He stood in the doorway of the cantina, looking out over the scene of his own handiwork. The tables all lay in ruins, shattered bottles were strewn across the floor, and the symbol of the Scarlet Wake was fused into the walls by the laser cutter on his belt. The bar, run by a pair of Grann recently moved to Tatooine, was a complete loss - the point of tonight's exercise.
Inwardly, he was both disgusted at what he had done here but he did see the blessing in disguise; no one had been injured. This mission was a message. "Aliens, get out."
The proprietors of the bar were upstairs, stunned unconscious by Maya and left in the shambles of their own sleeping chamber. By the time they woke up, Darrus and his partner would be long gone. Their efforts here would linger, though. This place was one of the most popular establishments in Anchorhead, catering to more than four hundred non-humans and spacers on average each day.
Tightening his grip on his rifle, watchful for trouble while Maya finished her vandalism upstairs, Darrus could not help but acknowledge the tactical skill this particular choice of targets suggested. The Scarlet Wake was more than a hate group; this was psychological warfare. Each body, each wrecked home, each terrified alien was one piece in a greater plan.
Figuring out that plan was his real mission, of course, but after two weeks "on the inside" he was no closer to the power behind the organization. Red One was still a complete mystery and his proxies were either too cordial and aloof to question or too violent and ignorant to be of much use. Performing these acts of terrorism were the only way he could see to ingratiate himself into the Wake and work his way up the command ladder. One rung at a time seemed the best possible course of action.
In truth, it seemed like the only course.
Maya agreed. Both his partner and his only confidant, she had proven an invaluable asset to the mission. Calm and capable, willing to do anything for him, and never questioning his decisions, she had even taken his apparent execution of that Ithorian in stride. It had relieved her when he told her the victim was still very much alive but she had not asked or treated him differently beforehand. If something difficult needed to be done, she was his unflinching right hand.
It had been so long since he had been in the position of having someone at his back he could trust. Even during the war, he had never fully believed in the "docile" nature of his Clone Soldiers. Perhaps that was why he was still alive, but he knew the real reason all too well. His connection to Aayla, his feeling her death, had been a warning exactly when he needed one.
Jeht could still close his eyes and see the look on Marr-ek's face when he evaded the bastard's death trap and chopped his own men to pieces. He could hear the panic in Marr-ek's voice when, lightsaber in hand, he forced the traitorous ARC trooper to surrender.
And, with a twist of guilt in his gut, he could still smell the charred flesh as he drove his weapon into Marr-ek's face. A plasteel garbage pod had been Marr-ek's tomb, flushed into space along with the pieces of his sundered squad. Darrus felt guilt over his former friend's execution, but not much. The man had killed Trill; he deserved nothing better. Hells and Fire, he had deserved far worse.
Darrus caught himself in that thought and forced his mind to let go of such hate. It was not just a feeling unbecoming of a Jedi, it was a distraction he could not afford right now. If he was lost in the past, he could easily be surprised bu something in the present.
As if reading his mind, "Echo" did just that. Snaking a hand over his shoulder and startling him into nearly checking her against the wall, Maya brought him back to the here and now. "It's done. There's not enough left intact upstairs to buy a used speeder and two Grann are sleeping off one mother of a headache."
He nodded and gestured for her to stand by the exit while he checked outside. It was nearly first light; the smaller of Tatooine's two suns was almost at the eastern horizon. There was a line of false dawn about to give way to the real thing. There were cutting their mission parameters close but they had finished within the time given. In the end, that was all it took to earn their paycheck.
Wraith and Echo made their way to the Starwing and climbed in quickly. They had landed far enough out that the ARC-170's huge engines would not alert their quarry. That had been a fine plan until Darrus remembered his craft no longer having a speeder. The walk, and Maya's constant "We could have been done by now" stare at the back of his head had both been unpleasant.
Still, it was better than murder.
Murder was on Darrus' mind a lot lately. The missions they were running for the Scarlet Wake had not involved killing anyone, but that could change at any moment. He knew there were people in the Tatooine chapter capable of doing far worse and more than willing. He suspected that others were handling removal missions while Echo and he were doing these less fatal tasks.
That both relieved and worried him at the same time. Why would the Scarlet Wake make him kill an alien just to get in and then not even ask him to rough one up? Were they saving his talents for something bigger? Were the leaders of the Wake suspicious?
No, he decided. If they were suspicious of his motives, an assassination or assault would be the first thing they would want from him. If that were true, however, why was he stuck doing jobs any handful of moisture farmers could handle? Why use a capable killer to vandalize a bar or plant explosives on a food transport?
Looking at this from a logistical viewpoint, it made no sense. He had never been one for self-aggrandizement but he knew what he was good at doing. Darrus had always been an instrument of violence, even in the Academy on Coruscant. As a youngling, he had been in more fistfights and force battles than any student his age in the history of the Council. he was firmly convinced that, had it not been for Master Windu's patronage, he would have been expelled from training long before becoming a padawan.
Thinking about Mace was always painful, especially now. His mentor, the closest thing he had ever known to a father, was dead. Everyone he knew on Coruscant, dead. His entire Order, dead. There might still be a few friends back on Cularin, but they were in a safe place now and he would never jeopardize their well-being by disturbing the Sanctum there.
That left Maya. She was really his only lifeline now. Without her, he would truly be alone. He wondered if she knew how grateful he was for her company. He considered telling her, but his skill with a lightsaber was inversely proportional to his skill with words. Likely, he would just sound silly or offend her accidentally. He had no desire to do either. Somehow, someway, he would let her know when the time was right.
"Hey, dark eyes. You all right up there?"
Darrus blinked behind his shadow glass visor. He had been distracted again. That was happening a lot lately. Too many thoughts, not enough attention to what was happening around him. If Yoda were still alive, the little green taskmaster would be smacking him in the skull with a cane right now.
"Sorry. I was just... considering the jobs we have been given. Don't they seem odd to you?"
Maya scoffed in the gunner's seat behind him. "Odd? We had scattered burning protein bars over southern Mos Eisley, robbed an alien money collector and vaporized the funds in a refinery incinerator, sabotaged a Devoranean transport, stolen a Bith band's instruments, and royally wrecked a cantina in Anchorhead. All without ever being seen aside from that stupid Scarlet symbol we keep blasting into things. Odd? You could say that."
Darrus agreed quietly. "Exactly. Strange work, and no common theme aside from terrorism." Then his own tactical skills caught his attention and showed him the element in every job he had missed before. "Wait..."
Maya's voice took on a note of concern, something he would normally have found endearing if he had not been so preoccupied. "What is it, Darrus?"
"There is a denominator in common, Maya." He had been thinking about these jobs all wrong, looking at them through the vantage point of a hatemonger. Hate was too imprecise to describe the rationale behind the Scarlet Wake. He needed to use something more focused to understand what was really going on here. This was not hate; it was something colder. More malevolent. It was pure, rational, unyielding malice.
Darrus continued once the realization came to him. "Every mission has had one thing the same in every case. Each time, we've been asked to do our work without being seen. We have already proven ourselves capable of violence. I think they are testing our subterfuge."
Maya considered that for a while before answering. "Okay, but if that's true, to what end? People don't normally test something without a reason. What do they intend for us to do that involves both violence and stealth?"
Darrus shook his head. "I don't know, Maya. That's what worries me."
-----------------------
It was a secure transmission; Gannarsen Kayvus could talk freely now.
"I've just received word, sir. The cantina went flawlessly, just as I predicted. In my estimation, they are ready. These two new recruits are perfect for the job."
The voice that answered him was both somber and dark, nearly emotionless yet edged with intense hostility. "Are you sure? I dislike trusting something this important to agents so new to the Wake. If this fails..."
Red Two bowed to the holographic bust of his master. "It won't. I assure you, our message will be sent out loud and clear. By this time tomorrow, everyone in the galaxy will know about the Scarlet Wake."
Gannarsen's superior, his face hidden by a full helmet and his shoulders concealed under a thick cloak, intoned pointedly. "Do not fail me in this. The Order has no room for failure."
Without hesitation, Gannar nodded his agreement. "It won't need any. I won't fail and neither will they. I will comm you again when the deed is done." He saluted the holo-image by clapping his hand to his chest, palm against his shirt and ring prominently displayed. "Humans first."
Red One returned the gesture, ending the transmission with the answering line of the pledge.
"Humans only."
Monday, February 26, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
< Double Update >
As always, to avoid confusion when I update twice in a day, here's the reading order for the last two posts:
Inevitable first, then In the Shadows.
Thanks!
-A
Inevitable first, then In the Shadows.
Thanks!
-A
In the Shadows
From a darkened door nearby, a small metal eye focused on the three men leaving the newcomer's room. The eye, attached to a silent, hovering surveillance droid, watched as two of them dragged the third away, a small trail of red following the downed man's face.
Its black steel iris opened and closed, taking several pictures for its hidden master, transmitting each one along a private channel as untraceable as it was unstoppable. Even down here, surrounded by iron-laden stone and privacy fields, the droid could get its messages through to its controller. It helped that the signal was not going very far; it only had to beam data a few hundred yards.
There, in a solitary dormitory room, someone looked over the images with growing interest. "Well, that's not going to please the big idiot's controllers one bit." Touching the screen with one gloved hand, the shadowed man moved back to a picture of the newcomer standing in the door of his room.
A shrouded finger traced Wraith's outline, tapping the screen as he pondered. "There's something about you, bounty hunter. Something familiar."
A chime interrupted the man's musings. He quickly pushed his spy droid's Return button and shut down his monitors. "Come in."
The door opened to reveal a man dressed in a crimson flight suit and a weather-beaten dewback hide duster. "Come on, Narr. We got a job; time to go spread the good word!" He didn't wait for a response before running off down the hall towards the complex' underground hanger.
The figure turned in his chair, rising and reaching for the jacket of his combat thinsuit. Wraith, and the questions the newcomer posed, would have to wait...
Its black steel iris opened and closed, taking several pictures for its hidden master, transmitting each one along a private channel as untraceable as it was unstoppable. Even down here, surrounded by iron-laden stone and privacy fields, the droid could get its messages through to its controller. It helped that the signal was not going very far; it only had to beam data a few hundred yards.
There, in a solitary dormitory room, someone looked over the images with growing interest. "Well, that's not going to please the big idiot's controllers one bit." Touching the screen with one gloved hand, the shadowed man moved back to a picture of the newcomer standing in the door of his room.
A shrouded finger traced Wraith's outline, tapping the screen as he pondered. "There's something about you, bounty hunter. Something familiar."
A chime interrupted the man's musings. He quickly pushed his spy droid's Return button and shut down his monitors. "Come in."
The door opened to reveal a man dressed in a crimson flight suit and a weather-beaten dewback hide duster. "Come on, Narr. We got a job; time to go spread the good word!" He didn't wait for a response before running off down the hall towards the complex' underground hanger.
The figure turned in his chair, rising and reaching for the jacket of his combat thinsuit. Wraith, and the questions the newcomer posed, would have to wait...
Inevitable
"Get up, you!"
Darrus was hefted out of bed and thrown bodily across the room; this was how he woke up. He'd taken in the last two days to wearing a cloth mask to sleep since his helmet was too cumbersome. Now he was glad he'd done so. These quarters were not as "private" as the Wake made them out to be.
The lock also wasn't terribly useful. He hadn't even been roused from sleep by the sound of it being prised open. Darrus attributed that to the amount of personal training he'd put in since arriving here. Maya had been doing the same and garnering a lot more attention doing so. Of course, he could hardly blame the men in this place from admiring his partner during her workouts. She did have quite a nice figure and preferred very tight, very sheer exercise uniforms. He almost pitied the poor men trying to concentrate on their own routines.
Pity, sadly, was entirely lacking in his present situation. He smashed into the wall, tucking and bracing just enough to avoid any serious injury. There would be a impressively dark shoulder bruise but little else. Only now did he open his eyes, braving the possibility of bright light to get a look at his attacker.
What he saw past the haze of radiance did not surprise him. Since he'd gotten here, there'd been one man taking silent offense to everything he did. The others called him Bantha because of his sheer size and, Darrus assumed, his pervasive body odor. Bantha was the Wake's animal handler, which explained some of the stench, and was built like... well... a Bantha. Broad shoulders, thick body, and a monolithic jaw. From the force of his throw, Bantha's build wasn't just for show. He had a lot of power in those huge arms - power he wasn't afraid to use.
"It ain't fair! Why should we pay you for what the rest o' us are doing fer free?" Bantha rushed him, shoulder down, obviously intending to crush him up against the wall again. It was a simple matter to sidestep the attack, but Darrus saw that bantha's other arm was pulled back in a waiting jab. The man was big, but he was also smart enough to anticipate a dodge.
Skimming the edge of the Force, Darrus drew on it just enough to send energy through his legs. His spiraling jump took him over Bantha, twisted in midair, and brought him down facing his opponent from behind. Without his helmet to disguise his voice, Darrus did not want to speak, so he remained silent. His only reaction was to crouch in a combat stance and wait for the next move.
It came quickly; Bantha turned and lacked out with a scything kick. It was a surprisingly agile and skilled maneuver, one that almost caught Darrus off-guard. He ducked it and came up with the intention of catching Bantha's leg, but his own reaction to how well the big man attacked threw his timing off enough for Bantha to pull back and evade him.
"You ain't better'n us!" Again came the attack, this time a pair of punches moving faster than the big farmer had a right to throw. The man had been trained, recently by the feel of him and very well. It was a commando-style assault - upfront, swift, and obviously intended to be knockout punches. One was coming low for his vitals while the other was an overhead smash to the skull. Darrus would be in trouble of either landed.
So, of course, he didn't let either one strike home. He needed to get across to this man that he was not to be trifled with but he didn't want to have to seriously injure him. Even though it was hard to see right now, Darrus didn't have to see his enemy clearly to sense where his was or what he was doing. Or why. Bantha was obviously just acting out of jealousy and outrage; there was no need to kill. Besides, Darrus had his own reasons for not wanting to take another life. Not if he could help it...
...and he could. Darting faster than Bantha could see, Darrus was out of the bigger man's reach and on the other side of a metal nightstand. Grabbing it, Darrus slid the table under Bantha's smashing punch and winced as four fingers shattered on impact. The gut strike fared no better, hitting the stand's front drawer. More splintering bones.
Howling in pain, Bantha turned and kicked again. This one was fueled by rage and faster than the one before. It actually clipped Darrus across the side of the face despite his best dodge but it wasn;t enough to do more than sting. Darrus spun away from the impact and answered with a kick of his own. It snapped up, out, and caught Bantha in exactly the same place. There was just one difference between the two attacks.
Bantha's had glanced. Darrus' had not. It was a full-on hit to the jaw. Even without the Force to enhance the impact, it was enough to send Bantha reeling. With the Force, there was another crack as the big man went down, gurgling past a mouth full of blood, spit, and loose teeth.
His door opened just as Darrus was putting on his helmet. There was a faint hiss as its lining inflated to lock around his head and a hum as its optics activated. Instantly, the light in the room filtered to a non-painful level, allowing him to see clearly again. Standing in the doorway were two other farmers, friends of Bantha's who'd obviously been waiting outside in case the big man needed help. It almost amused Darrus to think, "Oh yes. He certainly needs help. He needs help breathing."
The only one to speak was the farmer called Wease, a thin, angry-looking human with a scar on his cheek and a chip on his shoulder the size of a speeder. "You... you broke his jaw!"
Darrus nodded. His voice modulator kicked in as he spoke, filling the room with a voice like something rising from its grave. "He should not have been here." Darrus did not bother reaching for a weapon even though the other two men were armed. He didn't need one and going for a gun now would only make him look weak.
Wease shook his head. "No, I meant you broke his jaw! How?!?" Wease was referring to the inch thing plate of solid bone that was bantha's formidable lower mandible bone.
Letting himself seem as hostile as possible, Darrus took one step forward. "Shall I demonstrate?" The two men startled and began dragging their heavy friend out of the room. They scrambled over each other trying to get away, fear rising off them like Bantha's pungent personal stink.
"Wise choice." And with that, Darrus pushed the control panel of his door and shut it again. The autolock was broken but there was a manual lever. He wedged it closed, making the door physically impossible to open without cutting tools. Not that he suspected it would be necessary; there was little chance anyone would be disturbing him again tonight. He settled back into bed before thinking to contact Maya through her headset.
~click~
"Echo, do you copy?"
Maya's voice was a warm relief to hear once she finally answered. "Yes, Wraith. I'm here."
"I just had an unpleasant late night visitor. Unfortunate but inevitable. Are you all right?"
There was concern in Maya's voice when she replied, "I am fine. We are just sitting here, doing girl things."
He furrowed his brow, not that anyone could see the expression. "Girl things?"
"You know, talking about boys, painting our nails, modifying blasters and discussing past kills." There was enough humor in her tone to make Darrus believe she was kidding but also enough of an edge to lend a little doubt.
"Oh. Okay."
Then a soft laugh. "Wraith, get some sleep."
"Right. Wraith out."
"You'd better be. Soon. Good night."
~click~
Darrus was hefted out of bed and thrown bodily across the room; this was how he woke up. He'd taken in the last two days to wearing a cloth mask to sleep since his helmet was too cumbersome. Now he was glad he'd done so. These quarters were not as "private" as the Wake made them out to be.
The lock also wasn't terribly useful. He hadn't even been roused from sleep by the sound of it being prised open. Darrus attributed that to the amount of personal training he'd put in since arriving here. Maya had been doing the same and garnering a lot more attention doing so. Of course, he could hardly blame the men in this place from admiring his partner during her workouts. She did have quite a nice figure and preferred very tight, very sheer exercise uniforms. He almost pitied the poor men trying to concentrate on their own routines.
Pity, sadly, was entirely lacking in his present situation. He smashed into the wall, tucking and bracing just enough to avoid any serious injury. There would be a impressively dark shoulder bruise but little else. Only now did he open his eyes, braving the possibility of bright light to get a look at his attacker.
What he saw past the haze of radiance did not surprise him. Since he'd gotten here, there'd been one man taking silent offense to everything he did. The others called him Bantha because of his sheer size and, Darrus assumed, his pervasive body odor. Bantha was the Wake's animal handler, which explained some of the stench, and was built like... well... a Bantha. Broad shoulders, thick body, and a monolithic jaw. From the force of his throw, Bantha's build wasn't just for show. He had a lot of power in those huge arms - power he wasn't afraid to use.
"It ain't fair! Why should we pay you for what the rest o' us are doing fer free?" Bantha rushed him, shoulder down, obviously intending to crush him up against the wall again. It was a simple matter to sidestep the attack, but Darrus saw that bantha's other arm was pulled back in a waiting jab. The man was big, but he was also smart enough to anticipate a dodge.
Skimming the edge of the Force, Darrus drew on it just enough to send energy through his legs. His spiraling jump took him over Bantha, twisted in midair, and brought him down facing his opponent from behind. Without his helmet to disguise his voice, Darrus did not want to speak, so he remained silent. His only reaction was to crouch in a combat stance and wait for the next move.
It came quickly; Bantha turned and lacked out with a scything kick. It was a surprisingly agile and skilled maneuver, one that almost caught Darrus off-guard. He ducked it and came up with the intention of catching Bantha's leg, but his own reaction to how well the big man attacked threw his timing off enough for Bantha to pull back and evade him.
"You ain't better'n us!" Again came the attack, this time a pair of punches moving faster than the big farmer had a right to throw. The man had been trained, recently by the feel of him and very well. It was a commando-style assault - upfront, swift, and obviously intended to be knockout punches. One was coming low for his vitals while the other was an overhead smash to the skull. Darrus would be in trouble of either landed.
So, of course, he didn't let either one strike home. He needed to get across to this man that he was not to be trifled with but he didn't want to have to seriously injure him. Even though it was hard to see right now, Darrus didn't have to see his enemy clearly to sense where his was or what he was doing. Or why. Bantha was obviously just acting out of jealousy and outrage; there was no need to kill. Besides, Darrus had his own reasons for not wanting to take another life. Not if he could help it...
...and he could. Darting faster than Bantha could see, Darrus was out of the bigger man's reach and on the other side of a metal nightstand. Grabbing it, Darrus slid the table under Bantha's smashing punch and winced as four fingers shattered on impact. The gut strike fared no better, hitting the stand's front drawer. More splintering bones.
Howling in pain, Bantha turned and kicked again. This one was fueled by rage and faster than the one before. It actually clipped Darrus across the side of the face despite his best dodge but it wasn;t enough to do more than sting. Darrus spun away from the impact and answered with a kick of his own. It snapped up, out, and caught Bantha in exactly the same place. There was just one difference between the two attacks.
Bantha's had glanced. Darrus' had not. It was a full-on hit to the jaw. Even without the Force to enhance the impact, it was enough to send Bantha reeling. With the Force, there was another crack as the big man went down, gurgling past a mouth full of blood, spit, and loose teeth.
His door opened just as Darrus was putting on his helmet. There was a faint hiss as its lining inflated to lock around his head and a hum as its optics activated. Instantly, the light in the room filtered to a non-painful level, allowing him to see clearly again. Standing in the doorway were two other farmers, friends of Bantha's who'd obviously been waiting outside in case the big man needed help. It almost amused Darrus to think, "Oh yes. He certainly needs help. He needs help breathing."
The only one to speak was the farmer called Wease, a thin, angry-looking human with a scar on his cheek and a chip on his shoulder the size of a speeder. "You... you broke his jaw!"
Darrus nodded. His voice modulator kicked in as he spoke, filling the room with a voice like something rising from its grave. "He should not have been here." Darrus did not bother reaching for a weapon even though the other two men were armed. He didn't need one and going for a gun now would only make him look weak.
Wease shook his head. "No, I meant you broke his jaw! How?!?" Wease was referring to the inch thing plate of solid bone that was bantha's formidable lower mandible bone.
Letting himself seem as hostile as possible, Darrus took one step forward. "Shall I demonstrate?" The two men startled and began dragging their heavy friend out of the room. They scrambled over each other trying to get away, fear rising off them like Bantha's pungent personal stink.
"Wise choice." And with that, Darrus pushed the control panel of his door and shut it again. The autolock was broken but there was a manual lever. He wedged it closed, making the door physically impossible to open without cutting tools. Not that he suspected it would be necessary; there was little chance anyone would be disturbing him again tonight. He settled back into bed before thinking to contact Maya through her headset.
~click~
"Echo, do you copy?"
Maya's voice was a warm relief to hear once she finally answered. "Yes, Wraith. I'm here."
"I just had an unpleasant late night visitor. Unfortunate but inevitable. Are you all right?"
There was concern in Maya's voice when she replied, "I am fine. We are just sitting here, doing girl things."
He furrowed his brow, not that anyone could see the expression. "Girl things?"
"You know, talking about boys, painting our nails, modifying blasters and discussing past kills." There was enough humor in her tone to make Darrus believe she was kidding but also enough of an edge to lend a little doubt.
"Oh. Okay."
Then a soft laugh. "Wraith, get some sleep."
"Right. Wraith out."
"You'd better be. Soon. Good night."
~click~
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Uncomfortable Silences
They stood together in the middle of a large room, the awkward feeling of being surrounded growing by the moment.
There were twenty or thirty beings here, most of whom were human but a few were slight variants on that theme. A blue-skinned man, a Zabrak woman with metal-capped horns, and a slender pale white androgynous person were staring at them from the raised balcony that ran the length of all four walls. This was a gallery of sorts, with bare walls only occasionally interrupted by trophies - grisly trophies well preserved and staring just as intently, though with eyes of glass instead of distrust.
As focused as the watchers seemed to be, this room felt to Darrus more like a shooting gallery than anything else. Most of the people above them were armed and those that weren't were not far from weapons mounted in racks on the walls nearby. If this went badly, even his skills would not be able to defend him from so much concentrated fire. Not for long, any way. Regardless, he wouldn't be able to protect Maya either, which made a fight here a non-option.
Of course, that assumed he had any control over hostilities. They had been led down here to meet "the Boss" and then left to wait. One way or the other, Darrus assumed combat - or the lack thereof - would depend entirely on how they conducted themselves during this appointment.
Conduct implied contact, however, and the anticipated appointment was already twenty minutes late. How much longer was this man going to make them linger here, getting holes stared through them by the rest of the cabal? As a Jedi, he should not let himself feel apprehension, which was a difficulty since any rational, emotional person would probably be getting really annoyed at this point.
Fortunately, Maya wasn't a Jedi. "Hey! We can just go if you don't want us here!" She shifted to put one leather-clad fist on her curvaceous hip. "You called us here, remember?!"
Muttering filled the upper part of the room; several of the watchers were now talking among themselves. Darrus dearly hoped the conversation wasn't turning to how best to discipline their guests for their bad manners. Inwardly, he agreed with Maya. This was intolerable.
Intolerable, or a test. It suddenly occurred to Darrus that if he and Maya were infiltrators, they would probably just accept this delay for fear of compromising their mission. A spy would deal with any setbacks or hurdles because to do otherwise would mean failure. Now, they actually were spies and infiltrators, but they could not afford to act the part.
"Indeed." His voice modulator, thanks to Vaaro, made the word sound like a vicious, ghostly echo. "We are leaving." He turned and walked towards the thick blast doors, leveling his rifle at them as he moved.
The gallery above them reacted instantly, bringing blasters to bear in a rattle of weapons and energy hums. No one fired, but everyone seemed willing to do so. As he expected, the unarmed among them grabbed carbines and pistols as well. Darrus and Maya were now under the gun, exactly where he didn't want to be.
"I am sensing a lot of hostility." Even as Maya said it, her voice took on the tone of, "Gee, thanks Maya; how bloody insightful of you." Her eyes rolled and her face took on a sheepish expression.
Darrus did not let himself react other than to thumb the energy-on switch of the rifle. "Open these doors." Slowly pulling back the focusing bolt to bring up a maximum charge, he increased the volume of his mask to be heard over the growing pulse of his weapon. "Now."
As he expected, that got a lot of reaction from the shooters above, but the doors did not open nor did they start shooting. It was a moment of stalemate, one he hoped would not last because at this point, he was out of moves. If they called his bluff, Darrus would have to blow open the doors or back down. Neither option was attractive. The former could easily set off the twitchier members of the Wake and bring blaster fire down on their heads. The latter choice made him seem weak - something that would only jeopardize his ability to deal with the leadership of this organization. This moment burned in his mind and he realized where he was.
Shatterpoint. Act or wait. The choice was his.
He chose to do both, holding his fire but reaching down to pull a grenade from his belt. The gesture was an obvious one; shoot at me and I'll throw this. Someone, maybe a lot of someones, up there will die. Maya followed suit, taking grenades out of her vest with both hands. Now the bluff had a few more teeth.
Time to bump the pot. "I won't ask again."
A door slowly opened, but not the blast doors in front of them. On the other side of the room, a single figure strode confidently into the gallery. "And you will not have to, my friends. Please accept my apologies for the long wait. I was... detained."
The man was well-dressed, mostly in dark red, and had the look of a Republic senator to him. Older but not ancient, grey haired but not infirm, he had no visible weapons yet did not seem entirely unarmed. He was alone, though of course he was far from unguarded. The unwavering barrels of the blasters above were a succinct reminder of that fact.
Darrus lifted his rifle and put the stock back against his chest, barrel pointed to the ceiling. The grenade went back to his belt pouch. "Echo is right. You invited us."
The man gave him a cordial, almost stately half-bow. "That I did, and again, I am sorry for the delay. If you will allow me to make amends, I will see to it that your time is suitably compensated. The Scarlet Wake is not, after all, a charity organization."
With a curt nod, Darrus put his hand on Maya's shoulder, visibly indicating that she should relax her death grip on her explosives. She relented with a scowl, though he could sense from her a sheer relief in not having to carry through with the threat they implied. It pleased him to also feel her willingness to have done so if things had gone poorly. One way or another, she was with him on this. All the way.
His mask turned his rasp into an ominous rumble. "Then just what sort of organization is it?"
The man smiled and stepped aside, gesturing for them both to follow him through the open door. At that sign of acceptance, the people on the balconies relinquished their aim and weapons disappeared again. Their near-military precision and simultaneous reactions were both impressive and disconcerting.
"A generous one, I assure you, to its friends. Even as a full member, nothing you do for us will be for free. Wakers earn a substantial premium in the field." Following them as Darrus and Maya walked through the far door into a downward-slanting hallway, the man continued amiably. "Which, I suspect from your gear and mannerisms, is where you will best serve the order."
His use of the word 'order' did not escape Darrus or Maya, though neither showed any outward sign of noting it. That was something to check on later. Groups that call themselves an Order tended to be more zealous and more pervasive than a typical collective. This Scarlet Wake could be a lot bigger than Darrus had estimated.
"And who are you, friend?" Darrus let a bit of suspicion creep into his ghostly tone. It made sense for any sane person to be concerned in a situation like this.
"Ah, my manners are horrible today. I am Gannarsen Kayvus, Red Two of Tatooine, but you can call me Gannar. The Red Two is a title and honestly, I am more comfortable with first names." The older gentleman reached out to take Darrus' hand, a gesture the Jedi returned reluctantly. "And you are Wraith, a bounty hunter with a considerable and impressive record. After proving yourselves, I am sure Red One will want to meet you personally."
A considerable record? Just what did Vaaro do when he 'arranged for a bounty hunter's license and identity'? Somehow, Darrus suspected this would be trouble in some way. Anything touched by that crazy Rodian tended to get... complicated.
Maya asked what Darrus was about to say. "Red One?"
The man nodded and slid a card through a sensor to open a door barring their passage. Beyond was another set of halls. They were now deep under the sands of Tatooine, sheltered from the environment, assault, and of course, unwanted attention. This was an impressive base and far too much of it seemed of new construction. Just what level of resources did the Wake have?
"Oh yes. The founder and leader of the entire order. The Scarlet Wake would not exist without his guidance and generosity."
Darrus narrowed his eyes, but he knew she couldn't press more than they had. Not yet. "About that. You've used the word generosity twice now. When will we be seeing some of it?" A mercenary cares only for money; that was a lesson he'd received from an Alderaan Jedi Trainer at the Academy when he was a Padawan. Remembering that and acting the part would serve him well now.
Their escort smiled. "In just a few moments. We've a feast waiting below and after we dine, we'll discuss how to best accommodate each other. You want stable employment and we want a strong hand to do the Wake's will. I think together, we can accomplish both goals. Don't you?"
Maya frowned and leaned against Darrus' side. "We'll see," she told the man. her acting was excellent, helped along by her genuine nervousness at the situation.
There was a long period of silence after that, uncomfortable for both sides it seemed. They reached another door and beyond it, a dining hall filled with people eating at several long tables covered in food. The feast had, at least, not been exaggerated. A smile returned to the man's face at the sight of the busy room.
"I can see that trust will be a long road but I am determined to make the journey pleasant. Please, join the meal and afterwards, we will discuss details."
Darrus nodded, taking Maya's hand and heading to an empty section of the room. "We'll do that. Thanks."
The common courtesy made their host smile wider and nod. "Excellent. I look forward to it."
Then they were left alone. Dinner was well prepared, generously portioned, and eaten in total isolation. The room was boisterous elsewhere but the rest of the Wake spared them only looks of suspicion and thinly-veiled violence.
Oh yes, Darrus thought to himself. Trust was going to be a long, ugly road...
There were twenty or thirty beings here, most of whom were human but a few were slight variants on that theme. A blue-skinned man, a Zabrak woman with metal-capped horns, and a slender pale white androgynous person were staring at them from the raised balcony that ran the length of all four walls. This was a gallery of sorts, with bare walls only occasionally interrupted by trophies - grisly trophies well preserved and staring just as intently, though with eyes of glass instead of distrust.
As focused as the watchers seemed to be, this room felt to Darrus more like a shooting gallery than anything else. Most of the people above them were armed and those that weren't were not far from weapons mounted in racks on the walls nearby. If this went badly, even his skills would not be able to defend him from so much concentrated fire. Not for long, any way. Regardless, he wouldn't be able to protect Maya either, which made a fight here a non-option.
Of course, that assumed he had any control over hostilities. They had been led down here to meet "the Boss" and then left to wait. One way or the other, Darrus assumed combat - or the lack thereof - would depend entirely on how they conducted themselves during this appointment.
Conduct implied contact, however, and the anticipated appointment was already twenty minutes late. How much longer was this man going to make them linger here, getting holes stared through them by the rest of the cabal? As a Jedi, he should not let himself feel apprehension, which was a difficulty since any rational, emotional person would probably be getting really annoyed at this point.
Fortunately, Maya wasn't a Jedi. "Hey! We can just go if you don't want us here!" She shifted to put one leather-clad fist on her curvaceous hip. "You called us here, remember?!"
Muttering filled the upper part of the room; several of the watchers were now talking among themselves. Darrus dearly hoped the conversation wasn't turning to how best to discipline their guests for their bad manners. Inwardly, he agreed with Maya. This was intolerable.
Intolerable, or a test. It suddenly occurred to Darrus that if he and Maya were infiltrators, they would probably just accept this delay for fear of compromising their mission. A spy would deal with any setbacks or hurdles because to do otherwise would mean failure. Now, they actually were spies and infiltrators, but they could not afford to act the part.
"Indeed." His voice modulator, thanks to Vaaro, made the word sound like a vicious, ghostly echo. "We are leaving." He turned and walked towards the thick blast doors, leveling his rifle at them as he moved.
The gallery above them reacted instantly, bringing blasters to bear in a rattle of weapons and energy hums. No one fired, but everyone seemed willing to do so. As he expected, the unarmed among them grabbed carbines and pistols as well. Darrus and Maya were now under the gun, exactly where he didn't want to be.
"I am sensing a lot of hostility." Even as Maya said it, her voice took on the tone of, "Gee, thanks Maya; how bloody insightful of you." Her eyes rolled and her face took on a sheepish expression.
Darrus did not let himself react other than to thumb the energy-on switch of the rifle. "Open these doors." Slowly pulling back the focusing bolt to bring up a maximum charge, he increased the volume of his mask to be heard over the growing pulse of his weapon. "Now."
As he expected, that got a lot of reaction from the shooters above, but the doors did not open nor did they start shooting. It was a moment of stalemate, one he hoped would not last because at this point, he was out of moves. If they called his bluff, Darrus would have to blow open the doors or back down. Neither option was attractive. The former could easily set off the twitchier members of the Wake and bring blaster fire down on their heads. The latter choice made him seem weak - something that would only jeopardize his ability to deal with the leadership of this organization. This moment burned in his mind and he realized where he was.
Shatterpoint. Act or wait. The choice was his.
He chose to do both, holding his fire but reaching down to pull a grenade from his belt. The gesture was an obvious one; shoot at me and I'll throw this. Someone, maybe a lot of someones, up there will die. Maya followed suit, taking grenades out of her vest with both hands. Now the bluff had a few more teeth.
Time to bump the pot. "I won't ask again."
A door slowly opened, but not the blast doors in front of them. On the other side of the room, a single figure strode confidently into the gallery. "And you will not have to, my friends. Please accept my apologies for the long wait. I was... detained."
The man was well-dressed, mostly in dark red, and had the look of a Republic senator to him. Older but not ancient, grey haired but not infirm, he had no visible weapons yet did not seem entirely unarmed. He was alone, though of course he was far from unguarded. The unwavering barrels of the blasters above were a succinct reminder of that fact.
Darrus lifted his rifle and put the stock back against his chest, barrel pointed to the ceiling. The grenade went back to his belt pouch. "Echo is right. You invited us."
The man gave him a cordial, almost stately half-bow. "That I did, and again, I am sorry for the delay. If you will allow me to make amends, I will see to it that your time is suitably compensated. The Scarlet Wake is not, after all, a charity organization."
With a curt nod, Darrus put his hand on Maya's shoulder, visibly indicating that she should relax her death grip on her explosives. She relented with a scowl, though he could sense from her a sheer relief in not having to carry through with the threat they implied. It pleased him to also feel her willingness to have done so if things had gone poorly. One way or another, she was with him on this. All the way.
His mask turned his rasp into an ominous rumble. "Then just what sort of organization is it?"
The man smiled and stepped aside, gesturing for them both to follow him through the open door. At that sign of acceptance, the people on the balconies relinquished their aim and weapons disappeared again. Their near-military precision and simultaneous reactions were both impressive and disconcerting.
"A generous one, I assure you, to its friends. Even as a full member, nothing you do for us will be for free. Wakers earn a substantial premium in the field." Following them as Darrus and Maya walked through the far door into a downward-slanting hallway, the man continued amiably. "Which, I suspect from your gear and mannerisms, is where you will best serve the order."
His use of the word 'order' did not escape Darrus or Maya, though neither showed any outward sign of noting it. That was something to check on later. Groups that call themselves an Order tended to be more zealous and more pervasive than a typical collective. This Scarlet Wake could be a lot bigger than Darrus had estimated.
"And who are you, friend?" Darrus let a bit of suspicion creep into his ghostly tone. It made sense for any sane person to be concerned in a situation like this.
"Ah, my manners are horrible today. I am Gannarsen Kayvus, Red Two of Tatooine, but you can call me Gannar. The Red Two is a title and honestly, I am more comfortable with first names." The older gentleman reached out to take Darrus' hand, a gesture the Jedi returned reluctantly. "And you are Wraith, a bounty hunter with a considerable and impressive record. After proving yourselves, I am sure Red One will want to meet you personally."
A considerable record? Just what did Vaaro do when he 'arranged for a bounty hunter's license and identity'? Somehow, Darrus suspected this would be trouble in some way. Anything touched by that crazy Rodian tended to get... complicated.
Maya asked what Darrus was about to say. "Red One?"
The man nodded and slid a card through a sensor to open a door barring their passage. Beyond was another set of halls. They were now deep under the sands of Tatooine, sheltered from the environment, assault, and of course, unwanted attention. This was an impressive base and far too much of it seemed of new construction. Just what level of resources did the Wake have?
"Oh yes. The founder and leader of the entire order. The Scarlet Wake would not exist without his guidance and generosity."
Darrus narrowed his eyes, but he knew she couldn't press more than they had. Not yet. "About that. You've used the word generosity twice now. When will we be seeing some of it?" A mercenary cares only for money; that was a lesson he'd received from an Alderaan Jedi Trainer at the Academy when he was a Padawan. Remembering that and acting the part would serve him well now.
Their escort smiled. "In just a few moments. We've a feast waiting below and after we dine, we'll discuss how to best accommodate each other. You want stable employment and we want a strong hand to do the Wake's will. I think together, we can accomplish both goals. Don't you?"
Maya frowned and leaned against Darrus' side. "We'll see," she told the man. her acting was excellent, helped along by her genuine nervousness at the situation.
There was a long period of silence after that, uncomfortable for both sides it seemed. They reached another door and beyond it, a dining hall filled with people eating at several long tables covered in food. The feast had, at least, not been exaggerated. A smile returned to the man's face at the sight of the busy room.
"I can see that trust will be a long road but I am determined to make the journey pleasant. Please, join the meal and afterwards, we will discuss details."
Darrus nodded, taking Maya's hand and heading to an empty section of the room. "We'll do that. Thanks."
The common courtesy made their host smile wider and nod. "Excellent. I look forward to it."
Then they were left alone. Dinner was well prepared, generously portioned, and eaten in total isolation. The room was boisterous elsewhere but the rest of the Wake spared them only looks of suspicion and thinly-veiled violence.
Oh yes, Darrus thought to himself. Trust was going to be a long, ugly road...
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
<--- Update: Double Stories --->
There are two updates today. Please read the second one, Initiations, before you read Smoke and Mirrors. Things will make a lot more sense that way!
Take care,
-A
Take care,
-A
Smoke and Mirrors
*What Actually Happened*
~Hold completely still. If you move, you will die.~
Shialsha had never been so terrified in his life. A street merchant with no friends and no family on this desolate world, he was only here because all Ithorians underwent the Journey eventually. The Journey, a ritual by which a mature Ithorian left his or her Hive Ship and traveled the galaxy until they felt ready to return and take their place in society.
Shialsha had felt ready for years now; he just hadn't felt capable. Returning to the Hive required several things, chief among them a ship capable of doing so. He did not have the credits to even book passage on a vessel, much less buy a craft of his own.
That sad truth was why he was still on Tatooine years after he should have been home and why he had taken to selling hydroponic vegetables from a street stand in Anchorhead to survive. The slim margin of profit he made off each sale was his tiny glimmer of hope; with each credit earned, he was a little bit closer to leaving this terrible place.
Unfortunately, it was his need to make at least a sliver of profit from his sales that got him in trouble with the Scarlet Wake. He'd refused to give one of their agents a jamb-fruit for free and in return, he'd been forced to watch at blaster-point while the man and four others devoured their fill of his wares and then beat him into unconsciousness.
Now he was here, staring up at a masked man and listening to a voice in his head. Holding still was not at all a problem. He'd have been hard pressed to move at all, honestly, so remaining stationary was an easy request to grant.
When the cut came, it was a shallow one that only stung for a moment. The blade came within a hair's breadth of his head, ran down his chest, and cleaved open the bindings around his wrists. He was bleeding now, but it wasn't a serious wound.
~Fall and remain motionless. When you are out of here, go to my ship and retrieve the speeder out of its aft bay. Get to Mos Eisley, sell it, and get off this rock. Never come back.~
Shialsha could only echo his gratitude mentally. He did not dare react physically since, if that stroke was supposed to look as serious as it felt, he should probably be dead. He did not understand how a shallow slash over his chest would fool anyone, but he wasn't going to question the man who'd just spared his life.
When he stopped rolling, Shialsha waited a short time before spitting sand out of his mouth and struggling to his feet. He did as he was told, finding the man's ship easily even though he hadn't consciously known what it would look like. He just knew which one it was and even how to pull the speeder out of its compartment. Luckily there were no guards on the landing bay; everyone was inside for some reason.
He didn't question his good fortune. He just started the speeder, headed to Mos Eisley, and thanked the Green Mother that he was free. When he reached his Hive, this would be a story worth many, many retellings....
-----------
While Kyvo was reacting with startled surprise to Jeht's violent execution of the Ithorian, Jeht was struggling to maintain concentration. This was the most elaborate use of the Force he'd attempted in a long time. The ability to make others see what he wanted them to see was a trick he'd learned on Almas but it was a gift for the subtle. Subtlety wasn't really his area of expertise. Thus, this was very, very difficult. He would not be able to maintain it for long.
That's why he used the Force to also affect the minds of the guards around the Ithorian. "Throw him outside, where garbage belongs." It hadn't been a suggestion; it had been a Force-imbued command. That got the body out of line of sight, allowing him to end the illusion and recover his senses before going inside.
Even the trail of blood would be real. He'd regretted having to cut the Ithorian at all, but real blood lingered in the sand long after a mental image would fade.
As they went inside, Darrus recovered his wits. Breathing deeply, he regained his focus even as his mind began to turn on what he'd just done.
"You know, just killing the alien would have been easier. You can't afford to let yourself get weakened like this before the real battle begins. It's just one alien, after all. Some sacrifices are worth making."
Jeht struggled inwardly to silence that voice, but it remained in the back of his thoughts as everyone proceeded into the sandstone villa and the inevitable meeting below...
~Hold completely still. If you move, you will die.~
Shialsha had never been so terrified in his life. A street merchant with no friends and no family on this desolate world, he was only here because all Ithorians underwent the Journey eventually. The Journey, a ritual by which a mature Ithorian left his or her Hive Ship and traveled the galaxy until they felt ready to return and take their place in society.
Shialsha had felt ready for years now; he just hadn't felt capable. Returning to the Hive required several things, chief among them a ship capable of doing so. He did not have the credits to even book passage on a vessel, much less buy a craft of his own.
That sad truth was why he was still on Tatooine years after he should have been home and why he had taken to selling hydroponic vegetables from a street stand in Anchorhead to survive. The slim margin of profit he made off each sale was his tiny glimmer of hope; with each credit earned, he was a little bit closer to leaving this terrible place.
Unfortunately, it was his need to make at least a sliver of profit from his sales that got him in trouble with the Scarlet Wake. He'd refused to give one of their agents a jamb-fruit for free and in return, he'd been forced to watch at blaster-point while the man and four others devoured their fill of his wares and then beat him into unconsciousness.
Now he was here, staring up at a masked man and listening to a voice in his head. Holding still was not at all a problem. He'd have been hard pressed to move at all, honestly, so remaining stationary was an easy request to grant.
When the cut came, it was a shallow one that only stung for a moment. The blade came within a hair's breadth of his head, ran down his chest, and cleaved open the bindings around his wrists. He was bleeding now, but it wasn't a serious wound.
~Fall and remain motionless. When you are out of here, go to my ship and retrieve the speeder out of its aft bay. Get to Mos Eisley, sell it, and get off this rock. Never come back.~
Shialsha could only echo his gratitude mentally. He did not dare react physically since, if that stroke was supposed to look as serious as it felt, he should probably be dead. He did not understand how a shallow slash over his chest would fool anyone, but he wasn't going to question the man who'd just spared his life.
When he stopped rolling, Shialsha waited a short time before spitting sand out of his mouth and struggling to his feet. He did as he was told, finding the man's ship easily even though he hadn't consciously known what it would look like. He just knew which one it was and even how to pull the speeder out of its compartment. Luckily there were no guards on the landing bay; everyone was inside for some reason.
He didn't question his good fortune. He just started the speeder, headed to Mos Eisley, and thanked the Green Mother that he was free. When he reached his Hive, this would be a story worth many, many retellings....
-----------
While Kyvo was reacting with startled surprise to Jeht's violent execution of the Ithorian, Jeht was struggling to maintain concentration. This was the most elaborate use of the Force he'd attempted in a long time. The ability to make others see what he wanted them to see was a trick he'd learned on Almas but it was a gift for the subtle. Subtlety wasn't really his area of expertise. Thus, this was very, very difficult. He would not be able to maintain it for long.
That's why he used the Force to also affect the minds of the guards around the Ithorian. "Throw him outside, where garbage belongs." It hadn't been a suggestion; it had been a Force-imbued command. That got the body out of line of sight, allowing him to end the illusion and recover his senses before going inside.
Even the trail of blood would be real. He'd regretted having to cut the Ithorian at all, but real blood lingered in the sand long after a mental image would fade.
As they went inside, Darrus recovered his wits. Breathing deeply, he regained his focus even as his mind began to turn on what he'd just done.
"You know, just killing the alien would have been easier. You can't afford to let yourself get weakened like this before the real battle begins. It's just one alien, after all. Some sacrifices are worth making."
Jeht struggled inwardly to silence that voice, but it remained in the back of his thoughts as everyone proceeded into the sandstone villa and the inevitable meeting below...
Initiations
The biggest among them stuck out his hand, an act of courtesy that still managed to seem hostile.
"Name's Bruul." It was the most he'd said since Darrus and Maya landed. This delegation had been waiting at the landing pad to meet with them, heavily armed and practically radiating distrust and violence. Even without Maya's empathic gifts, Darrus had been able to sense that. One false move here and there would be pain.
Pain, and the end of their mission one way or the other.
Darrus took the offered hand and shook it once, letting the servos in his gauntlet do what his own meager strength could not. The big man seemed to appreciate the tight handshake, pulling back with a satisfied grunt.
The smaller human beside him spoke immediately afterwards. "Forgive the formalities, but I trust you have the little gift you were sent? I'll need to see it before we can..."
Darrus cut him off by thrusting out his left hand and opening it, palm upwards. There, resting on leather and metal, was a thick ring set with a scarlet stone.
The speaker smiled widely. "Excellent. Well then, let's get down to pleasantries. I am Kyvo, the mountain here is Bruul as he already said, and our third companion here is Hollow. Hol, show these folks where you got your nickname."
The woman he was speaking to, tall and dark haired with a willowy build, turned to face Darrus directly. With virtually no emotion on her face, she opened her mouth and he saw nothing. Absolutely nothing except the back of her throat. Her teeth, her tongue, all of it was just gone. Scar tissue made the inside of her mouth as ugly as the rest of her was lovely.
"Hol here was a guest of the Tusken for nearly a week before one of our hunts came across her. They'd been playing especially rough with her, it would seem, but we took care of them for her. Even gave her the honor of the last shot. And what a shot it was, let me tell you. She took my blaster and lined it up right between the Tusken's..."
The woman raised one hand and made a complicated set of gestures with her first two fingers. Darrus recognized it as Twi'lek Leeko speak, a language normally reserved to that race's head tendrils. He'd never seen anyone agile enough with their fingers to mimic the language.
In this case, the message was short but expressive. "You talk too much."
Kyvo apparently also understood her. "Yes, yes. Well, I get excited when we have new guests. Still, we've others to meet, right? We should move on." Kyvo gestured to the desert sand-coloured manor behind him. They were more than a hundred kilometers north of Mos Eisley; Maya hadn't known there was anythign out here. It wasn't on any map, but that didn't surprise either of them. A secret headquarters, a hate group, and a planet full of aliens - the perfect equation for a bloodbath waiting to happen.
"Fine. Let's go then." Darrus started forward and then instantly stopped as Bruul's meaty hand barred the way.
"No. We give names. Now you."
Kyvo nodded, looking momentarily regretful. "Ah yes, my apologies but the lummox is correct. Shall we finish introductions before proceeding?"
Darrus nodded, slowly pushing Bruul's hand off his chest. he wasn't very strong normally, but the Force made up for a lot. He did not want to rely on it here around so many unknown variables, but he also did not want to seem weak around these people. They respected strength; indeed, it was likely the only thing they considered worth respect at all.
"Call me Wraith." Darrus found another reason to appreciate his helmet. Though it looked like it was open over his mouth, the rim of the faceplate incorporated a set of microphones and direction speakers. It amplified his voice and made every word sound utterly ominous.
Kyvo gave a half bow. "Well met, sir Wraith. And your lovely companion?"
Inwardly, Maya cringed. She'd hoped some regulars from her bar would have been here. Then she could have just gotten past without having to speak. This was all Jeht's idea; she was just here to make sure he didn't get caught up in things. Caught up and, if she had to be honest, taken away from her.
Now she needed a name and she needed one quickly. Jeht's was easy - Wraith. She needed something that went well with it but fit her enough that it wouldn't seem forced or suspicious. The only times she'd ever heard the word Wraith used were when people were talking about ghosts and, oddly, back on Hoth.
On Hoth, the conversation had been about ways to infiltrate the Imperial Fleet. The concept she'd heard bandied about the command table was for Rebel pilots to fly Imperial craft and work their way into the Fleet. The idea would be for this "Wraith Squadron" to then supply the Rebellion with information gained on the inside. A daring thought, to be sure, but she wasn't sure it had ever been employed.
Wraith Squadron... basically, it was doing what Darrus and she were doing right now. So what went with Wraith in that sense? Another squadron name?
"Echo. The name's Echo. Where he goes, I follow." As she spoke, Maya moved up against Darrus' left side to emphasize the point.
Another bow. "And fortunate he is to have you, no doubt. All right them, Sir Wraith and Lady Echo, let us proceed inside."
A few steps past the main gate of the compound took them all into its courtyard. Still open to the sky, the inner area was completely surrounded by sandstone walls. A massive iron door barred the way into the villa's main building, flanked on either side by armed humans in sleeveless red long coats. "You are fortunate to have been issued an invitation to join us, you know. Most require a great deal more... 'initiation' to get this far."
Even as Kyvo was speaking, a smaller outbuilding to the right of the villa opened up and three red coated men came out, dragging an obviously injured Ithorian. The three moved quickly towards them, bringing the hammerhead alien painfully along.
"But, I am afraid, there is one test of loyalty I have to ask of you. It seems some of the scum on this planet haven't gotten the message of our ascendancy yet. It's tragic, but those who won't learn have to feel. So, if you want to be part of the Wake, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to..."
Jeht's hand flickered, moving with nearly impossible speed to his shoulder. The sound of his songsteel blade rang out across the courtyard, an aria of murder that ended only when it was buried near the bottom of the Ithorian's sundered entrails. His wide, flat head fell in two pieces, spilling viscera all around him, a low burble of anguish seeping from his ruined throat.
"Well!" came Kyvo's surprised exhalation. "That's that then, ay?!" He looked down at the Ithorian, nearly cleft in twain. Even Bruul beside him looked impressed, his expression one of admiration for the perfect stroke, the violent end of that alien slime. Only Hollow seemed, unmoved, though she was staring intently at Jeht the entire time.
"Throw him outside, where garbage belongs," 'Wraith' told the three guards, who quickly moved to obey. They dragged the dripping carcass out of the compound, hurling it through the open portcullis and spitting after it as the corpse rolled down the dune hill beyond.
It was a few moments before Kyvo spoke again. "I... yes, well. It would seem you are not here to waste time, are you, Sir Wraith? I can respect that; yes I can! All right then, allow me to welcome you both into the Tatooine manse of the Scarlet Wake. The Master is downstairs, ready to greet you personally. I look forward to introducing you."
And with that, Bruul opened the iron door and ushered everyone inside. Maya, stunned and silent, allowed herself one last look back to where the poor Ithorian had been so brutally executed. Then, swallowing deeply, she pushed those emotions away and acted like her new namesake.
Darrus was going inside and, for better or worse, she would follow...
"Name's Bruul." It was the most he'd said since Darrus and Maya landed. This delegation had been waiting at the landing pad to meet with them, heavily armed and practically radiating distrust and violence. Even without Maya's empathic gifts, Darrus had been able to sense that. One false move here and there would be pain.
Pain, and the end of their mission one way or the other.
Darrus took the offered hand and shook it once, letting the servos in his gauntlet do what his own meager strength could not. The big man seemed to appreciate the tight handshake, pulling back with a satisfied grunt.
The smaller human beside him spoke immediately afterwards. "Forgive the formalities, but I trust you have the little gift you were sent? I'll need to see it before we can..."
Darrus cut him off by thrusting out his left hand and opening it, palm upwards. There, resting on leather and metal, was a thick ring set with a scarlet stone.
The speaker smiled widely. "Excellent. Well then, let's get down to pleasantries. I am Kyvo, the mountain here is Bruul as he already said, and our third companion here is Hollow. Hol, show these folks where you got your nickname."
The woman he was speaking to, tall and dark haired with a willowy build, turned to face Darrus directly. With virtually no emotion on her face, she opened her mouth and he saw nothing. Absolutely nothing except the back of her throat. Her teeth, her tongue, all of it was just gone. Scar tissue made the inside of her mouth as ugly as the rest of her was lovely.
"Hol here was a guest of the Tusken for nearly a week before one of our hunts came across her. They'd been playing especially rough with her, it would seem, but we took care of them for her. Even gave her the honor of the last shot. And what a shot it was, let me tell you. She took my blaster and lined it up right between the Tusken's..."
The woman raised one hand and made a complicated set of gestures with her first two fingers. Darrus recognized it as Twi'lek Leeko speak, a language normally reserved to that race's head tendrils. He'd never seen anyone agile enough with their fingers to mimic the language.
In this case, the message was short but expressive. "You talk too much."
Kyvo apparently also understood her. "Yes, yes. Well, I get excited when we have new guests. Still, we've others to meet, right? We should move on." Kyvo gestured to the desert sand-coloured manor behind him. They were more than a hundred kilometers north of Mos Eisley; Maya hadn't known there was anythign out here. It wasn't on any map, but that didn't surprise either of them. A secret headquarters, a hate group, and a planet full of aliens - the perfect equation for a bloodbath waiting to happen.
"Fine. Let's go then." Darrus started forward and then instantly stopped as Bruul's meaty hand barred the way.
"No. We give names. Now you."
Kyvo nodded, looking momentarily regretful. "Ah yes, my apologies but the lummox is correct. Shall we finish introductions before proceeding?"
Darrus nodded, slowly pushing Bruul's hand off his chest. he wasn't very strong normally, but the Force made up for a lot. He did not want to rely on it here around so many unknown variables, but he also did not want to seem weak around these people. They respected strength; indeed, it was likely the only thing they considered worth respect at all.
"Call me Wraith." Darrus found another reason to appreciate his helmet. Though it looked like it was open over his mouth, the rim of the faceplate incorporated a set of microphones and direction speakers. It amplified his voice and made every word sound utterly ominous.
Kyvo gave a half bow. "Well met, sir Wraith. And your lovely companion?"
Inwardly, Maya cringed. She'd hoped some regulars from her bar would have been here. Then she could have just gotten past without having to speak. This was all Jeht's idea; she was just here to make sure he didn't get caught up in things. Caught up and, if she had to be honest, taken away from her.
Now she needed a name and she needed one quickly. Jeht's was easy - Wraith. She needed something that went well with it but fit her enough that it wouldn't seem forced or suspicious. The only times she'd ever heard the word Wraith used were when people were talking about ghosts and, oddly, back on Hoth.
On Hoth, the conversation had been about ways to infiltrate the Imperial Fleet. The concept she'd heard bandied about the command table was for Rebel pilots to fly Imperial craft and work their way into the Fleet. The idea would be for this "Wraith Squadron" to then supply the Rebellion with information gained on the inside. A daring thought, to be sure, but she wasn't sure it had ever been employed.
Wraith Squadron... basically, it was doing what Darrus and she were doing right now. So what went with Wraith in that sense? Another squadron name?
"Echo. The name's Echo. Where he goes, I follow." As she spoke, Maya moved up against Darrus' left side to emphasize the point.
Another bow. "And fortunate he is to have you, no doubt. All right them, Sir Wraith and Lady Echo, let us proceed inside."
A few steps past the main gate of the compound took them all into its courtyard. Still open to the sky, the inner area was completely surrounded by sandstone walls. A massive iron door barred the way into the villa's main building, flanked on either side by armed humans in sleeveless red long coats. "You are fortunate to have been issued an invitation to join us, you know. Most require a great deal more... 'initiation' to get this far."
Even as Kyvo was speaking, a smaller outbuilding to the right of the villa opened up and three red coated men came out, dragging an obviously injured Ithorian. The three moved quickly towards them, bringing the hammerhead alien painfully along.
"But, I am afraid, there is one test of loyalty I have to ask of you. It seems some of the scum on this planet haven't gotten the message of our ascendancy yet. It's tragic, but those who won't learn have to feel. So, if you want to be part of the Wake, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to..."
Jeht's hand flickered, moving with nearly impossible speed to his shoulder. The sound of his songsteel blade rang out across the courtyard, an aria of murder that ended only when it was buried near the bottom of the Ithorian's sundered entrails. His wide, flat head fell in two pieces, spilling viscera all around him, a low burble of anguish seeping from his ruined throat.
"Well!" came Kyvo's surprised exhalation. "That's that then, ay?!" He looked down at the Ithorian, nearly cleft in twain. Even Bruul beside him looked impressed, his expression one of admiration for the perfect stroke, the violent end of that alien slime. Only Hollow seemed, unmoved, though she was staring intently at Jeht the entire time.
"Throw him outside, where garbage belongs," 'Wraith' told the three guards, who quickly moved to obey. They dragged the dripping carcass out of the compound, hurling it through the open portcullis and spitting after it as the corpse rolled down the dune hill beyond.
It was a few moments before Kyvo spoke again. "I... yes, well. It would seem you are not here to waste time, are you, Sir Wraith? I can respect that; yes I can! All right then, allow me to welcome you both into the Tatooine manse of the Scarlet Wake. The Master is downstairs, ready to greet you personally. I look forward to introducing you."
And with that, Bruul opened the iron door and ushered everyone inside. Maya, stunned and silent, allowed herself one last look back to where the poor Ithorian had been so brutally executed. Then, swallowing deeply, she pushed those emotions away and acted like her new namesake.
Darrus was going inside and, for better or worse, she would follow...
Monday, January 29, 2007
<--- Rules Update: The VPG-1 Beam Rifle --->
Created by Vaaro Ouulak'kt, a Rodian Commando and ex-member of the Rebellion Forces, the VPG-1 Beam Rifle is a fusion of technologies between the DC-15 Clone Trooper Rifle and a Jedi lightsaber.
Extrenally, the VPG-1 is identical to a DC-15 except for a pair of catches under the barrel cooling exchanger on the firing end of the weapon and a small black metal protrusion that resembles the emitter hood of an Anakin-style lightsaber. This protrusion is an additional focusing element and cannot be removed from the weapon; it is a fused part of the rifle and remains with the gun as an integral piece.
The cooling emitter has been slaved to a holding compartment sized for a single lightsaber; the VPG only functions when a saber is in this chamber and properly hooked into its structure. Installing or removing a lightsaber from the VPG-1 requires a properly modified saber and takes a full round action either way.
Because the rifle's cooling array has been mostly removed to allow for the saber dock, the VPG does not have a multi attack setting; heat buildup cannot be mitigated fast enough to provide for a high cyclic rate of fire. What it does boast is the ability to fire bolts of coherent energy that duplicate the cutting power of a lightsaber, completely ignoring the damage reduction of objects or personal armor.
The VPG has three modes of fire - normal, beam, and overblast. In normal mode, it acts as a standard blaster rifle without the ability to take advantage of auto and multifire attack forms. If a wielder has feats or class abilities that raise the damage of lightsaber attacks, he or she may apply half their amount (minimum of +1d8) to each successful attack.
In beam mode, it continually generates a beam of lightsaber energy out to a distance of 30 meters. Past this point, the mean diffuses and fades out. This allows the weilder to use the VPG-1 like a melee weapon with a Reach of 30 meters at an attack penalty of -2 for every full 5 meter increment. All feats and abilities the wielder might have regarding lightsabers and/or armed melee combat apply to attacks with a VPG in this mode, except for Weapon Focus (lightsaber), Weapon Finesse (lightsaber), and Precise Attack.
Overblast mode is a full attack action and completely drains both the rifle and its mounted lightsaber of power. The attack generates a cone of energy 10 meters wide and 20 meters long. All targets within the area of effect suffer 8d8 energy damage and may make a Reflex save (DC 20) for half damage instead. Damage reduction from objects and personal armor is only half effective (round down) against this attack.
The VPG-1 Beam Rifle
Cost 1,500 cr (custom work)
Damage 3d8 (+ 1/2 wielder's Lightsaber Increase value)
Critical 19-20
Range Inrement 20m
Weight 5.0 kg
Stun Damage/Fort DC -- (no stun setting)
Special: Beam and Overblast modes, Ignores DR from
objects and personal armor
Type Energy
Size Medium
Group Blaster rifles
Extrenally, the VPG-1 is identical to a DC-15 except for a pair of catches under the barrel cooling exchanger on the firing end of the weapon and a small black metal protrusion that resembles the emitter hood of an Anakin-style lightsaber. This protrusion is an additional focusing element and cannot be removed from the weapon; it is a fused part of the rifle and remains with the gun as an integral piece.
The cooling emitter has been slaved to a holding compartment sized for a single lightsaber; the VPG only functions when a saber is in this chamber and properly hooked into its structure. Installing or removing a lightsaber from the VPG-1 requires a properly modified saber and takes a full round action either way.
Because the rifle's cooling array has been mostly removed to allow for the saber dock, the VPG does not have a multi attack setting; heat buildup cannot be mitigated fast enough to provide for a high cyclic rate of fire. What it does boast is the ability to fire bolts of coherent energy that duplicate the cutting power of a lightsaber, completely ignoring the damage reduction of objects or personal armor.
The VPG has three modes of fire - normal, beam, and overblast. In normal mode, it acts as a standard blaster rifle without the ability to take advantage of auto and multifire attack forms. If a wielder has feats or class abilities that raise the damage of lightsaber attacks, he or she may apply half their amount (minimum of +1d8) to each successful attack.
In beam mode, it continually generates a beam of lightsaber energy out to a distance of 30 meters. Past this point, the mean diffuses and fades out. This allows the weilder to use the VPG-1 like a melee weapon with a Reach of 30 meters at an attack penalty of -2 for every full 5 meter increment. All feats and abilities the wielder might have regarding lightsabers and/or armed melee combat apply to attacks with a VPG in this mode, except for Weapon Focus (lightsaber), Weapon Finesse (lightsaber), and Precise Attack.
Overblast mode is a full attack action and completely drains both the rifle and its mounted lightsaber of power. The attack generates a cone of energy 10 meters wide and 20 meters long. All targets within the area of effect suffer 8d8 energy damage and may make a Reflex save (DC 20) for half damage instead. Damage reduction from objects and personal armor is only half effective (round down) against this attack.
The VPG-1 Beam Rifle
Cost 1,500 cr (custom work)
Damage 3d8 (+ 1/2 wielder's Lightsaber Increase value)
Critical 19-20
Range Inrement 20m
Weight 5.0 kg
Stun Damage/Fort DC -- (no stun setting)
Special: Beam and Overblast modes, Ignores DR from
objects and personal armor
Type Energy
Size Medium
Group Blaster rifles
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Turbulent Skies
"You look amazing."
Maya chuckled to herself, one hand on the co-pilot's control stick and the other feathering her hair. "You've said that three times now, Darrus."
"Oh." He sounded so adorable, she was almost sorry to have called him on repeating the same thing so often. She was used to attention like this at the bar; a person doesn't dress like she does there and not expect to be stared at. It was an ancient woman's trick - display the goods and men get really, really stupid. Stupid and easy to manipulate. In truth, she could have gotten away with a lot more than she had. She only used her "powers" to help people... and manage the occasional larger tip.
But now, she'd have to get past that compassion, those limits she placed upon herself. To convince the Scarlet Wake on Tatooine, many of whom were regulars of the Transverse, that she was one of them would take every skill she had, every asset she possessed. In the Rebellion against the Empire, she'd done a little undercover work. This would be harder than all those missions combined.
The comm crackled again as Jeht spoke from the front cockpit of the Starwing. They were soaring over the dunes, leaving the old hermit's hut behind in the keeping of a psychotic Rodian. "Miss him already?"
She nodded, then pressed the intercom button. "I do. He and I have a long history. When I left the Rebellion, my blasters, my medkit, and he were all I took. He got me off Hoth, killing more than a dozen Stormies to do it. I owe him my life."
"I understand. Don't worry; he'll be okay. That hut is the safest place on all of Tatooine, I'd bet my saber on that."
She smiled. "I know, but thanks. I'll be okay."
"Good. Do you want to make the comm call or should I?"
Maya pulled up the signal frequency that came along with Darrus' ring. "I'll do it. We are just about in range now for an LOS transmission. They'll appreciate not having a contact that can be tracked."
She groaned inwardly. She knew they were only going to join the Scarlet Wake so they could take it down from the inside out. Vaaro was counting on them doing just that; he and all the other 'inhuman' people on Tatooine were targets for that hate group if they didn't. That's why he'd been so helpful lately. Unless he left this planet soon, this mission could mean the difference between living or dying for him.
"Maya?"
She blinked and then blushed. Lost in thought, another hundred kilometers had flown past. "Sorry. Calling now." Her lithe fingers worked over the knobs and dials of the ship's complex comm array. Built for command level transceiver work in deep space, it was overkill for a planetary contact. Once the frequency was dialed, all that remained was to hit Send.
But her hand hesitated. Right now, it was just Darrus and her, alone and free. They could go anywhere, do anything they pleased. This craft was capable of hyperspace and could tangle with anything out there and reasonably expect to fly away intact.
The moment she placed this call, that would change. They would be caught in the Wake's web, never to escape until they found a way to tear it down. That familiar feeling came over her, the same one that forced her to flee from Hoth; this was danger. If she pressed this button, life would change. Life might possibly end. This wasn't a game; this wasn't a lark.
"Are you sure about this, Darrus? We could still get out of here, take Vaaro and blast out into space. We don't have to have anything to do with the Scarlet Wake, or even Tatooine if you don't want to stay here."
There was a long pause before his reply. "You'd do that? You'd leave your bar?"
She took a deep breath but there wasn't a moment's hesitation before her answer. "Yes. For you..."
Her empathy flared; she could literally feel Darrus blush. It brought a smile to her face, one that faded slightly as she felt the next thing in his heart. Duty. Then Honor. Then a sense of responsibility. She could see into his heart, hear the words of his soul.
"I have to do this. I have to make my survival mean something. I should have died. I should be gone. So many lives. So much death. How can I atone?"
Closing her eyes, Maya pushed the send button and waited for a response. "Darrus, when this is over, can we find somewhere safe? Somewhere to be away from all this, if only for a little while?"
She could feel the truth in his words as he answered. "Of course, Maya. If such a place exists, we'll find it." Then, after a long pause, "I'd like that."
Her smile returned. "So would I, Darrus. So would I."
Maya chuckled to herself, one hand on the co-pilot's control stick and the other feathering her hair. "You've said that three times now, Darrus."
"Oh." He sounded so adorable, she was almost sorry to have called him on repeating the same thing so often. She was used to attention like this at the bar; a person doesn't dress like she does there and not expect to be stared at. It was an ancient woman's trick - display the goods and men get really, really stupid. Stupid and easy to manipulate. In truth, she could have gotten away with a lot more than she had. She only used her "powers" to help people... and manage the occasional larger tip.
But now, she'd have to get past that compassion, those limits she placed upon herself. To convince the Scarlet Wake on Tatooine, many of whom were regulars of the Transverse, that she was one of them would take every skill she had, every asset she possessed. In the Rebellion against the Empire, she'd done a little undercover work. This would be harder than all those missions combined.
The comm crackled again as Jeht spoke from the front cockpit of the Starwing. They were soaring over the dunes, leaving the old hermit's hut behind in the keeping of a psychotic Rodian. "Miss him already?"
She nodded, then pressed the intercom button. "I do. He and I have a long history. When I left the Rebellion, my blasters, my medkit, and he were all I took. He got me off Hoth, killing more than a dozen Stormies to do it. I owe him my life."
"I understand. Don't worry; he'll be okay. That hut is the safest place on all of Tatooine, I'd bet my saber on that."
She smiled. "I know, but thanks. I'll be okay."
"Good. Do you want to make the comm call or should I?"
Maya pulled up the signal frequency that came along with Darrus' ring. "I'll do it. We are just about in range now for an LOS transmission. They'll appreciate not having a contact that can be tracked."
She groaned inwardly. She knew they were only going to join the Scarlet Wake so they could take it down from the inside out. Vaaro was counting on them doing just that; he and all the other 'inhuman' people on Tatooine were targets for that hate group if they didn't. That's why he'd been so helpful lately. Unless he left this planet soon, this mission could mean the difference between living or dying for him.
"Maya?"
She blinked and then blushed. Lost in thought, another hundred kilometers had flown past. "Sorry. Calling now." Her lithe fingers worked over the knobs and dials of the ship's complex comm array. Built for command level transceiver work in deep space, it was overkill for a planetary contact. Once the frequency was dialed, all that remained was to hit Send.
But her hand hesitated. Right now, it was just Darrus and her, alone and free. They could go anywhere, do anything they pleased. This craft was capable of hyperspace and could tangle with anything out there and reasonably expect to fly away intact.
The moment she placed this call, that would change. They would be caught in the Wake's web, never to escape until they found a way to tear it down. That familiar feeling came over her, the same one that forced her to flee from Hoth; this was danger. If she pressed this button, life would change. Life might possibly end. This wasn't a game; this wasn't a lark.
"Are you sure about this, Darrus? We could still get out of here, take Vaaro and blast out into space. We don't have to have anything to do with the Scarlet Wake, or even Tatooine if you don't want to stay here."
There was a long pause before his reply. "You'd do that? You'd leave your bar?"
She took a deep breath but there wasn't a moment's hesitation before her answer. "Yes. For you..."
Her empathy flared; she could literally feel Darrus blush. It brought a smile to her face, one that faded slightly as she felt the next thing in his heart. Duty. Then Honor. Then a sense of responsibility. She could see into his heart, hear the words of his soul.
"I have to do this. I have to make my survival mean something. I should have died. I should be gone. So many lives. So much death. How can I atone?"
Closing her eyes, Maya pushed the send button and waited for a response. "Darrus, when this is over, can we find somewhere safe? Somewhere to be away from all this, if only for a little while?"
She could feel the truth in his words as he answered. "Of course, Maya. If such a place exists, we'll find it." Then, after a long pause, "I'd like that."
Her smile returned. "So would I, Darrus. So would I."
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Second Skin
"We try again." Vaaro went back down into the basement, muttering in Huttese and turning a curved piece of dark metal over in his hands. Unfinished strapping dangled from both sides of it, evidence of several failed fitting attempts.
"I hope I am not offending him," Darrus said quietly once the Rodian was out of earshot. "I just want to be able to see through it properly."
Maya smiled and nodded, her finger guiding a needle and thread through several pieces of black leather. "I wouldn't worry. He just complains. You get used to it after a while." Holding up the partial jacket to examine her handiwork, she added, "If you really want to know when to be worried, start panicking when Vaaro doesn't say anything."
Darrus could appreciate that. His worst moods were also accompanied by total silence. It was a side of him he was trying to grow beyond, to leave in the past where it belonged.
"Oh, Maya. I wanted to thank you for trying to get my glasses repaired. At least the optics still work, even if the lenses are shot."
She nodded again, running a line of ballistic cloth under the top layer of bantha hide. When it was done, this garment would be able to stop a sporting blaster at close range and offer at least passable protection from anything larger. In the Rebellion, she'd put together several gunner vests for commandos; at least now she was making one for herself.
"Do you think Vaaro will be able to get that mask functional? The optic units weren't built to be used like he's proposing."
Holding up her needle, she re-threaded it with a knowing grin. "Vaaro can get anything to work. It might not be what he originally planned or promised, but he's never outright failed. If it takes him a dozen day-cycles, he'll come out of that basement with something."
Darrus gave her a flat expression. "Should I start panicking now?"
Emphatic nod, wide smile. "Oh yeah."
----------
Several hours later, the Rodian woke them both up with the grinding echo of the basement door. Putting on his pants and sliding into a light robe, Darrus met him at the door of the sleeping room. "Yes? Any luck?"
Vaaro's green hand pushed a black and silver mask into his pale ones. "Try it on. It will fit this time. I not do wrong again."
Darrus gave a slight bow at the assurance and turned the metal curve over, placing it against his face and adjusting the back straps. They slipped over his head easily, buckling with one hand into cunningly worked half catches. It was stable, comfortable, and utterly dark.
"I... I can't see." Darrus' voice dropped into a low sigh. "It fits now, but I still can't see." His next sensation was a hard rap over his right cheek. Vaaro had just punched him in the face!
A moment later, the inside of the mask began to glow and the optical systems came online. Through low emission corneal input, Darrus' sight returned. The mask was beaming a full 180 degree field of vision directly into his eyes. The wavelength was slight enough that it caused no pain and the image was brighter than he could normally see without discomfort. Essentially...
"This is better than my old visor, Var." His voice was hushed; Darrus was suitably impressed with the Rodian's work. Again. "Thank you."
"Not any trouble, Darrus Jedi. You had good mask and good parts to work from. I just put them together."
Vaaro was being modest, but he wasn't actually wrong. The mask was a technical marvel, not to mention a total mystery. Found in one of the locked storage containers that came along with the Legacy's parts, the mask was of unknown history and unknown origin. He'd never seen anything like it, though its styling suggested Old Republic era and its material age was estimated at more than three thousand years. Whatever else it was, the mask was old.
"I also paint it for you. Original paint was black and red. Red was flaking off, so I replace. I use dark steel paint, like hematite rock, where red was. Black was easy to replace. Lens in eye slot needed fixing to, so it not red anymore either. I use spare purple crystals you had." Then, almost as an afterthought, the Rodian made an awkward apology. "Hope you not mind."
Darrus was too pleased by the mask to be concerned. The crystals were spares, after all, so if Vaaro had found a use for them, so much the better. "Not at all. You were welcome to any parts you wanted. Thank you for the excellent work."
He followed Vaaro out of the hallway and downstairs to the rest of his new armor. The Rodian seemed excited to see the entire outfit in use and truth be told, so was he.
First came the undersuit, a single piece of black uniweave. According to Maya, the material had been salvaged from Sandtroopers, soldiers of the Empire equipped to deal with the harsh conditions of desert worlds. The bodysuit she'd made from the cloth was light, breathable, and thermally insulating. It fit like another part of his body; she'd done a fine job.
A secondary garment went on over the understocking. This was also black, made of ballistic fabric and covered in connector clasps like the straps of his new mask. A wide gray strip went down both sides of the outer coverall, starting at the underarm and ending in a tapered point just before the foot cuff. A third strip, this one triangular in shape, began at the neck and ended with a similar taper below the belt line.
The plates came next, each piece of armor locking onto corresponding clasps. A reinforced belt brought the suit in at the waist, several pouches and compartments lending a respectable weight to it while providing storage for necessary power cells and other useful items. The whole ensemble took more than five minutes to get into, a lengthy time frame Darrus hoped to reduce with practice.
The last item to put on was a sleeveless long coat that matched the black coverall. The coat honestly served no purpose other than to give him the feeling of still having robes. He'd gotten used to them over his years of Jedi training. Going without them completely just didn't feel right. The hooded coat was a decent compromise.
Hefting his new rifle, Darrus turned to Vaaro and asked, "Well? How do I look?" His voice, modulated and amplified by the mask, sounded louder and deeper than his own. It was completely unrecognizable, a good thing considering how distinctive Jeht's could be.
Vaaro tilted his head, looked him from head to toe, and gave him a serious compliment considering it was coming from a Rodian. "You look... dangerous."
Darrus smiled softly. If he was going to pull off being a bounty hunter and infiltrating the Scarlet Wake, that was exactly how he needed to look. Appearances weren't everything, of course. He would also have to watch his mannerisms, his actions, even his mode of speech. He would have to become someone new. The Jedi known as Darrus Jeht would have to stay here in the Dune Sea for a while. When he left this place, he had to be this other person. This "Wraith", as Maya had dubbed him.
No sooner had he thought of the bartender then her voice echoed out behind him. "Well, boys? How do I look?"
Vaaro and Darrus both turned to look at the woman who'd slipped downstairs while they were otherwise occupied. Standing there before them, Maya was wearing skintight pants, an almost impossibly low-cut silk shirt, a black jacket that matched the long coat Jeht was wearing, and two low slung gun belts with a custom heavy blaster hanging casually off each one. Tall boots with armor plates running all the way up the knees completed the image.
An image who's effect was to leave two males utterly dumbfounded.
Maya grinned wickedly. "That good, huh?"
"I hope I am not offending him," Darrus said quietly once the Rodian was out of earshot. "I just want to be able to see through it properly."
Maya smiled and nodded, her finger guiding a needle and thread through several pieces of black leather. "I wouldn't worry. He just complains. You get used to it after a while." Holding up the partial jacket to examine her handiwork, she added, "If you really want to know when to be worried, start panicking when Vaaro doesn't say anything."
Darrus could appreciate that. His worst moods were also accompanied by total silence. It was a side of him he was trying to grow beyond, to leave in the past where it belonged.
"Oh, Maya. I wanted to thank you for trying to get my glasses repaired. At least the optics still work, even if the lenses are shot."
She nodded again, running a line of ballistic cloth under the top layer of bantha hide. When it was done, this garment would be able to stop a sporting blaster at close range and offer at least passable protection from anything larger. In the Rebellion, she'd put together several gunner vests for commandos; at least now she was making one for herself.
"Do you think Vaaro will be able to get that mask functional? The optic units weren't built to be used like he's proposing."
Holding up her needle, she re-threaded it with a knowing grin. "Vaaro can get anything to work. It might not be what he originally planned or promised, but he's never outright failed. If it takes him a dozen day-cycles, he'll come out of that basement with something."
Darrus gave her a flat expression. "Should I start panicking now?"
Emphatic nod, wide smile. "Oh yeah."
----------
Several hours later, the Rodian woke them both up with the grinding echo of the basement door. Putting on his pants and sliding into a light robe, Darrus met him at the door of the sleeping room. "Yes? Any luck?"
Vaaro's green hand pushed a black and silver mask into his pale ones. "Try it on. It will fit this time. I not do wrong again."
Darrus gave a slight bow at the assurance and turned the metal curve over, placing it against his face and adjusting the back straps. They slipped over his head easily, buckling with one hand into cunningly worked half catches. It was stable, comfortable, and utterly dark.
"I... I can't see." Darrus' voice dropped into a low sigh. "It fits now, but I still can't see." His next sensation was a hard rap over his right cheek. Vaaro had just punched him in the face!
A moment later, the inside of the mask began to glow and the optical systems came online. Through low emission corneal input, Darrus' sight returned. The mask was beaming a full 180 degree field of vision directly into his eyes. The wavelength was slight enough that it caused no pain and the image was brighter than he could normally see without discomfort. Essentially...
"This is better than my old visor, Var." His voice was hushed; Darrus was suitably impressed with the Rodian's work. Again. "Thank you."
"Not any trouble, Darrus Jedi. You had good mask and good parts to work from. I just put them together."
Vaaro was being modest, but he wasn't actually wrong. The mask was a technical marvel, not to mention a total mystery. Found in one of the locked storage containers that came along with the Legacy's parts, the mask was of unknown history and unknown origin. He'd never seen anything like it, though its styling suggested Old Republic era and its material age was estimated at more than three thousand years. Whatever else it was, the mask was old.
"I also paint it for you. Original paint was black and red. Red was flaking off, so I replace. I use dark steel paint, like hematite rock, where red was. Black was easy to replace. Lens in eye slot needed fixing to, so it not red anymore either. I use spare purple crystals you had." Then, almost as an afterthought, the Rodian made an awkward apology. "Hope you not mind."
Darrus was too pleased by the mask to be concerned. The crystals were spares, after all, so if Vaaro had found a use for them, so much the better. "Not at all. You were welcome to any parts you wanted. Thank you for the excellent work."
He followed Vaaro out of the hallway and downstairs to the rest of his new armor. The Rodian seemed excited to see the entire outfit in use and truth be told, so was he.
First came the undersuit, a single piece of black uniweave. According to Maya, the material had been salvaged from Sandtroopers, soldiers of the Empire equipped to deal with the harsh conditions of desert worlds. The bodysuit she'd made from the cloth was light, breathable, and thermally insulating. It fit like another part of his body; she'd done a fine job.
A secondary garment went on over the understocking. This was also black, made of ballistic fabric and covered in connector clasps like the straps of his new mask. A wide gray strip went down both sides of the outer coverall, starting at the underarm and ending in a tapered point just before the foot cuff. A third strip, this one triangular in shape, began at the neck and ended with a similar taper below the belt line.
The plates came next, each piece of armor locking onto corresponding clasps. A reinforced belt brought the suit in at the waist, several pouches and compartments lending a respectable weight to it while providing storage for necessary power cells and other useful items. The whole ensemble took more than five minutes to get into, a lengthy time frame Darrus hoped to reduce with practice.
The last item to put on was a sleeveless long coat that matched the black coverall. The coat honestly served no purpose other than to give him the feeling of still having robes. He'd gotten used to them over his years of Jedi training. Going without them completely just didn't feel right. The hooded coat was a decent compromise.
Hefting his new rifle, Darrus turned to Vaaro and asked, "Well? How do I look?" His voice, modulated and amplified by the mask, sounded louder and deeper than his own. It was completely unrecognizable, a good thing considering how distinctive Jeht's could be.
Vaaro tilted his head, looked him from head to toe, and gave him a serious compliment considering it was coming from a Rodian. "You look... dangerous."
Darrus smiled softly. If he was going to pull off being a bounty hunter and infiltrating the Scarlet Wake, that was exactly how he needed to look. Appearances weren't everything, of course. He would also have to watch his mannerisms, his actions, even his mode of speech. He would have to become someone new. The Jedi known as Darrus Jeht would have to stay here in the Dune Sea for a while. When he left this place, he had to be this other person. This "Wraith", as Maya had dubbed him.
No sooner had he thought of the bartender then her voice echoed out behind him. "Well, boys? How do I look?"
Vaaro and Darrus both turned to look at the woman who'd slipped downstairs while they were otherwise occupied. Standing there before them, Maya was wearing skintight pants, an almost impossibly low-cut silk shirt, a black jacket that matched the long coat Jeht was wearing, and two low slung gun belts with a custom heavy blaster hanging casually off each one. Tall boots with armor plates running all the way up the knees completed the image.
An image who's effect was to leave two males utterly dumbfounded.
Maya grinned wickedly. "That good, huh?"
Monday, January 15, 2007
Disintegration
"Fragasath!"
Darrus was not sure what that meant in Rodese, but he had a suspicion it was very, very rude. Offering an apologetic look to Maya for interrupting their Sabacc game, he hurried downstairs to see what the crazy green man was cussing about this time. From the soft footsteps behind him, he could tell Maya was not content to just wait for his return.
They both came upon the same scene; Vaaro was beating on an old, white half-plate of face armor with an unlit cutting torch. "Una chooto varash kana!"
That was Huttese, something he did speak. After a fleeting blush at the biological implications of Vaaro's words, he cleared his throat. "What is it? What's wrong?" Though his voice was no louder than it used to be, it was no longer a rasping pain in his throat when he spoke. Grateful for that, and grateful to this place for helping him through so many problems, he waited for Vaaro to hear him... and for Vaaro to stop beating on the defenseless plasteel visor.
Neither happened very quickly. It was Maya shouting, "Var! Get back in orbit!" that snapped him out of his inanimate-object killing spree. As sheepishly as a Rodian could be, he looked up from the pile of shattered debris and set down his tools.
"Sorry for that. Mask is broken. I can no fix it but maybe can salvage optics. Maybe."
Jeht looked at the wreckage. "Was it broken before or after you blaster whipped it?" Behind him, Maya chuckled slightly, then covered her mouth in a vain attempt to not embarrass her long time partner and friend.
From the wan look on Vaaro's face, it was far too late to avoid that. "It was already broken. I just make it worser. Visor had big crack on front and mounting straps all dry rotted. Visor no good before I get here."
Maya nodded, but Jeht did not respond. He was looking past Vaaro at another work bench altogether. The Rodian had moved several small tables into the basement so he could work in privacy, something Darrus had not objected to at the time. This place felt a bit like home now; he no longer felt like an intruder here. A little extra furniture was not a concern.
But what he saw past Vaaro's work-suited should very much was. "What have you done?!" Rushing past the surprised Rodian, he reached the object of his focus, a half-disassembled cylinder with a string of wires exposed on its back end. Reaching to his belt in disbelief, he was stunned to find that in fact, his lightsaber was no longer there.
Maya cut Vaaro a sharp look, one that grew even sharper when the Rodian shrugged and said, "What? He was asleep."
Darrus spun, his eyes darker than usual. "Explain this. Now."
Vaaro raised both hands and took a step back. "Be calm with yourself, Jedi. I not do anything permanent to it." He gestured to a third table, one with something covered by a length of tan fabric. "You ask that I help you hide what you are. I doing that." Then, in a softer, once again sheepish voice, "That and... I always wanted to try something. I think it will work."
Darrus closed his eyes, centering as best he could. It was just a weapon. It wasn't worth hurting a friend over. This could be fixed. Killing Vaaro couldn't be.
"You have five minutes to finish your work on it. Understood?" He was as calm as he could be; Maya could feel the turbulent emotions he was suppressing. She was used to Vaaro's total lack of respect for personal space and privacy. Jeht wasn't, and if her friend didn't do as he was being told, the Jedi's sense of outrage could get wildly out of control.
Crossing the room, she laid a hand on Darrus' shoulder. "Come on. If he's only got five minutes, let's give them to him in peace. We have a game to finish, Tuursh." Tuursh was the Tusken word for a violent, avenging spirit, a wraith. It seemed to fit the brooding man well and besides, he really wasn't the kind one could call Honey or Dear with a straight face. He wasn't the sweet pet name sort, no matter how gentle he could be sometimes.
Nodding, he followed Maya up the stairs, pausing to look back at Vaaro with a withering gaze. It finally seemed to sink into the Rodian's brain that perhaps he had erred. Before they were even fully out of the room, he was feverishly moving around the sundered saber.
Four minutes and forty three seconds into their next round of Sabacc, the door to the basement opened again and Vaaro came out holding a blaster rifle. It was one of the old style combat models used exclusively by Clone Troopers - a DC-15. Aside from some scuffing along the forward vent and around the gas receptacle, it looked brand new. After a split second to determine that Vaaro wasn't holding it with intent to fire, Darrus stood up and glowered.
"That is not my lightsaber."
Vaaro nodded. "Come with me to outside." Without waiting for an answer, the Rodian stepped out of the villa and into the trackless sands beyond. Maya nudged Darrus with her chin and followed.
"Come on. I know he's a bastard sometimes but he always means well. I am sure if he's done something to your poor saber downstairs, you'll be able to fix it."
Unsure about that but with no other course open to him aside from brutal homicide, he walked with her outside, squinting from the harsh glare of the noonday sky. Darrus had trouble with one sun; two was like a kind of torture.
By the time his eyes adjusted to offer him a least a little vision, Maya had already done as Vaaro was instructing. Three old cantina bottles were sitting on metal drums in the distance. They were both standing by the Starwing, Jeht's rebuilt ARC-170, at its back cargo ramp was open. Not that Jeht was willing to admit it, but he hadn't even known the ship had a back cargo compartment until Vaaro mentioned it a few days ago.
The Rodian was standing beside Maya; both of them were armed with DC-15 rifles now. Hers was in perfect condition as far as Jeht could tell. Vaaro was pointing down towards the bottles and telling her something. His senses still screaming from the bright light, Darrus concentrated on them, trying to get himself under control.
".....one. Just shoot the one on the left." A long, emerald finger pointed to the bottle he wanted Maya to take out. As Darrus watched, the lovely ex-field doctor shouldered the unfamilar weapon like a professional soldier and fired after only a moment's aim. The blast was perfect, lancing over the sand in a bright blue bolt before shattering the bottle into a hundred molten shards.
Darrus was impressed. "Nice shot, Maya." His sight was getting better and with it, the rest of his senses were relaxing. He could hear now and he no longer felt the slight vertigo that always came with getting light blinded. He no longer had his special glasses and without them, he was at a serious disadvantage on a bright planet like Tatooine.
The medic blushed. "Thank you," she murmured and set the rifle stock-end down beside her. Vaaro nodded his agreement with the compliment and shouldered his weapon next. Though Maya had been surprisingly adept at using the DC-15, Vaaro was an obvious expert. He had the right stance, the right grip, and his firing form was perfect. Maya had received some very solid training but her partner was a true soldier. At least, he used to be.
"Are you watching, Jedi?"
Darrus nodded, then whispered, "Yes, Vaaro. I am right here, but I want to know what happened to my..."
His words were cut off by the Rodian taking his shot. The end of the rifle flared and fired, a beam of raw, violet energy streaking out and slicing through the bottle's center like a purple scalpel. Vaaro held down the trigger and as he did, the beam continued to pulse. Shifting the weapon from side to side, he cut the bottle in half without damaging anything else around it. All that remained at the target site was an intact bottle on the middle barrel and a neatly severed bottom half of one on the cylinder to the right. The top fell, shattered, and rained down amber glass into the sand.
"What?" Both Darrus and Maya said the same thing at the same time. Vaaro grinned at them both and tapped the front end of the DC-15.
"Lightsaber is in here. I mount it into rifle, add new focus to end of barrel and run bypass from its core to the gun's systems. See what happen now on full power." Before they could respond, he slid a bar on the side of the rifle's housing all the way forward and fired again.
The barrel of the DC-15 looked for a moment like a flamethrower, venting violet in a meter wide tapering cone. The blast coalesced into a wide path past the purple burst, roaring forward to envelope the entire upper end of the middle barrel. When it faded, there was nothing left. A glowing mass of slag and vapor marked where the beam had been.
"By the Core!" Darrus was stunned, as was Maya. Vaaro, on the other hand, just looked inordinately pleased with himself. Reaching up to touch the barrel of the gun, he grimaced as a hissing sound and a stinging pain told him what he'd suspected would happen. The rifle's venting was not capable of handling that much power. The gun's entire front half was nearly white-hot. If it was fired again like this, it would surely be ruined and could potentially explode.
He shrugged. That wasn't really his problem, though, since it wasn't his weapon. He let the rifle cool off while Maya and the Jedi gaped at him. By the time they were ready to talk, he was ready to show them the part that would probably keep Darrus from beating him into Bantha paste. Probably.
"See, Jedi. Here is best part for you." Vaaro opened a pair of catches on the underside of the still uncomfortable warm front barrel and slid open its underside. Within, the firing chamber had been replaced with Darrus' lightsaber. There was a small ring of additional metal on the back end of it where the saber touched the rest of the rifle's plasma coils but it was otherwise intact. "It comes out with just one twist. See?"
Vaaro reached inside, pleasantly surprised to feel the lightsaber's cool surface. The gun was broiling but the saber was fine. He'd been counting on that. Turning it left to unlock it from the barrel, the Rodian pulled out the lightsaber and handed it to Darrus. "All safe and sound and deadly as new, like angry Rancor baby."
Darrus took it, still staring with growing amazement at the rifle. He lifted his lightsaber up and touched the activation plate. In truth, he didn't need to do that; he'd installed a mind circuit in the weapon that allowed him to fire it up with just a thought and the Force. Regardless, his manual switch didn't do anything. The saber wouldn't turn on.
He tried the mind circuit. Nothing.
All admiration for the rifle disappeared as the glower came back. "Vaaro!"
The Rodian held up his hands again. "Be one with calm, Jedi. Is just a dead power cell. Using full blast on rifle drains cell in both gun and saber. I was expecting this." He held up a new cell for the lightsaber and Darrus took it swiftly. It was in the saber.
Now it lit up beautifully. The violet blade hissed to life, thrumming with power. Jeht felt instantly better, gazing into its depths as he let his hostility go. It had been unfounded. Vaaro hadn't meant any harm. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get like this anymore. If it was this easy to get furious at a friend, how could he ever hope to avoid the Dark Side when he confronted the Scarlet Wake?
Darrus breathed easier and as his mind calmed, Maya felt comfortable enough to put her hand on his shoulder and kiss his cheek. Turning her head to Vaaro, she smiled. "It's wonderful, Var. Really amazing."
The Rodian nodded, picking up the rifle Maya had been using and handing it back to her. "Of course it is. The VPG-1 will serve Darrus Jedi well, yes?"
Jeht nodded. The least the Rodian deserved was a little gratitude. "It will. Thank you." He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect the Rodian seemed to appreciate. "But the name? I assume V stands for Vaaro, yes?"
"Yes."
"But what do P and G stand for?"
Vaaro's snout widened in an adorably arrogant grin. "Pure Genius."
Darrus was not sure what that meant in Rodese, but he had a suspicion it was very, very rude. Offering an apologetic look to Maya for interrupting their Sabacc game, he hurried downstairs to see what the crazy green man was cussing about this time. From the soft footsteps behind him, he could tell Maya was not content to just wait for his return.
They both came upon the same scene; Vaaro was beating on an old, white half-plate of face armor with an unlit cutting torch. "Una chooto varash kana!"
That was Huttese, something he did speak. After a fleeting blush at the biological implications of Vaaro's words, he cleared his throat. "What is it? What's wrong?" Though his voice was no louder than it used to be, it was no longer a rasping pain in his throat when he spoke. Grateful for that, and grateful to this place for helping him through so many problems, he waited for Vaaro to hear him... and for Vaaro to stop beating on the defenseless plasteel visor.
Neither happened very quickly. It was Maya shouting, "Var! Get back in orbit!" that snapped him out of his inanimate-object killing spree. As sheepishly as a Rodian could be, he looked up from the pile of shattered debris and set down his tools.
"Sorry for that. Mask is broken. I can no fix it but maybe can salvage optics. Maybe."
Jeht looked at the wreckage. "Was it broken before or after you blaster whipped it?" Behind him, Maya chuckled slightly, then covered her mouth in a vain attempt to not embarrass her long time partner and friend.
From the wan look on Vaaro's face, it was far too late to avoid that. "It was already broken. I just make it worser. Visor had big crack on front and mounting straps all dry rotted. Visor no good before I get here."
Maya nodded, but Jeht did not respond. He was looking past Vaaro at another work bench altogether. The Rodian had moved several small tables into the basement so he could work in privacy, something Darrus had not objected to at the time. This place felt a bit like home now; he no longer felt like an intruder here. A little extra furniture was not a concern.
But what he saw past Vaaro's work-suited should very much was. "What have you done?!" Rushing past the surprised Rodian, he reached the object of his focus, a half-disassembled cylinder with a string of wires exposed on its back end. Reaching to his belt in disbelief, he was stunned to find that in fact, his lightsaber was no longer there.
Maya cut Vaaro a sharp look, one that grew even sharper when the Rodian shrugged and said, "What? He was asleep."
Darrus spun, his eyes darker than usual. "Explain this. Now."
Vaaro raised both hands and took a step back. "Be calm with yourself, Jedi. I not do anything permanent to it." He gestured to a third table, one with something covered by a length of tan fabric. "You ask that I help you hide what you are. I doing that." Then, in a softer, once again sheepish voice, "That and... I always wanted to try something. I think it will work."
Darrus closed his eyes, centering as best he could. It was just a weapon. It wasn't worth hurting a friend over. This could be fixed. Killing Vaaro couldn't be.
"You have five minutes to finish your work on it. Understood?" He was as calm as he could be; Maya could feel the turbulent emotions he was suppressing. She was used to Vaaro's total lack of respect for personal space and privacy. Jeht wasn't, and if her friend didn't do as he was being told, the Jedi's sense of outrage could get wildly out of control.
Crossing the room, she laid a hand on Darrus' shoulder. "Come on. If he's only got five minutes, let's give them to him in peace. We have a game to finish, Tuursh." Tuursh was the Tusken word for a violent, avenging spirit, a wraith. It seemed to fit the brooding man well and besides, he really wasn't the kind one could call Honey or Dear with a straight face. He wasn't the sweet pet name sort, no matter how gentle he could be sometimes.
Nodding, he followed Maya up the stairs, pausing to look back at Vaaro with a withering gaze. It finally seemed to sink into the Rodian's brain that perhaps he had erred. Before they were even fully out of the room, he was feverishly moving around the sundered saber.
Four minutes and forty three seconds into their next round of Sabacc, the door to the basement opened again and Vaaro came out holding a blaster rifle. It was one of the old style combat models used exclusively by Clone Troopers - a DC-15. Aside from some scuffing along the forward vent and around the gas receptacle, it looked brand new. After a split second to determine that Vaaro wasn't holding it with intent to fire, Darrus stood up and glowered.
"That is not my lightsaber."
Vaaro nodded. "Come with me to outside." Without waiting for an answer, the Rodian stepped out of the villa and into the trackless sands beyond. Maya nudged Darrus with her chin and followed.
"Come on. I know he's a bastard sometimes but he always means well. I am sure if he's done something to your poor saber downstairs, you'll be able to fix it."
Unsure about that but with no other course open to him aside from brutal homicide, he walked with her outside, squinting from the harsh glare of the noonday sky. Darrus had trouble with one sun; two was like a kind of torture.
By the time his eyes adjusted to offer him a least a little vision, Maya had already done as Vaaro was instructing. Three old cantina bottles were sitting on metal drums in the distance. They were both standing by the Starwing, Jeht's rebuilt ARC-170, at its back cargo ramp was open. Not that Jeht was willing to admit it, but he hadn't even known the ship had a back cargo compartment until Vaaro mentioned it a few days ago.
The Rodian was standing beside Maya; both of them were armed with DC-15 rifles now. Hers was in perfect condition as far as Jeht could tell. Vaaro was pointing down towards the bottles and telling her something. His senses still screaming from the bright light, Darrus concentrated on them, trying to get himself under control.
".....one. Just shoot the one on the left." A long, emerald finger pointed to the bottle he wanted Maya to take out. As Darrus watched, the lovely ex-field doctor shouldered the unfamilar weapon like a professional soldier and fired after only a moment's aim. The blast was perfect, lancing over the sand in a bright blue bolt before shattering the bottle into a hundred molten shards.
Darrus was impressed. "Nice shot, Maya." His sight was getting better and with it, the rest of his senses were relaxing. He could hear now and he no longer felt the slight vertigo that always came with getting light blinded. He no longer had his special glasses and without them, he was at a serious disadvantage on a bright planet like Tatooine.
The medic blushed. "Thank you," she murmured and set the rifle stock-end down beside her. Vaaro nodded his agreement with the compliment and shouldered his weapon next. Though Maya had been surprisingly adept at using the DC-15, Vaaro was an obvious expert. He had the right stance, the right grip, and his firing form was perfect. Maya had received some very solid training but her partner was a true soldier. At least, he used to be.
"Are you watching, Jedi?"
Darrus nodded, then whispered, "Yes, Vaaro. I am right here, but I want to know what happened to my..."
His words were cut off by the Rodian taking his shot. The end of the rifle flared and fired, a beam of raw, violet energy streaking out and slicing through the bottle's center like a purple scalpel. Vaaro held down the trigger and as he did, the beam continued to pulse. Shifting the weapon from side to side, he cut the bottle in half without damaging anything else around it. All that remained at the target site was an intact bottle on the middle barrel and a neatly severed bottom half of one on the cylinder to the right. The top fell, shattered, and rained down amber glass into the sand.
"What?" Both Darrus and Maya said the same thing at the same time. Vaaro grinned at them both and tapped the front end of the DC-15.
"Lightsaber is in here. I mount it into rifle, add new focus to end of barrel and run bypass from its core to the gun's systems. See what happen now on full power." Before they could respond, he slid a bar on the side of the rifle's housing all the way forward and fired again.
The barrel of the DC-15 looked for a moment like a flamethrower, venting violet in a meter wide tapering cone. The blast coalesced into a wide path past the purple burst, roaring forward to envelope the entire upper end of the middle barrel. When it faded, there was nothing left. A glowing mass of slag and vapor marked where the beam had been.
"By the Core!" Darrus was stunned, as was Maya. Vaaro, on the other hand, just looked inordinately pleased with himself. Reaching up to touch the barrel of the gun, he grimaced as a hissing sound and a stinging pain told him what he'd suspected would happen. The rifle's venting was not capable of handling that much power. The gun's entire front half was nearly white-hot. If it was fired again like this, it would surely be ruined and could potentially explode.
He shrugged. That wasn't really his problem, though, since it wasn't his weapon. He let the rifle cool off while Maya and the Jedi gaped at him. By the time they were ready to talk, he was ready to show them the part that would probably keep Darrus from beating him into Bantha paste. Probably.
"See, Jedi. Here is best part for you." Vaaro opened a pair of catches on the underside of the still uncomfortable warm front barrel and slid open its underside. Within, the firing chamber had been replaced with Darrus' lightsaber. There was a small ring of additional metal on the back end of it where the saber touched the rest of the rifle's plasma coils but it was otherwise intact. "It comes out with just one twist. See?"
Vaaro reached inside, pleasantly surprised to feel the lightsaber's cool surface. The gun was broiling but the saber was fine. He'd been counting on that. Turning it left to unlock it from the barrel, the Rodian pulled out the lightsaber and handed it to Darrus. "All safe and sound and deadly as new, like angry Rancor baby."
Darrus took it, still staring with growing amazement at the rifle. He lifted his lightsaber up and touched the activation plate. In truth, he didn't need to do that; he'd installed a mind circuit in the weapon that allowed him to fire it up with just a thought and the Force. Regardless, his manual switch didn't do anything. The saber wouldn't turn on.
He tried the mind circuit. Nothing.
All admiration for the rifle disappeared as the glower came back. "Vaaro!"
The Rodian held up his hands again. "Be one with calm, Jedi. Is just a dead power cell. Using full blast on rifle drains cell in both gun and saber. I was expecting this." He held up a new cell for the lightsaber and Darrus took it swiftly. It was in the saber.
Now it lit up beautifully. The violet blade hissed to life, thrumming with power. Jeht felt instantly better, gazing into its depths as he let his hostility go. It had been unfounded. Vaaro hadn't meant any harm. He couldn't afford to let his emotions get like this anymore. If it was this easy to get furious at a friend, how could he ever hope to avoid the Dark Side when he confronted the Scarlet Wake?
Darrus breathed easier and as his mind calmed, Maya felt comfortable enough to put her hand on his shoulder and kiss his cheek. Turning her head to Vaaro, she smiled. "It's wonderful, Var. Really amazing."
The Rodian nodded, picking up the rifle Maya had been using and handing it back to her. "Of course it is. The VPG-1 will serve Darrus Jedi well, yes?"
Jeht nodded. The least the Rodian deserved was a little gratitude. "It will. Thank you." He bowed slightly, a gesture of respect the Rodian seemed to appreciate. "But the name? I assume V stands for Vaaro, yes?"
"Yes."
"But what do P and G stand for?"
Vaaro's snout widened in an adorably arrogant grin. "Pure Genius."
Thursday, January 11, 2007
<--- Minor Edit --->
Just to let you all know, Jeht's sheet has been edited to add the missing Knowledge ranks in Jedi Lore. Damn I hate getting caught. :)
-A
-A
<--- Rules Update: Darrus Jeht's Character Sheet -->
Here is Darrus Jeht, Jedi Master in .gif format.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Changing Roles
"Where you thinking you are going?"
Vaaro's Basic wasn't very good, but his words were clear enough. Darrus had been hoping everyone was asleep. It was nearly noon; the sky was blisteringly bright and both the Rodian and Maya were typically as unconscious as he usually was at this time of day. He turned to look into the accusing, large black eyes of the determined, small green man.
"I can't put you all at risk for what I need to do alone."
Vaaro nodded. "I will no go. They would no like me in any case and I no like being shot. But you no leave Maya." His arms were crossed, long fingers set against his biceps in a determined pose. This was one ex-commando in no mood to be denied.
Still, Jeht had to try. Pulling his desert robe around him tighter, he looked down and his tone, already a whisper, softened even more. "I don't want Maya getting hurt. These people..."
The Rodian scoffed. "These people mean nothing to her. You go without her, you hurt her worse than they ever could." Then he drew his blaster and pointed it at Darrus, something that made the Jedi's eyes widen. "And if you hurt her, I hurt you. You are understanding?"
Darrus leaned against the door frame. He could have his lightsaber off his belt and ignited before the green-skinned gunner could pull the trigger. But this wasn't really an attack. It wasn't even a threat. It was a statement. There was no hostility here. Only fact. And the fact was something Darrus couldn't deny.
"She's very sweet, Vaaro, but these aren't the kind of people you can be sweet with. I don't think she can handle what might happen once I get involved with the Scarlet Wake."
Vaaro did not lower his gun. "Then you no have any idea who she is. You know nothing, dark eyes. She handle herself better than you think. You should give more credit to her." The Rodian snorted, something Darrus wasn't aware that race could even do. "She was soldier like me. She knows these people. She will not go wrong."
Darrus closed his eyes. Vaaro was right; he wasn't giving her enough credit. He didn't know how well she'd do under pressure. It was wrong of him to assume that because she wasn't a Jedi or one of his men, she couldn't take care of herself. "I'm sorry, Vaaro. You are right."
"Damn right I am right." Then, as Darrus started to chuckle at the response, "But you going to get Maya killed. And you too."
He blinked. "What? What do you mean?"
Vaaro walked over, finally putting his blaster away, and pointed to Jeht's belt. "Your weapon; it make you look Jedi. Many people have long memory; you look Jedi and you will get killed. She will get killed too and then I will have to come kill you again."
Darrus sighed again; was he really as naive as Vaaro made him sound? Perhaps what Millinae had said so many years ago was actually true. Perhaps there really was no subtlety in his soul.
Still, he was not going to part with his lightsaber. "I could hide it, but I won't give it up. It's a part of me now."
Vaaro nodded and tapped his blaster again. "I know feeling." He looked around the room, his eyes settling on the passage leading down into the secret room. It was closed now but the Rodian commando obviously knew it was there. "I also have idea."
From the way Vaaro rifled through the storage shelves after taking Darrus down into the hidden basement, he'd obviously been down there at least once. While Darrus had been outside practicing, the Rodian had apparently been down here casing the place. Any other time, Jeht might have been upset about such a thing. Right now, he was just grateful for the help.
Vaaro found what he was looking for - a long, deep metal box with a locking lid. With two small tools, the Rodian popped its catch in less than a minute. "Old Republic lock. Military grade. Too easy."
Inside, Darrus could see something very familiar, something he;d never expected to see again. "That's battle armor. Jedi battle armor."
Vaaro nodded and starting pulling pieces of it out. "This is not so known. I found yesterday, but it no fit me. I think it fit you good. You can no be Jedi right now, but I think we can make you something better. Something that no get you or Maya killed for being stupid."
Darrus narrowed his eyes, but the insult fit. He was being stupid. If he was going to survive in this world after the Clone Wars, after the fall of the Jedi, he needed to get a lot smarter. Gone were the days when he could wear his robes and his title proudly. This was a different time, a different galaxy altogether. One he didn't quite know his place in yet...
"We will have to get you papers done, but I already start that. You should already be able to sign up and get your number."
Now he was confused again. As they'd been talking, Vaaro had taken the box outside and he'd followed. The never-still Rodian was already laying out a paint cloth and arranging armor pieces on it. The spray atomizer was charging and a fresh can of black pearl paint had been loaded. It was the same color that Vaaro had used on his ARC-170; the paint looked like a metallic night's sky. Beautiful to be sure, but this was all going by too quickly.
"Wait, what? What number? What are you saying I need to become?"
Vaaro looked at him flatly. "You fight. You fight good, you fly good, and you think okay when you are not being so dumb."
Darrus thought he saw where this was headed. "Oh no. I am not going to enlist. I do not want to be a soldier again. No more wars for me; one was enough."
Vaaro laughed, a very disconcerting sound from a Rodian. "Soldier?!? Bah."
"Then what?"
"Bounty hunter!"
The look on Jeht's face made Vaaro laugh even harder....
Vaaro's Basic wasn't very good, but his words were clear enough. Darrus had been hoping everyone was asleep. It was nearly noon; the sky was blisteringly bright and both the Rodian and Maya were typically as unconscious as he usually was at this time of day. He turned to look into the accusing, large black eyes of the determined, small green man.
"I can't put you all at risk for what I need to do alone."
Vaaro nodded. "I will no go. They would no like me in any case and I no like being shot. But you no leave Maya." His arms were crossed, long fingers set against his biceps in a determined pose. This was one ex-commando in no mood to be denied.
Still, Jeht had to try. Pulling his desert robe around him tighter, he looked down and his tone, already a whisper, softened even more. "I don't want Maya getting hurt. These people..."
The Rodian scoffed. "These people mean nothing to her. You go without her, you hurt her worse than they ever could." Then he drew his blaster and pointed it at Darrus, something that made the Jedi's eyes widen. "And if you hurt her, I hurt you. You are understanding?"
Darrus leaned against the door frame. He could have his lightsaber off his belt and ignited before the green-skinned gunner could pull the trigger. But this wasn't really an attack. It wasn't even a threat. It was a statement. There was no hostility here. Only fact. And the fact was something Darrus couldn't deny.
"She's very sweet, Vaaro, but these aren't the kind of people you can be sweet with. I don't think she can handle what might happen once I get involved with the Scarlet Wake."
Vaaro did not lower his gun. "Then you no have any idea who she is. You know nothing, dark eyes. She handle herself better than you think. You should give more credit to her." The Rodian snorted, something Darrus wasn't aware that race could even do. "She was soldier like me. She knows these people. She will not go wrong."
Darrus closed his eyes. Vaaro was right; he wasn't giving her enough credit. He didn't know how well she'd do under pressure. It was wrong of him to assume that because she wasn't a Jedi or one of his men, she couldn't take care of herself. "I'm sorry, Vaaro. You are right."
"Damn right I am right." Then, as Darrus started to chuckle at the response, "But you going to get Maya killed. And you too."
He blinked. "What? What do you mean?"
Vaaro walked over, finally putting his blaster away, and pointed to Jeht's belt. "Your weapon; it make you look Jedi. Many people have long memory; you look Jedi and you will get killed. She will get killed too and then I will have to come kill you again."
Darrus sighed again; was he really as naive as Vaaro made him sound? Perhaps what Millinae had said so many years ago was actually true. Perhaps there really was no subtlety in his soul.
Still, he was not going to part with his lightsaber. "I could hide it, but I won't give it up. It's a part of me now."
Vaaro nodded and tapped his blaster again. "I know feeling." He looked around the room, his eyes settling on the passage leading down into the secret room. It was closed now but the Rodian commando obviously knew it was there. "I also have idea."
From the way Vaaro rifled through the storage shelves after taking Darrus down into the hidden basement, he'd obviously been down there at least once. While Darrus had been outside practicing, the Rodian had apparently been down here casing the place. Any other time, Jeht might have been upset about such a thing. Right now, he was just grateful for the help.
Vaaro found what he was looking for - a long, deep metal box with a locking lid. With two small tools, the Rodian popped its catch in less than a minute. "Old Republic lock. Military grade. Too easy."
Inside, Darrus could see something very familiar, something he;d never expected to see again. "That's battle armor. Jedi battle armor."
Vaaro nodded and starting pulling pieces of it out. "This is not so known. I found yesterday, but it no fit me. I think it fit you good. You can no be Jedi right now, but I think we can make you something better. Something that no get you or Maya killed for being stupid."
Darrus narrowed his eyes, but the insult fit. He was being stupid. If he was going to survive in this world after the Clone Wars, after the fall of the Jedi, he needed to get a lot smarter. Gone were the days when he could wear his robes and his title proudly. This was a different time, a different galaxy altogether. One he didn't quite know his place in yet...
"We will have to get you papers done, but I already start that. You should already be able to sign up and get your number."
Now he was confused again. As they'd been talking, Vaaro had taken the box outside and he'd followed. The never-still Rodian was already laying out a paint cloth and arranging armor pieces on it. The spray atomizer was charging and a fresh can of black pearl paint had been loaded. It was the same color that Vaaro had used on his ARC-170; the paint looked like a metallic night's sky. Beautiful to be sure, but this was all going by too quickly.
"Wait, what? What number? What are you saying I need to become?"
Vaaro looked at him flatly. "You fight. You fight good, you fly good, and you think okay when you are not being so dumb."
Darrus thought he saw where this was headed. "Oh no. I am not going to enlist. I do not want to be a soldier again. No more wars for me; one was enough."
Vaaro laughed, a very disconcerting sound from a Rodian. "Soldier?!? Bah."
"Then what?"
"Bounty hunter!"
The look on Jeht's face made Vaaro laugh even harder....
Friday, January 05, 2007
Red Awakenings
The small box was wrapped in a piece of old, crimson cloth. "What is it?"
Maya shrugged and sipped at her broth. "I have no idea. It was given to one of my girls while I was out here doctoring you."
Jeht nodded solemnly and examined it again without picking it up. There wasn't a lot of trust in him after his experiences and mysterious gifts sent him straight into extreme caution. "And you are sure it's supposed to be for me."
"That's what she said. One of our regulars gave it to her." A long noodle disappeared between her lips. Darrus tried to ignore how sensual that looked.
"Did she say anything else?"
A quick nod as Maya went back into her bowl with a spoon. "Actually, yes. She mentioned it was someone she's seen a lot since the bar reopened and that she thinks he can be trusted. Good guy, apparently."
Darrus narrows his devoid eyes and lifted the box, feeling its weight and being surprised at how heavy it was for such a tiny package. "Appearances can be deceiving."
That brought a chuckle from the former Rebel Officer turned barkeep. "I've noticed, Jedi."
Darrus hid most of his reaction to the gentle jibe but couldn't suppress a slight smile. "Point taken, but I've seen explosives smaller than this. The weight suggests a heavy compound, perhaps blastique or XJ-10."
"You know, Darrus," another noodle disappeared down her throat. "not everything on Tatooine is a trap. Would the Imperials still left here really try to kill you with a mini-bomb?"
He sighed. "Perhaps not. One way to find out, though." He reached on top of the box and pulled the cord tying it shut. The moment he did, Vaaro dove behind the old hut's nearest wall, covering his head with both hands. Darrus' smile grew wider.
Then he opened the parcel. The cloth, probably once part of a quality garment before it was cut to wrap the small box inside, fell away like flower petals. The container itself was metal and highly polished, reflecting Basic letters written on the underside of the fabric. Darrus pulled it off the box completely and read the note out loud.
"We could use a man like you. This will get you in to see us if you want to join up. -the man you saved."
Looking more than a little confused, Darrus cracked open the box, angling it away from the others just in case, his powers primed to try and absorb any blast that might occur. Explosions were the hardest form of energy to mitigate with the Force but no one was going to die again because of him. Not if he could help it.
The small container opened without incident. He looked inside and his confusion increased. "What the Kessel is this?" Showing the box to Maya and Vaaro, who was now bravely peeking out from between his long green fingers, he was dismayed to see the look on her face. "What?"
Maya reached over, took the box, and Reached back to toss it into the night furnace. Darrus caught her hand before she could. "Maya, what is it? What does it mean?"
She glared at him for a moment, then caught her temper and dropped the box. "I'm sorry. I forget that you aren't a local sometimes." As she sat down in the nearest chair, Darrus knelt and took the box back.
"It's all right, but what's so upsetting about a ring?" He opened it again and drew forth the item of contention. A steel band with a wide setting of red crystal, the finger cuff had a strange symbol engraved on the gem. "And who did I save?"
Quietly, Maya relayed the whole story of the bar fight with the Trandoshans to him. This was actually the second time she'd talked about this with Darrus, but he'd been very weak and out of sorts before. She wasn't surprised he didn't remember it.
"And that's one of their rings, Darrus. You saved a member of the Scarlet Wake and now they want to 'thank' you by letting you into their murdering little club." She took his wrist with an imploring look in her eyes. "Please, throw that thing into the sand. It's nothing but trouble. People are getting killed for wearing it. Killed, or doing the killing."
Darrus tilted his head down and kissed the backs of her fingers, a gesture Vaaro would have raised an eyebrow over if he had any.
"Won't the authorities do anything about this?"
Maya almost spat on the floor. "Authorities? The crime lords have their own affairs, the locals are either supporting the Wake or too afraid of them to do anything, and the Imperials won't lift a black-gloved finger to help because most of the victims are only aliens."
"What about this so-called Rebellion? They won, right? When will they get involved?"
She shook her head, surprised again that someone like Darrus could be so naive when it came to politics. "They are half a galaxy away and still fighting the retreating Imperials on a daily basis. It'll be a long time before their New Republic makes a dent of difference out here."
Darrus looked back at her, slowly understanding the extent of the problem. This place literally had no law. People did what they liked if they could enforce it or lived in the shadow of others who could. In an environment like this, the Scarlet Wake could go unchecked for years. Already had, apparently.
"So no one's going to try and stop them?"
She shook her head, pushing away what was left of her soup. "No one."
He nodded, pocketing the ring, and pulled her into a tight hug. "I didn't mean to spoil your appetite. Want to go for a walk?"
She nodded eagerly, standing up even as Vaaro was stealthing towards the rest of her meal. "I'd love it. Thank you, Darrus. I couldn't stand the thought of you having anything to do with the likes of them."
Jeht just nodded, said nothing, and headed out into the sands to think...
Maya shrugged and sipped at her broth. "I have no idea. It was given to one of my girls while I was out here doctoring you."
Jeht nodded solemnly and examined it again without picking it up. There wasn't a lot of trust in him after his experiences and mysterious gifts sent him straight into extreme caution. "And you are sure it's supposed to be for me."
"That's what she said. One of our regulars gave it to her." A long noodle disappeared between her lips. Darrus tried to ignore how sensual that looked.
"Did she say anything else?"
A quick nod as Maya went back into her bowl with a spoon. "Actually, yes. She mentioned it was someone she's seen a lot since the bar reopened and that she thinks he can be trusted. Good guy, apparently."
Darrus narrows his devoid eyes and lifted the box, feeling its weight and being surprised at how heavy it was for such a tiny package. "Appearances can be deceiving."
That brought a chuckle from the former Rebel Officer turned barkeep. "I've noticed, Jedi."
Darrus hid most of his reaction to the gentle jibe but couldn't suppress a slight smile. "Point taken, but I've seen explosives smaller than this. The weight suggests a heavy compound, perhaps blastique or XJ-10."
"You know, Darrus," another noodle disappeared down her throat. "not everything on Tatooine is a trap. Would the Imperials still left here really try to kill you with a mini-bomb?"
He sighed. "Perhaps not. One way to find out, though." He reached on top of the box and pulled the cord tying it shut. The moment he did, Vaaro dove behind the old hut's nearest wall, covering his head with both hands. Darrus' smile grew wider.
Then he opened the parcel. The cloth, probably once part of a quality garment before it was cut to wrap the small box inside, fell away like flower petals. The container itself was metal and highly polished, reflecting Basic letters written on the underside of the fabric. Darrus pulled it off the box completely and read the note out loud.
"We could use a man like you. This will get you in to see us if you want to join up. -the man you saved."
Looking more than a little confused, Darrus cracked open the box, angling it away from the others just in case, his powers primed to try and absorb any blast that might occur. Explosions were the hardest form of energy to mitigate with the Force but no one was going to die again because of him. Not if he could help it.
The small container opened without incident. He looked inside and his confusion increased. "What the Kessel is this?" Showing the box to Maya and Vaaro, who was now bravely peeking out from between his long green fingers, he was dismayed to see the look on her face. "What?"
Maya reached over, took the box, and Reached back to toss it into the night furnace. Darrus caught her hand before she could. "Maya, what is it? What does it mean?"
She glared at him for a moment, then caught her temper and dropped the box. "I'm sorry. I forget that you aren't a local sometimes." As she sat down in the nearest chair, Darrus knelt and took the box back.
"It's all right, but what's so upsetting about a ring?" He opened it again and drew forth the item of contention. A steel band with a wide setting of red crystal, the finger cuff had a strange symbol engraved on the gem. "And who did I save?"
Quietly, Maya relayed the whole story of the bar fight with the Trandoshans to him. This was actually the second time she'd talked about this with Darrus, but he'd been very weak and out of sorts before. She wasn't surprised he didn't remember it.
"And that's one of their rings, Darrus. You saved a member of the Scarlet Wake and now they want to 'thank' you by letting you into their murdering little club." She took his wrist with an imploring look in her eyes. "Please, throw that thing into the sand. It's nothing but trouble. People are getting killed for wearing it. Killed, or doing the killing."
Darrus tilted his head down and kissed the backs of her fingers, a gesture Vaaro would have raised an eyebrow over if he had any.
"Won't the authorities do anything about this?"
Maya almost spat on the floor. "Authorities? The crime lords have their own affairs, the locals are either supporting the Wake or too afraid of them to do anything, and the Imperials won't lift a black-gloved finger to help because most of the victims are only aliens."
"What about this so-called Rebellion? They won, right? When will they get involved?"
She shook her head, surprised again that someone like Darrus could be so naive when it came to politics. "They are half a galaxy away and still fighting the retreating Imperials on a daily basis. It'll be a long time before their New Republic makes a dent of difference out here."
Darrus looked back at her, slowly understanding the extent of the problem. This place literally had no law. People did what they liked if they could enforce it or lived in the shadow of others who could. In an environment like this, the Scarlet Wake could go unchecked for years. Already had, apparently.
"So no one's going to try and stop them?"
She shook her head, pushing away what was left of her soup. "No one."
He nodded, pocketing the ring, and pulled her into a tight hug. "I didn't mean to spoil your appetite. Want to go for a walk?"
She nodded eagerly, standing up even as Vaaro was stealthing towards the rest of her meal. "I'd love it. Thank you, Darrus. I couldn't stand the thought of you having anything to do with the likes of them."
Jeht just nodded, said nothing, and headed out into the sands to think...
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Two Minds, One Heart
The next time she found him late at night, he was standing in one of the nearby dune valleys. Maya knew better than to get too close when Darrus was outside at night. These evenings, he only went out for one reason - to practice.
She didn't want to go in either. With a pair of macrobinoculars and a full canteen, it had become her personal ritual to come out a few minutes after he did, spread out a blanket, and lie on the warm sand while she watched him. There was something hypnotic about the way he moved. Before, in the back room of the bar, she'd been fascinated by his sword katas.
Now that he had two weapons again, he was an order of magnitude more breathtaking.
Darus moved like a ghost over the sand. Maya watched the dunes carefully and there were honestly times when he left no tracks as he danced. Danced was a good way to put it. This wasn't merely combat training; there was a grace and a flow to his motions. His metal sword would sweep up as his lightsaber arced through the desolate horizon, parallel to his chest. All the while, his body never stopped.
In the bar, he'd been fairly still as he "fought". Now, he was a completely different animal. There was a frenetic yet completely controlled energy to the way he acted. She could see the sand swirl around him. The Force, he'd called it, was in turmoil while he danced, yet he seemed entirely focused. His eyes were not wild and violent like they'd been with the Trandoshan. He was calm, almost placid as his blades wove death in the cool night air.
He had also apparently picked up a few moves from Vaaro in the last few days. The ex-commando had been chiding Darrus earlier about needing a weapon to fight. In response, Darrus had smiled, nodded, and punched the Rodian in the face. The resulting battle spilled out of the villa and into the desert before they both collapsed, grinning and laughing like fools.
Men.
Ever since then, Vaaro was teaching Darrus how to fight with his body instead of with beams and blades. Maya could see now that the former Jedi was a quick learner. In less than a hundred hours, he was already incorporating martial strikes into his combat dance. There was a kick with both weapons crossed above his head. And following it, a back flip after a punch with the hilt of his saber.
A fast learner indeed. Maya'd studied with Vaaro occasionally, but even after years of practice, Darrus' move were cleaner, faster, and better than her's. She'd have been jealous if she didn't detest violence so much.
Detesting violence... That raised another question.
Maya put the binoculars down and rolled over onto her back, eyes cast starwards. She left the dark-eyed force of nature to his katas and turned her thoughts inward for a moment. If she hated violence so much, why was she becoming so attracted to a man who could reasonably serve as its incarnation?
He'd pulverized that Trandoshan. He'd sliced apart a trio of stormtroopers while she watched. He'd even admitted to her he was a General in the Clone Wars, an officer who'd doubtless killed thousands if not billions of sentients. He was everything she'd come to detest in men. In people of any gender. War turned her stomach. Death hurt to even imagine.
So why Darrus? Why these feelings? And why couldn't she make them go away like she had so many times before?
Overhead, a streak of light caught her attention. A shooting star.
Sadly, Maya missed her chance with it. Her mind locked up, completely unsure what she should wish for...
She didn't want to go in either. With a pair of macrobinoculars and a full canteen, it had become her personal ritual to come out a few minutes after he did, spread out a blanket, and lie on the warm sand while she watched him. There was something hypnotic about the way he moved. Before, in the back room of the bar, she'd been fascinated by his sword katas.
Now that he had two weapons again, he was an order of magnitude more breathtaking.
Darus moved like a ghost over the sand. Maya watched the dunes carefully and there were honestly times when he left no tracks as he danced. Danced was a good way to put it. This wasn't merely combat training; there was a grace and a flow to his motions. His metal sword would sweep up as his lightsaber arced through the desolate horizon, parallel to his chest. All the while, his body never stopped.
In the bar, he'd been fairly still as he "fought". Now, he was a completely different animal. There was a frenetic yet completely controlled energy to the way he acted. She could see the sand swirl around him. The Force, he'd called it, was in turmoil while he danced, yet he seemed entirely focused. His eyes were not wild and violent like they'd been with the Trandoshan. He was calm, almost placid as his blades wove death in the cool night air.
He had also apparently picked up a few moves from Vaaro in the last few days. The ex-commando had been chiding Darrus earlier about needing a weapon to fight. In response, Darrus had smiled, nodded, and punched the Rodian in the face. The resulting battle spilled out of the villa and into the desert before they both collapsed, grinning and laughing like fools.
Men.
Ever since then, Vaaro was teaching Darrus how to fight with his body instead of with beams and blades. Maya could see now that the former Jedi was a quick learner. In less than a hundred hours, he was already incorporating martial strikes into his combat dance. There was a kick with both weapons crossed above his head. And following it, a back flip after a punch with the hilt of his saber.
A fast learner indeed. Maya'd studied with Vaaro occasionally, but even after years of practice, Darrus' move were cleaner, faster, and better than her's. She'd have been jealous if she didn't detest violence so much.
Detesting violence... That raised another question.
Maya put the binoculars down and rolled over onto her back, eyes cast starwards. She left the dark-eyed force of nature to his katas and turned her thoughts inward for a moment. If she hated violence so much, why was she becoming so attracted to a man who could reasonably serve as its incarnation?
He'd pulverized that Trandoshan. He'd sliced apart a trio of stormtroopers while she watched. He'd even admitted to her he was a General in the Clone Wars, an officer who'd doubtless killed thousands if not billions of sentients. He was everything she'd come to detest in men. In people of any gender. War turned her stomach. Death hurt to even imagine.
So why Darrus? Why these feelings? And why couldn't she make them go away like she had so many times before?
Overhead, a streak of light caught her attention. A shooting star.
Sadly, Maya missed her chance with it. Her mind locked up, completely unsure what she should wish for...
Saturday, December 30, 2006
<---- Update ---->
Be sure to read the two posts below this one. I updated twice in one day, so it might not be obvious that you need to read "Beneath the Surface" before you look at "One in the Same."
And for those who are curious, I'll be posting Darrus' updated character sheet after the first of the new year. He's been through a LOT of changes, so it's an auspicious and appropriate time for me to do so, I think.
Best of wishes to all of you in 2007.
-A
And for those who are curious, I'll be posting Darrus' updated character sheet after the first of the new year. He's been through a LOT of changes, so it's an auspicious and appropriate time for me to do so, I think.
Best of wishes to all of you in 2007.
-A
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