are leaking fuel. Not much, mind you, but we are leaking.”
“Any good news?”
Connor looked over the engine one more time and noted that at least the hull was intact and the comm system was completely fried. For a long moment he just hung there, gently bumping against the hull of the ship, wondering just what in the Force were they going to do. He took in a long deep breath, maintaining his composure, realizing that if he let fear take him now, he was worth calling himself a Jedi. Besides he told himself, this wasn’t as bad as the time Derith and him were trapped inside that temple with the insane cultist. Of course at that time he wasn’t a hundred light years from any inhabitable world.
No, he was better then giving into despair. He looked around him trying to figure something out or at least give I’Brat an answer that didn’t sound as if he wanted to fly home back to the Temple and cry in a corner for the next month. He fished around the part and a thought came to mind, something he knew was so completely insane that if it worked, it would save them but well...
“I’ll tell you when I get inside.” Connor announced, replacing the access panels and collecting his tools. He grabbed and pulled his way into the ship. Upon entering he saw I’Brat standing there, her arms across her chest, her feet tapping loudly on the ship’s floor.
“Well?”
“It’s salvageable.” Connor said cracking his neck, and not looking directly at her. “But well, the ship is definitely going to need major repairs.”
“Well, you didn’t tell me out there, but what is your plan?”
“There is one more shield casing. The current ones we have can’t be used for the Hyperdrive motivator but they can be substituted, albeit extraordinarily jury rigged to replace the one good one we have.”
I’Brat simply shook her head at the notion, wanting to scream and retaliate how utterly suicidal and idiotic it was, but she also knew how honest it was. She weighed the thoughts in her mind. They could jury rig a comm system and maybe, maybe wait out for a number of weeks to get somewhere. The ship itself carried supplies enough for two months and given they were both Jedi they could stretch this out tenfold, but that would not accomplish the mission set forth. No, Connor came up with not only the most logical, but possibly the only workable solution. She just hoped that there might have been another way. “The only problem is the wiring.”
“We can get that pretty easily from the subspace antenna.” Connor offered.
“Great, we’re going to cannibalize my ship.” I’Brat muttered.
“I...”
“Don’t worry Connor, besides this should take too long with the two of us, besides I know someone on Tirisfal that owes me...a lot.”
“I hope he owes you a ship.” Connor said as he opened a hatch into the bowels of the vessel.
“Lot more then that,” I’Brat sighed as she walked off. Connor looked up and just catalogued it for later.
It took them nearly an hour to root out the needed parts and get the wiring for the situation only to find the amount of wiring was inadequate for the job at hand. The largest problem was that neither Connor, nor I’Brat had even the slightest clue of how bad this would damage the ship’s engine of having a faulty casing covering the main drive.
It took another hour for the both of them to get the entire array’s wiring out of the ship, strip it off the core of the antenna’s, and move everything into a jury rigged position on the engines. Jury rigging to feed the wire as well as protecting the whole thing from being cooked took another hour, and a final half hour to make sure the ship still worked.
At which point all they could do was hope.
I’Brat slumped in her chair as she began the Hyperdrive sequence. Connor sat in his chair smiling. For her part she gave held her breath as she let her gaze sweep one last time. If this didn’t work...well no reason to worry about that now. It was time to put faith in their work and may the Force guide them. As she put her hand on the ignition lever, she felt Connor’s over hers.
“May the Force be with you.” Connor said with a smile.
She smiled back and forced the lever up and in the next second the stars merged into a stream of light and they were gone.
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The tunnel was dark, dank and quiet except the flutter of staccato footsteps fluttering in the breeze. Staring through a sensation she had never experienced, Crimson barely had enough time formulate her words as suddenly the world returned to her.
She stood there for several seconds, her heart pounding in her chest. Her rescuer calmly smoothed his tunic and cloak out and look none worse for the wear. Crimson ignored him for second trying to regain her balance and then remembered the last thing that happened to her.
“Flyboy!” Crimson snapped as she looked around.
“Master Derith?” Kuja inquired as he sloshed about trying to see where he was. “Oh I’m sure he’s handling the situation.”
“You’re so certain of that?” Crimson mocked as she put her hands on her hips.
Kuja just sighed and grabbed her arms, which she pulled back harshly. “Look, I am just taking you up to the surface, where he will undoubtedly greet us with a smil...what was that?”
“What was what?” she asked as Kuja put a finger on his lips and stood there.
For several minutes they both stood in silence, Kuja could hear the distant dripping of water and the rush of the sludge beneath them, but there was nothing else. No sounds, no movement, and no threats he could sense, except something on the edge of his periphery. It gave his an odd sensation that he felt a twinge of danger but could not fully identify the source in any shape or form. He took a deep breath and let it out.
In the darkness, a metallic hand reached out and tried to seize his wrist.
For Kuja, there was no time of thinking only reaction. In the first half second he retracted his wrist and shifted his body away from the attacker in what looked to be falling but was just merely bending his knees and shifting his mass away. His eyes caught a slight glimpse of large cloaked mass that scurried away on the ceiling.
Then something flipped down faster then any eye could detect, and stood before Kuja in the darkened tunnel, the only light came from its own internal circuitry and eyes, which both glowed a sickly green.
“Hello Jedi,” The thing intoned as it hunkered and stared at him.
“And who might you be?” Kuja asked as he held himself in simple defensive stance.
“No concern of yours, boy; except I want the woman.” The thing asked. “I will even be merciful and let you live, to a degree, if you hand her over.”
“I will have to say I respectively decline,” Kuja said with a smile, “For such an event would anger my master, and I fear his lecture on my lack of ability far more then any clunky bucket of bolts.”
The thing rose to its full height and lowered his head like an angry Bantha at Kuja, the green glare focused upon the young Jedi. “To the death, then.”
Kuja smiled as he waved Crimson away. “If you wish.”
The strange thing shook his cloak off, revealing on his arms were retractable blades. He stepped back and spread his arms wide, with a green glow now emanating from his grinning skull features. “You aren’t the first Jedi I have brought low.”
Kuja’s only response was a burst of blue energy from his hands.
Suddenly in response the being arms split along the edges into four arms and four hands, each with a snap blade in the wrists. The blades snapped to life with a low hum and a blue glow surrounding them. He spun them so fast and with such velocity that they seemed closer to a wall of blue metal then four separate objects. To Crimson all she could see was a figure glowing with the light from the blades.
“Now boy, come for me!” It bellowed.
Kuja just shook his head and before his eyes even opened he charged into the mass with ease. He was facing a tornado of energy and mass, and his only thought was if he couldn’t defeat this droid, he was not worthy of being Derith’s apprentice.
The electrodrivers powering of the thing’s arms let out an attack thrice a second; all integrated into an internal computer that had a combat algorithms of thousands of combat hours against hundreds of foes. The being’s electronic network was fully joined with another internal network of peripheral processors. It rained twelve strikes per second with each blow coming at a different angle and speed and intensity. It was an unpredictable rain of slashes, chops and stabs all designed to kill one’s opponent instantly.
Not one touched Kuja. Each blow was dodged, parried, and deflected with no effort on Kuja’s part.
The strange being leapt a few meters back, giving himself a bit of room, analyzing his attacks.
“Tired?” Kuja asked as he held his ground with a stance that held his lightsaber pointing upwards.
The being snorted, as he straightened to his full height again. “Boy, I never tire.” And mid sentence he lunged again and struck only empty air.
“Good, because neither do I.” Kuja said as his riposte came a second too late.
“So the boy has never heard of Necron?” The being muttered. “I’m disappointed.”
Kuja’s attack came at blinding speed as he snuck under the first two blades and as he was prepared for the next two, he was not prepared for simple hands. He shifted his weight to avoid one, but got caught by the left’s one durasteel grip and for a brief second tried to channel the force to break it.
He was unsuccessful as he was effortlessly slammed into the far wall.
Kuja regained himself feeling the shift in the air as the blade descended towards him. A minimal effort to shift his weight and it slammed into the wall and he ducked another charge. A simple flip and tuck and he was once again between Necron and his quarry. The thing simply just turned and snarled again.
Necron, snarling fury, ramped up the intensity of his attacks by an order of magnitude. Fourteen, sixteen, twenty blows rained with increasing velocity and power. His attacks were overloading even Kuja’s Jedi senses, so Kuja just simply stopped defending.
A subtle shift in the angle of his blade of his last parry brought Kuja’s blade into contact with Necron’s durasteel arm. The blade attached to the arm flew within a hairsbreadth of Kuja’s head. It hit the wall and then made a dull burp as it sank into the murk they were standing in.
Necron turned to see his limb severed and turned to look at the boy again, his eyes pulsing with a steady gaze that belied what he was thinking. He lifted his maimed limb and stared at the cooling appendage for a brief second.
Kuja just grinned.
Necron lunged.
Kuja parried.
Another clatter splattered into the water.
Necron looked again at the stump and then in the fraction of a second it took him, made a decision. He hurled two silver orbs and ran.
Kuja’s eyes grew from slit of victory to wide horror as he realized what the orbs were. He immediately called the Force to cover him and plunged himself and Crimson into the green murk as the thermal detonator erupted.
A couple seconds later Kuja quickly emerged to see that Necron had fled to wherever he came from, and all he had to show was being drenched. As he slowly got up he moved his head a couple centimeters to avoid a fist surging from the waters.
“Get off of me!” The voice screamed, reverberating off the tunnel walls.
Kuja dashed off the place he was crouching to see the woman get up haggard and wet, and smelling as of five day sewage.
“Some rescue, boy!” She screamed as she shook her head.
Kuja for his part just crossed his arms and stared at Crimson. “I’m sorry to save your life, next time I’ll let him take you.”
“No, you idiot,” Crimson said as she walked ahead stumbling a bit in the darkness. “Why didn’t you throw the detonators back at him?”
Kuja walked over to her, and guided her in his direction, not looking directly at her. “Not enough...time.”
“Right, whatever,” Crimson moaned. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Kuja simply nodded and for the next half hour they continued their walk in silence. Upon reach the cover, Kuja was about to pop the cover as it was opened and he was greeted by the sight Derith in immaculate condition and holding his arm outstretched. “What happened, Kuja?”
“Long story, master,” Kuja said as he climbed out and shook his head again. “Let’s just say a large droid was very interested in her.”
“Droid?” Derith said as he helped Crimson out.
“Yeah, it called itself Necros, or Necron.”
Derith just nodded and looked directly at Crimson with a cold gaze. “So Raine, what are you?”
“You want to prevent intergalactic war, flyboy?” Crimson muttered. “Then get me someplace nice, warm and clean!”
MM /CF/WG/BOTM/JL/Original Warsie/ACPATHNTDWATGODW FOREVER!!
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
-
Crazedwraith
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11937
- Joined: 2003-04-10 03:45pm
- Location: Cheshire, England
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Ghost Rider
- Spirit of Vengeance
- Posts: 27779
- Joined: 2002-09-24 01:48pm
- Location: DC...looking up from the gutters to the stars
2-10
“No, we don’t have a docking permit for Tirisfal!” I’Brat said impatiently into the Serendipity’s transmitter, glaring at the modified Uglies flanking her. “I don’t have any business, I am just looking to land.”
Next to her came a chuckle. “Yes, Connor?” She asked without glancing.
“Oh, nothing.” Connor said relaxing in his chair. “You mind if you give me a shot?”
She spread her arms wide open over the panel. “Of course, please demonstrate for this poor backwater Corellian girl your vast diplomatic acumen.”
Connor for his part adjusted his collar “This is...Connor Distopic, of the Banking Guild. I am here on personal business for the furthering of the Tagge Corporation’s business holdings on Korriban.”
“Transmit clearance code so that we can verify your identification.” Came the voice with static breaking the transmission irregularly.
Connor tapped a few buttons and leaned again into the comm system. “That should be...sufficient?”
“Quite, sir.” The voice fizzled in and out. “Proceed to docking bay sixty three.”
Connor smiled and nodded as I’Brat shut the comm off and stared at him for a couple seconds. “What exactly did you do?”
“I just gave a false ID.” Connor said with a shrug and a smile.
“No, you see that person was real,” I’Brat said waving her finger as she steadied the ship for atmospheric entry. “And has been dead for more then a few years, and was never a part of the Banking Guild.”
“It’s a private thing between me and Derith.” Connor said as his face turned a shade of crimson. He didn’t even once think that perhaps that was a real person. This did give him pause about how did Derith ever acquire this particular being identification. Every time he did bring up the idea was usually with a curt ‘One day’, but then again he learned there were times you should not know certain things.
“What thing?” She said as she threw Connor a look. “Are you telling me there is something actually illegal going on here?”
“Don’t give me that look,” Connor admonished. “You know full well as I do there are planets which respond more receptively with a slight greasing, besides is this any different when we push a mind a bit?”
She just shook her head, and let the thought go. No reason to dwell on it since on Korriban she knew bribes barely went anywhere and if all the signs were true, there were some things down there that nothing but death would work with. She looked at Connor again and just sighed, did he have any idea what truly they were doing? Connor gave her a rise in his eyebrows and settled in as they began their final approach.
“So, who owes you the huge favor?” He asked with a smile.
“An old friend.” She said. And with that she just nodded to herself and fully immersed herself in her landing of her ship.
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On one of the higher levels in Coruscant, in the business district, sat a small café that had withstood everything. Galactic wars, upheavals of every sort and even a complete restructuring of most the planet, Dex’s had seen it all. The building itself was plain with only recently a shoddy coating splashed over it in an attempt to give it a new look. Foggy windows, metallic unpainted inside walls, and the smell of grease permeated the place constantly. The cars that sped through this area had a less of a gloss and more of dull shine, looking as if everything here had seen better days. The winds were a low breeze as they passed through this district and the sky overhead began to turn from grey to midnight black.
Derith smiled as he looked about. If any of his elders or even another contemporary saw him here, they would think he was either slumming or something of that nature. Dex’s was a place where literally he could relax for a time and not worry. His new Padawan on the other hand, just curled his lips as he stared at the drink. He radiated a feeling of being absolutely mortified, being in this place, he looked over his shoulders every few seconds to insure no one of note saw him here. Though it amused Derith that the only way they would see him is if they were in this district as well, which would raise many questions on its own. They were sitting in an isolated booth, or a booth as isolated as one could be within reason. Few patrons were around at this time of night, and fewer still were sober.
Another droid approached them as it took up the first batch of plates. “Would like anything else?”
“More Nerf.” Crimson grumbled as she chewed on the last bits of her steak. Derith just nodded as the droid shrugged and wheeled away.
She smiled in Derith’s general direction and finished the last of her steak. Leaning back, she let out a loud sigh. “So what is this going to cost me?”
“Cost you?”
“Yes, cost...me.” Crimson said accentuating every word.
“Nothing, except a few hours of conversation,” Derith said plainly. “Something I believe you can afford?”
“Fine, fine...by the way what were those things?” Crimson said as she looked at her empty glass.
“The Vong?” Kuja perked. “Pathetic creatures.”
“Their history is intriguing.” Derith said with a smile as he cradled his drink. “They’ve all but abandoned the idiotic philosophies of the past.”
“Such as?” Kuja said with a puzzled look.
“Those amphistaves are not biological anymore, nor is their armor. They just fashion it that way.”
“Why?”
“Tradition likely, surely you studied what happened to them?” Derith said as he took a small gulp.
“Yes, Master Phongn did go into detail, though it’s foggy in some regards, not much survived except some stories of the last battle. I heard aside from the legendary purge it was the greatest challenge of the Jedi.”
“No, that was afterwards.” Derith said looking out at Coruscant.
“Hmm?”
“How do you know of Darth Strife?”
“Who?” Crimson asked.
“I presume a Sith lord, but I had only heard fleeting tales, though of note, he was one of the greatest slayer of the Jedi.” Kuja said. “They say he killed Luke Skywalker.”
“Impossible.” Derith said flatly.
Crimson snapped her fingers, getting the two Jedi attentions. “What, who, where?”
“The Vong were the guards that you so disliked. They were an interesting race, and a devotion to a biological mutilation and technologies. They had a series of conflicts that originated from the Outer Rim and even captured at one point Coruscant itself. The amount lives and the destruction were unheard of; except the period of civil war during the reign of Palpatine the first.”
“Who again?” Crimson asked looking puzzled at Derith.
“A historical figure that doesn’t matter, now.” Derith continued. “As I was saying, the Vong were an extremely destructive and apprehensive extra galactic race.”
“Never heard of them, beyond being some backwater race in the Unknown regions.” Crimson said.
“How much ancient Jedi lore would you exactly study up upon?” Derith said with a curl of his lips.
“Fine, whatever.”
“They fell out of any galactic favor but remained relatively benign.” Derith said and then drew a deep breath. “But not many forgave them.”
“Indeed, vile...” Kuja began to say as he noticed Derith hadn’t stopped.
“He never forgave them, not for the murders of Sharas or Felina, his wife, his precious gem, his daughter. He never forgave that the Order let peace reign.” Derith said his eyes glazed over, his voice distant. “How could they let these monsters live?”
“Mas...”
“All he could feel was their last screams, their begging and pleading to the monsters and the sight of their bodies. And thus began the war.”
Kuja sat in silence, with Crimson staring as Derith continued, oblivious to their stares. “At first he did so in the guise of a damaged Jedi, the Order was small but there were a few destroyed by the war, and the galaxy relished at the thought of striking back. His army swelled into the thousands, then millions, then untold numbers. He then took this mighty sword and annihilated the Vong from the galaxy except for a few that had fled beyond even the Rishi maze. That was still not enough, the galaxy allowed these vermin to live, and that hated wretched world to survive, everything had to pay for the loss. Skywalker had to pay for the loss.”
“Master?” Kuja asked again, lightly shaking his shoulder.
Derith shook his head and looked over at the two, both of whom had eyes as large as saucers. “Sorry, the tale has stirs some emotions.”
“Where did you ever hear it in such a fashion?” Kuja asked.
“Durandal once told me in that fashion.” Derith said with a smile. “And now Crimson, I have a few questions.”
“Great...now what?” She exasperated.
------------------------------------------------------------------
For a time Durandal stared at the pieces of art, some of which were holographic simply due to age, others due to the fact they no longer existed in any format otherwise. He amused himself by examining a piece and another and another, thinking that how could anyone derive any true ideas from the randomness of it all. Artists were and have always been the most fickle of creatures. Chancellor Stravo quietly walked to his side, examining the piece his friend was intently staring at. His expressionless eyes made the Chacellor wonder what exactly lurked behind them.
“Yes, Fontanious?” Durandal said without a glance.
“Using the Force?” He smiled. “I thought since you were expelled from the Order that was a violation.”
“I left, never expelled; a vast difference.” Durandal said. “And I used my powers of observations, the sculpture has a reflection.”
The Chancellor nodded. “Indeed it does.”
“So what brings you here?” Durandal asked again, arms sweeping across the museum “Aside from the art?”
“There are some matters that came over Alliance Intelligence that have some grave concerns to you and to me.” Stravo stated.
“Of course, of course...please what could they be?” Durandal said.
“There was an attack on the Bothans.” Stravo said grimly, his eyes focused intensely on Durandal. For the gravity of the news, Durandal looked as if he had heard the weather was going to be a tad warmer then usual.
“There was?” Durandal said with surprise coating his words. He placed his hand over his heart, with a bright look of surprise.
“Don’t play this game, Durandal.” Stravo said with bitterness to his voice. “I know your intelligence network is good enough to know is such a thing had happened. This could seriously jeopardize the votes in the Senate.”
“How could it possibly...”
“The issue now stands that your ships, or better still your allies shot at Bothan forces and the noted assassination puts a great amount of pressure upon us all. I will not have war during my time.” Stravo whispered.
“My friend, no such thing will happen.” Durandal said with a smile as he looked about.
“I will see that it doesn’t.”
“Do you truly believe that the Bothans...” Durandal said, with Stravo giving a curt glance.
“Yes, I do. I fear that they will take any initiative, any particular bite, and any motivation to do what they have been building up for.” Stravo remarked.
“Then why not put appropriate force where it must be shown!” Durandal said.
“No, whoever is the aggressor will be put down.” Stravo threatened. “I will not see the Alliance unraveled.”
“I fear that it might turn that way, regardless of your wishes, my friend.” Durandal said with a low sigh. “The other senators are already choosing sides, quietly, but they are simply waiting for a confirmation.”
“And the attack that the Renamant warship did does not provide much light for your supposed innocence.”
“Supposed?!”
“We are not in the halls of the Senate,” Stravo stated. “Don’t insult me in that fashion. There is much pointing to a Hapan involvement as there is pointing to a Bothan.”
“I highly doubt that matter, but if you say. From all my intelligence sources, this was an inside coup designed to look as if we wanted war, and with what? Even with the Renamant forces, they outnumber us nearly three to one. Another point, the senators are frightened with the thought of the Bothans doing more then rattling sabers, this is something you should consider.” Durandal said with deep sadness in his eyes.
“I know, but they will bring the full weight of the Army of the Alliance should it be needed.” Stravo noted.
“What I fear my friend is what will happen when the truth is revealed of the Bothans, how many truly will side with the light.” Durandal said. “They will be looking at the size of that war machine and...”
“And nothing,” Stravo snapped. “The Alliance has stood for over nine hundred years, I will not see it dissolved because one dispute. The Bothans or yourself if found guilty will stand for what they have done.”
“I do not believe the Bothans would ever accept that thought.”
“Pardon?” Stravo said as Durandal gently moved him to another sculpture.
Durandal nodded his head slightly over his shoulder, “Not here...that man is noted information dealer, and I have some interesting news or will come into some very interesting news of the Bothans.”
“What news?”
“Nothing confirmed, but I have a feeling there is more to this then what we are seeing.”
“Nonetheless, the vote is in three days. At that time we will review all the information we have, not suspicions, and come to a decision. The senate will then see fit upon whose head the blame shall lie upon.” Stravo stated.
“Of course, and I know the Senate will vote for the wisest and most logical of choices.” Durandal said with a smile. “Now let us enjoy the sights our galaxy can afford us.”
“Another time, perhaps.” Stravo said as he nodded and left. For a long moment Durandal watched him leave and smiled.
“And now young Kuja, let us see what you will bring me.”
“No, we don’t have a docking permit for Tirisfal!” I’Brat said impatiently into the Serendipity’s transmitter, glaring at the modified Uglies flanking her. “I don’t have any business, I am just looking to land.”
Next to her came a chuckle. “Yes, Connor?” She asked without glancing.
“Oh, nothing.” Connor said relaxing in his chair. “You mind if you give me a shot?”
She spread her arms wide open over the panel. “Of course, please demonstrate for this poor backwater Corellian girl your vast diplomatic acumen.”
Connor for his part adjusted his collar “This is...Connor Distopic, of the Banking Guild. I am here on personal business for the furthering of the Tagge Corporation’s business holdings on Korriban.”
“Transmit clearance code so that we can verify your identification.” Came the voice with static breaking the transmission irregularly.
Connor tapped a few buttons and leaned again into the comm system. “That should be...sufficient?”
“Quite, sir.” The voice fizzled in and out. “Proceed to docking bay sixty three.”
Connor smiled and nodded as I’Brat shut the comm off and stared at him for a couple seconds. “What exactly did you do?”
“I just gave a false ID.” Connor said with a shrug and a smile.
“No, you see that person was real,” I’Brat said waving her finger as she steadied the ship for atmospheric entry. “And has been dead for more then a few years, and was never a part of the Banking Guild.”
“It’s a private thing between me and Derith.” Connor said as his face turned a shade of crimson. He didn’t even once think that perhaps that was a real person. This did give him pause about how did Derith ever acquire this particular being identification. Every time he did bring up the idea was usually with a curt ‘One day’, but then again he learned there were times you should not know certain things.
“What thing?” She said as she threw Connor a look. “Are you telling me there is something actually illegal going on here?”
“Don’t give me that look,” Connor admonished. “You know full well as I do there are planets which respond more receptively with a slight greasing, besides is this any different when we push a mind a bit?”
She just shook her head, and let the thought go. No reason to dwell on it since on Korriban she knew bribes barely went anywhere and if all the signs were true, there were some things down there that nothing but death would work with. She looked at Connor again and just sighed, did he have any idea what truly they were doing? Connor gave her a rise in his eyebrows and settled in as they began their final approach.
“So, who owes you the huge favor?” He asked with a smile.
“An old friend.” She said. And with that she just nodded to herself and fully immersed herself in her landing of her ship.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
On one of the higher levels in Coruscant, in the business district, sat a small café that had withstood everything. Galactic wars, upheavals of every sort and even a complete restructuring of most the planet, Dex’s had seen it all. The building itself was plain with only recently a shoddy coating splashed over it in an attempt to give it a new look. Foggy windows, metallic unpainted inside walls, and the smell of grease permeated the place constantly. The cars that sped through this area had a less of a gloss and more of dull shine, looking as if everything here had seen better days. The winds were a low breeze as they passed through this district and the sky overhead began to turn from grey to midnight black.
Derith smiled as he looked about. If any of his elders or even another contemporary saw him here, they would think he was either slumming or something of that nature. Dex’s was a place where literally he could relax for a time and not worry. His new Padawan on the other hand, just curled his lips as he stared at the drink. He radiated a feeling of being absolutely mortified, being in this place, he looked over his shoulders every few seconds to insure no one of note saw him here. Though it amused Derith that the only way they would see him is if they were in this district as well, which would raise many questions on its own. They were sitting in an isolated booth, or a booth as isolated as one could be within reason. Few patrons were around at this time of night, and fewer still were sober.
Another droid approached them as it took up the first batch of plates. “Would like anything else?”
“More Nerf.” Crimson grumbled as she chewed on the last bits of her steak. Derith just nodded as the droid shrugged and wheeled away.
She smiled in Derith’s general direction and finished the last of her steak. Leaning back, she let out a loud sigh. “So what is this going to cost me?”
“Cost you?”
“Yes, cost...me.” Crimson said accentuating every word.
“Nothing, except a few hours of conversation,” Derith said plainly. “Something I believe you can afford?”
“Fine, fine...by the way what were those things?” Crimson said as she looked at her empty glass.
“The Vong?” Kuja perked. “Pathetic creatures.”
“Their history is intriguing.” Derith said with a smile as he cradled his drink. “They’ve all but abandoned the idiotic philosophies of the past.”
“Such as?” Kuja said with a puzzled look.
“Those amphistaves are not biological anymore, nor is their armor. They just fashion it that way.”
“Why?”
“Tradition likely, surely you studied what happened to them?” Derith said as he took a small gulp.
“Yes, Master Phongn did go into detail, though it’s foggy in some regards, not much survived except some stories of the last battle. I heard aside from the legendary purge it was the greatest challenge of the Jedi.”
“No, that was afterwards.” Derith said looking out at Coruscant.
“Hmm?”
“How do you know of Darth Strife?”
“Who?” Crimson asked.
“I presume a Sith lord, but I had only heard fleeting tales, though of note, he was one of the greatest slayer of the Jedi.” Kuja said. “They say he killed Luke Skywalker.”
“Impossible.” Derith said flatly.
Crimson snapped her fingers, getting the two Jedi attentions. “What, who, where?”
“The Vong were the guards that you so disliked. They were an interesting race, and a devotion to a biological mutilation and technologies. They had a series of conflicts that originated from the Outer Rim and even captured at one point Coruscant itself. The amount lives and the destruction were unheard of; except the period of civil war during the reign of Palpatine the first.”
“Who again?” Crimson asked looking puzzled at Derith.
“A historical figure that doesn’t matter, now.” Derith continued. “As I was saying, the Vong were an extremely destructive and apprehensive extra galactic race.”
“Never heard of them, beyond being some backwater race in the Unknown regions.” Crimson said.
“How much ancient Jedi lore would you exactly study up upon?” Derith said with a curl of his lips.
“Fine, whatever.”
“They fell out of any galactic favor but remained relatively benign.” Derith said and then drew a deep breath. “But not many forgave them.”
“Indeed, vile...” Kuja began to say as he noticed Derith hadn’t stopped.
“He never forgave them, not for the murders of Sharas or Felina, his wife, his precious gem, his daughter. He never forgave that the Order let peace reign.” Derith said his eyes glazed over, his voice distant. “How could they let these monsters live?”
“Mas...”
“All he could feel was their last screams, their begging and pleading to the monsters and the sight of their bodies. And thus began the war.”
Kuja sat in silence, with Crimson staring as Derith continued, oblivious to their stares. “At first he did so in the guise of a damaged Jedi, the Order was small but there were a few destroyed by the war, and the galaxy relished at the thought of striking back. His army swelled into the thousands, then millions, then untold numbers. He then took this mighty sword and annihilated the Vong from the galaxy except for a few that had fled beyond even the Rishi maze. That was still not enough, the galaxy allowed these vermin to live, and that hated wretched world to survive, everything had to pay for the loss. Skywalker had to pay for the loss.”
“Master?” Kuja asked again, lightly shaking his shoulder.
Derith shook his head and looked over at the two, both of whom had eyes as large as saucers. “Sorry, the tale has stirs some emotions.”
“Where did you ever hear it in such a fashion?” Kuja asked.
“Durandal once told me in that fashion.” Derith said with a smile. “And now Crimson, I have a few questions.”
“Great...now what?” She exasperated.
------------------------------------------------------------------
For a time Durandal stared at the pieces of art, some of which were holographic simply due to age, others due to the fact they no longer existed in any format otherwise. He amused himself by examining a piece and another and another, thinking that how could anyone derive any true ideas from the randomness of it all. Artists were and have always been the most fickle of creatures. Chancellor Stravo quietly walked to his side, examining the piece his friend was intently staring at. His expressionless eyes made the Chacellor wonder what exactly lurked behind them.
“Yes, Fontanious?” Durandal said without a glance.
“Using the Force?” He smiled. “I thought since you were expelled from the Order that was a violation.”
“I left, never expelled; a vast difference.” Durandal said. “And I used my powers of observations, the sculpture has a reflection.”
The Chancellor nodded. “Indeed it does.”
“So what brings you here?” Durandal asked again, arms sweeping across the museum “Aside from the art?”
“There are some matters that came over Alliance Intelligence that have some grave concerns to you and to me.” Stravo stated.
“Of course, of course...please what could they be?” Durandal said.
“There was an attack on the Bothans.” Stravo said grimly, his eyes focused intensely on Durandal. For the gravity of the news, Durandal looked as if he had heard the weather was going to be a tad warmer then usual.
“There was?” Durandal said with surprise coating his words. He placed his hand over his heart, with a bright look of surprise.
“Don’t play this game, Durandal.” Stravo said with bitterness to his voice. “I know your intelligence network is good enough to know is such a thing had happened. This could seriously jeopardize the votes in the Senate.”
“How could it possibly...”
“The issue now stands that your ships, or better still your allies shot at Bothan forces and the noted assassination puts a great amount of pressure upon us all. I will not have war during my time.” Stravo whispered.
“My friend, no such thing will happen.” Durandal said with a smile as he looked about.
“I will see that it doesn’t.”
“Do you truly believe that the Bothans...” Durandal said, with Stravo giving a curt glance.
“Yes, I do. I fear that they will take any initiative, any particular bite, and any motivation to do what they have been building up for.” Stravo remarked.
“Then why not put appropriate force where it must be shown!” Durandal said.
“No, whoever is the aggressor will be put down.” Stravo threatened. “I will not see the Alliance unraveled.”
“I fear that it might turn that way, regardless of your wishes, my friend.” Durandal said with a low sigh. “The other senators are already choosing sides, quietly, but they are simply waiting for a confirmation.”
“And the attack that the Renamant warship did does not provide much light for your supposed innocence.”
“Supposed?!”
“We are not in the halls of the Senate,” Stravo stated. “Don’t insult me in that fashion. There is much pointing to a Hapan involvement as there is pointing to a Bothan.”
“I highly doubt that matter, but if you say. From all my intelligence sources, this was an inside coup designed to look as if we wanted war, and with what? Even with the Renamant forces, they outnumber us nearly three to one. Another point, the senators are frightened with the thought of the Bothans doing more then rattling sabers, this is something you should consider.” Durandal said with deep sadness in his eyes.
“I know, but they will bring the full weight of the Army of the Alliance should it be needed.” Stravo noted.
“What I fear my friend is what will happen when the truth is revealed of the Bothans, how many truly will side with the light.” Durandal said. “They will be looking at the size of that war machine and...”
“And nothing,” Stravo snapped. “The Alliance has stood for over nine hundred years, I will not see it dissolved because one dispute. The Bothans or yourself if found guilty will stand for what they have done.”
“I do not believe the Bothans would ever accept that thought.”
“Pardon?” Stravo said as Durandal gently moved him to another sculpture.
Durandal nodded his head slightly over his shoulder, “Not here...that man is noted information dealer, and I have some interesting news or will come into some very interesting news of the Bothans.”
“What news?”
“Nothing confirmed, but I have a feeling there is more to this then what we are seeing.”
“Nonetheless, the vote is in three days. At that time we will review all the information we have, not suspicions, and come to a decision. The senate will then see fit upon whose head the blame shall lie upon.” Stravo stated.
“Of course, and I know the Senate will vote for the wisest and most logical of choices.” Durandal said with a smile. “Now let us enjoy the sights our galaxy can afford us.”
“Another time, perhaps.” Stravo said as he nodded and left. For a long moment Durandal watched him leave and smiled.
“And now young Kuja, let us see what you will bring me.”
MM /CF/WG/BOTM/JL/Original Warsie/ACPATHNTDWATGODW FOREVER!!
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
-
Crazedwraith
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11937
- Joined: 2003-04-10 03:45pm
- Location: Cheshire, England
-
Ghost Rider
- Spirit of Vengeance
- Posts: 27779
- Joined: 2002-09-24 01:48pm
- Location: DC...looking up from the gutters to the stars
In Tirisfal the grey light of the afternoon gave way to a deep all encompassing night. The planet was akin to an oddity, and at best an interesting archeological find. Long ago, it was a planet of great power, of significance and for many who still came to it, one could feel the planet wanting, desiring it’s place in history again. The place was noted in the distant past as the center of a vast Dark Side cult, some even say a Sith Empire. While no digger would give credit to such tales, there are valleys that few venture for the pervasive feeling of dread and sheer evil.
Under the dark sky, one could hear the eerie howl of the Krath hounds, and sometimes something far more sinister and inhumane. The wind seem to tell people what truly lived and lurked here, of an eternal storm that always stood ready to break and consume the universe. But never would as long as the guardians existed. At night, the mountains that scattered the landscape, appeared more monolithic, more menacing, and always gave the appearance of eternal vigilance, whether to keep something in or to keep intruders out, were all a matter of perception. The place reeked of death and the spirits that were all too real sang of past slaughters and destruction.
None of it really mattered to I’Brat and Connor as they debarked. In the distance they saw that little amenity was given to the one and only settlement on this planet. Looking around, she thought about the dread of this world and the hated feeling she always had when she saw such a place descend into the darkness it craved. Connor for his part just looked up at the stars and gave a small shiver as he felt the world cascade over him. While he had not been to as many places as I’Brat he knew what the ebb and flow of a world was like. Here though he could feel a truly oppressive wave within the Force.
“I told you.” I’Brat noted.
“And I told you, I am not unfamiliar with this feeling,” came the reply. Connor just shifted his backpack a bit and steadied himself. “I mean this planet is just a magnified version of everything I felt on that day, in that encounter. First off, the wind in this place is hideous...and then being a Jedi? They say when and if you ever face a manipulator of the dark side, it’s like nothing else? They are not joking...it is like staring into a dark twisted mirror of yourself. It laughs at everything you are and what you have done only to smile at your weakness. Now I’m on a planet that is doing this? Takes a little getting used to.”
“The fact that you aren’t running back to the ship, says a lot.” I’Brat said darkly as she walked in step with him.
Connor volunteered a smile and a nod, hearing the clacking of their boots and the wind as they approached the settlement. “Is this place always this bad?” He finally asked.
The sound of his whisper was a roar in the relative silence of the land. I’Brat just gave a small smile. “Yes, it is.”
Connor looked at her. “What was it like your first time here?”
“Very bad,” I’Brat said. “We were mostly unprepared, except Master Phongn. Every night another Padawan would practically go insane, or unhinge over something.”
“I remember hearing the stories,” Connor said. “Weren’t there twelve of you?”
I’Brat glanced at the sky and sighed. She hated the memories but here and now...someone deserved to hear them and she wanted someone else to know the truth. “Yes, there were. We were here to make a concerted observation of the planet and what the significance was.”
“I remember that. Master Crown went into vast detail about the nature of it. He noted that Korriban regardless of its notoriety was a significant place with the Jedi history, especially anything dealing with Sith lore. What you were on was to be the most concise and significant effort to piercing the veil of secrecy that this place held.”
I’Brat smiled and shook her head. “True, but this place is a distinct example of something that should’ve remained dead and buried.”
“I disagree. I mean take for example the lore and history of Marko Ragnos. Many considered not the first of the Sith lords but one of the most significant given the length and breadth of his reign. In fact his was the last successful reign.”
“And Palpatine’s wasn’t?” I’Brat smirked.
“Palpatine’s reign was vast, but not long. The most interesting was the effects he took to reach his goals. He committed the entirety of the galaxy to a war of his making, destroyed the Order, and hundreds of power plays, yet his reign lasted a scant twenty, maybe at most thirty years? Compared to Ragnos, he was a mere drop in the bucket because of ambition.”
“I hardly would put it in such terms...” I’Brat shrugged.
“Why not? Palpatine had more power, a greater power base, and no Jedi and all he succeeded in doing was creating a regime that faltered the instant he left. What was his ultimate goal, to rule forever, and in his blind arrogance he hardly even insured the destruction of his enemies. At every turn he failed where Ragnos succeeded. I would venture that Strife did more then even him, in less time.” Connor said with a frown crossing his features. “Palpatine was overrated because his effects were so stunning, but in the greater picture he was a greatly exaggerated buffoon.”
I’Brat laughed and shook her head. “It’s interesting to see someone with such a different point of view of the events. But that doesn’t make me feel any less that this place should’ve been wiped from the galaxy.”
“Why? As a historical and even a more poignant thought of what the abuse of the Force can do to a Jedi or anyone this place serves it’s greatest point. Strife, Ragnos, Palpatine all serve these purposes. Warnings that for all the proponents of a singular Force, that there existed something that feeds of every dark thought and something we should guard against. We shouldn’t abuse what we have; this world much like Dxun serves that purpose.”
“Perhaps, but less philosophizing, we do have a mission.” I’Brat conceded.
“Fine, if you want to stop because I am right, and you’re not.” Connor grinned. “You didn’t finish what happened to what happened to the rest of them.”
“Everyone, but three of us and Master Phongn, committed suicide in a variety of inventive fashions, the last recording spoke of voices infecting our minds.”
“Oh, how nice,” Connor said as they walked into the settlement’s edge.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Half a galaxy away, Crimson shifted in her chair as she stared down the gaze of one Derith Rider. She sipped her drink as she looked into those eyes and a smile that didn’t reach them “So which part are you going to start asking, why was I there, or what do I know?” Crimson asked.
Derith smiled at the thought that it was nice to know that regardless of how much things change, things still stay the same.
Beside him, Kuja gave her his hardest glare, which succeeded in making her smirk, as she looked back at Derith. “Is he for real?”
“Crimson, why were you there?” Derith said.
She slowly counted to three, shaking her head. “You don’t have much ability in interrogation do you?”
Derith gaze changed from smiling to a feral grin. “You’re right; I don’t...because many of my techniques are hardly friendly. You said you could prevent a galactic war, talk NOW!”
Crimson backed in her chair a few centimeters from the enhanced growl; perhaps she had overstayed her welcome. For his part Kuja made no cover of his feelings as a broad grin crossed his face. “Look flyboy...”
“No, you look woman,” Derith said with his teeth flashing. “We procured you from a rather sticky situation and as you know diplomacy is not a high point. I want to how I can stop the death of hundreds of thousands, and I want to know now!”
Crimson gave him an injured look. “Oh come on!” she said as she cradled her mug with both her hands. “You really believed that line about saving the galaxy?! I told you that so you’d get me at least some free food and a place to hide.”
“She knows nothing,” Kuja said as he started to get up. Derith gave him a sidelong glance that told Kuja everything he needed.
Derith shook his head eloquently “No, she does, but she wants to make a sport of it. Fine we’ll make sport of it.”
Crimson smiled. “Sport is such a crude word.”
Derith cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, then let me get more specific.” He said sardonically. “You are at appearance a simple smuggler, who happens to own a relic, that has modification to equal any current starship, and just happened to be in an information dealer’s shop when an attack occurs, and happens to sit inside his fortified bunker as he gets incinerated. Interesting that, wouldn’t you say?”
Crimson waved a self deprecating hand. “Actually I shoved him aside as he got roasted.”
Derith sighed. “Forgive me for my lack of knowledge of a man’s last moments. What do you know?”
“Remember when I told you about the Bothans and their building up the fleet?” Crimson frowned.
“Yes, they were assembling an enormous fleet, poised to strike at the Hapan worlds, and lo we see that the Hapans with their allies, the Imperial Renamant have a fleet easily on par with any invasion force.”
“Exactly, and you don’t see the oddity of it?” Crimson asked as she cocked an eyebrow up.
Derith for a second smiled, looked at Kuja, and nodded. “So are you trying to tell me they are somehow connected? What type of insanity is that, woman? You said yourself that the Bothan fleet was constructed, and you have no real knowledge of the Renamant fleet.”
“How do you know that?” Crimson said crossing her arms.
“Simple,” Derith said as he dangled a single data card in his fingers. “This small thing I picked up from Kernel’s office told me what you were there for; a quick scan told me everything. So all I need you to tell me is why you were there.”
Kuja gave a quick smirk as Derith handed him the card, and shook his head at Crimson. “And so we end your little game.”
“If you would be so kind to deliver that to the Temple archives, Kuja?” Derith said with a smile. Crimson for her part was deflated and shook her head. With a nod Kuja was out the door with a spring in his step, glad to leave the establishment. For him the smell was atrocious and the atmosphere was not anything he particularly cared for. He was content that they had victory in their hand.
“Good, now let me ask again,” Derith said as he watched Kuja leave on a speeder. “What do you know?”
“Pardon?” Crimson said as she rose and fell in her seat.
“I gave him the idea that we had everything we needed. I know you were going to dance around everything with him here, and in the end we would accomplish nothing. So tell me, Crimson...what do you know?” Derith said.
“So what do you think I would know?” Crimson said leaning back in her chair. “I’m just a....”
Derith cut her off. “No, you aren’t. What I said before still follows and in fact there are a couple things that what the Falcon said confirmed a most unusual retirement.”
Crimson looked left to right wondering the quickest way. “I have no idea...”
“You were very high with Black Sun, I am truly unsure how high but you had connections since one of things I wanted to find from Kernel was information you told me. From the scant bits I could dig up, no mere smuggler would have had that level of detail, or that level of privy knowledge.”
“Excuse me? I worked shipping some goods and...” Crimson mumbled.
“And then the tagging of two frigates? No single smuggler is worth that level of disruption, nor the hassle that would be needed to explain that particular mess.” Derith said calmly. “So you know something of immense value, and that Bothan bit was the tip of the asteroid.”
“Some, I will ask what do you really know of the whole Imperial Renamant and the Bothans?” Crimson asked as she scanned the room again.
“Astoundingly very little.” Derith said. “What I do know is that their last known build up was with some incursion about forty years ago, then they suddenly were defeated and imposed heavy sanctions of all sorts and levels.”
Crimson nodded. “And that’s just it. Where could they even begun to conceive of getting those ships?”
Derith sat back in his chair, examining in his mind all the possible shipyards. What perturbed him was that it was too short unless this was a galactic effort. No single normal shipyard or corporation would remain hidden for so long under the eyes of the Alliance. “It’s possible that a conglomeration, but that would clash with the fact that when I was examining the registry, the delivery of the said ships seemed to occur within an extremely short time span.”
“Correct, and like I said, about forty or so years ago the Bothans began their build up, and produced results three times or larger then the current Renamant build up.” Crimson interjected. “And there lies in the problem with both. Neither of their registries makes any sense.”
“Pardon?” Derith said giving her a side long look.
“Think about it flyboy,” Crimson said. “Your biggest concern was that where did these fleets come from, and in fact why did either of these powers acquire this massive of a fleet, right?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Of course it has, and isn’t it odd, these two powers are now at odds with each other?” Crimson pushed.
“Supposition does not make it fact.” Derith said. “This is the problem; and what I need proof to confirm. I have an unusual number of ships on the Renamant side, which I acquired through debatable means and they match up with what limited data Kernel had gotten before I came back to Coruscant. Now you’re telling me that the Bothans acquired their fleet through shady means as well, but given that it’s forty years old, I doubt anyone has any true records on this.”
“Black Sun would.” Crimson stated flatly.
“Somehow I knew you would say that.” Derith said with a sigh.
Under the dark sky, one could hear the eerie howl of the Krath hounds, and sometimes something far more sinister and inhumane. The wind seem to tell people what truly lived and lurked here, of an eternal storm that always stood ready to break and consume the universe. But never would as long as the guardians existed. At night, the mountains that scattered the landscape, appeared more monolithic, more menacing, and always gave the appearance of eternal vigilance, whether to keep something in or to keep intruders out, were all a matter of perception. The place reeked of death and the spirits that were all too real sang of past slaughters and destruction.
None of it really mattered to I’Brat and Connor as they debarked. In the distance they saw that little amenity was given to the one and only settlement on this planet. Looking around, she thought about the dread of this world and the hated feeling she always had when she saw such a place descend into the darkness it craved. Connor for his part just looked up at the stars and gave a small shiver as he felt the world cascade over him. While he had not been to as many places as I’Brat he knew what the ebb and flow of a world was like. Here though he could feel a truly oppressive wave within the Force.
“I told you.” I’Brat noted.
“And I told you, I am not unfamiliar with this feeling,” came the reply. Connor just shifted his backpack a bit and steadied himself. “I mean this planet is just a magnified version of everything I felt on that day, in that encounter. First off, the wind in this place is hideous...and then being a Jedi? They say when and if you ever face a manipulator of the dark side, it’s like nothing else? They are not joking...it is like staring into a dark twisted mirror of yourself. It laughs at everything you are and what you have done only to smile at your weakness. Now I’m on a planet that is doing this? Takes a little getting used to.”
“The fact that you aren’t running back to the ship, says a lot.” I’Brat said darkly as she walked in step with him.
Connor volunteered a smile and a nod, hearing the clacking of their boots and the wind as they approached the settlement. “Is this place always this bad?” He finally asked.
The sound of his whisper was a roar in the relative silence of the land. I’Brat just gave a small smile. “Yes, it is.”
Connor looked at her. “What was it like your first time here?”
“Very bad,” I’Brat said. “We were mostly unprepared, except Master Phongn. Every night another Padawan would practically go insane, or unhinge over something.”
“I remember hearing the stories,” Connor said. “Weren’t there twelve of you?”
I’Brat glanced at the sky and sighed. She hated the memories but here and now...someone deserved to hear them and she wanted someone else to know the truth. “Yes, there were. We were here to make a concerted observation of the planet and what the significance was.”
“I remember that. Master Crown went into vast detail about the nature of it. He noted that Korriban regardless of its notoriety was a significant place with the Jedi history, especially anything dealing with Sith lore. What you were on was to be the most concise and significant effort to piercing the veil of secrecy that this place held.”
I’Brat smiled and shook her head. “True, but this place is a distinct example of something that should’ve remained dead and buried.”
“I disagree. I mean take for example the lore and history of Marko Ragnos. Many considered not the first of the Sith lords but one of the most significant given the length and breadth of his reign. In fact his was the last successful reign.”
“And Palpatine’s wasn’t?” I’Brat smirked.
“Palpatine’s reign was vast, but not long. The most interesting was the effects he took to reach his goals. He committed the entirety of the galaxy to a war of his making, destroyed the Order, and hundreds of power plays, yet his reign lasted a scant twenty, maybe at most thirty years? Compared to Ragnos, he was a mere drop in the bucket because of ambition.”
“I hardly would put it in such terms...” I’Brat shrugged.
“Why not? Palpatine had more power, a greater power base, and no Jedi and all he succeeded in doing was creating a regime that faltered the instant he left. What was his ultimate goal, to rule forever, and in his blind arrogance he hardly even insured the destruction of his enemies. At every turn he failed where Ragnos succeeded. I would venture that Strife did more then even him, in less time.” Connor said with a frown crossing his features. “Palpatine was overrated because his effects were so stunning, but in the greater picture he was a greatly exaggerated buffoon.”
I’Brat laughed and shook her head. “It’s interesting to see someone with such a different point of view of the events. But that doesn’t make me feel any less that this place should’ve been wiped from the galaxy.”
“Why? As a historical and even a more poignant thought of what the abuse of the Force can do to a Jedi or anyone this place serves it’s greatest point. Strife, Ragnos, Palpatine all serve these purposes. Warnings that for all the proponents of a singular Force, that there existed something that feeds of every dark thought and something we should guard against. We shouldn’t abuse what we have; this world much like Dxun serves that purpose.”
“Perhaps, but less philosophizing, we do have a mission.” I’Brat conceded.
“Fine, if you want to stop because I am right, and you’re not.” Connor grinned. “You didn’t finish what happened to what happened to the rest of them.”
“Everyone, but three of us and Master Phongn, committed suicide in a variety of inventive fashions, the last recording spoke of voices infecting our minds.”
“Oh, how nice,” Connor said as they walked into the settlement’s edge.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Half a galaxy away, Crimson shifted in her chair as she stared down the gaze of one Derith Rider. She sipped her drink as she looked into those eyes and a smile that didn’t reach them “So which part are you going to start asking, why was I there, or what do I know?” Crimson asked.
Derith smiled at the thought that it was nice to know that regardless of how much things change, things still stay the same.
Beside him, Kuja gave her his hardest glare, which succeeded in making her smirk, as she looked back at Derith. “Is he for real?”
“Crimson, why were you there?” Derith said.
She slowly counted to three, shaking her head. “You don’t have much ability in interrogation do you?”
Derith gaze changed from smiling to a feral grin. “You’re right; I don’t...because many of my techniques are hardly friendly. You said you could prevent a galactic war, talk NOW!”
Crimson backed in her chair a few centimeters from the enhanced growl; perhaps she had overstayed her welcome. For his part Kuja made no cover of his feelings as a broad grin crossed his face. “Look flyboy...”
“No, you look woman,” Derith said with his teeth flashing. “We procured you from a rather sticky situation and as you know diplomacy is not a high point. I want to how I can stop the death of hundreds of thousands, and I want to know now!”
Crimson gave him an injured look. “Oh come on!” she said as she cradled her mug with both her hands. “You really believed that line about saving the galaxy?! I told you that so you’d get me at least some free food and a place to hide.”
“She knows nothing,” Kuja said as he started to get up. Derith gave him a sidelong glance that told Kuja everything he needed.
Derith shook his head eloquently “No, she does, but she wants to make a sport of it. Fine we’ll make sport of it.”
Crimson smiled. “Sport is such a crude word.”
Derith cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, then let me get more specific.” He said sardonically. “You are at appearance a simple smuggler, who happens to own a relic, that has modification to equal any current starship, and just happened to be in an information dealer’s shop when an attack occurs, and happens to sit inside his fortified bunker as he gets incinerated. Interesting that, wouldn’t you say?”
Crimson waved a self deprecating hand. “Actually I shoved him aside as he got roasted.”
Derith sighed. “Forgive me for my lack of knowledge of a man’s last moments. What do you know?”
“Remember when I told you about the Bothans and their building up the fleet?” Crimson frowned.
“Yes, they were assembling an enormous fleet, poised to strike at the Hapan worlds, and lo we see that the Hapans with their allies, the Imperial Renamant have a fleet easily on par with any invasion force.”
“Exactly, and you don’t see the oddity of it?” Crimson asked as she cocked an eyebrow up.
Derith for a second smiled, looked at Kuja, and nodded. “So are you trying to tell me they are somehow connected? What type of insanity is that, woman? You said yourself that the Bothan fleet was constructed, and you have no real knowledge of the Renamant fleet.”
“How do you know that?” Crimson said crossing her arms.
“Simple,” Derith said as he dangled a single data card in his fingers. “This small thing I picked up from Kernel’s office told me what you were there for; a quick scan told me everything. So all I need you to tell me is why you were there.”
Kuja gave a quick smirk as Derith handed him the card, and shook his head at Crimson. “And so we end your little game.”
“If you would be so kind to deliver that to the Temple archives, Kuja?” Derith said with a smile. Crimson for her part was deflated and shook her head. With a nod Kuja was out the door with a spring in his step, glad to leave the establishment. For him the smell was atrocious and the atmosphere was not anything he particularly cared for. He was content that they had victory in their hand.
“Good, now let me ask again,” Derith said as he watched Kuja leave on a speeder. “What do you know?”
“Pardon?” Crimson said as she rose and fell in her seat.
“I gave him the idea that we had everything we needed. I know you were going to dance around everything with him here, and in the end we would accomplish nothing. So tell me, Crimson...what do you know?” Derith said.
“So what do you think I would know?” Crimson said leaning back in her chair. “I’m just a....”
Derith cut her off. “No, you aren’t. What I said before still follows and in fact there are a couple things that what the Falcon said confirmed a most unusual retirement.”
Crimson looked left to right wondering the quickest way. “I have no idea...”
“You were very high with Black Sun, I am truly unsure how high but you had connections since one of things I wanted to find from Kernel was information you told me. From the scant bits I could dig up, no mere smuggler would have had that level of detail, or that level of privy knowledge.”
“Excuse me? I worked shipping some goods and...” Crimson mumbled.
“And then the tagging of two frigates? No single smuggler is worth that level of disruption, nor the hassle that would be needed to explain that particular mess.” Derith said calmly. “So you know something of immense value, and that Bothan bit was the tip of the asteroid.”
“Some, I will ask what do you really know of the whole Imperial Renamant and the Bothans?” Crimson asked as she scanned the room again.
“Astoundingly very little.” Derith said. “What I do know is that their last known build up was with some incursion about forty years ago, then they suddenly were defeated and imposed heavy sanctions of all sorts and levels.”
Crimson nodded. “And that’s just it. Where could they even begun to conceive of getting those ships?”
Derith sat back in his chair, examining in his mind all the possible shipyards. What perturbed him was that it was too short unless this was a galactic effort. No single normal shipyard or corporation would remain hidden for so long under the eyes of the Alliance. “It’s possible that a conglomeration, but that would clash with the fact that when I was examining the registry, the delivery of the said ships seemed to occur within an extremely short time span.”
“Correct, and like I said, about forty or so years ago the Bothans began their build up, and produced results three times or larger then the current Renamant build up.” Crimson interjected. “And there lies in the problem with both. Neither of their registries makes any sense.”
“Pardon?” Derith said giving her a side long look.
“Think about it flyboy,” Crimson said. “Your biggest concern was that where did these fleets come from, and in fact why did either of these powers acquire this massive of a fleet, right?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Of course it has, and isn’t it odd, these two powers are now at odds with each other?” Crimson pushed.
“Supposition does not make it fact.” Derith said. “This is the problem; and what I need proof to confirm. I have an unusual number of ships on the Renamant side, which I acquired through debatable means and they match up with what limited data Kernel had gotten before I came back to Coruscant. Now you’re telling me that the Bothans acquired their fleet through shady means as well, but given that it’s forty years old, I doubt anyone has any true records on this.”
“Black Sun would.” Crimson stated flatly.
“Somehow I knew you would say that.” Derith said with a sigh.
MM /CF/WG/BOTM/JL/Original Warsie/ACPATHNTDWATGODW FOREVER!!
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
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Crazedwraith
- Emperor's Hand
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- Joined: 2003-04-10 03:45pm
- Location: Cheshire, England