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Sirian Vaat

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Posts posted by Sirian Vaat

  1. On 8/20/2020 at 4:04 PM, QuietlyExisting said:

    @Sirian Vaat what's the main plot of your book? 

     

    I can completely understand being in no rush to finish. Especially if you want to make sure it's right because of the complexity of the work. I'm currently working on a few different things as well. One being high fantasy and another being a sort of LitRPG web drama that I eventually want to get posted online. 

     

    Hey @QuietlyExisting

     

    The plot of my main book follows the life of Evan, the MC, as he and his fiance struggle to live their daily lives under the rule of the vampire clans in Europe. Love is getting them by, until one day Evan is tragically attacked and killed, leaving his fiance broken and alone. Evan was in fact turned by his attacker, and now finds himself thrust into a new world of vampires in which contact between them and humans is highly restricted, Taken in by a mentor and a small group of clanless misfits, Evan must embrace this new life, and somehow let go of his old one, if he's going to survive the brutality of vampire society. 

     

    There are several subplots as well, but the overall theme of the story is The importance of family - those you're given and those you've chosen - and what you'd do to protect and keep them. How far would you go? It's been an emotional story to write over the years.

     

    What's your high fantasy about? I'm not familiar with LitRPG web dramas. What's that about?

    • Like 1
  2. Hi all! 

     

    I wasn't even aware this group was here! Glad I found it. I'm intrigued to hear about others writers in the guild - @Mithodris I think I'll have to check out your novels. 

     

    I've been writing for about 20 years now. I started out writing fantasy short stories back when I played AD&D in my early teens. Dabbled with poetry in my junior high years. Took an off-ramp into comedy screenwriting after that for quite a while (skits and plays at a local theatre). 

     

    My real passion is in writing novels. Although I haven't published any yet, as I've never even attempted to, I've dedicated much of my free time to 3 WIPS that I've slowly been developing over the past decade. I have another dozen To-Do novels on my list as well. For me, writing itself is the joy and my goal is simply to continue to do so. I plan to try publishing sooner than later, as some of my wips are about ready, but I'm in no hurry. I'd like to create an author website that features my works, create some buzz before actually seeking out an agent or querying. If traditional doesn't pan out, I'd simply indie publish. 

     

    My main wip currently is a dystopian vampire (low) fantasy that I've put most of my time into over the years, striving to create something unique and exciting, but also touching on many different important world issues as well. It's a complex project that I'm in no rush to send out into the world. I can't even imagine ever writing "The End" at any point with this one hehe. 

     

    Anyways, good to see this group and looking forward to meeting you all!

    Cheers,

    Sirian

    • Support 1
  3. Alderaan_moutians.jpg

     

    "I.D. confirmed. You have clearance to land on pad four," the city port authority voice sounded over the ship's comm.

    Ruus' hands moved over the controls, bringing the Betty down low over the snow-capped mountain tops. Alderaan's capital city lay ahead. The rising sun's rays had crested the horizon, cutting through the morning fog that covered the landscape and bringing the sparkling shine of the city to life. Elegant, slender spires shimmered in the light, stretching high above the beautiful city below. As the ship soared over the peaks, Ruus looked down to regard a river winding its way down through the mountains. Ahead it widened and met the forested plains that bordered the city and finally the massive aqueduct that provided the city with its drinking water. 

    With such beauty before them, one might find it easy to forget the solemn nature of their visit; but despite the ever-present and apparent tranquility of the Alderaanian landscape, there was an undeniable sadness across the planet on this day that emanated into the very air. While not a force-sensitive himself, not even by a long shot, Ruus found that even he could sense the emotions of the people below as the ship came over the city's walls and circled to the spaceport. 

    "Bring 'er down, Ro-Z," he instructed as he rose from his chair. The four-armed droid sitting in the co-pilot's chair nodded in response, it's many hands moving over the controls as it brought the ship around to their landing pad. Ruus moved through the small cockpit and into the corridor beyond. He sighed as he took up his vest and holster belt from a locker, glancing at himself in the small mirror within. He paused a moment, noting his pale complexion and the darkness under his eyes. What happened to you, he thought to himself. Only a few years ago, Ruus cared for no one but himself. Over the years since, his life had become inexplicably intertwined with a handful of characters, Sirian and Ngeumi among them, that changed his life forever. Changed him. Larial was one of those that affected him, although it had been years since he had last seen her and they were acquaintances at best. Queen Larial. He smiled ruefully at the thought, remembering a time when they had shared in battle. How things change ...

    "You ready?" Ngeumi was saying, standing at his side. Ruus snapped out of his day-dreaming, regarding the stark-haired young Jedi. 

    He looked past him to the Jedi's grim-faced master. Sirian's stern expression was even more dour than usual. Most people who knew the big man couldn't tell the difference. He was scowling. He was always scowling. Knowing him as well as he did though, Ruus could see the subtle difference. Sirian was genuinely upset. "How is he?" he asked anyway. 

    Ngeumi glanced over his shoulder. Sirian was adjusting the buckles on his wrist guards as he waited for the ship to finally touch down. A moment later, a thud sounded beneath them and the engines powered down. Sirian wasted no time heading down the corridor to disembark. 

    Ngeumi sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Sirian's Sirian," he said dryly. "Never says much, same as always. I know I'm just his padawan, but you'd think ... "

    "It's a hard time for him," Ruus offered, pulling on his vest. "When you've been through as much together as we have, you get to know what's really underneath with him. Give him time."

    "He's been my master for several years. We've been through a dozen battles. I've been through a lot with him, too," Ngeumi replied, somewhat offended.

    Ruus smiled, laying a hand on the padawan's shoulder. "I don't mean those kinds of things. Sirian's been through so much, so many terrible things ... just because he doesn't share his feelings with you doesn't mean he doesn't trust you."

    "Why does he share them with you?"

    "He doesn't."

    "Then how do you know?" Ngeumi pushed.

    Ruus moved past him to follow their friend. "Because I was there when those things happened to him. He doesn't need to share."

    Ngeumi sighed with frustration and followed in Ruus' wake.

    The two came to the bottom of the ship's ramp to find Sirian had already moved on without them. He stood a hundred paces ahead among a group of others that had apparently just arrived. 

    "Remnants?" Ngeumi asked, more so to himself.

    Ruus nodded. "Yeah. I see some familiar faces. Come on, kid."

     

    alderaan-landing-e1403550931931.png

     

     

     

    • Like 1
  4. “I still don’t see the big deal,” Ngeumi said, his leather boots crossed on the top of the dusty, wooden table. He took a bite of the ball-sized fruit in his hand as he watched the galactic news feed on the static-filled vid screen overhead, one of the many around the musty, old tavern. He crunched the juicy fruit in his mouth, his words barely decipherable. “I mean, she’s just a senator? There’s like, what, a million of them?”

    “She’s not just a senator, my very young padawan,” came a more baritone voice from behind him. “She’s the senator of Alderaan, a planet that needs her more than ever right now. Got it?”

    Ngeumi rolled his eyes. Something he’d only do when his stern master was at his back, of course. “Alright, so she’s a big deal, basically.”

    “Suffice it to say, yeah."

    Ngeumi glanced over his shoulder at his master. The large man was busy packing a few things in an old rucksack, grumbling to himself under his breath. “Why are you so worked up about this?” His master paused for a moment, sighing audibly. “It’s not the first time we’ve heard of a politician falling ill, or dying."

     

    His master turned, grabbed the back of his padawan’s chair, and yanked it out from under him. The precariously seated, young Jedi fell unceremoniously to his back, his booted feet still on the table and his long, silver hair covering his face. He managed to smile as he looked up at his master, scowling down at him as always.

    “Really … was that necessary?” He reached up, looking for assistance.

    His master handed him the rucksack instead. Ngeumi shook his head with a chuckle and got to his feet, at which time his master addressed him with all seriousness.

     

    “You’re right, it’s not the first time; but it is the first time that politician was a friend." With that said, he took up another pack. “Now, I asked you to get ready five minutes ago ...”

    Ngeumi patted the air with his hands, “ok, ok, I’m ready. Let’s go.” With his master leading the way, the two started for the door of the tavern.

    “Forgetting something?” his master said dryly, not bothering to turn to his padawan. Ngeumi instinctively reached around to his back, cursed to himself, and then trotted back to the table where he retrieved his saber-staff. It wasn’t the first time he’d misplaced it and likely wouldn’t be the last, they both knew.

    As he headed once more for the exit, he looked across the tavern to the gaming tables, spotting their comrade. “Ruus!” The blonde-haired, young man looked over the heads of his competitors to Ngeumi. “We’re leaving!”

    Ruus looked then to the door, spotting Ngeumi’s master already exiting the tavern, the big man pulling up the hood of his robes to shield him from the sand-laden winds of Jakku.

    “Sorry, boys. Duty calls.” Ruus stepped away from the table, gathering his winnings and heading for the door. He met Ngeumi as the young Jedi reached the exit, drawing up his own hood as well. “What’s going on? Where’s he off to in such a hurry?”

    Ngeumi shot a thumb over his shoulder to a vid screen. Ruus had been too busy gambling to notice the grim news of the senator. It only took a few moments of watching for Ruus to reach the same level of urgency as their friend. “Larial …”

    “You know her, too?”

    Ruus affixed a bandana about his face and pulled a pair of goggles down from his forehead to cover his eyes. “C’mon, I’ll fill you in on the way.”

    The two exited the tavern into the blistering winds outside. Structures just meters away were barely visible; locals hurried about with cloaks trying to find shelter; a dewback groaned somewhere in the distance. Off to one side, the two caught side of the friend departing into the storm and followed after him.

     

    Ruus brought up his wrist communicator. “Ro-Z, fire up the ship. We’re heading back.” As he and Ngeumi tried to catch up with their friend, the strong winds slowing their pursuit, Ruus cupped his hands over his mouth to call after him.

    “Sirian! Wait up!”

     

    • Like 2
  5.                 Daybreak and the civil war within the capital city waged on. The Republic army, encamped beyond the city walls, could do little more than watch as the travesties unfolded and as they awaited news from the various recon units deployed secretly within the city. The situation was delicate. The government body, reduced over the years to a small delegation of bureaucrats and powerful figures after numerous assassinations and resignations, impatiently waited within the encampment for the Republic to produce the results they had expected when the Republic’s presence had been requested. In exchange for the Republic’s assistance in defeating the terrorist coup, the planet would join the Alliance – a simple agreement, it would seem; but upon their arrival the Republic had learned the conflict was far more complicated than just a terrorist organization attacking a peaceful government. Far more complicated.

                    Jedi Master Gnaw, general of the republic army, looked upon the smoking remains of one of the many stockpiles within the encampment. The deployable structure was destroyed, the many crates of supplies, mostly medical, were lost. Several bodies, guards, were still being removed by medical staff.

                    “Another saboteur, Commander?” Gnaw asked sidelong to a trooper, the white-armored man looking to the grizzly scene with the same grim expression.

                    “Yes, sir,” he sighed. “No doubt another terrorist that came in with the Aldraigan refugees.” He was shaking his head, wishing there was a better way of screening for threats among the people fleeing the city with the help of Republic troops, but he knew that there wasn’t much they could do. They had already isolated the refugees since the first attack on the encampment two days prior. Tents and basic medical supplies, along with food and water, had been granted to the refugees as they enjoyed the first days of peace and sanctuary within the Republic encampment, but since the attack electrified fencing had been erected around the ever-growing group to ensure not only their safety but that of the republic troops as well. Somehow the terrorists were still causing trouble, with this most recent attack being the fourth since they had taken such security precautions.

                    “I know what you’re thinking, Commander, and no we can’t refuse sanctuary to any other refugees we manage to pull from that city.” The Jedi had read the trooper’s mind exactly.

                    “Are their lives more important then the men’s, sir?” It was a rhetorical question of course, not one the commander expected the Jedi to answer, but he felt the need for making the point all the same.

                    “These people have been unfairly forced into a civil war, Commander. We will continue to give them aid so long as our presence is requested.” The bothan’s fierce eyes looked past the commander to an approaching trooper. “Lieutenant, have you received any word from our recon units?”

                    “No, General,” the lieutenant replied, snapping a quick salute as he came to stand beside the two. “Several groups have returned with intel, but still no word from Master Sere’loki or Sergeant Cadinn’s group.”

                    Master Gnaw furrowed his brow as he considered the report. “The rebels continue to jam our communications?” The lieutenant nodded his affirmation. “We must regain contact with them as soon as possible. Until we learn more of the rebel’s strength and fortification within the city’s central sector there’s nothing we can do. A full-scale assault could put countless civilians at risk.”

                    “How are the rebels managing to block our comms, sir?” the commander asked, still baffled from the initial reports of the rebels’ technological armament.

                    “Never underestimate your enemy, Commander,” Gnaw replied, “no matter how small in number or how outmatched these type of groups may be, their passion can often make them a formidable force.” He reached out to a passing trooper whom had approached him with a small discovery – a bomb fragment. Master Gnaw regarded the surprisingly sophisticated device, now destroyed. “Impressive. Not home-made.”

                    “Government issue,” the commander put in, leaning over to analyze the fragment in the Jedi’s hands. “Pretty good for a bunch of armed farmers.”

                    Gnaw handed the fragment back to the trooper that had recovered it. “Take that to be analyzed. I want a full analysis within the hour.” The trooper snapped to and hurried off.

                    “What about the new refugees still coming in?” the commander asked, nodding towards a group of ragged Aldraigan civilians moving up the hillside in the distance with trooper escorts. “With each group we risk more terrorists getting in.”

                    Master Gnaw regarded the group, looking past the smoking debris before them to the refugees being herded into the fenced make-shift community within the encampment. Children clung to their parents’ side, elderly tried to keep up, and mothers and fathers wearily accepted their prison-like sanctuary with hopes that their family’s lives would be safer here than within their former homes.

                    “Keep bringing them in,” Gnaw finally answered quietly. He regarded the commander as he turned to leave. The commander nodded in return, understanding the Jedi’s order and the difficulty with which it was given.

                    “Understood, General.”

     

    • Like 1
  6. The southern lands of the continent were once lush with endless green fields teaming with grazing herds of wildlife. The clear blue skies were often filled with flocks of beautiful migrating birds that spent most of the years in this year-round temperate place. At the furthest southern point of the land, the HeretaSea flooded inland, creating a vast delta of rivers and marshland, where countless farming families once made their way of life, harvesting their crops in the drenched soils and providing food for much of the entire continent's population. The PhloxRiver emptied into the sea here. It was a calm river far north, where it divided in numerous places to stretched onward inland to feed many other farmlands; but here at the end the river narrowed at a choke point. The bottle-neck turned the great river into a raging torrent of water than pushed south and flooded the nearby lands to create the Southern Deltas.

     

     

    The largest power facility south of the capital was set upon this most forceful point of the river, tapping into the river's strength and harvesting vast hydro-electric power that was once distributed to all the southern region's people. Since the civil war broke out however, that power had been cut off to those in the south and had been directed back to the capital. The government had turned off the lights, left everyone in the cold. In war times, the greatest weapon you can have is holding in your hands that which gives your opponent the means of living. Without light and warmth, and the power to run their harvesting machines, many of the southern families who had joined the rebellion movement had conceded their protests and fled for the north. Those who refused to bend at such backhanded tactics by the government were only motivated even further to continue their rise against the oppressors.

     

     

    It had taken years of fighting, with countless lost on both sides, but the rebel faction had recently taken both the northwestern and northeastern power facilities on the continent, and the oil refinery flotillas off the coasts. There was only one place left to capture to turn the tide against their enemies - the southern delta power facility, and the rebels will have secured all power resources on the continent. The capital city, where the remaining government body and its forces had holed up in desperation, would be left to survive on emergency power generators beneath the city. It wouldn't last forever, and then they would be the ones forced to consider the terms of the rebels instead of the other way around, as it had been for over a decade.

     

     

    "All clear," a rebel soldier reported as he walked down a grid catwalk suspended above the hydro turbines that forced him to raise his voice. "All facility guards and government troops are captured or dead, sir."

     

     

    Balian sighed with relief. "Very good, Wentzel. Carry on."

     

     

    The young rebel snapped a salute and disappeared into the complex, passing other rebel troops as everyone hurried about to continue securing the facility. Already, technicians were tapping into the facility's control systems as they began shut down procedures.

     

     

    "Soon the capital city and those government dogs will be in darkness," came the voice of Adrianna behind him. He turned to regard his long time friend as the sound of her heavy boots stopped at his side. She looked troubled somehow, Balian thought. Her long, curly red hair was as fiery and beautiful as ever, even if had become over grown and tangled. Despite growing up on the sun-drenched lands of the south, as he had, Adrianna's skin had forever maintained a pale, unblemished complexion. With blood from both herself and her enemies spattered across her form in places from the battle to secure the facility, and her clothes dirty and torn as always, Balian had to remind himself that she wasn't falling ill from some common malady. It was just how she always looked these days.

     

     

    Adrianna smiled at him then, sensing his eyes upon her. "What is it?" Her smile faded a bit as she sensed concern in his eyes.

     

     

    Balian shook his head and turned his eyes forward, looking out across the elevated catwalks where they stood to the nearby flooded lands of the deltas. Bodies littered the ground, some having fallen into the swampy streams and pools that criss-crossed the area. Blood stained the ground in many places, so much that it was hard to spot an area that wasn't. Far up from the marshland began the flat fields where the battle had begun. It had taken days, but the rebel forces had pushed through the enemy lines and on to the power facility. Their initial reports had stated that these lands were poorly defended, the government forces believed to be spread too thin and thus unable to keep a formidable force in these parts.

     

     

    "I must say, we'll have to have a word with Maras regarding his scouts," Adrianna suddenly said, crossing her arms across her chest. Balian was nodding in agreement. "A soft target. Wasn't that what he said?" Balian nodded again, then shaking his head in disbelief as he compared what they expected to find to what they did find.

     

     

    "How many of ours dead?" he dared ask, knowing the number to be great.

     

     

    "We haven't finished counting," Adrianna replied bitterly. "We lost Mackard and his wife, the Oppren twins, and your cousin, Malven."

     

     

    Balian looked to her sadly. He had seen his distant cousin fall in the battle himself, even tried to save him. "I didn't know about the others. It'll hurt us."

     

     

    "At least they're with the rest of their families now," Adrianna said quietly, looking to the ground in silent prayer.

     

     

    "How can Maras' scouts have gotten this so wrong," Adrianna then said with anger in her voice.

     

     

    "I don't know," Balian said back, looking off into the distance, as if trying to see their fellow officer back within the capital city where their base of operations hid in the underground. "But I plan on asking him when we get back."

     

     

    "We don't normally tackle targets together like this, two officers I mean," Adrianna added in, a hint of suspicion creeping into her tone. "Why now?"

    "It was Arsen's order," Balian reminded them both, picking up on her suspicions.

     

     

     

     

    "Maras' scouts have never erred this bad before," Adrianna thought aloud, "and what are the odds it happens the first time two officers pair up for a mission?"

     

     

    They were quiet for many moments, until finally Balian broke the silence. "I knew some day Arsen would try this. We've lost his trust, I think." He tapped his heel on the catwalk as he considered the implications of the recent events, of what was now transpiring in their leadership. "Come on, Adri. We have much to talk about." He turned to leave the area.

     

     

    "We don't know that Arsen was involved in this, Balian," she said suddenly, perhaps in hopes of convincing both he and herself that they were wrong in their suspicion.

     

     

    Balian turned to her and nodded. It was possible. "I know. Let's go."

     

     

    Possible, but unlikely. Nobody did anything without his consent.

     

    • Like 1
  7. "Forget it, Tanner," Morgan whispered harshly to Tanner, who was walking at his side and supporting Morgan with one arm wrapped around his shoulders. "Even if we had an opening - which we haven't - there's no way we can outrun them if we could even break away."

     

    "We just need a distraction," Tanner replied with a hushed tone, glancing to see if the nearby troopers had overheard them. Too intent on navigating through the dark tunnel before them, with their rifle and helm lights darting all around to check for threats or obstacles, the troopers were oblivious to the exchange between the two rebels. "When the time comes, you better be ready to move."

     

    "I can barely walk on my own," Morgan replied audaciously. "How am I supposed to run? And what kind of distraction?"

     

    "The tunnels are unstable. We've passed several cave-ins and heard others in the vicinity. All we do is wait and hope we have one. We hit a couple of these troopers to buy us some time and we break for the surface. We'll find a patrol in no time. And if we don't get that chance, I'll create one."

     

    Morgan looked to Tanner, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

     

    "You remember that group of refugees we found when we came across this bunch? I left them a little something. I'd rather not do it that way, but if they refuse to let us go ... well, there is always collateral damage in war."

     

    "You can't be serious!" Morgan said back, gawking at Tanner in disbelief.

     

    Tanner loosened his hold on Morgan then purposely, forcing the injured man to stumble. Tanner just as quickly caught him and steadied him. "Keep your voice down," he said sharply. He smiled then at Morgan and gave his shoulder a pat, seeing the sergeant and the Jedi looking their way from behind. His next words were anything but friendly however:

     

    "You either come with me or I make sure you're not able to give them any more information if you're left behind. You get me?"

     

    Morgan blinked in disbelief. He never heard Tanner, his comrade, his friend even, speak to him in such a way. Over the years Morgan had sensed Tanner had lost more than just his family, as he had as well; Tanner was losing his humanity. There had been small acts of cruelty that Morgan had overlooked over the years, but he had never forgotten them. Everyone in the rebellion it seemed had committed some act of cruelty over the years, but, since most if not all the rebels had endured countless cruelties at the hands of the government, those acts had largely been excused as insignificant compared to the atrocities committed by their enemy. Still ... 

     

    Morgan kept his eyes on Tanner whenever he could as they continued along. He couldn't believe that Tanner would be willing to sacrifice the innocent refugees in such a barbaric act. Morgan felt very alone in that moment, with the enemy at his front and back and what he was realizing to be a monster at his side. 

     

     

    ***Meanwhile, back at the refugee camp ... 

     

    "Quickly! Hurry up!" cried a desperate woman from behind Bax and Red, the two trooper medics whom had stayed behind to guard them. "They could come back!"

     

    "We're going as fast as we can, lady!" Red shot back over his shoulders as he struggled to remove the fallen rocks that had blocked the tunnel entrance. 

     

    Bax, digging away also at his side, looked to Red with exhaustion. "She's right. We got lucky they didn't check this basement. It made no sense."

     

    "Maybe The Force was looking out for us?" a boy at their feet said as he too tugged and pulled on the rocks. Much smaller rocks, of course. He looked up to the two troopers with an ash-covered face and a wide smile. He was brimming with optimism somehow. Bax shook his head and continued digging. Red couldn't help but chuckle.

     

    "Maybe, little guy. As good a guess as any." Red ruffled the little boy's hair. "Keep digging!"

     

    The crowd of woman and elderly gathered what little supplies they had and watched on as the two troopers worked hard at the wall of fallen rocks. All of them were on edge, waiting for the sound of heavy boots overhead to come once again and with it a rebel patrol. 

     

    "Please hurry!" an old woman pleaded. Her family at her side embraced her and together they tried to comfort one another.

     

    "I think I can see through!" the little boy suddenly said with excitement, having removed a small rock and peered into the opening beyond. "Definitely!" 

     

    "Elia, get away from there!" his mother bade him from nearby. Elia waved a hand at her, dismissing her worries. Without hesitation the boy suddenly dropped to all fours and crawled into the very small opening he had discovered and disappeared from sight.

     

    "Elia!" his mother cried out, running to the wall. Several others moved to quiet her, clasping hands about her mouth and looking fearfully up the stairs to the doorway. She squirmed and freed herself, dropping to the ground and looking into the hole. "Get back here this instant!"

     

    The others grabbed at the mother once more, restraining her more forcefully as he begged her to be quiet. "They'll hear!" they warned her, with apparent disregard for the woman's son's safety. They'd all be dead if they were discovered after all. 

     

    "I'm fine, mum!" Elia called back from behind the wall. 

     

    Red and Bax looked to one another with surprise. Red shrugged with amusement. He kneeled down to the small opening. "Do you see anything?"

     

    "One sec," Elia replied. Red peered through the hole into the darkness beyond. Elia's face suddenly appeared in the darkness, illuminated by a handheld light he activated. "We're almost through the wall, Red!"

     

    "Resourceful little guy, isn't he?" Bax said with a smile to his mother. She had calmed down and was shaking her head. By the look on her face, this wasn't the first time her son had done something so bold and adventurous. 

     

    "That's my Elia," she replied with a sigh. "Takes after his father," she explained with the hint of a smile.

     

    "I'll check up ahead!" Elia said from beyond the wall.

     

    "No, no, just hang tight, little man!" Red replied, digging once again with more urgency. 

     

    Minutes later, the troopers removed a large rock and the rest gave way, revealing the tunnel ahead. Elia rounded a turn just ahead a moment later, still smiling from ear to ear and shining his light up at his own face. "Come on! The way is clear!"

     

    "You heard the man," Red said to the others, shooting Elia a smile. "Gather what you can and let's move out. With any luck we'll find the rest of our company in time."

     

    "Here, ma'am," Bax was saying, handing a rucksack to an able-bodied woman as she entered the tunnel. He handed a bundle of blankets to another, some small bags to a passing man, and other small manageable loads of supplies to anyone that could carry them. 

     

    "I can carry something!" Elia said, jumping between two elderly folks and reaching into the pile of supplies by Bax's feet. He settled on a simple backpack. It was a bit large for his size, but with a grunt and a heave he managed to get it onto his back. He looked up to Bax and gave a salute, smiled, and then charged off ahead to join Red at the front of the group.

     

    Bax smiled within his helmet. Seeing such optimism in times like this was rare, but it was a welcome thing. Even the smallest bit of levity could keep someone going, pushing onward, when everything in their body tells them to just lay down and give up. Checking the last of the pile at his feet for anything useful and finding nothing, Bax readied his own equipment and took up the rear of the group as they moved off into the tunnels in search of their company.

     

    "Think we'll find 'em?" Elia asked at Red's side. His tiny, high-pitched voice echoed through the dark tunnels. He was barely as tall as Red's waist and his voice made him seem even smaller. 

     

    "Sure thing," Red replied, doing his best to sound chipper and optimistic as well. He looked down to the small boy with a smile that reassured Elia completely. He noticed the backpack Elia had taken up appeared heavy as he often readjusted it on his little shoulders. "You got that?" he asked.

     

    "No problem," Elia assured him. "I used to carry around my sister like this all the time and she was heavier."

     

    "Ok, if you're sure," Red replied. Smiling once again. "You let me know if you want to take any load of my hands while you're at it. It's been a long day."

     

    Elia looked up at the much bigger man and laughed aloud. It echoed through the tunnels, bringing smiles to everyone's faces as they trudged along in the dark.

     

    Red ruffled Elia's hair once again and gave his shoulder a bump of his fist. Elia reached up suddenly and clasped the man's hand in his own. The two exchanged looks briefly, Red surprised at the touch of Elia's hand and Elia hoping it was ok. Red smiled and the two continued on hand in hand. 

     

    From a little ways behind, Bax couldn't help but smile as he watched Red humor the little boy who had obviously become fond of the trooper already. It was good to see. He couldn't help but shake his head with amusement as he watched Elia fumble with the heavy backpack he was carrying. The little guy didn't give up however. He'd adjust the straps over 'n over, but wouldn't let it fall. 

     

    Tough little guy, Bax thought to himself. The pack must be half his own weight. Indeed it nearly was, but Tanner had managed to carry it without difficulty...

     

    • Like 1
  8. "Corporal, take point," Cadinn instructed to a trooper just behind him. Cadinn stepped aside to let the others pass him by in the tunnel so that he can check everyone out. They had climbed up to what appeared to be the upper-most level of the tunnels, just beneath the streets itself, and had been moving along uneventfully for nearly an hour. The going was rough, with many sections of the tunnel caved in and forcing them to belly crawl through small openings in the rubble to get through to the other side.

     

    Morgan and Tanner passed the sergeant. The big man eyed them sternly as they moved past, giving their bonds a quick check before waving for them to continue forward. As Anlai came up near the rear of the group, Cadinn stepped back in line and walked astride her.

     

    "The injured one looks to be doing better," he commented, gesturing ahead to their rebel captives with a nod of his head. He glanced at Anlai sidelong when she didn't answer right away. He wasn't able to read people like she or other Jedi could, but he was quite certain that she had not yet forgotten his earlier actions and remained unimpressed with him. He sighed, shaking his head at himself. "Look, I'm sorry if I acted rashly," he began, speaking quietly so the others didn't hear. "It's just ... we're troopers. We've got orders. There's us and the enemy. There's no grey area for us, at least that's what how we're trained to think. I see them and I just see the enemy ..."

     

    He paused then, looking ahead to Morgan and Tanner. Morgan stumbled suddenly on some debris, but Tanner was quick to catch him from the side and helped to upright him. The man gave Morgan a pat on the shoulder and the two continued on, Tanner smiling at him as if he had shared an amusing comment with the weaker man, but Cadinn didn't catch it.

     

    "But maybe I should try looking past that," Cadinn continued, looking to the ground as they walked through the dark tunnel. "You've been teaching me that. I see the way you act towards others. You're self-less. You show concern for everyone and anyone, no matter who they're affiliated with. I've always been taught to take care of myself and my own men, and "the package" ... " he shook his head at himself again, "I mean and ... the people we're escorting or rescuing. But they've never been more than just ... our mission. Get them to safety, get them to safety - not because it's what they need; because it's our orders. 'Mission Accomplished' has always been the most important thing."

     

    "Serg, we've got an obstacle up ahead," the leading trooper said over the helmet comms.

     

    "Roger that. Hold position, Corporal. I'm coming up."

     

    "Anyways, I just wanted you to know that ... I'm starting to think I should be looking at things a bit differently. Maybe with a bit more compassion..."

    • Like 1
  9. Brega clasped the wrist of his master as the zabrak helped him climb up through the sewer access shaft and up onto the street. Once at his side, Master Sere turned his attention back to their surroundings, looking all about them with interest.

     

    Brega put a ready hand on his lightsaber hilt, still affixed to his belt, as he too looked all about.

     

    "Easy, my young padawan," Sere bade him quietly, touching the chiss' shoulder with one hand as he continued to inspect the street and buildings towering around them; or at least, buildings that once towered around them. Many of them were reduced to rubble now, piles of massive permacrete crumbled at the base of massive frame structures that still loomed high overhead like building skeletons. Even the street was heavily covered with debris and rubble from the fallen buildings, making them impassable for vehicles and a difficult course for anyone on foot.

     

    "What happened here?" Brega asked, craning his head back to look up at the broken remains of a nearby building. Remnants of its fine architecture indicated it was once a remarkably beautiful building of an enormous proportions. Several support columns had been severed and the building was listing precariously to one side, looking as if it could buckle and crash to the ground at any moment. Many of its levels were still partially intact, half hidden by walls still in place and half visible where the exterior walls had crumbled away, like a creature covered with open wounds and struggling to stay on its feet. Remnants of its magnificence were evident in its design, with emerald-green gemstone glass windows and golden filigrees etched all over its surface. Now, with its so many burning, exposed levels and broken support columns, the architectural masterpiece would join the ranks of all the other structural marvels of Aldraig VI that had been destroyed in this terrible civil war.

     

    "So beautiful," Brega lamented. Master Sere followed his padawan's gaze to the poor building and nodded in agreement.

     

    "A shame. Come, Brega. We must get out of the street."

     

    Brega looked aside to see their trooper escort making their way through the rubble and debris around them, heading for a ruined building nearby where they would take a moment to situate themselves. It was nice to be free of the sewers and the stagnant stench within. Brega had anticipated the open air to be refreshing, but dust and ash fell upon the city from the burning building all around them. Within minutes, everyone in the group was covered in a soft layer of grey ash that made them look as solemn and beaten as the city streets around them.

     

    "Comms up!" the trooper captain ordered as the group entered the building. Most of the walls and part of the ceiling were still intact, making it the most suitable location for a temporary base camp.

     

    "Aye, sir! Comms up!"

     

    Brega sat upon a crate in the corner of the room and brushed the ash from his robes. He wiped a hand over his bald head and face. His sweat caked the ash, however, and instead of falling cleanly from his head it merely smeared across his blue skin. He gave up, accepting his condition. Looking to Jeckyll, who had used the ash on his face to make camouflage, was smiling back at him.

     

    "Gotta make the best of things," he said, somehow finding levity in their situation. He donned his helmet once more and moved off to join the other troopers in setting up camp.

     

    "What's our position, captain?" Master Sere asked as he came to the trooper's side. Sere's red skin was also smeared heavily with ash, which along with his race's extensive black tattooing and the crown of horns atop his bald head gave him an even more intimidating appearance.

     

    The captain was kneeling beside another trooper, who had finished putting together a small communications terminal. "One second, sir. We're just waiting for an orbital link."

     

    "Orbital link is up!" another trooper called out as he climbed down from placing a small satellite device on the rooftop. The captain nodded his appreciation and activated his wrist band.

     

    A holo-image of the city appeared above the captain's arm. The captain worked the wrist band controls and used his fingers to turn and zoom in on the projected image. "We are here," he said then, indicating a red blip on the image. "We're in the city's middle sector, just down the way from what used to be the government military sector and what is now, supposedly, the rebel's military base."

     

    Master Sere took it all in, reaching down and turning the holo-image himself, panning to one side and then the other. "We're in a fairly good position to set up recon on that area."

     

    "That's a piece of intel we can't ignore," the captain replied, agreeing with the Jedi. The image shuddered then and blinked out of view several times.

     

    "Weak signal?" Master Sere asked.

     

    "Aye. The ash cloud raining down on us is preventing us from getting a good link up with the satellite. We should get to higher ground if we're going to want to contact HQ or feed them anything useful from in here."

     

    "Agreed." Master Sere looked about to the group. "Everyone take thirty. We'll be relocating soon and you'll need your rest."

    • Like 1
  10. "I'm telling you, we can do it," Tanner was whispering into Morgan's ear as he pretended to adjust the wounded man's gear and clothing for more comfort. He took care in keeping his voice low with the pair of troopers standing nearby. "The next cave in, we make a break for it."

     

    Morgan wasn't so sure. "They're watching us too close. We won't get away."

     

    "We can try," Tanner said back sharply, a bit louder than he meant to. He checked to see if the troopers had heard, but they were too focused on the exchange between the Jedi and the captain. "Besides, if we don't get away they won't hurt us anyway. These are republic troops, not imperials. They'll tighten their hold on us, sure; but we have to try."

     

    Morgan was shaking his head. "One of them had his hand on me the entire time the ceiling was falling and didn't let go. It won't work."

     

    "If they grab either of us when it's happening we kill them!" Tanner shot back, this time drawing the attention of a trooper.

     

    "Hey! Keep quiet!" the trooper barked, jabbing Tanner in the shoulder with the muzzle of his rifle. 

     

    Tanner scowled up at the trooper and relented. He helped Morgan to his feet, whispering in his ear one final time. "When it happens, you better be moving ..."

     

    Morgan grabbed Tanner's coat and drew closer to him. "Don't do this, Tanner. These are good people, can't you tell? They won't hurt us."

     

    Tanner turned and looked his comrade dead in the eye, a look of disbelief and incredulity on his dust-covered face. "You've forgotten our cause, Morg. What would your family say?" He kept his gaze upon him a moment longer, then, grabbed by a trooper, was dragged ahead to join the others. 

     

    Morgan shook his head with worry as the two were brought to the opening in the ceiling where the others had already begun to ascend into the opening above. 

     

     

     

    *** Meanwhile, back at the refuge camp in the warehouse ... ***

     

    "Fall back! Get back!" Red was saying as loud as he could without raising his voice, waving his free hand at the refugees to urge them to hide. He kept his rifle aimed at the stairs with his other hand, hoping whoever was on the main level would not explore the basement.

     

    Bax, who had been helping the refugees take cover behind crates, rubble and debris, came to Red's side with his rifle at the ready. He looked quickly to the various corners of the room where the civilians were now well hidden. He looked sidelong to Red.

     

    "Who do you think it is?" he asked, although they both knew in all likeliness it was a rebel patrol.

     

    "Let's hope some more of our people, but I doubt it," Red replied quietly. He made a gesture with one hand and the two moved in opposite directions. Bax laid upon a pile of clothing and supplies, grabbing a blanket and drawing it over his back to partially conceal himself. Red took position amidst some crates, ducked down and with his rifle aiming at the stairs. 

     

    The sound of boots could be heard overhead as at least a dozen unknowns searched the warehouse's main level. Red and Bax knew that prudence demanded they search the basement, and when they did they were likely all going to be dead. 

     

    Red sighed, thinking about the tunnels behind them and wishing they had joined the others and brought the refugees along. He glanced at the tunnel entrance, now blocked. They had heard a cave-in somewhere deep in the tunnels and could only hope their team hadn't been injured. Attempts to contact them were unsuccessful, and even if they could get through the blocked entrance they couldn't leave the refugees behind.

     

    The door to the basement creaked open, snapping Red and Bax's attention towards the stairs. They removed the safeties on their rifles. The barely audible whimpers of the refugee children were quickly hushed by their parents. Everyone held their breath ... 

    • Like 2
  11. "That was quick thinking," Cadinn was saying at Anlai's side, huffing and wafting a hand at the rising dust around them. She had not noticed him there, standing oddly close to her. He gave her an abashed smile and then awkwardly looked away to the others to see how they had fared. "Everyone alright?"

     

    It occurred to Anlai then - Cadinn had been next to the others when the ceiling had begun to fall. And she hadn't heard him come to her side after the rubble had fallen. His body language after the fact also told of his intentions in being so close to her ...

     

    Cadinn had rushed to her aid when the ceiling had fallen, only to discover she didn't need his help. His awkward demeanour said as much. Looking to him now, she could see his blushing cheeks even through the dust that surrounded them.

     

    One of the rebels groaned then, grabbing Anlai's attention. Morgan clutched at his mid-drift and winced. The Force Push from Anlai, though not meant to be harmful, had inadvertently caused some strain on the man's muscles.

     

    "You'll be alright," Cadinn surmised as he lifted the man's shirt and inspected his torso. "Some bruising, maybe a pull, nothing more." He chuckled then, giving Morgan's belly a pat that made him recoil in pain.

     

    Tanner, who was helping to support Morgan with one arm, scowled at the captain and even stepped towards him aggressively. A trooper jabbed him hard in the shoulder with the butt of his rifle, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't even think about it."

     

    Cadinn shook his head with a smile, giving a wave of his hand to dismiss the matter, and turned back to Anlai and the caved in ceiling laying ahead. "So, looks like we're either digging our way through to the other side of the tunnel or ..." he lifted his head to look up through the hole that had been created overhead. More tunnels. "Or we climb up to the next level of tunnels and continue on up there. What are you thinking?"

     

    Morgan winced audibly behind them. Cadinn looked to one side at the sound, looking embarrassed now at Anlai's side. It was likely Cadinn was trying to reclaim some dignity with his bravado and through his antics with Morgan and Tanner, feeling foolish in attempting to "save" the poor, female Jedi; but he clearly only made himself look worst.

    • Like 1
  12. REPUBLIC

     

    "I'm so sorry," Ruus apologized as he picked himself up, having crashed into Na'tanilia in the crew hold when the ship slammed into the frozen landscape. He offered a hand to assist her in steadying herself as well, then retracted it as he saw she was fine. "Good thing for the extra padding," he then said, patting his puffy coat with both hands. The rest of the crew wasted no time in exiting the broken craft and so he moved to follow them out. He paused for a moment, looking to Na'tanilia with an overly pleasant smile before shooting her a wink and leaving the ship. It was a strange look. Was he on to her disguise perhaps? Did he in fact know Aciela, Na'tanilia's chosen disguise? He hadn't given any overt indication that he had any familiarity with Na'tanilia's friend Aciela. Even if they had met, they may not have gotten to know each other at all; the way he addressed her would suggest as much. Still, there was something odd about that smile ...

     

    Ruus dropped down from the shuttle's ramp into the pool of ice water that had grown in the dark tunnel outside. He hugged himself within his poofy thermal coat. "Wewf! That's brisk!" he said aloud. He "O"d his lips and watched his billow in the air. He activated the warmers in the pockets of his coat and stuffed his hands within. Retrieving a simple headlamp band from his pack, he put the thing about his forehead and turned on the bright lit, taking a moment to look around the dark cavern and take in their surroundings. He took one last look at the shuttle and then plodded on ahead in pursuit of the others, who had already reached the ship wreckage and, having opened a door, were regarding the interior hallway.

     

    Curious to see the inside, Ruus parted through the gathered team and looked down the revealed hallway of the ship. Interesting ... still has power, he thought, noting the lights that activated upon their entrance. Most ships' systems would've failed in the intense cold in no time, unless the engines or power core were still running to keep everything from freezing over. Very interesting ...

     

     

    "Either the door opening triggered the lights to turn on," Ruus began aloud, still regarding the ship's interior, "or someone turned them on knowing we've arrived." He smiled as he considered the thought. "Creepy you might say, or perhaps just considerate."

     

    He chuckled quietly, and then stepped into the hallway. "Shall we?"

     

    • Like 4
  13.             Cadinn breathed a sigh a relief, giving his two men the go-ahead and calling over the others. "Form up men." The six troopers came to stand before he and Anlai. "We're heading out. Red and Bax are staying put to help these people out, so I hope you all remember your first aid training from the academy days. Get the two rebels ready to move. We're taking them with us - strip them of any equipment and leave it behind. That's it. Move out."

                The troops snapped to, immediately readying ammo and checking their equipment, and headed for the entrance to the tunnels. Two of the troopers moved to the two rebels, who were sitting together against a wall and still looking rather haggard despite their mended wounds, courtesy of the Jedi. "Let's go," one of the troopers said to them sharply as they got them to their feet. The two rebels were forced to face the wall as the troopers unbuckled their supplies and equipment.

                "Backpack, too," one of the troopers said as Tanner turned back around, thinking them finished.

                Tanner rolled his eyes. "It's just a rucksack and some spare clothing."

                "Too bad. You can go a night or two without bedding and sleep in the dirt like these people. Lose it."

                Tanner reluctantly unbuckled the pack and tossed it into the pile of supplies the troopers had rid them of.

                 A final full body search for concealed weapons revealed nothing. "Move it," the trooper ordered, giving Morgan a shove. The rebel caught himself by reaching for Tanner, who steadying him and glared at the troopers before helping his comrade move off to the tunnel entrance where Cadinn and the others awaited.

                "You've got point, Corporal," Cadinn said to one of the troopers as he passed by. The trooper nodded, activated the flashlight on his rifle and moved into the tunnel ahead of the others. The "Let's move, Anlai," he bade her, placing a gentle hand on her back and letting her go first. "Stay between us if you will. The tunnels could be booby-trapped and they don't look too stable. The bombings could've destabilized the whole network of tunnels, so be careful."

                Morgan and Tanner, and their two courteous trooper escorts, went out ahead of them and together the small squad vanished into the darkness of the subterranean tunnels. 

    • Like 2
  14.             Seeing the look of incredulity on the young Jedi's face, Cadinn knew the futility of trying to convince the young Jedi that these people were not their mission, and that their mission was to keep moving and carry out their orders. He hadn't known Anlai long, at all even, but the tone of her interjection that they should stay was poignant. She wouldn't budge on her view of the situation - those in need are those in need and she meant to help them, no matter what faction insignia - or lack there of - they wore on their arm.

                Lowering his light and rifle, Cadinn gestured to his troops as he moved to Anlai's and bade her to step aside with him privately. The squad repositioned among the group, particularly keeping between the two rebels and the civilians, who despite being unarmed, sick and malnourished, outnumbered the battered rebels more than 20:1.

                When he was satisfied they were out of earshot, now standing in the dimly lit alcove of the stone tunnel that led beyond the dusty room, Cadinn lowered his weapon to one side and lifted his helmet visor. A square-jawed handsome face looked down on her with brown eyes and a knowing, even sympathetic expression.

                "I know this isn't easy to accept as a Jedi," he began, taking a deep breath and speaking quietly, "but we have a very specific mission here: reconnaissance, surveying the infrastructure, intelligence acquisition." He glanced back to the group of haggard civilians and his men, who in turn looked his way for some kind of confirmation of their next orders.

                Cadinn took two steps to one side with his back to the group and spoke even more hushed than before. "We can not stay here and we certainly can not take this whole group with us. Noting the position of the group, and yes that they're in need of help, is part of our mission. We can do that." His expression hardened somewhat then and his hand patted the air with each coming syllable for emphasis. "But we can not take stay."

                His strict loyalty to the mission was clear. He was a Republic trooper, first and foremost, and carrying out his orders was paramount. Whether you agreed with the orders or not was irrelevant for someone at his level. As a captain, Cadinn was bound to carry out the instructions of his general with no room for personal interpretation or preferences in how to complete his tasks. Republic army training was universal and generalized across the board. Every squad completes a field assignment exactly as they've been trained. A simple reconnaissance mission like this one was as simple as it got for republic troopers.

                Despite all that, Cadinn found himself faced with a woman half his size that was throwing all that simplicity out the window on him. Knowing that the Jedi had a certain kind of leverage among the republic army, particular when it came to enlisted troops in the field, he considered a compromise that could satisfy them both.

                "What about this ... they stay here and we keep moving," he patted the air for her to let him explain, "but - but! I leave behind a couple of medics to continue your work here while we check out these tunnels. The two rebels come with us."

                He called over his shoulder then. "Red! Bax!" Two of the troopers hurried to his side, dropping their rifles to their sides and listening intently. Cadinn's eyes stayed on Anlai as he relayed their new orders. "You two are staying here." The duo exchanged curious glances, but said nothing. "The rest of us, including our two new guests here, are going to move on ahead a bit and try to stay productive. The clock's ticking on this mission, but we can afford to lend a hand here on our way through. Do what you can for these people, but go easy on supplies. The rest of us will double back in a few hours and link back up with you."

                "Understood, Captain," they replied in unison. They saluted and moved to leave, but Cadinn held them with a gesture of his hand.

                "Sound good?" he asked, looking to Anlai in hopes this would meet her approval.

    • Like 3
  15. REPUBLIC

     

     

    Hothplanetsurface.jpg

     

    Ruus leaned against a bulkhead in the small shuttle, intent on absorbing the stream of data and images displayed on his wrist console and oblivious to the others on board as they exchanged pleasantries. It wasn't that he didn't care to meet his cohorts - not that he did care either; he was simply too concerned with the conditions and concerns of the planet below to bother with how-do-you-dos. I'm sure they're just lovely, he thought dryly as he flipped a finger from right to left repeatedly, scrolling through the small holo-images of the planet's various features. He sighed audibly. Hoth ... ugh. He recalled the last time he was here: combing the barren, frozen landscape in his ship looking for the science team he had dropped off and was supposed to pick up three days later. Blizzards hit the planet constantly, changing the landscape daily - even hourly. The team was out on expedition, cataloguing ship wreckage or mapping the wampa genome or whatever it was they were doing there (he hadn't a clue) when one such storm erased all signs of their whereabouts. Ruus found them huddled in a cave not a hundred meters from their lost camp. Ushering the frost-bitten scientists to the nearest space station was time consuming and inconvenient, as was obtaining his chartering fee from the company that hired him to provide transportation.

     

    Ruus glanced up from his wrist console then, sensing eyes on him. Indeed, the group had all seemed to be acquainted well enough and now looked to him, the odd-ball of the bunch with his obvious lack of military gear or Jedi glow-sticks.

     

    "Negative 15 degrees where we're landing," he said, side-stepping their expectation for an introduction. "25 with the wind chill factor." He tapped a finger on a holo-image, grabbing it with two fingertips and pulling them apart to enlarge the image greatly. He moved closer to the group so that they could see, reaching from one steadying ring that hung overhead to the next as the shuttle entered Hoth's atmosphere and began to shake.

     

    "According to the shuttle's navigation computer," which I just hacked into, "they're bringing us down to a region I'm vaguely familiar with." He looked to the group, and then shrugged. "As familiar as one can get anyways when it comes to recognizing specific landmarks on Hoth." He smiled dryly. "I'd be surprised if even the local wildlife didn't get lost from time to time."

     

    He closed the image display on his wrist console then and headed for the front of the cabin, mouthing "excuse me" as he passed between them. He opened a locker-style compartment on the wall and retrieved the extreme-weater survival outfit from within: gloves, boots, leggings and a coat all lined with thick, insulating wool and waterproof thermal-regularing exterior fabric.

     

     

    "Name's Ruus by the way," he said as he huffed and grunted as he tugged on the heavy pants and boots. He pulled on the poofy coat and regarding himself with arms wide.

     

    "Orange never was my color." 

    • Like 3
  16. REPUBLIC

     

    "Run all ID tags on the other ships, Rosie," Ruus said sidelong to his co-pilot as they brought the Betty in closer to the small orbital station above Nal Hutta. "I'm guessing you'll find nothing but falsified registrations."

     

    "Scanning in-bound vessels, Master," the four-armed droid replied as her many hands flurried across the console, bringing up database search displays on the monitor before her while simultaneously assisting Ruus with bringing the ship around towards one of the station's vacant bays.

     

    "Run whatever identifying marks and numbers you find through SIS databases, Corellian Aphiss, and the Hydian route port authority databases - the usuals. Cross-examine them through known the public-access Hydian trade route port authorities. Something's bound to show up."

     

    Rosie nodded, her hands moving accordingly to add his requests to her initial searches. "Results coming in now, Master."

     

    Ruus was already out of his chair, snatching a vest from the back of his chair and moving out of the cockpit with haste. He paused in the hatchway, bringing up one arm to activate the terminal integrated into his forearm bracer. A small display lit up, revealing various commands and options.

     

    "I want to know everything you can find, Rosie - who they are, where they've been, any jobs you can match them to ... anything and everything. Got it?" He didn't wait for an answer, grabbing onto the top of the hatch and swinging through.

     

    "I'll transfer all results to you immediately, Master," Rosie said into the ship-wide coms. Her pleasant albeit robotic voice echoed throughout the ship.

     

    "Keep the engines running!" Ruus shouted back, still within hearing range of the cockpit. "I want this thing primed and ready when I get back!"

     

    Rosie said nothing in return, having heard his departing request routinely; every time he disembarked in fact. She continued her work, her four metallic hands moving this way and that as she assumed complete control of the vessel while also initializing data transfers to Ruus' wrist terminal.

     

    The Betty's engines flared as she dropped to docking speed, filling the ship with a drowning hum. Moments later the light freighter was nestled into one of the station's vacant bays and the loading ramp fell open.

     

    Ruus gave a nod over his shoulder to the cockpit as he came into view, coming out from under the belly of the ship and heading for the bay door where a droid waited to greet him.

     

    "You hear me, Rosie?" he asked without moving his lips. The droid's reply sounded within his inner ear. Glad to see that implant is working. "Send me what you have."

     

    Ruus nodded to the droid, who gestured for him to follow as he reached the door. Bidding the droid to lead the way, Ruus fell into pace behind it and walked after it down the corridor, all the while looking to the monitor on his wrist terminal as it displayed the results of Rosie's inquiries regarding the others. Interesting bunch.

     

    A short time later the droid reached an open doorway and turned to Ruus. "Right this way," it bade him, gesturing to the room beyond.

     

    Ruus hesitated for a moment, glancing about him and inspecting the droid's mannerisms; even a droid could show signs of treachery after all. He had a knack for sensing an ambush, having made a life of eluding bounty hunters and authorities, but sensed nothing suspicious about this place and so he turned the corner and entered the room.

    • Like 3
  17. Brega breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed out of the manhole and onto dry ground. He was happy to be leaving the dark, endless sewers and the unbearable stench that came with it. Reaching down he helped the last trooper of their squad, Jeckyll, up after him.

     

    "Thanks," Jeckyll said, helping Brega slide the manhole cover back into place and brushing himself off. "Nice to be out of there, eh?"

     

    Brega was up and looking about them. He gave an amused huff. "Yeah, even if it is for more dark, maze-like conditions."

     

    Jeckyll smiled inside his helmet. "At least there's no sewage."  Brega nodded in agreement. "This is the subterranean tunnel system that spans the whole city," Jeckyll commented, looking around and bringing up the holo display on his wrist panel. He flicked a finger this way and that on the image, making it pan back and forth to show the extensity of the tunnel layout. "The locals used it to transport goods all over without interruption. Very efficient actually." He gestured to the iron tracks at their feet that disappeared down the tunnel in each direction. Brega nodded in understanding.

     

    "Handy way for insurgents like us to get around as well," Brega put in. He looked to see Master Sere-loki up ahead gesturing for everyone to follow him.

     

    "How long have you known him?" Jeckyll asked suddenly as the two moved to follow the group. Brega looked to him curiously. "Your master," Jeckyll explained. "You seem familiar enough with each other, but not entirely."

     

    Brega was surprised by the trooper's insight, and impressed. "You're not a closet Jedi are you?" he asked jokingly. "Sharp senses you have there."

     

    "No," Jeckyll returned. He chuckled. "At least, I don't think so." Brega smiled as well. "It's not hard to tell you haven't been together long is all. I was just curious. Forget I asked."

     

    Brega waved a hand in the air to reassure he hadn't taken offense. "Not at all. I don't mind."

     

    They continued in silence then and Jeckyll wondered if the padawan was in fact going to answer the question as his response implied. In truth Brega was simply searching for a place to start. Deciding upon one, he finally replied.

     

    "Master Sere took me as his padawan nearly six months ago, give or take. He's a great man. I'm truly blessed to have him as a teacher."

     

    "Seems like a nice enough guy," Jeckyll shrugged, "as far as Jedi go anyway."

     

    Brega looked to him curiously. "Are we Jedi not the friendliest bunch?" He couldn't help but smile, knowing what the brash trooper might say.

    Jeckyll's chuckle echoed off the inside of his helmet. "They're like walking statues half the time," he replied with no intention of sugar-coating his impression. "Smart and wise, sure; but a bit too stiff and emotionless-looking. They need to loosen up, if you ask me." He glanced at Brega then. "I guess you're an exception though. You're not quite like the others I've met."

     

    Brega looked to him and nodded with appreciation, sensing the trooper meant it as a compliment. After thinking on his words further however, Brega wasn't sure if it really was.

    • Like 3
  18. "How'd you ... " the other rebel began to ask as he watched Anlai do her miraculous work on his companion. He noticed the lightsaber on his waist then and his brow furrowed with confusion. "You're Jedi ... why are you helping him?"

     

    Cadinn moved closer to the man, now slumped down on his rump against a crumbling wall in the dark basement of the warehouse. "Where's this corridor lead?" Cadinn asked, ignoring the man's question and feeling the need to keep focused on the fact that this was indeed their enemy. The rebel looked up to him, then glanced over his other shoulder to the corridor from which he and his companion had came.

     

    "Just a maze of corridors linking warehouses all over this part of town to the western supplies depot. It's how they used to get everything around so well, avoiding the traffic and civilians above ground." The rebel winced as he repositioned himself. A hand went to the side of his head where a gash seeped blood. He patted it, regarding the blood woefully as he remembered the chunk of permacrete that had fallen from above and struck him back in the corridor maze. "We were part of a patrol," he began, "checking the western perimeter walls for anything suspicious. We were using the sub-tunnels to get around, as everyone does, when the roof gave way overhead. Tanner here and I were the only survivors of our squad, or at least I think so anyway. They may have gotten out on the other side of the collapse."

     

    Cadinn kneeled down and, following in Anlai's example, handed the rebel a medac. The man was clearly surprised, but did not hesitate to take the offering. He nodded his thanks, but regarded the trooper with mistrust still.

     

    "Can you give us a map of the tunnels in this area? Show us where they come out, where they lead to, and which ones are impassable?" Cadinn didn't expect the rebel to comply, but given the hospitality and mercy they had just been given, he thought it was worth a try.

     

    The rebel looked at him with one raised eyebrow, surprised even further that the republic trooper would even think he'd divulge such information. "I, uh ... don't really know ... "

     

    "Give it to them," came the voice of his companion, Morgan. Each of them looked to the once severely wounded rebel that had accompanied him that now bore no signs of injury. He had stirred from a momentary slumber to find his wounds healed and his pain receding. Aside from a bad headache and some stiff joints and muscles, the rebel felt remarkable compared to minutes earlier. He pulled himself up against the wall next to Anlai and regarding her with unmistakable appreciation.

     

    "Give it to them," Morgan said again, adding a nod in to emphasize his sincerity. "They could've killed us on sight, Tanner, but they didn't. And not only that, they've helped us."

     

    Tanner regarded the medpac he still held in his hand. "This is war, Morgan. We can't just hand over information to the enemy."

     

    "It's information they're going to get anyway," Morgan replied with a cough. He held a dirty sleeve to his mouth. "Not giving it to them is just going to set them back a few hours, needlessly."

     

    "That's buying our comrades a few hours before these reps find them!" Tanner shot back, wincing once again as the pain in his head throbbed suddenly.

     

    The two rebels looked to each other, their reasoning reaching an impasse.

     

    "It's your call, Tanner." Morgan concluded. "You're the one with the holo-map of the tunnels."

    • Like 3
  19. Ruus leaned way back in the comfy office chair, his ankles crossed with his boots resting on the console before him as he languished with a bowl of soup in his hands. He watched the many monitors before him intently, waiting for a specific sequence of data to catch his eye as he absent-mindedly at his meal. As the contents of his bowl neared empty, he tipped his head back and the remainder of his meal into his mouth. His eyes went wide then and he nearly fell out of his chair.

     

    "Go back, Rosie!" he shouted, scrambling to get upright and tossing the empty bowl over his shoulder. It clattered onto the permacrete floor behind him, coming to rest at the feet of a bound, uniformed fellow propped up against the wall at the rear of the small room. The man murmured something in protest through a gag Ruus had secured about his head.

     

    "Did you see something of interest, Master?" a four-armed droid asked from the next console over. Curiously, the anatomically-feminine droid had a rather masculine vocabulator. Even the captor regarded the droid with a raised brow at the unexpected sound of its voice.

     

    "Just ... go back," Ruus reiterated with slight annoyance, looking to the screen as he gestured with one hand for her to continue reversing the data feed. "Back ... back ... back ........ there!" The screen stopped.

     

    Ruus leaned forward in his chair, reading intently as his droid companion joined him at his side. She looked upon the screen as well. "I don't understand, Master. These are simply long-range transmissions from ..."

     

    "From SIS headquarters. Yeah, I know." A look of great interest had come over Ruus' face and a mischievous smile had begun to form as he read and scrolled through the transmissions. "I know a few people that would pay big money for these transmissions, but there's only one I'm particularly interested in." He selected the transmission of interest and played it.

     

    A voice message sounded in the room through the console's speakers: "Dear Citizen of the Republic. We have on file that you have ..."

     

    Ruus stopped the transmission playback. "Yep! That's it! That message is rumored to contain the details for a job that will involve a big pay day. I may not have been invited to the party, but if the job gets done I'm sure they won't mind me crashing it."

     

    Rosie looked to her master with surprise, her emotion-less, blank face somehow able to convey the expression. "Master Vito, that's hardly sounds like ethical behavior."

     

    "Ethical?" Ruus returned, equally incredulous. "We've broken into an SIS satellite station in orbit over Coruscant, restrained one of their techs, and hacked into their secured databases using their own encrypted pass-codes bought from an ex-agent turned Imperial spy ... and you have a problem with me stealing someone's job offer?"

     

    Rosie blinked several times, then folded two of her arms across her chest. "Well when you put it that way, I suppose this entire endeavor could be considered unethical." Ruus furrowed his brow and was all shoulders as he shrugged a so what expression at her. Rosie huffed with derision as she spun about and moved away. "Your mother would be disappointed, Master Vito. And so am I," she said curtly.

     

    Ruus rolled his eyes as he turned back to the console and inserted a data storage device, initiated a data transfer, and after a few brief moments plucked the device from the port and flipped it in his hand with satisfaction.

     

    Walking over to the technician, Ruus assumed a casual stance near the man's feet and gave them a slight kick with his own. "You able to tell me who this transmission was for?" He reached down and removed the gag from the tech's mouth. "You would've been the tech that would've relayed this message off-planet to the recipients, right."

     

    "It was sent to a group of various independent operatives, agents and whatnot. Republic associates of some kind. They did work for the Republic at one time or another. That's all I know. No names, just ... special types."

     

    "Special types, eh? Well," Ruus began, regarding the storage device in his hand. "I'm sure SIS won't mind if I go ahead and cash in on this little job of theirs. Serves them right for not sending me an invite anyway." He turned to regard Rosie. "And yeah, come to think of it, seriously - why wouldn't they, Rosie? I've done tons of work for them ingrates! Why wouldn't ..."

     

    A barely audible sound emanated from Rosie's wrist, accompanied by a light indicator. Ruus paused mid-sentence. "... what's up?"

     

    Rosie stood rigid suddenly. "I'm sorry, Master. I meant to tell you earlier when we first arrived. You have mail ... " Rosie's slit mouth fell open and a voice message began:

     

    "Dear Citizen of the Republic. We have on file ..."

     

    Ruus' jaw dropped and his brow furrowed with disbelief. He looked down to the bound SIS technician, who was looking back to him with incredulity and shaking his head. Ruus shrugged and smiled with mock embarrassment. "Well ... this is awkward." He feigned embarrassment, then turned to leave the room then, walking heavy-footed as he headed back to the ship docked outside the small station. "Come on, Rosie. We're leaving." The droid's playback ceased and it moved along in pursuit.

     

    As Ruus disappeared through the open door, Rosie called after him. "Look at the bright side, Master! At least now you know you're a special type, too!"

     

    "... Thanks, Rosie."

     

    "Your mother would be proud."

     

    The technician chuckled heartily at the turn of events as the intruders departed, then, remembering his current state, the smile faded from his face and he grimaced as he struggled to free himself of the bonds Ruus and his companions had neglected to free him from.

     

    "Ay! Get back here!" he called out. He groaned, hearing no reply. "First he eats my lunch and then he leaves me like this."

    • Like 6
  20. On the far side of the city, another group of republic troops had infiltrated the city …

     

    Cadinn kept as close to the wall of the ruined building as he silently crept along the deserted street. He stepped cautiously, taking care not to make a sound as he made his way through the rubble that lined many of the streets in the city’s western district. The structure next to him was little more than ash now, with its roof and furnishings burnt away and its smoldering, permacrete frame crumbling away in places. After countless bombings, from both the government forces and the rebel faction, many sections of the city had been left in such ruins.

     

    As he neared the next corner he heard a coming sound and indicated for the others behind him to stop, bending his left arm vertically with a fist in the air. The squad of troopers took the queue, finding cover close by and hoping their grey camouflage suits would help them to blend in with their surroundings. They were not invisible, they knew; a good second look and anyone could spot them from a dozen meters away.

     

    They all froze as an open-top truck drove past then and continued on down the street, the half dozen rebels crammed into the small vehicle firing their weapons to amuse themselves and enjoying a recording of a local xantha soloist that blared over the truck’s audio system. A moment later and the raucous bunch disappeared as quickly as they came. Cadinn bade the others to follow once more with another gesture over his shoulder.

     

    “That’s the third patrol in as many blocks,†he said sidelong to the Jedi crouching next to him. Anlai could sense his trepidation. “They’re mostly half-wits, but if we’re seen we’ll have half the rebel army coming down on our heads.â€

     

    The last of their trooper escorts moved past, checking the corner and then hurrying across the open street to another ruined warehouse across the way. Cadinn brought up a topographical map of the district on his holo-panel.

     

    “We’re here,†he began, indicating their position with a highlighted dot. He trailed his finger across several blocks until finally stopping at a massive complex. “And here’s the city center, the interior district. Low income population, and lots of them; they took the brunt of the bombings over the past weeks. We've mapped out most of the western district. Time for us to head into the interior complex. Intelligence, if you can call them that, says we'll likely find a lot more of interest in the maze of streets and buildings in that area. Let’s get moving.â€

     

    With that, Cadinn moved to the corner, looked across to their squad, and at their signal they hurried over to join them. Running across the open streets gave them both a horribly vulnerable feeling; Anlai could’ve sworn there were eyes upon them as they ran, but there was no attack. As they reached the opposite warehouse, the troopers cleared the main floor while Cadinn and his Jedi companion checked the lower level.

     

    “The Aldraigans often connected warehouses beneath the streets,†Cadinn explained as he led the way down the permacrete staircase. “If we’re lucky we can cut some time off our trip and shortcut our way across town…†As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he pushed off the rear wall and shouldered himself through the flimsy wooden door and into the dark room beyond. At first he could see nothing, but upon activating the light affixed to his rifle he nearly startled at the sight before him.

     

    The warehouse was indeed connected to others by a long, narrow corridor underground. Pipes lined the ceiling, carrying the city’s water and sewage. The ground was damp from dripping overhead and the place smelled like an old, unused cellar. None of this surprised him, but the several dozen civilians cowering under the glaring light of Cadinn’s rifle certainly wasn’t what he expected; at least, not this early in the going.

     

    “Don’t hurt us!†someone yelled. Many of the people, clearly those whom had been rendered homeless by the bombings or were simply seeking refuge from the war above, threw up their hands and backed away from the squad as they all filtered into the corridor.

     

    “We’re Republic!†Cadinn tried to calm them, patting the air with his hands to reassure them. He gestured for them to lower the hands. “We’re just passing through, don’t worry.â€

    • Like 1
  21. The Imperial and Thul numbers were swelling as more and more troops poured out of the compound, swarming into the courtyard and firing on the small group of Remnants. Jeckyll, who had managed to climb up Draxun’s tree-ladder, reached the top of the wall and, snagging his foot on a branch, promptly tumbled headlong over the edge and down into a swampy pool.

     

    “I’m clear…†he groaned into his helmet comm. He was thankful for the soft cushioning of the mud in which he landed, but he could’ve done without the sludge seeping into his armor. Getting to his feet, Jeckyll cursed under his breath as he fumbled to get out of the boot-sucking mire when a sharp voice suddenly got his attention.

     

    “Freeze! Don’t move!â€

     

    Jeckyll sighed in resignation, lifting his hands slowing. He wiped the muck away from his visor and then sighed once again. “I’m with you, you idiot,†he said, shaking his head at the Republic trooper.

     

    The trooper, along with the other half dozen at his side, lowered his blaster rifle as he then noticed the Remnant markings on Jeckyll’s armor. “Sorry, it’s just … the mud, well …â€

     

    “C’mon!†another trooper shouted as the rest of the garrison charged by.

     

    Jeckyll wiped a handful of mud from his behind and threw it at the departing soldier, and then slowly made his way out of the pool. He collapsed on the bank and removed his helmet for some much needed fresh air.

     

    Republic fighters soared overhead, peppering the Thul compound with incendiaries and blaster fire, pushing the enemy troops back while the reinforcements evac’ed the small group of Remnants. Republic troops came over the Thul compound walls, meeting the enemy head-on and facilitating the escape of Jeckyll’s teammates, who they quickly brought back to the Republic’s landing zone for debriefing and extraction.

     

    Jeckyll, wet and covered in mud, and bearing many bruises, broken bones, and lacerations, offered no resistance when the republic medics insisted upon a stretcher and carried him to the LZ.

     

    “How was your day?†one of the medics asked dryly, eyeing Jeckyll’s many wounds incredulously.

     

    “Don’t even ask,†Jeckyll replied, closing his eyes with exhaustion.

    • Like 3
  22. Jeckyll grunted as he managed to get to his feet, using a tree he and Draxun had taken cover behind to support his weight. The pureblood was firing his pistol around one side, drawing heavy fire that peppered the tree trunk and the large exposed roots spread across the ground. Jeckyll’s head throbbed and he could still taste his own blood mixed with saliva in his mouth. He was certain he had several cracked or broken ribs on his left side and his left wrist was surely broken from when the sith had wrenched it. Jeckyll oddly smiled in that moment, amused by how many injuries he had sustained and still survived. Hearing his comrade’s blaster fire, and hearing the enemy’s shots peppering the trunk of the tree and it’s exposed roots covering the ground, Jeckyll decided he would try to be of some use while he still could.

     

    With the panel on his wrist activated, Jeckyll surveyed the area and what they were dealing with: they had reached the west end of the Thul compound, the main gardens where lots of trees and shrubs offered excellent cover. A dozen meters away, the compound wall loomed before them. He touched several keys on the panel and more than a dozen red dots appeared, moving about the displayed area, and a green signal beacon on the far side of the wall showed a decreasing distance countdown. 80m, 60m, 40m …

     

    “Drax! Cavalry’s coming! We gotta get outside the wall!â€

     

    Jeckyll retrieved a pair of grenades, waited for a pause in the enemy fire, and then turned about the tree to lob the explosives at the lowest and nearest section of wall. A shot rang out during his second throw and he shrieked with pain as he took a glancing hit across the shoulder, spinning him like a top.

     

    The grenades found their mark, the first explosion blasting away the first few layers of permacrete and the second explosion punching a hole large enough for a man to run through. Chunks of permacrete showered down over the gardens and filled the air with impermeable dust for a few moments, enough to provide a few extra seconds of cover for the hard-pressed Remnants.

     

    Jeckyll lay among the shrubs, cursing his luck as he pulled himself back to the cover of the tree where Draxun was still busy firing on the ever-growing number of Imperial and Thul troopers.

     

    “They’re beginning to surround us,†Jeckyll grimaced through the pain, finally reaching the a large exposed root where he was safe from fire. He nodded, gesturing to the far ends of the nearby wall where troopers could be seen hurrying from the guard towers to the parapets atop the walls. “Another minute and we’ll be completely surrounded. Where the hell are the others!?â€

     

    He took comfort as beeping indicator on his wrist panel alerted him to the proximity of their reinforcements. Drop-ships had landed and their relief would soon arrive to facilitate their extraction. “I’m taking a vacation,†Jeckyll muttered under his breath.

    • Like 3
  23. Jeckyll gathered a mouthful of blood, as well as a dislodged tooth, and spewed it out onto the perfectly manifcured grass of the courtyard. His breathing was heavy, but he took comfort in seeing that the sith's was as well. The cheap shot the sith had landed square on Jeckyll's jaw had effectively broken the headlock Jeckyll had secured about the sith's neck and once again the two were standing off, eyeing each other and waiting for one to make the next move. 

     

    The sith had tossed his helmet and chestpc aside, allowing for more agility and speed to fight the surprisingly capable trooper. He ignited his lightsaber once again, the red blade cutting the air, and feigned an attacking step forward.

     

    Jeckyll didn't flinch, but his muscles tensed. The vibro-dagger in his hand looked petty in comparison to the warrior's lightsaber, but he knew how to use it at least. He wondered if the sith could sense his fatigue and his confidence wavering.

     

    The smile on the sith's face indicated he could indeed.

     

    Jeckyll shot forward, slashing out for the sith's throat with remarkable speed and then ducking as the sith swept his lightsaber across with even greater quickness. The red blade split the air where Jeckyll's head was only a split second before and then rotated in the sith's hand deftly to deflect the vibro-dagger as Jeckyll plunged it towards the sith's gut. 

     

    Jeckyll winced as the heat of the lightsaber singed his gloved hand, but did not let it distract him. He knew his chances of surviving this duel was slim, but luck had been with him so far in the fight and he could only hope it'd see him through it.

     

    He ducked under another slash of the sith's lightsaber, barely avoiding the attack, and then sidestepped to avoid another. The third step to the sith's strike he did not anticipate however, and his last step put him in a poor position to avoid him - and the sith knew it. Try as he may to avoid the third strike, Jeckyll could only brace himself for the impact as he attempted to leap out of the way. The pain that shot through his leg was as bad as he imagined as the sith's blade glanced along his rib cage. The smell of burnt plasteel and flesh came to his nose as he tucked into a roll and managed to come back onto his feet. He immediately fell back onto his other side however, clutching at his side where the weapon had struck. He didn't have a moment more though when the sith was suddenly upon him, coming down from on high in a bold attempt to finish the trooper with a double-handed plunge of his lightsaber. 

     

    Jeckyll's eyes went wide as he instinctfully raised both his legs vertically to block the sith's descent. With his legs locked, his booted feet caught the sith in the chest and stomach and supported him midair. The sith pushed down with his weapon with all his strength, gritting his teeth and sneering at the trooper. The blade's tip was only inches from Jeckyll's face, but came no further. What he had to do next, he realized, he hoped wouldn't hurt as bad as the last hit.

     

    Jeckyll pumped his legs once, preparing to launch the sith away into the air; and in that moment the sith's smile gleamed as the tip of his lightsaber came within reach of the trooper's head. The sith took great pleasure in Jeckyll's cry of agony as the tip of the blade carved along his brow and down across his cheek, and his smile remained even as Jeckyll then pushed with his legs and the sith went flying into the air. 

     

    The sith was laughing even as he came down hard on a decorative collection of boulders and shrubs. He was instantly back to his feet, despite the soreness in his bones from the impact, and couldn't help but smile even larger at the sight of the enraged trooper charging towards him - the clear outline of the lightsaber's tip lining one half of the man's face. The sith ignited his lightsaber, and there his smile faded.

     

    In his hand, the lightsaber's emitter fizzled and sparked. The impact upon the rocks had damaged the weapon. 

     

    "How are you without your little flashlight!?" came Jeckyll's taunt. The sith looked back to the trooper just as Jeckyll lowered his shoulder and speared him in the midsection, lifting the sith up onto his shoulder and carrying him several feet before slamming him into the wall of the palace. The sith grunted as he fell to the ground, and then wore a puzzled expression as he noticed the blood spewing from his stomach. 

     

    Jeckyll reached down and lifted him to his feet, and there the sith saw the blood covered vibro-dagger in the trooper's hand. Jeckyll raised it for him to see and his expression was quite mad. "Mine can't be broken by a rock," he growled before plunging the small blade into the sith's thigh muscle. The sith howled in agony and reached for Jeckyll's weapon, trying to wrench it free while Jeckyll twisted and pushed with all his strength. 

     

    Fueled with pain and anger, the sith planted a Force-backed right cross of his fist against Jeckyll's jaw. The trooper stepped back several feet, rocked by the power of the blow, and a moment after was sent flying across the grounds as the sith summoned an even stronger surge of Force energy and threw it upon the Jeckyll at point-blank range. 

     

    Jeckyll flew through the door of the prison structure and slammed into the bars of a cell. Somehow he had remained conscious and struggled back to his feet. He looked up just as the sith came running across the grounds with impossible speed, despite the grave wound to his leg, and barreled into Jeckyll, both of them crashing into the bars. They wrestled upon the floor, grabbing and rolling in the dust, each of them shouting with rage as they each attempted to subdue the other.

     

    "Get him! C'mon mister, you can do it!" came the shrill voice of a child from one side. Jeckyll, with his arm locked around the sith's neck and struggling to maintain the hold, glanced to see a young female child in the cell, holding onto the bars with her grubby hands and hopping up and down with excitement. "Rip his head off!" she shouted. "Rip his freaking head off!" The elated expression upon the young girl's face was troubling to say the least. Is this the queen?!

     

    Jeckyll was taken aback in that brief moment, and it was all that the sith needed. As Jeckyll's hold lessened, even only a little, the sith was able to wrench the trooper's wrist and turn out of the headlock. Jeckyll cursed aloud as he felt his forearm bone snap in the sith's grasp and he kicked at the bars when the sith's arm locked instead around his neck and squeezed. 

     

    "Don't you guys usually use the Force for this kind of thing?!" Jeckyll strained to say as the sith leaned way back, lifting Jeckyll from the ground with both arms wrapped around his neck, choking the life out of him.

     

    "No need for a runt like you!" the sith shot back, spitting in Jeckyll's ear and laughing quietly.

     

    Jeckyll held his breath then and began kicking his legs up into the air, forcing the sith to backstep as Jeckyll's weight came up on him. Another few kicks and the sith was stumbling back until finally he lost his footing and crashing into the wall of the prison. The sith groaned, feeling something break inside of him from the weight of the trooper and with the awkward way in which he fell upon the wall land ground. Jeckyll spun about without a moment's hesitation, retrieved the vibro-dagger from the ground nearby and turned on the sith.

     

    "Maybe you should've stuck to what you Forcies are good at," Jeckyll said then, grabbing the sith by the back of the neck with one hand and driving the blade of his dagger deep into the sith's sternum. The sith's mouth gaped and his eyes went wide with the sudden immeasurable pain of the blade delving into his body. He watched as Jeckyll's hand twisted one way and then another, and he felt more of his very life essence fading from him with each turn of the blade. His eyes grew heavy then and his head fell forward limply.

     

    "Woooo! Nice job, mister! You stuck him real nice!"

     

    Jeckyll turned to regard the girl, who was hopping about with even more excitement now, pretending to stab an imaginary dagger of her own in various directions. Blood poured still from Jeckyll's mouth, his side pained him unbearably, and he had more broken bones than he could even begin to guess. The sight of the sadistically elated little girl in that moment was impossible to comprehend.

     

    "What the hell is wrong with you!?" was all he could muster to say, looking at the young girl with exasperation. He collapsed against the floor then, looking up to the ceiling of the prison as he tried to find his breath and recounting the duel he had somehow just miraculously survived.

     

    "Hey! Get up!" the girl shouted, tossing a handful of pebbles that tinked against his chestplate.  "Get me the hell out of here!"

    • Like 3
  24. The image of Aldraig IV’s western continent, displayed above a holo-projection table, shimmered as yet another explosion on the surface shook the ground and walls of the meager subterranean room. The leaders of the radicals movement, gathered about the table, looked up and to one another with knowing expressions. They’re getting close, they each were thinking.

     

    There were only the five of them now, with two of them elsewhere on the continent. In just the previous year, there were twelve leaders on the ‘council’, but the others had died in combat or from assassinations perpetrated by the Aldraigian government, which only fueled their fires of their resolve.

     

    Arsan Quaid, their current leader, was nearing his thirty-eighth year of age but looked to be into his late forties thanks to the stubbly salt-n-pepper hair covering his jaw-line and a scar that ran from his right cheek up into his short, unkempt hair. He was once a simple farmer, as were most of the others, and his skin still held an earthy tone despite having spent the past decade entrenched in guerilla warfare far from the sun-drenched tiling fields of their homelands to the south.

     

    Quaid and his comrades each wore simple civilian garb with pieces of military field gear acquired over the years from fallen enemies. They had grown used to their dirty clothes, skin and hair. As insurgents, they had spent the last ten years sleeping underground or in the ruins of battlegrounds, eating whatever they could find but often going without food or water for extended periods. Life had become very difficult, but their motivation was firm and their dedication to their cause was as solid as the permacrete above their heads. What had begun as protests against an unjust government law to raise taxes against the southern farming folk had escalated into an all out civil war. Many of the radicals had begun to forget what they had originally began fighting for, after so many years and with so many new to the cause; but nowadays the memory of all the atrocities that had occurred during the war was enough to motivate both factions to continue the fighting. Peace, to both sides, was no longer an option.

     

    “What are their numbers?†Quaid asked as he regarded the holo-image. He adjusted the red sash symbolizing their movement, bound about the left sleeve of his old, dirty coat, and folded his arms across his chest as he waited for Balian, standing to his left, to fill him in.

     

    “Our scout estimates two thousand,†Balian said as he worked the projection table’s controls. The image panned and zoomed, then inverted to give them a topographical view of the republic encampment that had sprung up over the past few days a few kilometers outside of the capital city. “With more coming in every day,†Balian added.

     

    “Jedi?†Quaid inquired, although he anticipated the coming answer as he looked to Adriana for confirmation.

     

    Standing tall and proud with her long, curly red hair falling about her strong shoulders, Adriana stepped forward and placed both hands on the table as she regarded the image. “Yes, although we’re not sure how many.â€

     

    Adriana had lost her husband and daughter in the first southern battles. She had hoped for a peaceful resolution to their conflict once, but the death of her family had quelled any chance for that. For her, there was only the next target and how much damage it would make – the more the better.

     

    Quaid sighed audibly and rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Dammit.â€

     

    “We knew they would be coming, Quaid,†Adrianna spoke up. “We planned for this.â€

     

    “I know that,†Quaid snapped back irritably, “but we weren’t expecting Jedi.â€

     

    “I think our last target might’ve got their attention,†Balian put in. “You didn’t honestly think leveling the republic embassy wasn’t going to get their attention, did you?†His tone and expression suggested he had warned of such a reaction when the target had first been considered. Quaid found the same look of scorning on Adriana’s face.

     

    Quaid said nothing in reply, merely shaking his head with annoyance. “That target was necessary. It was a statement,†he explained. “The government’s been threatening our people for decades with talks of dropping our neutrality in favor of joining the galactic republic, which would supposedly usher in a whole new set of taxes and laws even more undesirable than the ones our own government was trying to push on us. We called their bluff!â€

     

    “Well,†Adrianna began, gesturing to the assembling republic troops and their ever-growing encampment, “they weren’t bluffing.â€

     

    “It doesn’t matter if the republic is here,†came the voice of another individual entering the dark room. Each of the leaders turned to regard the newcomer, who had been a recent addition to their little council.

     

    “Maras, you’re back,†Balian greeted as the man came to stand at the table with the others. “What of the outer campaigns?â€

     

    Maras was younger than the others, and, unlike his comrades, came from one of the capital’s wealthiest noble families. He wore much richer clothing, although it too was dirty and worn. The radicals’ cause had inspired Maras, and his high education, political connections, and sheer resourcefulness had made him a valuable asset in a short period of time.

     

    “They’re going well,†Maras replied, nodding to each of them as he took a breath and began his report. “We’ve taken both the northeastern and northwestern regional power facilities and forced the government troops to fall back to the northern highlands.â€

     

    “We should press the attack,†Quaid said, sounding spurred with news of the government troops’ defeat. “Keep them on the run while we have the upper hand.â€

     

    Balian was shaking his head as he panned the holo-projection’s image far to the north, to the high plateaus and rocky region known as the Highlands. “They’ll defend their position too easily in those mountains,†he was saying. “Our losses will be too great and our chances for success too slim. No, we should let them retreat and focus on strengthening our hold of the north.â€

     

    Ever the coward, Quaid was thinking, looking to Balian with contemptuous eyes. Maras at his side exchanged a glance with him. Clearly he was thinking the same thing.

     

    “He’s right,†Adriana chimmed in, regarding the holo-image. “We have the north. Let’s focus on our next target – the southern deltas are poorly defended, with nothing more than villages and a few small garrisons of troops guarding the next power facility. We should attack there next.â€

    Maras was speaking quietly sidelong to Quaid, rousing curious looks that Balian and Adriana exchanged. Quaid was nodding with each hushed word. As Maras finished, Quaid spoke decisively.

     

    “We’ll send troops to the south as Adriana suggests, and we’ll press the attack in the north.†Balian began to interject, but Quaid cut him off and continued. “Contact Reghor in the west – his army has seized the seaward flotillas and refineries along the coast and can spare some troops. He’ll reinforce Maras’ northern troops as they assault the highlands.â€

     

    “Quaid, we have the north and the government troops in the highlands are no threat. We have better things …â€

     

    “Enough!†Quaid growled, glaring at the fiery-haired woman. Her eyes went wide, surprised by the tone of her long-time comrade. “We cannot let up! If the government troops sense hesitation on our part they’ll launch counter offensives. No, we will press the attacks on all fronts. See to it!â€

     

    With that, Quaid moved forward and deactivated the holo-projection table, nodding to Balian and Adriana to conclude the meeting. The two leaders nodded in return, although with pause, and moved off together to exit the room. They exchanged hushed words as they departed the dark, subterranean room.

     

    As the door closed behind them, Quaid turned to Maras, who stood in silence with his hood now drawn to shield him from the falling dust and dirt as yet another surface explosion sent tremors through the ground overhead.

     

    “Balian’s a coward,†Quaid sneered with frustration. “His lack of backbone is going to cost us the war in the end, you watch!â€

     

    Maras nodded in agreement, but said nothing.

     

    “And Adriana’s only enabling him!†Quaid continued, growing furious as he began to pace the room. “She used to be our finest commander in the field – she still could be! – but her loyalty to Balian has made her soft!â€

     

    Quaid clenched his hands into fists at his sides, stopping at the table and pounding one of them on the top of it. “I need lieutenants that will carry out my instructions without hesitation -and effectively, with absolute precision!â€

     

    “You’ve been together a long time,†Maras reminded him, speaking quietly in comparison. “Friendships can … soften a man’s resolve over time. It’s been over ten years now that you’ve all been together, fighting at each other’s side.â€

     

    Quaid rested his forehand on the table, feeling suddenly very tired as he recalled the years of endless fighting. Maras continued.

     

    “They’ve been loyal, the others; but this isn’t about friendships. This is about doing what is right for the people and about seeking justice for the countless people that have suffered or died over the years.†Maras moved to Quaid’s side then. “Our friends have changed in the past years. They may not be the right people to lead our armies anymore. You have to consider that, Quaid.â€

    Quaid opened his eyes then, his forehead still upon the table, as Maras clasped him on the shoulder. He was right, of course; Quaid knew that. He had been thinking the same thing these past months. They had been together so long, fighting at each other’s side, losing friends and family together along the way; but, as Maras said, this wasn’t about friends or loyalty. This was about doing what needed to be done.

     

    Quaid sighed aloud, dreading the decision he was beginning to realize he would someday soon have to make.

     

    ***

     

    In an underground corridor, leading away from their meeting chamber …

     

     

    Balian stepped over rocks and debris as Adriana and he made their way through the dimly lit catacombs running beneath the streets.

     

    “He’s just trying to keep the pressure on them,†Adriana was saying in an attempt to settle Balian’s lingering protests. “He’s got a point, you know.â€

     

    Balian was shaking his head. He stopped at the next pile of rubble and leaned against the wall as he regarded his comrade. “It’s more than that, Adri,†he replied, his expression pleading. “We’ve got the upper hand already. We don’t need to press the attack, especially on an elevated position. The risk versus the gain just isn’t practical.â€

     

    “Yeah, I know,†Adriana returned, stopping as well. She brushed her sweat-laden red hair out of her face and looked to be equally frustrated. “He’s made similar decisions before though and we’ve always came out on top, haven’t we?â€

     

    Balian hesitated, but grudgingly conceded the point with an exaggerated nod of his head. “True enough, but it’s a trend that can’t last forever – not with the republic, and the Jedi, here now!â€

     

    Adriana sighed, thinking on the implications of their newly arriving foes. Their presence would certainly complicate things. She gestured for Balian to follow as she continued down the corridor.

     

    “Stop being so pessimistic, Balian,†she said, trying to bring levity to their conversation. Balian chuckled. “Let’s check in with Reghor and get the next phase moving before the republic can do anything about it. Maybe we can give them a moment’s pause and keep things leaning in our favor.â€

    • Like 2
  25. The sound of rushing water came to Brega’s ears long before he spotted the large water pipe extending out of the ground, deep within the forest surrounding the city’s perimeter. Following the sound through the barely permeable fog, the troops happened upon a fast-flowing stream and followed its origins, which lead them eventually to the source of the water – a large, permasteel pipe, wide enough to accommodate two men standing shoulder-to-shoulder were it not for the wide flow of water rushing down its center. The city’s water supply flowed through several treatment facilities beneath its streets before being fed back into various natural bodies of water in the surrounding landscape. It was an efficient, eco-friendly process that Brega found interesting, considering the apparent violent tendencies of both the government and rebel faction that were currently waging war across the continent, leaving much of the natural lands filled with abandoned or destroyed buildings and debris everywhere.

     

    Still, as Brega climbed into the pipe, with the troopers in tow and Master Sere leading the way, he found himself pondering as to whether the people of Aldraig IV could turn their current predicament around. They clearly had the capacity to work out their problems in previous years, and had good intentions at one point or another; the complex treatment system was evidence enough of that. Brega’s thoughts wandered to imagining a much more peaceful time on the planet, when there may not have been separate factions at all, or discontent among the people, or even violence of any …

     

    The sound of Master Sere’s lightsaber igniting before him, and the flash of yellow light as the blade extended, startled brega out of his daydreaming. He had been stepping tenuously as he navigated his way along the side of the slippery pipe, and so he nearly lost his footing when the weapon’s gleam pierced e darkness suddenly in front of him.

     

    Master Sere held his lightsaber aloft, using the weapon’s glow to illuminate their surroundings. Water rushed past, knee deep at its center, and the pipe extended further ahead seemingly without end.

     

    “We’ve a long way to go,†Master Sere said quietly over his shoulder to Brega and the others. The troopers clicked on their flashlights, affixed to the barrel of their blaster rifles, and moved off in standard formation. Everyone stepped lightly and with care not to slip, lest they be whisked away by the strong current of the water.

     

    Some thirty minutes later, the small squad and their two Jedi escorts finally reached one of the many water treatment facilities near the city’s edge. A maintenance hatch was found to be free of any motion sensors or booby traps and so gave the troupe an easy way into the city’s vast sewer system. It was a maze of interconnecting sewer tunnels, and was far less clean than the outer tunnels from whence they came.

     

    Brega cupped his mouth and nose with one hand as he waved the other before his face, shooing the imperceptible stench and noxious fumes assaulting his senses. He looked about the area – garbage and organic waste floated in putrid water and rodents scurried along its edge, picking at refuse and disappearing into the flotsam.

     

    Master Sere seemed not to be offended by their surroundings as he moved along, stepping over clumps of waste, over vermin and assorted garbage; he was apparently oblivious to its affects. Still holding his weapon overhead to light their way, he lead the group from one tunnel to another, as if he knew where he was going. Brega eyed him curiously, unable to understand how Sere, even as a veteran Jedi, could stand such a place.

     

    “Obscure your senses,†Sere instructed him suddenly, seeing Brega’s scrunched up expression and no doubt sensing the padawan’s discomfort. The smell of the place was truly unbearable. “Put aside the obvious offenses around you,†Sere continued, “and redirect your mind to look for what is important. See with your mind, feel with your mind, hear with your mind – channel yourself body and mind through the Force and such discomforts will not trouble you, and you’ll find what you are looking for as well.â€

     

    Brega nodded in reply, still cupping his mouth and nose with one hand. Sere raised his brow and Brega read the queue. He removed his hand, took a modest breath, furrowed his brow once last time as the smell came to his nose, but then made an honest effort to do as Sere bade him. He glared a moment at the troopers as they brushed past them, each of them also unaffected by their surroundings thanks to the air filters in their helmets.

     

    “Focus,†Sere urged him, closing his own eyes as he placed a hand upon his padawan’s shoulder to help him concentrate.

     

    Moments later, Brega found himself in an almost euphoric state once again as he found the stream that was the Force. Though not perceivable to the eye, of course; Brega could feel its distinctive, weightless effect on him. He looked ahead to his master, but Sere was gone. Surprised, Brega looked about and spotted his swift master turning a corner a ways ahead along with the troopers. Puzzled as to why his master would leave him so, Brega hurried after him; but as he rounded the same corner he could see none of his squad, only an intersection that led to other tunnels and more intersections. For a moment Brega felt a pang of panic, but then he remembered his masters words: “channel yourself body and mind … and you’ll find what you are looking for.â€

     

    He focused on his master, recalling the unique life-force signature the zabrak emitted whenever they were at each other’s side, and then sought out any sign of the Jedi’s passing ahead. Not unlike a scent trail, Brega noted a strange shimmer in the Force around him, something that bade him to follow the next left tunnel, and then a right turn down another, and through several intersections. After many minutes alone, trekking through the disgusting underbelly of the city – unaffected by its dizzying array of fumes and filth -, Brega turned a corner to find his trooper squad standing, ready and waiting, and Master Sere standing before them with a rather pleased expression upon his tattooed face.

     

    “Useful, don’t you think?†Master Sere said simply, smiling knowingly as he gestured for his padawan to join them as they continued ahead.

     

    Brega smiled in return, accepting his master’s hand as the zabrak clasped him on the shoulder once again. The two continued on through the sewers, looking for their way up into the streets, and with Master Sere sharing other small lessons with Padawan Brega throughout their journey.

    • Like 2

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