Star Wars Galaxies: The Turning of the Tide

Chapter 14

Priest sat in his quarters cleaning his carbine, triple checking the action for any foreign debris. Though clunky and unhandy in close quarters battle, Xavier preferred the larger and more formidable weapons like, rocket launchers, flame throwers, heavy rifles. Priest could remember as children Xavier’s eyes lighting up every time something exploded, most of the time by his causation. Now he had made it a lifestyle. The explosions and pyrotechnics were always a little to noisy for Priest, who preferred a more delicate and surgical approach. Carbines, however, were such a symphonic weapon. Just the right size, accurate, and quick firing, they allowed the user the ability to find cover, as well as the ease of shooting on the run. In addition to that, concealing the weapon was almost as easy as a blaster pistol. This particular slug thrower was given to him for a job that he did for Lord Nym on Lok, and it was a one in a million gun. The Worsher- wood stock flowed artfully into the grey metal of the workings of the gun. Unlike conventional blaster weapons, this weapon shot projectiles that were propelled by a gas-propelled shell. It was a thing of beauty, and was deadly in a firefight.

He had almost finished removing the firing pin when Lola burst into his quarters. She was covered in sweat and grime. Her arms were covered in hyperdrive coolant and her mid section laid bare several raised cuts that indicated that she had spent better part of the day hunkered in a crawlspace somewhere.

“What the frak is going on, Priest? Your friends promised Wojec that you would bring the merchandise back! That is the whole reason we fixed the Krayt Pearl, Now you’re backing out on our deal? What gives you the right?”

Priest stood as she crossed the room to him, driving her points home with a pointed finger. Priest looked at her for a second, and without much thought grabbed her arms and held them down at her sides and bent to her level, locking her in a kiss. He half expected her to pull away, he half expected her to slap him. He was half right.

Though she didn’t pull away immediately, her swift right hand caught him square across his left cheek.

“What was that for?” Priest exclaimed as the welt pulsed with heat.

“What do you think, nimrod? You think I just go around kissing random guys?”

Priest smiled, “Well…yeah. You see, I figure that you kissed me on Naboo to keep us out of danger; I thought the tactic could work here as well.”

Lola looked at him, somewhat shocked…but not really. “Look, that was different, there were people there, and we would have been recognized. I was doing it to keep our cover from being blown”

“There are people here too that recognize you…and they wish that you’d just leave.” Xavier said, sitting up from his cot across the chamber, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

Lola started, “what are you doing here?”

Xavier groaned as he rolled out of the bunk, his hair all matted to one side of his face. “This is my room, after all.” He said, motioning from one side to the other. “I was sleeping and...well, having a very vibrant dream about a very attractive Twi’lek dancer; we’ll just leave it at that. Seriously, what are you two going to do? Are you going to yell at him more, kiss him back or leave? Preferably, whatever you decide will happen not here, so I can get back to my already abbreviated sleep.”

If stares were lasers, hers would have been the Death Star.

Rolling his eyes, Xavier kicked his feet to the floor, shivering as the cold metal deck plate made contact with his skin. “Then I think I’ll head to the lounge, you know…where people are supposed to sleep. Acceleration couches make great beds. I’ll see if Exe makes caf, since it seems like I’m going to be up for a while.”

Xavier grabbed his blanket and pillow and strode half naked out into the hallway, shutting the hatch behind him. Lola turned back to Priest, returning her blazing glare that actually froze his heart. “As I was saying what do you think you’re doing?” she said, still flustered.

Priest sat back down in his seat, nursing his sore cheek, and looking pathetic and hurt. “We’d love to ask Wojec, but we can’t risk a hyperlink, Ghost may be dysfunctional, but they can find what they’re looking for; and I don’t believe for a moment that they’ve given up. We have to make the best decision possible. When the droid has the ability to single handedly kill us all…priorities change. I’m sure that Wojec would rather us take care of his sister, than try to incapacitate an advanced droid such as that.”

Lola, dropping all pretenses and guards suddenly looked her age again. “Look, I know that…its just; the buyer for that item is not going to say no very easily. We were selling it to pay someone who is threatening to reveal the fact that Wojec is a Jedi. If Wojec’s connection with the force is revealed, the Empire’s Inquisitors will find and kill him.”

“Wojec can handle himself. I would hate to be the inquisitor sent to rein him in. Remember, the last time someone chased Wojec…he ended up marrying her and I don’t think Le’lei would appreciate anyone else marking her bounty.” Priest joked. Lola let out a half forced laugh. Worry crept across her face, saddening Priest but making her no less beautiful. She was, in many ways the same girl she was ten years ago…and yet she was completely different. Priest stood and put his arm around, hiding her tears from the chaotic light show of hyperspace.

Xavier was awakened for the second time in a standard hour by rustling in the galley. Jackson wearing nothing but his deck shorts was attempting to fry what looked like a voritor egg. Though the lizards grew to be several meters in length and were poisonous, Dantooinian people found them a delicacy; however repugnant the smell might be to offworlders. Currently Jackson seemed to be destroying it, if it were even possible.

“Do you mind, I’m trying to sleep here.” Xavier said as he rolled over, adjusting his position on the worn hyper couch.

Jackson pulled a flask from his pocket and took a swig. The way that his face contorted after the swig suggested that whatever was in the flask was previously used to clean the inside of the engine nacelle. He shook the flask investigatively before he poured the rest of the liquid over the egg he was cooking.

Once the alcohol touched the pan it caught fire. Green flames licked out of the pan, flaring up almost a quarter of a meter out of the pan. Jackson grabbed the handle with his good arm, and with surprising dexterity was able to flip the egg without breaking the tough blue yoke in the middle. He grabbed a flavor spice grinder as well as a salt mill and seasoned the burning meal. Even though the egg smelled like an ugnaughts armpit, Xavier had to admit it did make him somewhat hungry.

Jackson, still focused on cooking the egg didn’t even turn to look at Xavier. “Bud, I don’t really care what your schedule is on, but its breakfast time for me. I have to get to work on cleaning up the mess that Lola’s friends made of my ship. Have you seen it back there? The weapons systems are wired like a Life Day tree. Exe is trying to help me fix the tracking gyros, but they’re still a little off. If I don’t get up and take care of this before we reach Kashyyyk, then we might just have some trouble.”

Xavier looked at the chronometer- four standard hours from Galactic day start, and only four hours since he had laid down for what was to be a long restful night. They weren’t scheduled for Kashyyyk ground fall for another six hours. Resigning himself to a day of drowsiness, he got up and entered the galley with Jackson.

“That looks…interesting.” How does it taste?” Jackson smiled and pulled a fork from the utensil basin and cut a bit of the egg out. “Here you go. Careful…it’s hot.”

Xavier took the bite and immediately was hit by the powerful spice that filled his nasal cavity, and nearly cut off all the circulation to his brain. The thing didn’t just smell like an ugnaugts armpit, it tasted like something far less hygienic. Xaiver’s eyes bulged out of his head and he reached for a glass of water. He managed to choke down the bite of egg before he chugged the entire glass, spilling a good portion down the front of his shirt. The water did little to ease the fire, he could feel the spicy burn causing his eyes and nose to begin watering. His mouth became numb and he bent over in hacking coughs that he swore spit fire. He felt like the mythical flying Krayt, spewing flames from his mouth and nostrils.

Jackson watched with great interest. “That good, huh? Usually people pass out the first time they try it. I’m impressed.”

After Xavier straightened himself up he wiped his nose and eyes and looked directly back at Jackson. “I don’t know how your people ever became spacefarers. That is one of the most disgusting things I have ever eaten!”

Jackson fished the egg out of the pan onto a plate and handed it to Xavier. “do you want the rest of this? I have another.”

“Of course,” Xavier said, grabbing the egg and heading back to the acceleration couch, “I’m not letting a stupid egg beat me.”

Rohedria waited for the timer to tick to zero before she reversed the levers on the drive, kicking the Krayt Pearl from the maelstrom of hyperspace to the normal star blotted sky of real space. Kashyyyk was an interned world, held captive by the Empire who used the large sentient natives called Wookiees as slaves. Despite this the space lanes were filled with ships of all sizes. Rohedria checked and double checked her transponder, noting the false readout that was being transmitted: “S’hissis Folly.” This was a ship that had a similar build and just happened to be a Trandoshan slave trade vessel. It would have clearance to land at Karchico Starport…if a starport it really could be called. With a chuckle she added a post script to her thought that even if she came in blaring the Krayt’s authentic transponder, not much would happen. It wasn’t as if her crew had any sort of notoriety.

The landscape of Kashyyyk had long since been lost to the Giant Worshyr trees that covered the majority of the landscape. The highly sentient Wookiees built massive structures in the trees far above the violently feral nature of the shadowlands. Only trained hunters and those on the rite of passage ventured below the canopy. Down there, somewhere, was a rebel base that Anthorin needed to get to. Once they had his fare complete, the crew would be one step back to the path that they had set out on.

“Transport 1323, S’hissis Folly we have your identity codes, please transition to holding pattern Alpha 1124 and await docking clearance. Karchico starport, out.” Rohedria breathed a sigh of relief, and then immediately wondered why she did. It always seemed that if something went easily…that just meant that she had something horrible to look forward to.

The bridge hatch hissed open and Priest walked in. His normal baggy street clothes had been replaced by a set of dark red RIS body armor. The armor was patterned after a sect of ancient swordsmen from some obscure world. They were long since eradicated, however they still had certain influences on modern warfare. This armor was hermetically sealed and utilized an oxygen processor to keep the wearer alive, even in the harshest environments. The wide scooping helmet, when finally attached to the armor bent across his brow, making it look like he was wearing some sort of broad sun visor. The breastplate was a heavy plate armor that bore a small cluster of sensor equipment that routed information directly to the heads up display built into the helmet. The biceps and bracers of the armor had attached deflective plates that were also sharpened to a razor finish that not only deflected blaster bolts, but could be used in lieu of a melee weapon. The skirt of the armor completed the ensemble, being primarily to hide the legs of the wearer from shots intended to take out the knees, and secondarily for decoration. There were many places in the Galaxy that subtlety was important; this was not one of them. It was a dangerous and deadly planet, and they were headed deep into the heart of it. It was always best to be prepared. Priest pressed a small pad on the inside of his right forearm starting a chain of small clicks as the armors seals engaged and the tiny servomotors for movement assistance came to life.

He plopped the helmet down into the operations chair and took the copilot’s seat. Rohedria understood the need for the protection, but the encumbrance of armor would simply slow a Jedi down, however as the green ball of Kashyyyk grew in the viewport, the sickly feeling in her gut made her wish that her decision to train with the force came and not so high a price.

Star Wars Galaxies: The Turning of the Tide

Chapter 12

There didn’t seem to be anybody to stop Caria and Pick from leaving…that probably had something to do with the firefight happening at the other end of the complex.  Pick commandeered an older XP 38 and picked Caria up at the door.  Her aristocratic upbringing usually lead to Pick acting more like a man servant than companion…but her brilliance and courage under fire made her as valuable as any commodity on the black market.

But she still was a pill.

Pick popped the hatch and let Caria in.  “See,” She said, “it was nothing.  We’re home free now.”

Pick eased the throttle down and headed towards the flyway that would take them the three hundred or so klicks to Moenia.  Behind them six men in hopped on swoops and began chasing an overburdened magtruck that was obviously being driven by the people who beat them to the bounty.  It was rather fortunate really…without the distraction, they never would have discovered “Bloodfin” nor would Caria have been able to find that wonderful painting that according to her was worth hundreds of thousands of credits.  She said that there were rumors of some man, though an alien was an Admiral in the Imperial Fleet. It was said that he was buying art on the black market and paying well. Of course, Caria had the connections and said that she could arrange the buy in Moeina.  Sith knows how many connections that woman had.

As they drove Caria poured over the datapad that they had downloaded.  After dropping off the acquisitioned piece of art to her fence, it would be several months of planning before they would be able to start capitalizing on the black market.  With the income from the art, they’d be able to plan their steps carefully; defrauding Kog was a dangerous business, but it would not only be profitable, but it would be fun. 

As Theed slowly faded into the distance, Caria had to smile, thinking on all the fun that she and Pick were going to have.

The Star Destroyer Tyrant made the final turn into geosynchronous orbit over of the planet Kashyyyk. Massive repulsor lifts kept the Imperial Star Destroyer Mark II from succumbing to the gravity of the forest planet, bending the very laws of nature to its will. This very machine was a testament to the might of the Imperial Navy, and was a symbol of the might of the hand of the Emperor.

The indigenous intelligent life of the planet was a race called the Wookiees. These brutes were primitive culture who lived in the Giant Worshyr trees that covered the entire planet.  These thousand plus foot trees blanketed the world in lush green foliage, completely covering any ground that existed beneath.  The Wookiees called that area the Shadowlands and tended to steer clear of it unless sending a hunting party down, or at the coming of age for male Wookiees.  These creatures were primitive at best and though easily taught technological savvy they were best suited as heavy labor in Imperial mines, shipyards, or anywhere else brute strength was needed. Because of inferior genetic material, these shaggy beasts weren’t even able to recreate basic speech, and thus were treated as they were: second class citizens.

Normally a planet like this annexed into the Empire wouldn’t warrant a battle cruiser the size of a Victory Class Destroyer; however because of the tenacious blood feud between Trandoshan and Kashyyyk, and the tenuous relationship between the Black Scale Hunters and the Empire, the Imperial battalion that was situated in the main port of Karicho was supplemented by a pair of Corvettes and an older Imperial Class Star Destroyer mark I.  The threat of Imperial intervention kept the steady output of slaves moving, and kept the Trandoshans from taking liberties with their already stretched freedom within the Empire.

Despite all of this, there still was a hidden Rebel Base on the planet.  The Empire had tried everything: Thermal surveillance, radio topography, infiltration, and even simple visual scanning.  Darth Xiohan took a final look at the dossier on the world.  If it was up to her, the Tyrant would raze the planet from orbit to destroy the hidden Rebel base.  The added bonus would be the suffering that would be caused.  Her mouth watered at the very thought…all those lives; pointlessly taken just to satisfy her.  She could practically feel the pain through the Force, the very thought caused her to smile.

“Lieutenant,” she hissed, “prepare my shuttle.  I am heading to the surface.  Once I am away, take this ship to the outskirts of the system and await my transmission.” 

She didn’t wait for confirmation that her order would be followed before she turned and walked towards the hangar bay; subordinates didn’t deserve acknowledgement, and they knew that if her shuttle wasn’t ready by the time she reached the hangar, then someone would be made an example of.

Xiohan fed on the intoxicating fear that ran throughout the ship.  Every crew member knew that they were expendable, every crewmember knew that they had a place, a function, and that they were simple machines to carry out the will of the Emperor; and she was the hand that executed that will.

She turned the corner to find her shuttle ready and a squadron of Stormtroopers standing at attention.  She ignored the troops as she walked past them. As she boarded the shuttle the hatch was sealed, and she felt the repulsor lifts kick in and the subtle bounce of the ship as it left the hangar bay.   As the ship passed through the magnetic field and vectored in toward the planet, Xiohan focused on the Emperor’s directive, and the pleasure that she would derive by carrying it out.

Rohedria brandished her saber towards her attackers, preparing for the assault, but before Odin could open fire, a blast of heat passed right over her head.  The swoop directly to her right exploded in a ball of flame as the missle plunged through the minimal armor, detonating the payload and the fuel in the bike, tossing wreckage and body parts in all directions.  Almost immediately the second bike exploded in similar fashion.  The astounded KOG’s looked to the source of the onslaught and caught one more rocket contrail leaving the barrel of Xavier’s rocket launcher.  With laser accuracy Odin’s bike exploded creating a crater where the leader of KOG used to be.  Fortunately for him he was already diving for cover when the rocket hit.

Xaiver, rockets spent, returned the launcher to the holder that was built into his heavy armor.  Return fire from the remaining KOG’s quickly tracked his position.  Xaiver leaped from the ledge of the building that he was standing on, accelerating in free fall from the building fifteen stories up.  As he fell he tossed plasma grenades in the general direction of the now entrenched mercenaries.  The altitude and speed ticked quickly away in Xaiver’s HUD on the inside of his armor helmet, signaling the all but sure demise of its wearer.  At the last second Xaiver hit the button on his jetpack controls, igniting the jets of the Mandalorian manufactured pack; which immediately slowed his descent…though not before he hit the ground.

When Xavier hit the pavement sensors in his Battle armor sensed the impact and redirected suit power from the shield generator to the inertial dampeners and braces that protected his frame.  Though the ferrocrete under his feet cracked under the pressure, Xavier tucked and rolled into a crouching position where he released the proton grenades that he had primed on the way down.

These grenades made short work of the last bikes whose riders, sensing this demise, had already sought cover in the nearby alleyway where they were beginning to return fire with more conventional weapons.

Xavier ran for cover behind the truck where the rest of the team was.  Priest laid down cover fire while Rohedria took advantage of the momentum that her team had given her to chase down Odin.  Blaster bolts deflected off the violet blade as she covered the twenty meters or so between her and Odin’s position in a little under five seconds.  The man, already disoriented by the explosions, proved little effort to disarm and subdue.  When they saw their leader taken, the KOGS who were left alive dropped their weapons and surrendered.

Rohedria pulled Odin out from behind the pile of rubble that his swoop had become and let him fall to the ground in the middle of the battle zone.  Priest and Jackson recovered the other KOGS and soon all threats were sitting on their knees, bloodied and beat.

“It looks to me that you no longer have the position to bargin Odin.” Rohedria said.  “I have half a mind to end you tonight for trying to kill me and my team, and you’d better have a damn good reason why I don’t.”

Odin looked up, a beaten man.  “Look, I’m a business man. We can work something out. Here, as a measure of good faith, I’ll let you keep the droid…I won’t even put a hit out on you.  In fact, I could use a team with your talents sometime; and I’d make it worth your while.”

“Odin, you whimpering sack of poodoo, why don’t you just die like a man instead of trying to bargain yourself out of the hole you’ve dug?” Xavier sneered at him, the sarcastic and contemptuous tone resonating even through his helmets vocal scrubbers. “To be honest, this was an easy grab…you really need to outsource better help; these clowns didn’t even stand a chance.”

Odin looked at him.  “Look, it doesn’t have to be this way, I tell you.  Look, let me go, and I’ll make it worth your while…I promise.”

Rohedria looked at him for a second before throwing a comlink his way.  “Ok, first off, I want $250,000 credits transferred to this account number.  Secondly, I want you to transfer all schematics and knowledge about this droid into that datapad.  We’ll sit here, and I’m going to let Xavier calibrate his sight using your head as a target.  When he gets bored, I’m going to let him pull the trigger just to make sure that its accurate.  If you haven’t complied with my requests…I’ll make sure that sight is still right between your eyes.”

Xavier disconnected the rifle from the rail on his armor and hoisted it.  The rifle which collapsed was barely longer than a half a meter slid with a subtle click into his armored gauntlets.  A small button on the grip of the rifle tripled its length and balanced the weapon out perfectly.  “Odin, I’d hurry up…I get bored easily and this rifle will liquefy you from the waist up at this range, which is something I’ve always wanted to try but never had the opportunity to do.”  Odin didn’t doubt for a second the sincerity of those words.

In a few seconds he handed the datapad back to Rohedria who took as second to note the information there.  The file on the droid was over six teraquads of information; which boggled her mind. She’d have to see what Jackson would say about it.

“Ok Odin, I’m a girl of my word.  Here is your freedom…spend it wisely.  If you cross me…I’ll finish the job that Xavier started with his .”

Xavier winked at Odin before pulling the trigger.  The hammer dropped on the weapon, but instead of discharging a bolt of superheated plasma, only a resounding click emitted from the weapon.  Odin’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and dropped face first to the ferrocrete. Xaiver turned to Priest and said, “oops…I guess I forgot to tell him it wasn’t loaded.”

The fires began dying down as the Jedi and her team picked up their payload and made their way to the Starport.  Already the sounds of the RSF emergency sirens were already rolling towards the confrontation.  Two shadowed figures stood silently blocks away, intent on what was going on.  One held a high powered rifle on which he was making minute adjustments on the scope.  The Jedi and the large man talked amongst themselves for a second before the man returned to the object that they had been transporting and helped another load the cargo onto a hoverlift.  They pulled the object by hand towards the starport.  He focused the scope back on the Jedi and zoomed in to get a good look at her face.

Like all Zabrak, including himself, her family tattoos adorned her face, blending into her frontal horns and back into the tight long rope of silver hair that hung halfway down her back.  She was beautiful…it was a shame that she was a mark and would soon eat a high powered energy bolt from the weapon that was currently trained on her.

“Should I take the Jedi out now?”  one said to the other. 

The second one pondered for a second.

“No.” he said.  “We should study them, This is not the time, nor the place.”  Ryutra turned to Ryuutra “We wait.”

“But why brother?  She is right here, without her, the party will fail.  We will be able to complete our mission and collect the bounty from the Hutt.”

Ryutra and Ryuutra were not used to disagreement.  Though they were completely genetically identical, every once in a while there were some very…annoying disagreements.

“If we kill her now, we do not guarantee success.  Also, we do not have the upper hand here.  We must be patient with this mark, and we must remember the hunt; and this hunt will be one of legend.”

Ryuutra pondered this for a moment.  Perhaps Ryutra was right.  He could feel the excitement that practically flowed from Ryutra…barely contained eagerness.  Though they were ancient compared to most of their marks, there still was an almost youthful glee out of tracking a mark across the galaxy at superlight speeds, cornering them, watching their fear turn to denial…then the denial turn to bargaining, and finally  the bargaining turn to the harsh reality of acceptance.  Many of their marks deserved their fate…the others were just gravy.

The Zabraki Jedi stopped for a second, as if sniffing the wind.  She turned around and looked directly in the direction of the bounty hunters.  For a second Ryuutra thought that he might have to pull the trigger; however she continued her gaze moving.  Yes…she knew someone was watching; but she didn’t know from where.  She turned back to her work, said something to the crew that motivated them to pick up the pace.  The Jedi turned towards the starport and began walking.  For a second time she stopped, looked over her shoulder, then picked up the pace.

The team entered the starport, and most likely would blast off the planet in less than an hour.  The brothers would have to hurry to their Mandalorian Interceptor parked just on the outskirts of the city if they were going to follow the tracking device that had been planted on the YT 1300 vessel that the Jedi was flying.  As of yet, they had not noticed the signal…and hopefully it would remain that way.

As Ryuutra folded the stock of his sniper rifle down and packed it back in the tactical bag for transport, he began to agree with his brother…this would be a grand hunt.

01/31/2008

To Kelsey

You danced the swirling dance of youth

You sang upon the stage

The fire of youth burned in your eyes

The future you did gaze

We did not know, we did not see

The life that was to come,

And day to darkness, joy to tears

Can the past now be undone?

The Kansas City Daisy grew

With flowers wild and young

Its petals gleamed with fiery dew

While the morning song was sung.

The flower plucked before its time

With jealous, wicked hands;

Still holds its fragrance pure and true

If in the light it stands.

Oh Kansas City Daisy please,

Think on the Gardner still;

The Love that cultivated you

And grace your roots did fill

Though young when gone and tragic end

A purpose still will be

For those who go on after you

To live your memory

So, Kansas City Daisy dance

And sing the songs you know

Face the sun with open eyes

And in the garden grow.

06/07/2007