Star Wars: Triad
Episode I: Enter the Empire
The Imperial Guard has placed garrisons on some of the more strategic worlds that produce valuable raw materials or manufacturing to prevent any dissent from becoming a problem. These garrisons wait, poised for the merest word from the Emperor to take control of the local government and hand these worlds to the Empire's greedy grasp.
The criminal Syndicate also has concerns about the future of these worlds. many of them are important logistical centers for exchanging illegal goods for legitimate ones. As the Empire tightens its grip, the use of these inner worlds is becoming more and more dangerous.
On Vorgrell, the ruling Council was dismantled by the Imperial Commander, its members arrested or killed during one terrible night. Betrayal is suspected. Alliances are made. Revenge is planned. And the Noble Houses struggle to keep hold of both their titles and wealth during the tempestuous times.
For the moment, it seems, the Empire is only flexing its muscle. Unease mounts as these sorts of strong-arm tactics threaten to topple the delicate balance of power between the Vorgrell Nobles, the Syndicate, and the new Empire.
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First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
05 Epsilon 75
21:52
A Bith band played soft music as the customers of the Cantina variously chatted, danced, flirted, and gambled on cards or Swoop races. It was the kind of place you went to do shady dealings, assuming you weren’t just there to have a good time. Which was why you could find mercenaries, thugs, criminals, and even snitches there; most of the regular citizens who weren’t military avoided it unless they were desperate.
Lianna Merrol moved through the crowds with ease, gracefully sidestepping people who stepped into her way. One took a look her and was about to say something to her, until he noticed her hard appearance, then promptly changed his mind. Lianna just dismissed him from her mind; anyone intimidated enough by her appearance to not even be able to talk to her, she had no use for.
Near the back of the cantina, she found the table she was looking for, where three figures sat.
One of them was a bulky but bald human male, who looked like he could wrench someone’s head around. There was also Trandoshan who sat there with his blaster sitting on the table in front of him, a clear threat to anyone who wanted to cause trouble; between them sat a Quarren in white robes with a brown cape and sash.
When she approached, the Quarren stood to greet her, speaking his language. “I am glad that you decided to come. A wise decision. Please, be seated,” he gestured to part of the booth near him.
Lianna slid into the offer seat easily, keeping her hands above the table. Years of experience told her that while it’s good for a client to know you are capable, you don’t want to appear to be a threat to them. “It’s difficult to avoid listening to a client with your connections,” she replied in Basic, knowing they could both understand each other.
“My connections have told me much about you,” replied the Quarren, Jorran Krell, boss of the Syndicate on Vorgrell. “That you have transformed a Personal Luxury Yacht into an effective offensive weapon is quite impressive.”
This was also a part of how things sometimes went. Flattery of her ability, she thought some hoped, gave them a discount on her dealings, or made it more likely that she would take a target she normally didn’t. All had been proven wrong. “Thank you, Jorran.”
“I can see you are getting agitated, so I will get right down to business. The Syndicate is prepared to offer you a substantial fee of six hundred credits a month, to work for me on personal retainer.”
Lianna crossed her legs, trying to avoid the shock. It was said that, when the Syndicate offered you an exclusive contract, part of it was a test to see if you had the right stuff to join them. Membership was by invitation only, but members were set for life. “I couldn’t do it for less than a thousand,” she replied, smiling. Stay clam. “Unless, of course, you’re willing to cover expenses of jobs that I do as well.”
The human had a shocked look on his face, the Trandoshan petting his blaster. Jorran chuckled, then made a watery sound that Lianna hoped was the Quarren equivalent of a laugh. “Excellent, your boldness is not just in battle. Very well, Lianna. Six-fifty plus expenses. I may also provide bonuses for certain targets.”
Six-fifty and expenses, and even then, potentially more. How much money does he have? Still, this was fast becoming an offer that was almost too good to refuse. Then again… “what’s the length of the contract?” No way she was letting him get her for a month or two to collect various targets for less than the regular amount.
“Indefinitely, but I can guarantee you a minimum of six Vorgrell months.”
“And what would my job consist of?”
“Elimination and capture of targets; also potential bodyguard work,” replied Jorran. “It should not be too different from things which you have already done.”
Lianna thought for a moment before giving her answer. It would certainly make things easier for her: a guaranteed minimum income, her expenses covered. Even then, Jorran Krell might not actually need as much work. It would certainly beat spending a month trying to track someone down as well, only to have another bounty hunter beat you to the bunch.
“It’s a deal,” she finally said.
“Excellent,” Jorran replied, slapping one of his webbed hands on the table. “You will not regret your decision, Lianna.”
She could only hope so, as the thought occurred to her. Six-hundred fifty credits a month. On Vorgrell, that was a lot. That he was able to offer her so much was a sign of his power on the planet, and also of his desire to secure her services. “I look forward to a long and profitable relationship, Jorran.”
“Long, profitable, and about to begin,” Jorran replied, calling for a waiter to come over. He quickly ordered drinks, including one for Lianna. She felt surprised again; he had picked out a Savareen Brandy for her. He knows my favourite drink?
Lianna tried the brandy, enjoying the strong taste. The problem with Savareen Brandy was the price of the stuff. It was expensive enough that she mainly had it only after a big job. Quite frankly, she didn’t think that they had it on this planet. “You already have someone you need me to locate?” she asked.
The Quarren shrugged. “You might say that.”
“What else might you say, then?”
“Cael Draxel,” was the Quarren’s reply. “Vorgrell’s most well-known and best slicer. Unfortunately, he’s also very reclusive and claims to be ‘retired.’ The Syndicate wishes to convince him to come out of retirement, which means that we need you to locate him.”
Lianna nodded, taking another sip of her drink. She knew that name as well. You couldn’t ask about security systems or computers on Vorgrell in the underworld without Draxon’s name coming up, either to call him the best or to denigrate him as a hack while presenting someone else as the best. “So, locate and….”
“I would prefer to meet with him of his own free will, but if that’s not possible, you may use non-lethal force.”
“Understood.”
The Alcona woman used her drink as a way to get a chance to drink. She would need information that no doubt, Jorran would provide. Then it would be time to hunt.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
05 Epsilon 75
20:45
Plateau City, Vorgrell
Orsiri Castle
The tall female Twi’lek danced at the center of the banquet room, the brilliant lights of the castle’s chandeliers mirroring the dance on her skin, the rare red shade of the Lethan race.
She spun in little circles, the leather straps of her dancer’s attire slapping against her body, making its own music. Her lokku, also wrapped in leather straps, curled and twirled around her head. The girl was skillful and graceful, her dance full of sensuality and promise. She danced, mesmerizing male and females alike. As usual.
The Lethan moved with her eyes closed, blocking the images of Vorgrell’s nobles and Imperial officers, socialites and wannabes. She didn’t need to look to know where everybody who was somebody was. The Princess Zara Orsiri was sitting behind the main table, in a raised dais in front of her. She was conversing softly with Grig Harkness, the appointed Imperial Commander to Vorgrell. She could almost feel the old man’s eyes on her. Besides the Princess, and sitting slightly to her back, was Lady Arella, her guardian dog.
The Twi’lek twisted, opening her eyes and looking over her shoulder at the courtiers sitting in the auxiliary tables at both sides of the main one. There was Leiutenant Akula, next to a noble lady of Vorgrell. She caught his eyes as she danced and closed hers, she could still feel his clammy hands on her from the last time she’d performed for the Princess. She had needed all her skills to evade him then. She spun again, the strips of leather lifting away from her legs with the motion.
The music was exhilarating, pulsing through her body, and the girl threw back her head, lips parted, rendering the sensual performance of her kind. Moving rhythmically, she rocked her hips and jumped, then sank down to her knees when the notes finally died.
The sound of clapping rewarded her efforts, and the girl got to her feet again, facing the hostess, Lady Zara Orsiri, Great Princess of Vorgrell. She bowed, letting her lokku fall forward and hang limply by her knees. The Princess smiled absently and nodded at the dancer, not aware that the gesture - a symbol of positive thoughts about the person or persons in front of whomever was bowing - had been completely neutralizad by the almost imperceptible clockwise girating of her falling lokku. Only another Twi’lek could have understood the sublte change in meaning.
After a small gesture of dismissal from Princess Zara, she straightened and walked off the dance floor, her bare feet silent against the black and white marble tiles. She could feel the Lieutenant’s eyes on her again, and thanked that etiquette didn’t allow him to get up and follow her. Not in the middle of the second course.
Once she left the banquet room she walked quickly in the direction of the kitchens looking for the Orsiri Majordomo to collect her pay. She crossed her path with the armoured guardians of the castle and smiled seductively at them, as usual. She was a familiar figure during the Princess parties.
After collecting her fees, she would be allowed to stay some more around the place and try some of the banquet’s preparations, as long as she didnt get in the middle of the comings and goings of human and droid servants. She was particularly friendly with the First cheff, a talkative plump woman from Nal Hutta. The woman was always happy to gossip with her while she moved around the kitchen.
The Twi’lek would use her time in the castle. As usual.
A couple of hours later, the Twi’lek stood under the vibroshower in her small bathroom. She passed her hands over her skin, slowly washing away the red dye that had covered her distinctive blue and yellowish skin.
Once clean, she stepped out of the refresher, walked past the scant dancer’s attire that she had left lying on the floor and sank onto her bunk. She fell asleep almost instantly. As usual.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
9 Epsilon 75
02:45
Plateau City, Vorgrell
Orsiri Castle
The sky was clear and the stars were out this night. Beneath the heavens, Plateau City was quiet. The few clubs would be shutting their doors, the noble events would have long winded down, even the petty criminals would be asleep. Plateau City was a city that slept at night. In the early morning it would wake again, and woe betide any who crossed it in the night.
Ahead, the Orsiri Castle loomed out of the darkness, like all the noble houses, a beacon lit by brilliant light even at this late hour. Corin Archell, the exiled Duke and former Sherrif, remembered the building as appearing friendly and inviting, as all noble homes should. But in two years that had changed. Now it was grim, a threatening presence in the City that dominated the surrounding buildings. Even the garden now seemed wrong. Before Corin could have sworn it was full of thriving life, growing pretty much to their wishes. No longer. The garden was strictly ordered, each plant allocated a specific place and rigorously maintained, no doubt by an army of gardeners who’s job it was to simply keep the order.
Had the garden been the same from when Corin was last on Vorgrell, he would have had little difficulty sneaking close to the Castle. Although it wouldn’t present too much of a problem due to his shadowsuit, Corin was hoping to have been able to move through the garden virtually unseen. But in its present condition there stood a chance he may be spotted, and that meant he had to be more careful and take it slowly.
It was all Corin could do to restrain himself from leaping up and shooting his way in even though he knew that would never work. If he wanted to get this done right, to even have a chance, he would have to play it safe. He hadn’t simply worked as an assassin for two years for the pay and social opportunities but for practice. Practice for this moment, the culmination of two years of hard work was coming to a head, and Corin could feel the excitement building up inside of him. Tonight, my Lady, you will pay at last.
At last, he rose from a bush of flowers from the southern hemisphere with white and green petals to spy the door he was looking for. It didn’t, however, have the appearance of a door. To the untrained eye the door was simply another patch of the wall, but Corin knew better. Whilst growing up he had spent nearly more time in the Orsiri Castle than his own family home. He knew it like the back of his hand; the secret ways in for soldiers in the case of a hostage situation, the secret ways out in times of danger, even after two years Corin remembered it well. He had spent several days inconspicuously scouting out these hidden doorways in case Zara had changed or trapped any of them in the last two years. And he was glad he did, for there had indeed been a number of changes.
But this one, this one still worked. Looking left and right, then up at the building, Corin pulled his blaster and darted from the bush. He pressed up against the wall and checked again. His blaster followed his eyes. Nothing. With one hand against the wall and the other gripping the blaster, Corin moved slowly sideways, brushing his free hand across the wall. There! The texture subtly changed from rough to smooth. Corin touched another part of the wall just to make sure. There was definitely a different texture to it. This was it.
The secret door he was standing before was designed to be an emergency, secret exit that would bring whoever was inside out into the cover of the gardens. Although Zara had virtually nerfed that inea, the door way remained and, with any luck, would be less watched because of that. Unfortunately, in the matters of security, it could only be opened from the inside, which would have been a huge problem for Corin had he not had inside help. He pointed his blaster at the wall and stepped towards it. With a woosh the section of the wall slid up into its recess and Corin moved quickly inside. The door fell closed behind him. His shadowsuit quickly enveloped Corin in the darkness until he became no more than a shadow himself. Before him was a darkened passageway between the walls that would eventually take him out pretty close to the main audience chamber. He was in.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Kappa 73
14:26
Plateau City, Vorgrell
The Office of the Sheriff
Duke Archell, Sheriff of the Cooperative, was sat in his office, going over recent recruitment details into the military, but his mind was elsewhere. Mostly he was thinking about the Republic – no, the Empire it was called now. The Empire. An Emperor. He sighed and shook his head, dropping the datapad down onto the desk, his desk, that his feet were also up on. His blaster hung over the back of the chair. The Empire. No matter how much Corin read or heard about it, he couldn’t decide what his opinion was. On the one hand, he applauded Palpatine’s ideals – determination, strong position, unity. But his methods…they were a different matter altogether. And there were some he just didn’t understand at all.
It was then that the door shot open and an aide ran in before it had fully whisked into its niche. “Sir!” He blurted, face flush, as he struggled to take in air whilst coming to attention and saluting the Sheriff.
“What is it?” Corin demanded, coming to his feet and enraged at this intrusion. He hastily returned the salute. “Stand down, man, and speak!”
The aide nodded and took several deep pants. “The Imperials, sir!”
Something was wrong. Corin knew it instinctively. His anger was lost as concern spread through him. He came round his desk and steadied the aide with one outstretched arm. From the state of the man, he guessed he had run a fair distance as fast as he could to speak with Corin. “Deep breaths. What about the Imperials?”
“There are Imperial ships in orbit and soldiers making landfall outside Plateau City.” The aide looked aghast and took another deep breath before continuing. “Sir…they have issued an arrest warrant for the Noble Houses.”
A chill ran up Corin’s spine and his face went white. An arrest warrant…soldiers making landfall…. The Empire had come to Vorgrell. More importantly, the Emperor was coming for them. His fists clenched and he whirled round to look out the large window at the rear of his spacious office. The Office of the Sherrif was one of the few government offices on Vorgrell above the surface, and as such was only a few stories tall. Before him stretched Plateau Plaza. To his left was the Archell family home, and to his right the administration buildings of the Archell Military Academy.
Why? What had Vorgrell done to warrant Palpatine’s attention? He couldn’t fathom an answer, but he knew now was not the time for asking questions. That would come later. Right now, Vorgrell needed action. He started thinking hard. Most of the armed forces were out on duty or on leave. It would take time to recall them to Plateau City…time they didn’t have. Would their military even be able to stand up to the Empire? Was it even wise to try?
He had completely forgotten the aide still stood in his office. “…Sir.” The man continued, hesitatingly, and Corin looked round at him sharply. “Sir, they say the arrests are due to collusion with Imperial Enemies…Jedi, sir. There are guards on their way here right now.”
Corin closed his eyes. Jedi… Of course. A perfect excuse, when you considered it. He looked back out the window, and saw Imperial soldiers just coming into view, marching down the main street. There would be others on their way to Archell Palace, Orsiri Palace and the other homes of the Noble Houses, and the Military Academy, the spaceports, the subterranean government offices…Towards his office. No, there would be no chance of a stand now. Not with guards already on their way to arrest him-
Wait, guards already on their way? His guards? Above the Sheriff, they only answered to ranking military officers…This must have been pre-arranged, planned, discussed. That implied…a traitor. A conspiracy. Vorgrell had been set up.
The sudden realisation spurred him into action. Corin strode over to his Power 5 blaster and fastened the holster back on. He turned to the aide. “House Archell will always respect your efforts today…”
“Alrin.” The aide provided. “Alrin Rinwold.”
“You have my thanks and that of my House, Alrin Rinwold.” Corin reached for his arm and shook it firmly. “Now you had better leave.”
The aide saluted and turned smartly on his heel. Corin shot him in the back.
He fell to the floor in a stunned pile. Corin bent down and whispered in his ear. “Forgive me, but there’s a traitor amongst us. I can’t take any risks now.” Then he left the office, his office, for perhaps the last time and ran as fast as he could, leaving the unconscious aide behind. There wasn’t much time.
Taryn en route to home
05 Epsilon 75
20:23
A few light years from Planet Vorgrell
Taryn Kohl rolled her shoulders to ease some of the tension as she rose from the pilot’s seat of her ship and stood. She stepped out of the cockpit and paused. Her engineer stood a few feet away, his normally perfectly groomed reddish brown fur streaked with dirt. Taryn waited and a moment later, he began to speak.
“I managed to repair the stabilizer,” Balok said softly. “I still don’t know how that could have happened. The hyperspace navigation system was in perfect condition last week.”
Taryn shrugged. Balok had said the same three other times since they’d suddenly fallen out of hyperspace the previous day. She didn’t really care how it had happened so long as they were about to be moving again. The cargo in the “special hold” beneath the ship was too valuable to risk spending a lot of time hanging dead in space. Pirates, privateers, and all manner of other unsavory characters could be found lurking around empty space lanes of late. They would surely love to prey on a single ship without any real means of escape and very little in the way of defensive capabilities.
“Doesn’t matter, Bal,” Taryn responded. “Let’s just get moving. We’ve been lucky so far, but I don’t see that luck holding. We need to get back to Vorgrell and get this shipment to Bazlo as soon as possible. He’s probably already furious.”
“Baz is never furious with you, Taryn,” Balok replied. “That Hutt thinks you can do no wrong.”
“Baz doesn’t like me enough to jeopardize his profit margin,” Taryn smirked. “He is a Hutt after all.”
Balok grunted and then pulled a relatively clean rag from his back pocket. He began to try to clean the grease and dirt from his fur. Taryn slid back into the pilot’s chair and plotted a course. Moments later, space streaked by the cockpit windows as they flew towards their destination once again.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
06 Epsilon 75
15:52
Lianna took in the starport carefully, as she always did, looking for potential avenues of attack. When she was convinced that she had the layout, she proceeded into the docking bay where Siren’s Song docked. All of her sources told her one thing: Dael Lauren was one of the few people able to actually contact Draxel.
Turning to a communications terminal, Lianna glanced down the corridors one more time to ensure that nobody was there, before punching up the frequency a well-placed bribe gave her to contact the ship. A message had already been sent by the dockmaster as well, indicating that a potential client would be contacting her shortly.
The bounty hunter just had to wait, now, for the Twi’Lek to accept the call.
Daell was doing some cleaning up when the incoming call’s alarm sounded, she passed one of her hands through her sweaty forefront and sighed, relieved. Any thing was good when it interrupted her cleaning. She hated it, but she couldn’t offer an unhospitalable place to her potential clients. For the thousandth time she vowed she’d get herself a droid. Maybe sometime she’d finally do it.
She walked to the cockpit and looked at the comm’s screen. A client, well, maybe she’d be able to get that droid after all. Daell pressed the accepting button and talked, “Lauren here.”
Lianna watched as the face of the blue-skinned Twi’Lek appeared on the screen. At least it confirmed that the woman was still on-ship. Now, if she was lucky, her first job would soon be over. “Good morning,” she said. “My name is Lianna Merrol. I was wondering if I could speak with you regarding a business proposition – I’m trying to locate someone, and was told that you could help me.”
The woman on the other side of the call was a stranger, although the name sounded somewhat familiar. Daell watched her intently, locating someone, right. Well, she had been on port for almost a month now, her ‘space-legs’ were starting to feel clampy. Hopefully this ‘someone’ was off world. ‘Ok, come on in,” she answered after a moment, and punched the opening sequence.
As the screen went blank, Lianna considered her good fortune. It wasn’t often that people proved so trusting when one of their associates was a slicer. She proceeded into the docking area, watching as the ramp to the Siren’s Song descended. Ducking slightly as she entered the ship, she did her best not to enter into a battle stance reflexively. Giving away training was a bad idea.
Waiting in the boarding section, she turned as she heard the sound of someone approaching. Her attention was immediately drawn to the yellow stripes on the Twi’Lek, breaking up the normal solid skin colour. Here I thought they were joking with the description. “A pleasure to meet you,” Lianna said as she approached.
Daell cleaned her dirty hands with a handkerchief, and put it in her back pocket of her jumpsuit before offering her hand. She was instantly worried when she saw the potencial ‘client’. The woman was wearing some kind of armor, all silver and light looking, and for the looks of it she wasnt unarmed either. Well, paranoia wasnt one of her traits, although you had to be cautious anyway. She felt the familiar pressure of her own vibroblade in her boots.
“Same here,” she answered, “you mentioned locating someone? Need transport?”
“That’s not quite certain yet,” Lianna replied, watching the Twi’Lek’s stance for a hint of potential attack. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be one. “The man I’m looking for is a slicer named Cael. I’ve been asking around about him, and a couple of people have said that you know how to get in touch with him.”
Daell grimaced inwardly, although her smile didn't falter while inspected the woman more closely. For all her non-threatening attitude she noticed that Lianna had instinctively chosen the less threatening spot in the airlock, she was backing the wall and had clear view of both the ramp entrance as the corridor leading into the ship. *What did you get yourself into this time, Cael?* she asked herself.
Well, it wouldnt do to deny knowing him. Even if their relationship wasnt a secret but it wasnt too public either. The woman obviously was well informed. “And why do you need him?”
“My employer wishes to acquire his services. I’m not sure why, but I was told that my first priority was merely to locate him so that he could be contacted,” she tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible. For a moment she considered keeping her employer secret, then decided to only mention his name if it became necessary. “I don’t think that he has anything to fear from us, but he is quite difficult to find.”
“He has his reasons to keep low,” Daell answered cautiously while she registered the womans words. That Cael’s services were required didn't surprise her, the man was an excelent slicer, but he usually was cautious about his ‘jobs’... and his bosses. No way she’d tell this strange woman anything. Her right lokku trembled, and she willed herself to still it, she couldn't betray her nervousness.
Lianna leaned against the wall of the airlock, trying to relax. She’d even heard something about the relationship the two of them had shared, which made things more difficult. Threats to her would likely not be effective, and would hardly be the best way to find him. “I can respect that, as I’m sure someone close to him could as well. However, my employer wants to personally make an offer.
“You might be familiar with him, of course. You’ve heard the name Jorran Krell, I take it?”
Daell couldn't supress the twitching of her lokku this time. “Who hasn’t?” she asked to herself, thinking furiously how to evade the problem. She didn't want to give Cael’s address, not to Lianna, not to Krell... at least not without talking to Cael first.
She looked at her face again, the woman was watching her intently even with her relaxed stance. She wetted her blue lips, and decided that honesty may be the best approach to the problem. “I’m not in the position of giving you this information, not without talking to Cael first. Maybe we could settle a meeting point? Or you could come again tomorrow? I promise I’ll give Cael your message.”
Lianna gave a small bow as a sign of respect. Faith to someone who one was close to was something which was always to be respected, and indeed, encouraged. “Of course; I would be concerned if you just told me right away. My ship is in Docking Bay 23. If you could contact me there, I’d would be most appreciative.”
Daell gave the woman a small smile, relieved she didn't take her words wrongly. “Bay 23. Expect me there tomorrow this time. I’ll either bring Cael or give you his answer.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
06 Epsilon 75
17:05
Cael Draxel lived in one of the many middle-class neighbourhoods of Plateau City - not exactly bad, but not the place you’d expect to find the best slicer of Vorgrell either. Daell jumped off her speeder and took a look around before entering the building next to Cael’s. She didn’t think she had been followed; she had taken enough round abouts to distract any follower, but you could never know. The building had an underground connection with the one standing besides it, and she quickly descended the stairs leading to it. It wasn’t the first time she took this route to her friend’s place.
Not ten minutes later, she was walking the corridor to Cael’s apartment. She walked slowly, letting Cael’s security scans recognize her. She wasn’t surprised when the door opened as soon as she got to it.
Cael studied computer screens carefully, looking at the data displayed on a number of them. So much work to set up his security – consistently mostly of reinforced doors and cameras – in order to hack in peace. Still, there was really nothing that could beat the thrill of hacking into a secure system, downloading data, and getting out undetected. It made his jobs worth it. The few that he took.
A blinking light told him that someone was coming, and a glance at a screen on the wall revealed a familiar face. Smiling, Cael disconnected from the network, hit the buzzer, before bounding out of the concealed back room to meet his friend.
He reached the main living area of his small but comfortable townhouse just in time for the Twi’lek woman to enter. “Hey, Daell,” he exclaimed, happy. “Haven’t seen you around here in a while. How are things going?”
Daell’s lokku curled in pleasure at the sight of Cael’s handsome face. She smiled and threw her arms over his shoulders, to give him a quick kiss and a hug. She was happy to see him too. She backed a step and looked at him, mocking a frown.
“And why do I have to be the one to come? It’s the same distance from your place to mine, you know?”
Cael gave a small chuckle, his usually cheerfull manner becoming more exuberant when he was around Daell. "Well, when I try to stop by your place, the distance has usually increased by a jump or two." It was an old joke between them, though also true. His timing was terrible.
"Get you a drink, Daell?"
“Sure,” she answered, and sat down in one of Cael’s plush seats while he prepared her favorite drink. She crossed her legs and watched him, not speaking. She didn’t want to spoil their easy moment with her visit motives, not yet, at least. She enjoyed watching him move, and again wondered what exactly had gone wrong between them. *We’re just too different,* she thought, *each of us too set in our own ways.* She felt a pang of sorrow for what could have been for a second but brushed it away. She had loved Cael, true, just not enough to change for him, and he had probably felt the same. She could honestly say now that they were better friends than lovers.
“So, what have you done these past two months?” she asked finally, accepting her sweet Cabocla with a smile.
“Same old, same old,” Cael replied slyly, deftly sitting in the chair. This did work better for them, he thought, even if he did still care for Daell, and she would know exactly what that meant. His routine was simple and normally involved minor crimes now, like changing ID codes. More recently, however, he had stopped being as aggressive, to take time to do more work while he had the money on his first main love. History.
“I’ve actually been trying to decode part of an old computer system dating back to the end of the Mandelorian Wars,” he started. Daell had to be chuckling inwardly some, since she was always amused by his fascination with a period 4,000 years in the past, which he called `the time the Republic became effectively dead.`
With a smile on his face, he could not hide the pleasure. “It’s from a Republic cruiser which may have been at Malachor V – the last battle of the war.”
“Interesting,” Daell said as she knew he was expecting her to, while she sipped her drink to hide her eyes and smile. She actually knew more than she let him know of that particular time in history, and indeed found it interesting. Just liked to pretend boredom; It was a game between them. Daell never missed any of his explanations, descriptions, or listings of Mandelorian names, battles, dates... even if she didn’t share his passion. And she rarely forgot anything, a good memory was another Twi’lek trait, they had their lokku for that. But mostly she enjoyed his pleasure, he loved History as much as she loved flying.
Then she realized why the woman’s name had sound familiar. “Cael,” she said, interrupting him. “Merrol is a Mandelorian name, right?”
Merrol. The name sounded vaguely familiar, though he wasn’t sure exactly where he had heard it before. “Merrol, Merrol, Merrol…” he started. It definitely seemed like a familiar name, before he started to remember where he saw it. “I think it’s Alcona, but it could be Mandeolorian after the influence the Mandelorians had on their culture. Why do you ask?”
Daell straigthened in her seat, “a woman came to see me this morning. I thought she needed transport, but actually she was looking for you. Her name was Lianna Merrol.” She put her glass on a small table, “I told her that I’d give you her message.”
Cael stopped again, lost in thought. Either an Alcona or a Mandelorian looking for him meant potentially one of two things: bounty hunter or mercenary – either way, it meant that someone very good was probably after him. “Did she say what she wanted?” he asked carefully, before another question occurred that could help discern her identity. “How was she dressed?”
Daell frowned, her gesture echoing in her lokku, “some sort of armour, silver metal, probably very light by the looks of it. She was armed too. Why?”
If it was lightweight, that had to mean Alcona, if it was one of them. There was no way that a Mandelorian would be caught in lightweight armour. “Just trying to figure out who I might have gotten mad at me. She say anything about why she wanted to find me?”
“Well, actually she did.” Daell said, slowly. “She said she had been hired to ‘locate’ you, seems her boss wants to hire you.” She paused for a second, “her boss is Jorran Krell.”
"Jorran Krell?" Caell could not hide his surprise at the name. Everyone in Plauteu City who was involved in anything dodgy knew who that particular Quarren was. They also knew that you didn't want to do anything in particular to annoy him if you wanted to continue breathing.
When Jorran Krell offered you a job, and you turned it down, there was rarely an offer an another.
Assuming you even survived rejecting the offer.
“Great, just great,” he said, starting to pace. “She didn’t say why, did she? No, no, of course not. If I’m important enough to send an Alcona to find, I’m important enough that Krell will want to make whatever offer he has in person.”
Daell sighed. It had been only a matter of time until Cael’s activities were noticed by one of Vorgrell’s crime bosses. He was just too good to go unnoticed, even if that same excellence was what had made him last so long undetected. It could be worse. It could be Bazlo who was offering the job.
“I’m sorry, Cael. I couldn’t deny knowing you; she was well informed.” She sighed again, “I could tell her I couldn’t find you...”
She knew the Alcona woman would not believe her, but at least it would give Cael more time for whatever course of action he wanted to take. She just hoped she didn’t get too rough, but what the hell, it wouldn’t be the first time she handled a rough situation.
"No, I may as well go and meet Krell," Cael said, collapsing into the seat once more. After all of this time, it seemed that he would not get the 'vacation' that he was looking forward to. Folding his hands, he rested his chin on his fist in thought.
“I think it’ll be the best,” Daell moved sideways to sit close to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’ll be able to manage Krell,” she said, “he can’t be as intelligent as my favorite slicer.”
She felt his hand wrap around her waist, and his breath on her lokku and she straightened and moved slightly away. “The Alcona said she’d meet you tomorrow afternoon, at her ship. Do you want me to go with you?”
Cael sighed. He should have known that doing something would be met with her moving away from him, even if he just couldn't resist. "If you want," he replied evenly. "I won't lie to you that it could be dangerous, since we just don't know what Krell wants."
“More the reason for me to go,” she teased. Her purplish eyes shone and her smile showed her sharp white teeth. “To watch over you.”
Welcome to Plateau City
06 Epsilon 75
The Palace of the House of Bertrayn
19:33
Introducing - Keira Knightley as Arica Odari-Mosora and Guy Pearce as Captain Garim Moriss
She hated Plateau City. Hated the dark skies and black-purple clouds that seemed to gather low on the horizon at nightfall. What was more she hated the stumpy grey architecture that littered the skyline like carelessly dropped building blocks and the serpentine highways that snaked in every conceivable direction like a network of blackened arteries. Arica stepped back from the viewing deck, her long white robes swirling around her ankles as she made her way down the long corridor of reinforced glass and polished stone. It was not nightfall yet, not for a few more hours, but the city beyond was already aglow with incandescent streaks of orange and blue phosphorescence.
Arica’s footsteps made a light tap, tapping against the hard floor and echoed noisily down the empty corridor. If it had been in her nature to weep, Arica would have done so. Today was the anniversary of her arrival in Plateau City; two years ago today she had first set foot on Vorgrell and first met the Bertrayn’s. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice people but she missed her father – as reserved and detached as he had been, Arica would have given almost anything to be back on Coruscant with him, despite the threat from the Empire.
The monotone Buddle-Beep of a service droid interrupted her melancholy. Arica held her breath momentarily and then mentally berated herself as the droid rolled and beeped past her and round the corner. Ever since the Clone Wars she’d developed an irrational, well, not fear so much as unwarranted apprehension, more than anything it embarrassed her. Prejudice was a trait she held in short measure.
“Lady Odari?”
Arica turned and waited as Captain Garim Moriss – her personal bodyguard, sprinted down the corridor towards her, coming to a halt barely two feet from where Arica stood. He breathed heavily from his run and a thin sheen of sweat was beginning to coat his skin for it was particularly warm in the East facing corridor at this time of the evening as the sun slowly sank beyond the cityscape.
“Captain Moriss…” Arica could guess what he was going to say even before he opened his mouth. She shielded her eyes against the brilliant orange glow that flooded the glass-walled corridor; Garim Moriss was about as handsome as men came; at least Arica supposed that he was. She’d had such little contact with the opposite sex that she could have been mistaken for lack of comparison. Still… she couldn’t deny that his eyes, the deepest and darkest shade of blue that she’d ever seen, held a certain charm seeming at one moment terribly cold and distant, and at the next so warm and friendly that Arica had difficulty keeping track.
“You were supposed to wait for me when you wish to leave the palace boundaries…”
Arica suppressed a sigh that would have only divulged her abiding annoyance. Two years ago, on the four-day journey from Coruscant to Vorgrell, she had consoled her breaking heart with the thought that at least in leaving her father’s guardianship she might finally find the liberty she had yearned for all her life. It had not been the case. Though the man she affectionately referred to as Uncle Oldrak afforded her much more freedom, freedom to explore the city and the freedom to amuse herself as she so chose, he had insisted that Captain Moriss accompany her – especially when she wished to leave the palace walls.
Over the years, Arica had grown quite fond of Garim; he was a quiet, thoughtful man who never spoke unless he had something important to say. Arica found his brevity of expression to be most fascinating, it made what he had to say all the more interesting, not to mention adding a layer of mystery to the otherwise uncomplicated solider. But his constant presence was still an affront to her need for independence.
“I was only going to sit in the arboretum and read,” apologised Arica softly, removing a copy of ‘Rim World’ from the depths of her pocket. “I didn’t think… since technically the gardens are still part of the boundaries…”
Garim smiled, when he did he revealed his whole upper row of perfectly straight teeth. He was handsome but also very unaware of that fact. Garim was interested in two things only - Duty and Honour – and how best to do both. “Arica, you know Lord Bertrayn’s orders. I am to accompany you whenever you leave the palace walls, the garden is the most vulnerable aspect, I would not be performing my duty if I allowed you to be put in danger.”
Arica would have loved to have asked what danger she could be in by simply sitting amongst a bunch of trees and flowers but then it also wasn’t in her nature to be so laconic. Instead, she smiled.
“Then you’re welcome to join me. I was planning on staying out to watch the meteor showers, I’d be grateful for the company. I’m not so fond of the dark.”
Garim cleared his throat with audible unease. “I’m afraid I can’t. Neither can you. Lord Bertrayn instructed me to find you and take you to his quarters immediately.” There was obvious distaste in his voice, it wasn’t that he disliked his employer but ever since Lady Irina had fallen ill several months ago, the masters’ interest in Arica seemed to have… changed. Maybe Garim was simply being over protective of his young charge, he had been known to be in the past. Arica was such a guileless, innocent girl – the trouble was she thought other people were the same as she. Garim was torn. Her innocence was charming in one respect, infuriating in another. How did one teach the ways of the galaxy without destroying that very essence of child-like purity of heart that made a person so unique?
Arica nodded, suppressing another sigh. It was supposed to be her afternoon off, free from her responsibilities as surrogate ‘niece’ to Bertrayn and glorified nursemaid to Irina. She spent so much of her time in their company – separately of course because Oldrak was so overcome with grief at his wife’s deteriorated state of health that he could barely bring himself to see her in such a condition, and certainly not with Arica present. When she wasn’t passing the time of day with Irina, making her comfortable and trying to ease some of the pain she was in, she was reading out sonnets, or playing the flute, or singing Ithorian folk songs in an attempt to entertain her uncle.
Of course there was every possibility that some new problem had arisen, some conflict within the Council that Oldrak needed her forethought on. Since her arrival on Vorgrell he had come to respect her level-head and clear consideration that he determined to be the source of her good advice, Oldrak often consulted Arica on business matters and had been quietly pleased with her insight. However, there was also every possibility that the old man was just lonely, as he so often was with his wife in confinement, and merely requested Arica’s company to ease his own, rather different suffering.
“You’d better take me to him.”
They walked silently down the empty corridor, Arica’s footsteps resuming their tap, tapping against the polished floor. Outside the vast glass walls streams of light-spacecraft poured between the towering building in all directions, bobbing this way and that like toy boats on a river. A sprawling transport ship roared past, stirring up clouds of dust as it began its descent, though the sound was ably muted by the reinforced glass.
“Maybe we could still catch the meteor shower, if your uncle doesn’t keep you too long.”
Arica turned her head to look at Garim, surprised by his sudden and unexpected suggestion. He didn’t return her gaze but kept his eyes fixed on the far end of the corridor. For some reason Arica felt her heartbeat quicken beneath her breast, though it made no sense she felt as though she would do almost anything to ensure that she could take Captain Moriss up on his invitation.
“H-h…” Arica didn’t finish her thought, she didn’t trust herself to not say something either inappropriate or utterly stupid.
“I’ll wait for you…”
Arica’s heart beat faster.
“…at the Solarium. We should have a good view from there.” Garim finally turned his head to face Arica as they came to a stop outside the doors to Bertrayn’s quarters. “Remember to wrap up, it’ll be cold tonight.”
Oldrak Bertrayn
06 Epsilon 75
The Palace of the House of Bertrayn
19:45
Introducing - Gabriel Byrne as Baron Oldrak Bertrayn
Oldrak Bertrayn looked up and smiled as the door opened and Arica entered. He was a man of not considerable age, though over thirty years Arica’s senior. Distinguishably handsome to some degree, with a thick crop of dark hair that had only just begun to grey at the temples. His smile softened the hard frown-lines around his forehead and eyes, giving him a much more approachable demeanour.
Arica knew immediately that there was no urgent matter relating to the Council or any other business that needed her judicious attention, just a lonely man needing something to fill his time. Uncle Oldrak’s usually slate-grey eyes warmed slightly as she crossed the room to where he sat and he laced his broad fingers together thoughtfully, the gold and jade of the Bertrayn family signet ring glittering in the last dying rays of sunlight that lit up the room.
“You look well, my dear,” he commented as Arica knelt like a dutiful niece at his feet. He considered his youthful ward carefully, there was an unusual light in her eyes and a slight rosy flush to her cheeks, Oldrak was curious as to the cause.
Arica bowed her head, feeling her cheeks burn under her uncle’s close inspection. Her skin still tingled from her conversation with Captain Moriss, feelings she had never experienced before flooded her young body making her thankful that she was sitting down. “You wanted to see me?”
Oldrak smiled again and reached out a hand, sliding his fingers beneath Arica’s chin and tilting her face upward to look at him. She was a dear girl and he found her obedient and respectful nature particularly agreeable. Her arrival in his home had given him new hope for the future when the death of his only son and the declining health of Irina had filled him with nothing but despair. There was never any doubt in Oldrak’s mind that Arica might refuse his hand when the time came, to do so would be wholly ungrateful. To reject him would be to spit in the face of his generosity, to show disregard for the kindness and charity that he had bestowed upon her. Unthinkable.
He stroked her cheek kindly, with the thoughtful benevolence of a considerate uncle. “I have a surprise for you.”
Oldrak leaned over the arm of his chair and removed a large oblong box, setting it down on the floor in front of Arica with an air of satisfaction. The young girl shuffled uneasily, looking at the box with reluctance and so Oldrak removed the lid himself pulling out a beautiful shift dress made up of layers and layers of crimson and orange organza.
“Well?” he asked expectantly, awaiting her appreciation.
Arica frowned in confusion, trailing her fingers across the silky material. She was used to her uncle buying her presents although she had to admit to a certain amount of unease from time to time. In the past, she was only ever used to receiving gifts on special occasions or if she had done something to warrant it, but Uncle Oldrak’s gifts were both completely unjustified and so very expensive that they unnerved her. She sometimes felt a sort of heavy nausea in the pit of her stomach at the thought that she would, someday, be ordered to perform some great service in repayment of such endowments.
“I… don’t understand.”
“It’s a dress. For you. To wear.” Oldrak sighed in frustration, though he found Arica’s disinterest with material possessions admirable it made it difficult for him to impress her. Over the years he’d bought her innumerable gifts – books, musical instruments, jewellery, expensive scents, any number of exquisite dresses – even a small pet Tonu. Nothing seemed to capture her enthusiasm. The clothes hung unworn in her closet and the jewellery remained unwrapped, encapsulated within a hand-carved wooden trinket box (yet another gift of Oldrak’s). The scents she only ever wore at his request, otherwise they would have soured and decayed inside their own bottles. She seemed to enjoy the books well enough, and the musical instruments – though she lacked any real talent despite her efforts. The pet Tonu had died several months ago after crawling into one of the air vents and, being unable to find it’s way back out, had eventually starved.
Taking Arica’s hand, Oldrak led her across the room, his other hand keeping a firm hold of the dress. He came to a stop before a large wall mirror.
“I respect your father, Arica, but he had some rather… strange ideas on how to best raise a young woman. These clothes for instance,” Oldrak gestured to her robes with disinclination, “your lack of vanity is a commendable character trait but… you are a beautiful girl, Arica. It’s such a pity that you try to hide it.”
He held up the dress in front of her, directing Arica’s head towards her reflection. Oldrak smiled with satisfaction. “There… doesn’t that look pretty?”
Arica chewed her lower lip uncomfortably. “It’s just… well, I’d never have the opportunity to wear it,” she observed diplomatically. She was grateful to her uncle, really she was. It wasn’t as though he had to pay her such attentions, she wasn’t his real niece after all. Arica knew that her Uncle Oldrak was just a lonely man, he had no family left to speak of and once Irina passed away…
But at the same time she couldn’t help but feel powerfully protective of her own father whenever Oldrak was scornful of his ways. Maybe his mode of parenting hadn’t been without fault, it was true that he had been overbearing and immensely strict, but it had all been done with the best of intentions. It felt wrong when Oldrak was disdainful about her upbringing. She had to suppose she was a disappointment to her uncle, not pretty enough or outspoken enough for his liking. That was why he was always trying to change her.
“I mean…” she added thoughtfully, “nobody would see me except the servants, and I’m sure they don’t mind what I wear.”
Oldrak smiled. “You’re probably right. However, I had something rather more specific in mind. How would you like to accompany me on a short excursion?"
“I, don’t know…” Arica replied with surprise. “Where? When?”
“I have some business to take care of,” explained Oldrak, returning his focus to Arica’s reflection in the mirror. He arranged the dress more carefully about her shoulders, straightening the length out against her waist. “Negotiating the new trade routes, union meetings with the Captain’s Guild. Things could get messy and you’re so good at problem solving, your insight would be invaluable to me Arica.”
Arica nodded in agreement but Oldrak could tell that she was reluctant. Although he knew she wasn’t in any way shy, she did lack real social confidence – thanks in large part to her sheltered upbringing. Though he found it endearing to some extent it was a fact that would need to be rectified if she was to some day become his wife.
“Maybe we could even extend our trip and explore some of the surrounding regions?” Oldrak rested a paternal hand on Arica’s shoulder, brushing aside her hair that was tied back in a thick braid. What he had in mind was far from paternal. “Vorgrell is really a rather beautiful planet, it has so much more to offer than Plateau City and I know how much you’ve wanted to travel since you arrived here. This could be an ideal opportunity.”
“But…” Arica frowned slightly, turning to face her uncle. What he said was true, she had often expressed a desire to see more of Vorgrell but there were other considerations. “What about Aunt Irina? She’s been so unsettled lately, I don’t know if I’d want to leave her in such a condition.”
Oldrak placed both his hands on Arica’s shoulder, drew her in close and kissed her forehead kindly. “You let me worry about Irina. She’s not in such bad health, I’m sure she’ll be fine for a week or two and there are more than enough people here to take care of her. This is important, Arica, important to our family. Irina will understand that I need you with me.”
He turned and headed back to his chair as though the matter were decided upon. In a way it was. Arica was Oldrak’s charge and so despite her reluctance she would do what he asked without complaint. Arica clutched the sheath of orange and red chiffon against her breast, glancing once more at her solemn reflection before following her uncle.
Oldrak was already seated, one leg casually resting upon the other as she joined him. He steepled his fingers together again thoughtfully. He could tell that Arica was still a little resistant to his attentions but perhaps that would change after they had spent some time alone together. It would be a start anyway and maybe then his proposal would not be such a surprise when it was finally presented.
He decided to change the subject.
“What are your plans for this evening?”
Arica bit her lower lip. She was torn. If she told him the truth, would he let her go? But then she couldn’t bear the thought of lying to her uncle; he was too good to her, too kind. Considering all that he did for her she could spare him a little of her time.
“I was… just going to read. In the garden. It looks like a beautiful night out.” It was the truth, not the whole truth but Arica suddenly determined that she didn’t know for sure that Captain Moriss would be joining her to watch the meteor shower, therefore she couldn’t really be accused of lying.
Oldrak smiled, rubbing one of his hands against the soft leather arm of his chair. “Perhaps you would like to stay here and read to me then? You know how much I love to hear your voice.”
Arica nodded. She could do little else. To say that she would rather read alone would be like admitting that she didn’t want to keep her Uncle’s company. Or worse… it might imply that she had another agenda for wanting to be on her own. She retrieved the book from her pocket, settled down on the floor beside her Uncle’s chair and began to read.
As she did so Oldrak untied her hair from it’s plait at the back of her head and combed his fingers through the thick tresses, untangling the loose waves that had formed. It was something he often did when they were alone together, admitting to a fondness for her long, dark locks. Arica had initially found it strange, but had never even thought to object. Oldrak was content, happy, and she was glad despite the aching stab of disappointment and apprehension that settled in the pit of her stomach as the minutes turned into hours...
****
By the time Arica was dismissed it was almost midnight. She ran all the way to the solarium, her heart beating so hard that her chest hurt. She hoped against all reasonable hope that Captain Moriss would still be there, that he would still be waiting for her despite the late hour. She knew it was a silly wish, how long would any rational person wait under such circumstances before giving up the prospect? An hour? Half an hour? Less?
Arica was almost wild with anxiety when she threw back the doors to the solarium and burst inside. The disappointment that welled up inside was worse than she could have ever imagined.
The room was empty. Captain Moriss was not there.
She had expected as much and yet she felt an emptiness inside to equal that of the deserted room. Disappointment grew into a frustration so futile that Arica thought she might even cry. She felt angry too, angry with Uncle Oldrak for keeping her detained so long. If it hadn’t been for him then she would have been on time, she…
Arica sighed and bit her lip with restraint. She felt horrible inside, bitter with resentment and now also guilt. How could Uncle Oldrak be to blame when he hadn’t even known she had a prior engagement? If she was to be angry at anyone it should be with herself. If she had told her Uncle the truth then he would never have asked her to stay so late.
Arica stepped back and, with a sense of defeat, sank down onto one of the cold marble benches that circled the perimeter of the room.
She looked up.
Through the glass domed ceiling of the solarium a vast blanket of stars spread out before her. She was reminded of a reoccurring dream that she’d had ever since she was a little girl. Back then she would stand on tip toes reaching towards the night sky, arms outstretched, eyes wide with wonder… she had thought, had truly believed that if she wanted it enough she would be able to reach the stars and hold them in the palm of her hand.
Arica sighed again. She would have liked to share that memory with Captain Moriss, he was always full of such fantastic stories – tales about his adventures as a pilot in the days of the Old Republic. He fascinated her, filling both her mind and imagination with inconceivable wonders. Arica leaned back, breaking her gaze from the star-filled observatory.
It was then that she noticed the single white flower that lay beside her on the bench, it’s opalescent petals almost glowing in the dim light. The stem had been purposefully cut, flat near the end where someone had held it tightly in their hand. Arica picked it up and in the back of her eye she could see Garim pacing the solarium, watching the minutes pass, leaning back against the glass walls and looking up to the sky as the meteor shower began, the head of the white flower resting against his lips.
He had waited.
Arica blinked, smiling happily as she tucked the flower into her sleeve before heading back towards her own quarters.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
05 Epsilon 75
11:35
Bazlo’s Minor Palace
“Peedunkey! Sleemo! Ateema uba Bazlo, dopa-meeky?”
A piercing growl echoed through the halls of the Minor Palace, Bazlo’s part-time hideout imbedded in a cliff-side on the outer edge of Shipwreck. The quaint villa also served as home to several members of the crime-lord’s vast gang. One member was the young Hutt named Luurda, Bazlo’s director of public relations and other forms of public manipulation. Luurda was an invaluable member of Bazlo’s organization, the key player in keeping curious law enforcers out of his operations. Presently, she was attending to a serious matter: a shipment of spices and rare chemicals from a far-off world had arrived late. Not just late, though—it had been tampered with.
If word got out that someone, possibly one of Bazlo’s own, could pull a fast one on the self-proclaimed “Lord of the Shipwreck”, then a very dangerous chain reaction could occur. Soon other criminals in his employ would revolt and scatter around the planet, possibly even defecting to the Syndicate. That is, unless someone could keep it quiet. This was Luurda’s job—an ugly one, but of course she was the only one who could do it well. In truth, Luurda was under a bit of an obligation. She was also Bazlo’s cousin, another unfortunate position that she found herself in.
“Punk! Slime-ball! Now you double-cross Bazlo?” Luurda yelled at the cowering Rodian smuggler. She raised her flabby webbed fist and waved it in the air. Half a dozen of Bazlo’s other pilots stood in a semi-circle nearby, holding completely still. “I know those spices weren’t spoiled when you got them, Eebu, and the tyridium-crates provided would have been enough to preserve it on its way to Vorgrell. So, tell me—what went wrong?” Luurda slithered across the polished floor and let her long tail extend itself, surrounding the employee’s feet.
“I swear, Lady Luurda, Mouthpiece of the Lord of the Shipwreck! If the shipment has been tampered with I did not know it…ever!”
“If” Luurda squealed. “Do you not trust my words? Do you not trust that I have seen the sabotage with my own eyes? I know it occurred. Now I must know why and deal with it accordingly…before word gets out.”
“Whoever would dare betray the Hutts has made a very bad move, my lady…” the Rodian said humbly and with a nervous chortle.
“Goola pushee...bad move, indeed,” Luurda agreed. The wrinkles of her large face tightened as her large violet eyes squinted threateningly. “Leave me until I figure out whom to punish for this,” she announced to the assembled hoods. They were all pleased with the stay of execution, most of all poor Eebu. As the men filed out through the double doors of the Minor Palace’s Business Hall, Luurda stared at them apathetically. Once the large portal shut behind them, however, Luurda’s demeanor changed drastically.
“Phew!” the Hutt sighed. She clicked on a small communicator and pressed it to her broad lips. “Ador—it is safe to come out now.” As she slid to a desk across the room, the door to a small private passageway hissed and slid open. On the other side was a very handsome young man with thin features and fair hair. He poked his head out first, just to see if the room was clear. He found it quite empty; all except for his boss, of course. Ador’s eyes seemed to glow when the ambient light of the business hall fell upon them, and as he emerged from the darkened passage they looked otherworldly.
“They sure got out of here quickly,” Ador remarked in his typical tone: honeyed and perpetually amused. Luurda shot him a sideways glance as she sank into the long couch behind her desk. “I saw it all from your private office,” Ador explained.
Luurda nodded, and her large head moved rhythmically. “I know. But…you look puzzled. Why?” A sudden thought struck Luurda as Ador moved to her side. “Tell me while you fix me some bantha milk.” This wasn’t a command—as Luurda the Hutt’s secretary, Ador could be commanded to her every whim. This, however, was a request. None of the previous coldness remained. It was like Luurda turned herself off to another setting, another persona.
Ador stepped gladly over to the large table at the side of the room, next to the presently extinguished fire-pit. “Why do you do it, Luurda? You scared the living poodoo out of those smugglers, and all for what?”
Luurda laughed lightly. The answer was obvious, she felt. “Well, to maintain a business reputation, of course. Bazlo the Hutt and his organization has a certain name to uphold. Observers cannot see us as soft, now can they? Saboteurs must not get away without paying the price…”
Ador’s eyes fixed on the inert fire-pit as he spoke to her. “Then what would those smugglers say if they knew that none of them were responsible for sabotaging the shipment? If they knew that I broke into the ship upon its arrival—that I ruined the spices, and moreover it was you who made me do it?”
A booming laugh erupted from the Hutt that echoed through the Minor Palace. “I don’t know. Do you think they’ll be mad?” She laughed a little more before Ador delivered the bantha’s milk beverage.
As he took a seat on the floor at Luurda’s tail, Ador looked up at his boss. “And what is that you said about saboteur’s…paying the price? You are a saboteur, my friend. When will it come for you to pay?”
“I’ve already paid a price, Ador,” Luurda informed him, then took a sip of milk. “I paid with my life—my normal life—when I was roped into this gang. All I’m doing now is assuring that I haven’t suffered in vain.” Her large hands set the mug onto the desk. “There is a price for Bazlo, too, and he’s going to pay it.”
Ador smiled. “For one who professes to detest Bazlo’s villainy, Luurda, you’re quite skilled in treason. I can see the family resemblance…”
“It’s necessary, Ador, and I’ll only uphold the subterfuge as long as need be. When my cousin is behind bars I can rest easy.”
“So…you can be two-faced and still remain noble! Luurda, you are living proof…”
Luurda the Hutt laughed again. “I’m not noble, Ador. And you may call me traitorous, but I am not two-faced.”
Ador perked up with curiosity. His sapphire eyes glowed brighter than usual. “Go on.”
“Every sentient being has three faces, Ador. The face they reveal to their allies, the face they allow their enemies to see, and the face that is shown to no one but oneself. This is the only way we stay sane, Ador.”
The secretary ran a finger along his cheek. “And which one are you showing me now…?”
Luurda continued, insistent on imparting her lesson to her young aid. “It’s the delicate triad that everyone must balance. The slightest disturbance in the triad could ruin a person, Ador. Don’t forget that.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
07 Epsilon 75
The Black Spear
14:28
Daell had to surpress a whistle as she and Cael Draxel entered docking bay 23. For a moment, she had to think that they had arrived in the wrong place since Bounty Hunters did not tend to command Personal Luxury Yachts. However, seeing Lianna waiting outside quickly confirmed that it was her ship.
“Don’t worry,” Cael reassured her. “Krell just wants to talk, remember?” But it was hollow comfort; Krell’s ruthlessness was well-known in the underworld.
Lianna Merrol took a step towards them, light of the sun reflecting off her armour. Cael raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. As far as he could tell, it was definitely a traditional Alcona design, with the obvious personal modifications. No two sets of armour were exactly alike. “I’m glad you could come,” she said simply to both of them. “Jorran Krell himself has already arrived, Cael, if you are willing to meet with him.”
“We shouldn’t keep him waiting then, should we?” Cael said, glancing over at Daell. Her annoyance was obvious. She must not have expected the Syndicate’s boss on Vorgrell to be there. That he was just increased Cael’s curiosity.
Daell entered the spaceship with a firm step, raising her head and purposefully relaxing her lokku draped over her shoulders. She didn’t want to give away her anger, even if Cael had already guessed, but they were too close for him not to notice. Same way she had easily read his carefree manner. Forcing herself to smile Daell looked around the luxurious yatch.
“Nice ship you have here, Lianna.” She said in a light note, “I could improve my business much with a yatch like this.”
“Thank you,” Lianna said simply before giving a slight smile. “Its previous owner is currently languishing in the spice mines of Kessel. The Government didn’t want to give it to me, but as they promised to cover expenses and he destroyed my old ship… well, it was cheaper than buying and outfitting a new ship.” They moved through the plush hallways of the ship, until they reached quarters that the previous owner had used to host guests.
They passed through a small, installed airlock, and into a rather impressive set of quarters, complete with environmental controls. There wasn’t much in the room itself: a few chairs, a desk, a bed, and a computer console. What little there was, however, was obviously expensive.
Jorran Krell rose from behind the desk, brown cape flowing over his white robes. He seemed to almost bask in the higher humidity of the climate in the room, and spoke in the guttural language of his people. A silver protocol droid standing next to him turned to the visitors. “Jorran Krell gives you his fondest greetings, and is most pleased that you have agreed to meet with him.”
*Not that we had any choice in the matter* Daell thought as she bowed her head respectufully, one didn’t antagonize one of Vorgrell’s biggest crime bosses on their first meeting. Or in any meeting.
Her skin felt clammy in the humid atmosphere, and it added to her discomfort; but she dismissed it, she needed all her wit for this meeting.
“It’s an honour to meet you,” Cael said through the protocol droid, doing his best to conceal any apprehension which he had. A small look towards the Alcona revealed that she was observing the entire exchange carefully, perhaps testing Krell as much as both of them.
With a slightly wet sound of tentacles against his face, Krell continued to speak. He seemed to almost go on for some time before his protocol droid spoke again. “Boss Krell notes that he is well aware of your reputation as the foremost slicer on all of Vorgrell. In exchange for your services in improving his own security, and the occasional slice into an enemy’s systems, he is prepared to make you a most generous offer of 800 credits per month, plus assistance in getting certain select historical artefacts through customs – perhaps even helping in their acquisition.”
Cael whistled, and could see the look of surprise on Daell’s face. Krell kept his reputation for going right to the point in tact, and was making an extremely generous offer. But there was more than that: Krell had taken the time to determine just who one of the best was, and what offer to make. Even Lianna had a look of surprise at the offer.
“What’s the catch?” Cael asked. “800 credits is a lot, and Alcona don’t work cheap. Something else is going on here.”
Another series of remarks later, and what sounded like gurgling laughter, Cael had an answer. “Boss Krell can only tell you that there are certain rumours which he has access to in his dealings, which he would like confirmation of. He cannot say more than that, however, except that this deal will secure both of your futures.”
Daell raised a hairless blue eyebrow, and she looked at Cael. It was obvious that he was interested, the pay was very high and she knew that the ‘assistance’ to get historical items would be almost as appreciated as money. One didn’t really deny an offer like this, to Krell or anybody else. She waited silently for Cael’s answer, anyway. Her role there was just as an observer, and possible back up.
Both of your futures.
The words hung there before him. He could have been making a veiled threat, admitting that his position might be threatened, or both. To take this kind of personal interest added to the urgency. “Boss Krell was very right,” he said softly. “I really can’t turn that offer down.”
To his surprise, Krell answered in Galactic Basic – it was a more mushy, gurgled sounding Basic, but still recognisable after a fashion. “Good. We should meet at my Offices to discuss this in more detail.”
“I’ll be there later this evening. If that’s all?” The Quarren gave a dismissive gesture, leaving Lianna to lead them out of the vessel.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
06 Epsilon 75
The Office of Commander Harkness
14:00
Commander Grig Harkness sat behind his desk, examining reports. There were always reports, and it seemed that the higher you moved in the command structure, the more paperwork there was. However, bureaucracy never bothered him; it was the series of reports which allowed those who made sweeping decisions to make those decisions, and those below to handle the pesky details of implementation.
Harkness reached for a small glass of water next to him, sipping the cool liquid. He afforded a glance to the series of clocks on his desk, showing the time at various parts of Vorgrell, before removing his spectacles.
He was about to press the intercom on his desk for his personal secretary when it came to life. “Sir, Lieutenant Akula is here.”
Harkness leaned back in his chair, smoothing out his uniform and fixing a scowl on his face. The better to show his growing displeasure with the young officer. “Send him in,” he replied.
The short, sweaty Imperial officer entered the office and snapped to attention immediately. Commander Harkness settled for nothing less than perfection when it came to his officers, at least in regards of procedure and presentation. Bringing order to a disorderly situation was no excuse for sloppiness.
“You’re late, Lieutenant,” he glared.
“My apologies, Commander,” Akula replied, continuing to stand stiffly at attention. Usually Harkness allowed his officers to stand at ease – but only after they had shown the proper respect and been told they could. “I meant no disrespect, I was just dealing with the local populace.”
“Yes. I read the reports.” Harkness allowed a stronger edge to creep into his voice. “Lieutenant, I trust you are aware that our job is not to alienate the local populace but to keep order?”
Akula bit his tongue before saying something which would have doubtlessly brought a charge of insubordination. “Yes, sir.”
“Perhaps you can tell me why you found it necessary to order several random executions, then?”
“There were reports of fights increasing among the miners at the Imperial Mine, Commander –“
“Yes, I read those as well,” Harkness interrupted him rather harshly. Akula’s incompetence was beginning to grate on him, and there was one and only one reason that he had failed to remove the brash young officer: Harkness believed that Akula could, in time, be turned into a more decent officer, although his faith in Akula’s eventual redemption was falling.
Lieutenant Akula paused as he considered his reply. Still, Harkness had him stand at attention; he could tell that this time, his superior officer was more than a little annoyed with him. “It was my hope that random executions would instil more fear of them into of the Imperial Garrison.”
Harkness hoped that Akula would expand. The younger officer had a natural talent for spreading terror and fear, but little else. Rule through fear was the order of the day for Akula, regardless of the consequences. “And that is also why you decided to reduce pay to the miners, I assume?”
“It was an attempt to uncover miners on the Syndicate’s payroll, Commander. Those who were more obviously living above their means would be uncovered.”
Harkness slowly picked up his glasses again, then reached for a datapad with a series of statistics on it. “Production has fallen .2%,” he noted, “with respect to Gardanium since you began to institute this policy. Arrests have increased 2.5% relating to theft of Gardanium, and the black market price has dropped slightly. You realise what this indicates, Lieutenant?”
Lieutenant Akula suppressed a smile. He knew exactly what it indicated, and exactly what he hoped it would lead to in the long-term. The more that production fell, not only in the mine which the Empire controlled directly, but the independent mines, the more likely they would be able to change the way things were done. This, in turn, would allow production to potentially jump.
If he was successful.
Outwardly, he tried to appear disappointed. “An increase in the amount of Gardanium being sold by individual miners directly on the black market as a method of supplementing their income.”
“I haven’t examined the reports of Rubixium and Kreichite,” Harkness said, setting it aside. “Not in as much detail, but I would be surprised if a similar trend did not develop.”
“That was a risk, Commander. However, in time, we should be able to track down the ringleaders.”
“Lieutenant, this policy of yours in an abject failure. The only result of it that I can see from these reports is the potential of increasing the Syndicate’s ability to skim, not decrease it. Worse than that, your new policy of random executions won’t just spread fear. It will spread hatred of us, and begin to alienate the populace. I fear you will, in the long run, only serve to undermine Imperial Order.”
Lieutenant Akula stiffened at the rebuke. Commander Harkness’ conservatism always grated on him, but now it was appearing to grow worse. Fear would be a powerful motivator if it was given time to work, and if they began to resist and so undermine Harkness’ appearance of competence… well, he wouldn’t turn down the chance for advancement.
But Commander Harkness wasn’t done with his rebuke. “Lieutenant, you will restore the wages and cease your policy of random executions. This won’t reverse all of the damage done, but it will at least start. Find another way to increase production.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.” Akula turned briskly, leaving the room while still standing at attention. Harkness returned his attention to the piles of reports before him. That was at least one annoyance taken care of. Now he could turn his attention to the most recent communications from the Council.
Irina's Accusations
08 Epsilon 75
Irina Bertrayn’s Bed Chamber, Bertrayn Palace
12:47
Arica sat by her aunt’s bedside, gently cooling her forehead with a damp cloth. A broad streak of sunlight sliced its way into the otherwise darkened room making Irina Bertayn’s already jaundiced complexion appear even more so. The aged lady murmured tiredly, mashing her dry lips together in an attempt to rouse some much-needed moisture. Arica picked up a cupful of water from the counter and raised it to Irina’s parched mouth. The ailing woman supped at it gratefully, her eyes still closed as though sleeping. When it seemed she’d had enough, Arica removed the cup and dried her lips gently.
Irina had been ill for almost two years now, ever since the death of her only son Myklos during the Orsiri Coup. In the beginning she had made a courageous attempt to resist whatever ailment was eating away at her and had been rewarded with occasional periods of good health. But in the last three months her condition had deteriorated rapidly leaving Irina with little enthusiasm for anything except drinking excessive amounts of Sullustan Gin – a proclivity that, while it eased her grief, did nothing to decrease the virulence of her affliction.
“Oh Aunt Irina,” Arica lamented quietly, smoothing down the bedsheets across her legs. She still wasn’t happy about leaving the ailing woman in the care of the palace servants but her protests held no influence. Her Uncle Oldrak was at that moment in Plateau City, making the final arrangements for their trip. They would be leaving later that evening, taking the transport vessel far beyond Halean Falls to the coastline and then on to Port Kau before setting sail for Betra. It turned out that far from being alone they would be travelling with a number of escorts not to mention two bodyguards – though sadly, not Captain Moriss.
Arica’s possessions were already packed along with several items of clothing in accordance to Oldrak’s specifications. There would be a number of formal events and Arica was expected to look the part of a Bertrayn amongst the captain’s wives. She’d felt a cool shiver travel through her skin when her uncle had said that part, it seemed wrong somehow that she was going to be accompanying him, usurping a position that his wife had once held.
And meanwhile, that wife was slowly dying in her bed…
Arica reached out a hand and gently brushed back Irina’s platinum blonde hair. It had thinned considerably, at one point falling out in great clumps. Still Irina insisted on having it styled into tight curls about her face, giving her the appearance of an antique porcelain doll that had been played with one too many times by an inconsiderate child.
At her touch, Irina opened one yellowed eye, thick with a dry crust of sleep. Arica flinched inwardly, she preferred to think of her Aunt as she had been when she’d first arrived on Vorgrell. Though she’d always been somewhat sickly there had been a time when Irina had strode around the hallways of the Bertrayn Palace in a flurry of purple taffeta and silk with Vorgrellian Irises in her almost white hair. She used to sing songs - beautiful, lilting songs that pulled at the heartstrings. And paint too. Irina had been quite an accomplished artist.
Now she barely left her bed and never her quarters. Sometimes she could be tempted to sit upright in a chair to take in the view from her window for a few hours, but it made her so tired that she couldn’t manage it for long.
Arica smiled as her Aunt wakened. “I brought your lunch,” she informed her gently, fluffing up Irina’s pillows and helping her to sit. She smelled strongly of Sullustan Gin unsuccessfully masked behind the sickly sweet scent of Nlora blossom. Arica ably disguised her disquietude, her Aunt frequently indulged on the strong tasting alcohol but it only seemed to worsen her distemper and Arica secretly wished that the servants could be persuaded to cut off her Aunt’s supply.
Feeling more wakeful, Irina reached out and picked up a small hand mirror from the side table by her bed and began preening her platinum curls back into some semblance of order. She had once been an admired beauty, but all that had changed now. A lifetime of austerity and worry had imprinted deep wrinkles along her forehead and around her eyes - and her mouth, which had once been plump and pouting, was now shrivelled and narrow. Faced daily with her own repulsive deterioration, Irina felt it was the ultimate effrontery to be attended to by her pretty, youthful ‘niece’ and couldn’t help but feel a bitter flood of jealousy sweep through every fibre of her body each time she saw her.
Slamming the hand mirror back down on the side table, Irina cast a circumspect eye over her charge. Arica’s long dark locks had been swept up at the crown in a neatly coiled braid and an expensive looking barrette of turquoise and silver held back her hair on one side.
“You look… different,” Irina commented, her voice nasal and drawn and sounding decidedly distasteful. She let her eyes linger a little longer on Arica’s slight form, of the sweeping neckline of her simple yet snug fitting dress that revealed a minimum amount of milky white flesh above her breast. Though the hem of her skirt skimmed the floor, obscuring the majority of her figure there was no denying that Arica looked particularly beautiful even in such plain attire.
Irina frowned, narrowing her eyes on the elegant hair adornment suspiciously.
It would be fair to say that Irina’s view of her young ‘niece’ had taken a decidedly downward turn in the last few months, an alteration that had, in part, been propagated by a conversation she’d overheard between two of her attendants not that long ago. At the time they had thought her to be sleeping and so had been rather less than discreet - sniggering and jeering over the latest gossip circulating the palace. Of how her niece had not left Master Oldrak’s chambers until the early hours of the morning and how Master Oldrak had bought Arica yet another expensive gift. In addition, there had been much indecent speculation exchanged between the two attendants as to exactly what services the young girl provided her uncle in order to earn such lavish presents.
What Irina had overheard had cooled her blood and hardened the last remaining vestige of tenderness in her heart. Gazing upon the lavish adornment in Arica’s hair, Irina felt convinced that this was proof of the veracity of what she’d overheard. With little personal income there was no way Arica could have afforded such finery herself. Fresh hostility bubbled up inside of the woman at the thought of what was going on under her own roof, perhaps even in her marital bed! And here sat the cause of that humiliation, tending to her needs like a dutiful, loving niece and all the time she was readying to stab her in the back.
“Well my dear,” said Irina bitterly, her voice hoarse and dry. “There’s certainly more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there?”
Arica’s cheeks reddened uncomfortably, unable to determine the reason behind her Aunt’s sudden animosity. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” she mumbled uneasily, averting her eyes and reaching for the bowl of glasios fish stew that she’d brought for Irina’s lunch. Arica stirred the thick liquid distractedly before loading up the spoon.
“Oh, I think you do,” Irina sneered harshly, knocking Arica’s hand away as she tried to feed her the stew. Her face took on a haughty expression for she’d come to despise what she saw as false modesty in her youthful niece. What did she have to be modest about after all? She was young, pretty and healthy with her whole life ahead of her. With no children of their own, that fool Oldrak would probably even leave her their entire fortune too no doubt.
Irina held out a bony arm and poked Arica in the ribs, causing her to squeal and jump back slightly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to, don’t you?” she asked accusingly, her eyes turning cold as they fixed on her niece. “Where is my Oldrak? Why is he never here to see me anymore?”
“H-he’s in town,” Arica stammered uneasily, rubbing her ribs where Irina had prodded her quite viciously. “He had to sort out some last minute business before our trip.”
“Oh yes! Your little trip,” Irina’s voice dripped with sarcasm and she coughed noisily - the sound of loose phlegm dislodging from her chest and rolling up the back of her nasal passages. “Your idea was it?” she coughed, clearing her throat. “To invite yourself along? What would my Oldrak need a skinny, insignificant little thing like you around for?”
Arica looked hurt. Ever since her Aunt’s sudden decline her attitude towards her had declined also. They had once been quite close friends, now their meetings were filled with snide accusations and cruel remarks. Arica knew that she had to make allowances for her Aunt, she was ill, with little to no hope of recovering. She was just eking out her days, waiting for death to come. Still, Arica couldn’t help but take her Aunt’s insults personally, feeling more than a certain amount of pain.
“He needs me to help with the negotiations-”
“You think you’re so clever don’t you?” spat Irina suddenly, interrupting Arica’s explanation. “Coming in here every day, pretending to care for me, nurse me in my ill health. You’re poisoning me, aren’t you? That’s your game, isn’t it? To get me out of the way!”
“Aunt!” exclaimed Arica in dismay, returning to her bedside. She clasped her hand firmly, horrified at how worked up the woman was getting herself. “How can you say something like that? Why would I want to hurt you?”
Irina leaned forward, so close that Arica could smell her stale breath. It was the breath of illness, of impending death. “Why wouldn’t you? I’m all that stands in your way after all.” She grasped hold of Arica’s wrist tightly, with more strength than a woman of her ailing health should be capable of and pulled her in closer.
“He never comes to see me any more. You think I don’t know that’s your doing? Trying to keep him all to yourself so you can work your charms on him?” Irina tightened her grip on Arica’s wrist, twisting painfully so that the young girl cried out. “Playing the innocent little virgin card for all it’s worth I’ll bet!”
Arica tried to pull her wrist free but Irina’s grip was too tight, for a sick old woman she was surprisingly strong. “Aunt Irina, please…”
“Do you know how much I sacrificed for Bertrayn?” Irina asked bitterly, her yellowed face turning quite red with anger. “Everything! I gave up everything for him, for this family. I put everything I had into making the House of Bertrayn the force that it is today. Do you think I’d let some little harlot like you take all that away from me?”
Arica cried out again as Irina wrenched her wrist painfully and shook her with malicious intent, grabbing hold of her hair and pulling at the antique barrette until it came free. Arica felt tears pricking the back of her eyes as her Aunt continued to yank at her hair. She tried to force the old woman’s hand to relax, she didn’t want to hurt Irina but she had to get free from her vice-like hold – it was starting to become painful.
“Harlot! Whore!” Irina yelled at her, her platinum curls bobbing up and down as she grasped a tighter hold on Arica, scratching at her face until she drew blood. “Oldrak might fall for your innocent little girl act but I don’t! I know that you’re trying to steal him away from me! I’ve seen the two of you together! Plotting how to get rid of me! It’s sick! It’s sick!”
“I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING!” screamed Arica in fear and panic, her raised voice sounding alien in her own ears. Tears began to roll down her cheeks, stinging the raw scratch marks that Irina had inflicted on her face.
Suddenly Irina released her and she fell backwards, stumbling to the floor, her hair ragged and messy, falling about her bright red face as she gasped for breath.
Irina held up the hair clip with a sense of triumph, her mouth twisted into a sneer. “Then where did you get this? Tell me Arica! What special little service did you provide to earn this hmmm? How long has it been going on? Tell me! How long have you been sleeping with my husband!?”
Arica gasped in horror, her eyes wide in disbelief. She stammered insensibly, staring at the barrette as though it had somehow transmutated itself into a poisoned viper. “I… I haven’t…” she blurted out desperately, “h-he’s my uncle!”
“Just you keep away from my husband you gold-digging whore!” screamed Irina, insane with distrust and paranoia. “Keep away from him you little harlot or I’ll have you thrown out into the street with all the other garbage!”
Picking up the hand mirror, Irina flung it across the room at Arica. It hit her directly on the side of the head, drawing more blood before falling to the floor and shattering into pieces. Arica screamed in a combination of pain and shock, scrambling to her feet and clutching her bloody cheek. She fled from the room, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed openly for the first time she could remember.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
9 Epsilon 75
02:59
Plateau City, Vorgrell
Orsiri Castle
The hallways of the Orsiri Palace were silent and dark. His shadowsuit enveloping him in the darkness, Corin was wraith-like; no more than one of the shadows that surrounded him. The soles of his suit masked the sound of his steady footfalls as he made his purposeful progress. Corin wore no vision-enhancement equipment. For a start he did not want to risk giving himself away to any advanced detection sensors Zara might have ordered installed and secondly, he knew the palace so well he didn’t need them. At first, Corin had feared two years had been too much, that he wouldn’t remember the ins and outs of the darkened palace as he had once done. But that had soon changed. All he had to do was close his eyes and feel the floor through his feet and he knew exactly where he was. Yes, thick Coruscanti carpet mixed with thin Vorgrell style. He was in the west wing, heading south, towards the personal chambers of the house head. He was close now.
His heart began to quicken in anticipation, but he forcibly waited for it to slow down before continuing. Yes, it he was close. But if he was hasty he would be sloppy and make mistakes. And that could cost him his life. The excitement burnt away to anger as he remembered what things had been like, before Zara had sold them all out; their families, their friends. Corin moved on.
At this late hour there were only guards awake and moving but so far they had been easily avoided. Even if he was spotted, Corin was confident he could eliminate any guard quickly and quietly. Yet, he was hesitant to do so. Forgetting that collateral casualties were anathema to professional killers, these guards were sons and daughters of Vorgrell. These were the people he had had a duty to protect and govern. Corin had no wish to kill his own people. His grudge was with Zara and her alone. But if pressed…he would do whatever was necessary to achieve his goal, of that Corin was certain. He would have to remind himself that their deaths were on Zara’s head, that he would not be forced to kill them if she hadn’t started the whole chain of events two years ago.
There were footsteps ahead. Corin froze. Definitely footsteps and definitely coming closer. Corin ducked into a recessed alcove. Behind a marble pedestal bearing a small hologram of an Ithorian Bafforr tree he drew his vibroknife. At the last minute he swapped it for a length of garrotte.
As the guard drew near Corin slowed his breath. He tensed his muscles, ready to spring at a moments notice. His right hand gripped the garrotte and his left was ready to cover the guard’s mouth. He passed Corin’s hiding place and glanced at the hologram. Corin’s blood ran cold. Had he been spotted? The guard struck up a cheerful tune and whistled a few bars then moved off, chuckling to himself. Corin waited for him to move away before letting out a sigh of relief.
Slowly and surely, Corin moved out of the alcove and back into the hallway. Looking right he kept track of the guard’s progress.
Something stumbled into him. Corin was nearly knocked off his feet and fought to restrain the cry of surprise the something was letting out. He looked to his left to see the silhouette of another guard. With a yell, the guard raised his blaster as Corin knocked it out of his hand. His knee went into the guard’s stomach. As he doubled over Corin slammed down on the back of his neck with the side of his hand. The guard went down, unconscious. Another startled shout came from Corin’s right and he spun to see a blaster bearing down on him, held by the first guard.
Garthol’s Pain! Corin cursed as he raised his arms above his head. Two guards. Zara must have tightened the security around her chambers and he cursed himself for not thinking of that. She was power-hungry. Of course she would tighten security.
“Don’t move!” The guard commanded in a trembling voice. In the poor light Corin couldn’t make out his features, but he was sure he could see fear in his eyes. “Turn around. And keep your hands up!”
Corin complied. The blaster was enough of an argument to convince him it was in his best interests. Especially a blaster in the hand of somebody who was scared. There was no telling what they would do.
Silenlty he turned and felt the blaster shoved into his back. Since hearing the guard’s approach, Corin allowed himself to smile. A classic rook mistake. He remembered from his days in the Academy the lessons on prisoner acquisition. His instructors had drummed into them that letting the prisoner know where the blaster was would give them an advantage. The instructors then proceeded to demonstrate how that advantage could be used.
Corin heard the guard click his comlink on and knew he had to move now. There was no way he could allow the alarm to be raised. He dropped his right elbow into the guard’s outstretched arm. With his left he came round and drove his open-palm into the guard’s face. As the guard stumbled backwards Corin tore the blaster pistol from his hand and pistol-whipped him across the temple. He joined his comrade in unconsciousness.
Now time was against Corin. He figured the two guards would be out long enough for him to get the job done, if he was quick, but there was the chance they would be discovered. If they failed to report in at some point a flag would be raised. Someone would be sent to investigate. Corin had no idea how long ago they had last reported in or when they were next due.
He hauled both bodies into the alcove he had sheltered in as quickly as possible and then moved on. If he was where he thought he was, Zara’s chambers was down the next hallway. Corin only hoped he wouldn’t run into anymore unexpected entanglements.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Kappa 73
15:02
Plateau City, Vorgrell
The transport speeder sped through Plateau City’s streets, heading west towards the Gardens. The tarpaulin tied to its flatbed back fluttered. Droid parts rattled beneath it. Traffic was lighter than normal for the City. The Imperials had set up a number of blockades and virtually shut down most traffic. To his credit, the driver had managed to avoid them all so far. Corin wished he could see the sights of the City that he had grown up in, knew like the back of his hand, loved, flash by but he couldn’t afford that now.
He felt the speeder slow and knew there was something wrong. When it came to a stop Corin heard voices speaking – the driver’s, and another. An authoritarian voice. The voice of a soldier. Corin fingered his blaster. The voices were arguing about something, he couldn’t make out what, and then the tarpaulin was yanked away. Bright sunlight suddenly flooded in. Corin held his breath.
Then the tarpaulin was thrown back and darkness fell over again. There were a few more words spoken and then the speeder began moving off. From beneath the shell of an old war droid that must have been on the Leviathan, Corin finally breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been spotted.
Corin thought about Zayen’s brief, worried message. The noble hoped his friend made it off-planet, but he couldn’t worry about that now. The Orsiri noble had been explicit – get Zara, get her out of here. Simply out of friendship for Zayen, not to mention the traditional friendship between their respective houses, Corin would get it done. And as much as he hated to admit it, Zayen was on his own.
After a few more minutes, the speeder slowed and stopped again. Corin knew this time it was because they had reached their destination, but waited. The driver whispered to him that they were there, and the Sherrif – ex-Sheriff now, probably – slipped out, crouching behind the speeder.
He looked around and saw they were in a side-street off the main road. The Orsiri Palace loomed up behind him. There seemed to be no Imperial soldiers here yet. That was good for him. Corin reached into his pocket and dropped a healthy collection of credits over the passenger door onto the seat without saying a word to the driver, then darted for the relative safety of the Palace grounds.
He heard the speeder start up and leave. By then, Corin was already using his datachip to gain access to the Palace.
A few minutes later he was inside, jogging through the Palace halls. He had holstered his blaster – he was in a Noble Household, after all - but he was alert. Something wasn’t right. There were still no Imperial soldiers approaching. Corin knew the majority of the Orsiri family wasn’t at home, but how did the Imperials know that? In fact, how did they know a lot of things?
Who betrayed us? He kept asking, over and over again, but couldn’t find an answer.
At last, Corin reached her personal receiving room. The door whisked open and Corin stormed in. “Zara, we have to go-“ But after taking in everything, he came up short and halted, eyes wide and face paling.
Princess Zara was sitting comfortably in her lavish Wompa fur covered chair, chatting amiably with none other than the Imperial Commander, that was, until Corin's unexpected entrance.
“Corin!?” Zara gasped, her expression briefly exposing her complete sense of dread. Given what he just saw, the Archell Duke could ruin her entire plans, and there was no way she was going to let that happen...not after she worked so hard, so long.
The Commander mirrored the princess’ sense of shock. “The Archell’s son? Guards! Guards!” the elderly man wasted no time in summoning a group of StormTroopers. Like the Orsiri girl, he too had much to lose if this coup was brought to light.
Corin’s eyes flicked between the too, his horror building as he drew the conclusions. No soldiers…Imperial Commander…guards…. It had been Zara. She had engineered the whole thing. Corin felt sick to his stomach. His knees wobbled weakly and he was afraid he was going to fall to the floor. The motivation wasn’t important anymore. She sold us out…
The Duke’s train of thought was broken off as stormtroopers began pouring in from the room behind him. His blaster was in his hand in an instant. He spun and shot the first one through in the eye. The second he hit in the shoulder and the soldier spun to the floor. The third went wide, and suddenly stormtroopers were flooding out blasting at him.
Corin dived and rolled into a recessed alcove in the wall. The door to Zara’s receiving room had slid closed, shutting fast. She sold us out…. Desperately, he returned fire but missed, blasting scorch marks into the ornamental doorway the stormtroopers were sheltering in. A blistering, disciplined torrent of fire drove him deeper back into the alcove.
He looked around for some sort of exit, but couldn’t see one that wouldn’t get him cut to ribbons by blaster fire. Corin’s eye caught a large window across the hall. A blaster shot blew out the glass, and he steeled himself for the dash across the corridor. The firing dropped briefly, perhaps because the Stormtroopers were advancing, and Corin took his chance. He leapt out of his hiding place and towards the window, firing widely in the soldier’s direction. There was no sound of any of his shots hitting, but that wasn’t what he was trying to do. As long as it kept them from shooting at him during this extremely vulnerable time, he would be more than pleased.
Burning pain suddenly exploded through his side. He knew he had been hit. He stumbled and lost his balance. The polished wood rushed up to meet him and Corin threw himself the last few feet towards the window. He turned the dive into the roll and pushed aside the blistering pain. At the window, Corin grabbed onto the sill and hauled himself over the side. Again, his wound protested. But he couldn’t stop now. If he did, he would most certainly be dead.
Outside, Vorgell’ geography and architecture was working for him. The floor he was on was only the second. Lowering himself so he was hanging off the window ledge by his hands, Corin checked below, then let go.
He hit the ground hard, and suddenly it wasn’t just his side that was screaming in pain, but his legs and back too. As soon as Corin felt himself touch the ground he sagged to the left, rolling to absorb the drop, and came up on his back. The pain from his wound was so bad that as he aimed his blaster pistol back at the window he had just dropped out of it shook.
With his other hand, Corin reached down and felt his wound. The hint of burnt flesh was in his lungs and his hand came away bloody. But after feeling around he suspected it wasn’t as bad as it felt. A near miss. He thought. A blaster bolt must have passed just close enough by his side to sizzle the flesh, but his motion must have carried him out of the majority of its path. He was lucky not to have come away with worse.
A stormtrooper poked his head out of the window and Corin sent him darting back inside with another shot. Time to go. He decided, hauling himself to his feet. Clutching his wound with one hand and gripping the blaster pistol in the other, the Duke Archell began limping away from Orsiri Palace.
It didn’t take long however for the Duke to realise he didn’t really have anywhere to go. With no transport, no disguise, and only a simple blaster, Corin was a sitting duck for the empire and it would not take long for more Stormtroopers to come raining down on him.
But then, like a beacon of light in a dark abyss, Corin saw means of escape in the form of a ratty, old, beta class personal hover transport zooming down the street in his direction. “Talk about just in the nick of time,” Corin said allowed, breathing a sigh of relief. Although it appeared to be nothing more than a poor commoner’s vehicle, Corin knew better. That ‘ratty, old transport’ was one of Zayen’s, a transport the young prince would use when sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet up with whichever girl he had lost his heart to at the time.
“What would you do without me Corin?” Zayen smiled, pulling open the side door, and extending a hand to help his friend in.
Corin gratefully grabbed the outstretched hand and hauled himself inside. “Knew this old piece of crap would be of use some day.” He said, trying to keep his mind off the recent events. It had all happened so quickly it hadn’t really settled in yet, and the Duke was still struggling to comprehend what he had just walked in on. He slammed the passenger door shut and looked to Zayen, wondering what to say, but decided it would be better left for another time, another place. If they were going to make it off Vorgell alive, they needed to be focused, and telling Zayen that his sister was responsible for the whole thing, a fact Corin was sure of, would only undermine their capability. “Lets go.” Corin commanded, his face set against the emotional and physical pain.
As the vehicle sped off, the prince asked, his voice full of fear and worry, “Do you know what happened to Zara? She was the only one in the palace when this whole thing went down.”
For a moment, Corin bit his lip contemplating exactly what to say. “I don’t know, I never found her,” he finally lied. He could almost feel Zayen’s heart sink, but it was still better than the alternative.
“I found us a way out of here,” the prince finally said, trying to get his mind of his family and friends who were now in. No doubt, in Imperial custody. “We just got to get to the Starport, and we’re homefree.”
But it was easier said than done. Not far from their destination, the transport’s engine’s were shot; no doubt a trooper had seen Corin get in, and had radioed the info ahead.
“We can make it by foot,” Zayen said optimistically, pulling out his blaster, as he and Corin began running.
So close…so close…..so….far. They had made it in sight of their destination when a garrison of troopers emerged from a cross street and began firing at the two nobles. The blasts whizzed by harmlessly, and for a moment, the two men thought they would actually make it, that way till one of the blasts finally caught Zayen in the back of his right shoulder, knocking the prince to the ground.
The skin sizzled as the smell of burnt flesh assailed his nostrils; it was a direct hit, a painfully direct hit.
“Zayen!” Corin cursed, his friend’s cry of pain alerting him that something had happened. Sure enough, the prince was down. “Come on, we’re almost there,” he said, picking Zayen back up to his feet. Slinging the prince’s arm around his shoulders, Corin continued to run.
“We’re not going to make it like this,” the prince said, trying his best to stop, but Corin being stronger, continued to drag him forwards.
“I’m not leaving you here,” the duke said, determined to get them both safely to the space port. Deep down however, Corin knew Zayen was right. They were moving too slow now, and it was only a matter of time before the white armored soldiers caught up.
Digging his heels into the ground, Zayen toiled painfully to unsling his arm from Corin’s shoulders. “Listen, it turns out it wasn’t in the stars for me to get out of here, but you still can. Daell is waiting with a ship, she’ll smuggle you out of here, and to somewhere safe.”
“But,” the duke went to protest but, Zayen’s stone cold look stopped him. Corin knew that when the good tempered prince’s face turned that serious, there was no changing his mind.
Zayen pulled his best friend close, knowing that this could very well be the last time he ever saw him. “May the stars guide you to safety my brother.”
Corin looked at him for as long as he could, then averted his eyes. He focused on Zayen’s blaster. “Charged?”
Zayen gave a brief smile. “Of course.”
The Duke nodded and dropped Zayen to the ground as quickly and as carefully as he could. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck.” Then Corin turned and started limping away as fast as he could.
“Corin-“ Zayen began, grabbing Corin’s arm, but the Duke cut him off.
Although Zayen hadn’t revealed all about his secret affair, Corin had heard enough and guessed even more to know what was coming. “You love her. I know.” Then without another word he was stumbling away. He didn’t want to look back, didn’t want to contemplate that it looked like he was now the only one who was going to get off Vorgell. He just focused on making sure he did make it off.
Stormtroopers began emerging from the starport itself and Corin cursed. The Imperials had already seized it. He drove them back a bit by snapping off two shots and diverted. Gonna have to find another way in. Fortunately, he knew the city like the back of his hand. Slipping in undetected round the back, through the service entrance, would be a piece of cake.
As he changed direction, Corin heard the blasterfire start up. His experience in the military allowed him to discern between the keener shots of a pistol and the heavier fire from rifles. Without looking he knew Zayen was horribly out numbered.
Just before his view of Zayen’s position was about to be eclipsed, he couldn’t help himself looking back over his shoulder. Zayen slumped over, his blaster lying uselessly where it had fallen from limp hands. Corin winced and shut his eyes. His friend must be dead.
There was no time for remorse or grief now. A soldier had to keep his cool when his comrades fell, had to keep a straight-head, or he’d join them. Corin knew Zayen would want him to go, and as much as Corin wanted to make a stand of his own, he knew he had to get off world. Only he was in a position to exact revenge against the culprit, and he couldn’t do that in an Imperial cell.
With a heavy heart, Corin stumbled on, hoping Zayen’s sacrifice would keep the Imperials attention off him long enough.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
9 Epsilon 75
03:12
Plateau City, Vorgrell
Orsiri Castle, Princess Orsiri's personal chambers
The princess rolled from her side onto her back, stretching out lazily as she pulled her exotic silk covers up around her neck.
*Odd*
Her bed sheets were so light way that they never gave any resistance when she tugged at them. Slowly, the girl opened one indolent eye to see what was obscuring the cover’s movement.
Gasp.
The Princess bolted upright, pressing hard against the backboard of her bed, trying her best to get as far away from the blaster pistol that was pointed right in her face.
“Who ever sent you, I can pay you more,” she pleaded.
Inside his masked shadowsuit, Corin smiled, keeping the blaster levelled. How typical that she thought she could buy him out. “I don’t think so.”
Zara’s eyes grew wide with fear. She was going to die, alone in her room, murdered by some loathsome assassin. And then it struck her. That confident, strong voice, she knew that voice, she detested that voice. *But it couldn’t be. How could he be alive after all this time?* But it made sense, only he would have the military know how, and the intimidate knowledge of her palace to make it past the palace to make it past the royal guards and into her bedchambers.
“Corin Archell,” she finally said, desperately trying to buy herself some time.
“Quite.” Corin replied, not wavering in his aim. It didn’t bother him in the slightest that Zara recognised him. He had prepared himself for that possibility. “Attempt to alert anyone, and I will shoot you. Note that this pistol has a flash suppresser? I’ll be long gone before anybody realises.” The Duke paused. “Ironic, isn’t it?” Before the Princess could think of what he was talking about, he continued. “It was your inside knowledge that was so critical to a swift and, relatively, bloodless coup. And now here we are, me with a blaster at your head, because I have inside knowledge of your Palace.” Indeed, this palace had been his home away from home and he knew it almost as well as the Archell building or the Academy. The irony had occurred to him earlier. “Now, moving us along, the only reason you aren’t already dead, mi’lady,” Corin’s voice was filled with scorn, “is because I want to know why. Why did you do it?”
Despite the desperate situation she found herself in, the princess’ eyes flashed with eternal hatred. “Why?” she repeated sarcastically. “What did you expect; that I would sit back and watch as lovely and wonderful Zayen ascended to head of our house?” Corin did not miss the mocking tone she placed on the words ‘lovely’ and ‘wonderful’. “And then what? He would have made a farce out of our royal name by taking a Twi’lek as his queen!? Yes, I knew about him and that dirty bitch and their disgusting relationship. And I, the royal princess of Vorgrell would then have to bow to a filthy alien!? No Corin, I would not allow him, you, and all your great, perfect, little group to come to power while I was forced into the shadows!”
Ah, Corin thought, so that was it. And all this time he had just presumed Zara was power hungry. No, there was more too it than that. Zara Orsiri was xenophobic as well. No wonder she fell in so well with the Empire. Recently a growing xenophobia had been gripping Imperial policies, and Corin feared where it would go. “My dear Zara, you never seize to amaze me. Well, at least we can assured this will be the last time.”
Surprisingly, a devious smile crept across the young princess’ face. With a haunting laugh Zara said “Oh Corin, you know what my brother’s and your biggest downfall always was? You two are so great at everything, that you always underestimate everyone.”
Just then, an incredibly painful stinging feeling shot through his hand, causing him to drop his pistol to the ground. While Zara had been stalling Corin , she had pressed a button behind the backboard which had instantly notified her body guard of danger.Standing behind him was a small, dainty looking girl, wielding a glowing green whip. a neuronic whip no doubt the duke cursed as he sized up the new adversary.
“I see you haven’t met my new handmaid. I assure you Corin, that Lady Arella has many talents other than just brushing my hair at night.”
Sithspawn Corin cursed, eyeing the new player up. He hadn’t even noticed her entering, so preoccupied had he been on Zara. And now, with the Princess’ reference to ‘underestimating’, he feared he could be in a lot of danger despite the new arrival’s appearance.
There was no time for that now. He had to think. Quickly. He was torn between this Lady Arella and Zara. Although his Deathammer 434 was lying on the floor, that didn’t mean anything. His Power 5 was strapped to his thigh and there was a vibrodagger strapped to the small of his back. Corin just had the choice of which target to go for first.
Although he wanted no more than to burn Zara’s face off with a well-placed blaster shot, he knew it would leave him open to attack from her bodyguard. An attack he probably wouldn’t survive. No, as his professional senses were telling him, he would have to go for Lady Arella and ignore Zara – for the moment.
The hesitation almost cost Corin dearly but he recovered well. Yanking the vibrodagger from its sheathe he flicked it on and twirled. He heard the reassuring hum as the weapon slashed at Lady Arella’s throat.
With disturbing reflexes, the small girl twisted backwards, her neck narrowly missing the knife’s eager blade. Then, before Corin new what was happening, she rushed forwards, her whip gracefully dancing around her. Even with his professional training, the assassin was hard pressed to dodge the green cord, let alone move close enough to get a hit in.
“You were lucky to escape the Empire, and had you any brains in that thick skull of yours, you would have never come back here!” Zara taunted, as she scampered from her bed to a safer position on the opposite side of the room. “Kill him!” the princess cheered on her handmaid eagerly.
With only a smile smirk on her porcelain face, Arella began to move her whip faster and faster. Her grin widened as the emerald cord crackled against Corin, lacerating a wide gash into his arm.
Corin’s face twisted under his mask at the wound, but he didn’t say anything. He also ignored Zara, figuring killing her would be enough of a rebuke. Instead he concentrated on dodging the whip. Grudgingly, Corin had to admit the girl was good. But he had a few tricks up his sleeve.
He lunged in a wide arc, the vibrodagger humming through the air. Arella stepped back and flicked her whip at Corin’s outstretched arm, wrapping neatly around the wrist and drawing a hiss of pain from his clenched lips. The vibrodagger fell from his shocked fingers. Corin took a step closer to her and delivered a knee to the girl’s stomach. The whip went slack and he was able to wrench his sore arm free. Almost immediately Corin darted backwards, scooping up his Deathammer and whirling round to try and draw a bead on Lady Arella.
To her credit, the small bodyguard recovered quickly from Corin’s blow, able to react before the duke bombarded her with a spray of laser blasts. Reaching into the folds of her outfit, Arella withdrew a tiny dagger and launched it with alarming accuracy. Corin managed to respond in the last second, angling his hand so he only received a minor cut, rather than losing four of his five fingers.
The gun fell to the ground once more.
Like a cat pouncing on its prey, the girl retracted the neuro-whip into its shaft and leapt forwards. Using a combination of Tera Kasi arts, and some special tricks picked up during her years as a gang member/pit fighter, Arella rained down on Corin with blow after blow. She moved with grace and speed, like a deadly ballerina in some sadistic spectacle.
Corin threw up as much of a defence his military training and recent assassination experience gave him but against such a deadly fighter it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t go toe-to-toe with her, she was just too fast, so he started looking for something sneaky.
Lady Arella lashed out with a roundhouse kick that caught Corin in the face. Seeing it coming the assassin rolled with the blow, stumbling against Zara’s bed but managing to keep himself upright. Corin grabbed the sheets and hurled them at Arella as she advanced. With the bodyguard momentarily off balance, clawing the sheets from over her face, Corin let into her with a series of relentless left-right punches. He heard her cry out from under the sheets and snapped off a side-kick at what he presumed was her stomach. It turned out to be the girl’s back and she toppled to the floor.
In a flash Corin had his Power 5 in his hand and trained on her still form. When she didn’t move he felt satisfied she wasn’t going to in a hurry. Breathing heavily he kept the blaster pointed at Lady Arella whilst backing away until he could grab his Deathammer. This blaster he aimed at Zara. The tight shadowsuit and exertion was making him sweat freighters and he stung from contact with the neuro-whip. “An impressive bodyguard. A present from your friends in the Empire?”
The previous look of horror the princess had sported earlier returned to her statuesque face. How did Corin manage to best Arella…it was….impossible. “Corin, please,” she stammered, backing up until eventually hitting the wall. “Don’t….please…what would Zayen say if he knew you killed me? Your best friend’s sister”.
Corin shook his head. “If he knew what you did, he’d congratulate me.” His finger tightened on the trigger.
Zara closed her eyes. Any second from now, Corin would pull the trigger and it would all be over. That second never came.
To her surprise, and delight, Arella had been playing possum, waiting patiently on the floor for the right moment to strike. Like a flash of lightening, the body guard jumped to her feet, the buzzing, green cord of her neuronic-whip slapping against Corin’s hands. As both guns fell down, her right foot flew upwards into the Duke’s temple. Reeling from the blow, Corin couldn’t react fast enough to avoid the whip which quickly circled, wrapping him painfully in its stinging cord.
The princess giggled in absolute delight as she marched forward to stand face to face with her would be assassin. “You know, id have thought nothing could be more fun than sending Zayen off to the Kessel Spice mines, but this is pretty comparable.”
With a nod from Zara, Arella’s foot slammed into the back of Corin’s legs, dropping the man to his knees. “Oh how nice of you to bow to you Princess,” Zara mocked.
Struggling from the pain of the neuro-whip, Corin looked her in the eye. “You always were awful at the art of conversation, Zara, but you couldn’t keep that mouth of yours closed. Its worth killing you only to shut you up.”
The princess’ hand came down hard, slapping loudly against his cheek. The scowl of rage that she wore however was soon replaced by a smirk. “You know, when I was a little girl, I used to watch Zayen and you play down in the courtyard from these windows.
I thought you were so handsome, and strong, I dreamt of marrying you when we were older,” she chuckled at the absurdity of it all. “But of course, time goes on, we grow up and things obviously change. But ill let you in on a little secret Corin,” she said, lowering close to his ear as if about to reveal some deep secret. “I wouldn’t mind watching you down in the courtyard one last time.”
With a final nod, Arella twisted the whip, dragging Corin upwards, angling him right in front of the window. “A dieu Duke Archell,” the princess waved.
Corin dangled just long enough to ponder the fact that no matter how much he struggled he could not break free, just long enough to know that his fate was inevitable. Then he was falling. Darkness enfolded Corin in its embrace. The air whistled past his ears. The ground rushed up to meet him.
Once again, Vorgell architecture was working for him. Once again, Corin was only two stories up. When the impact came, and come it did, it didn’t kill him. It only hurt like hell.
Bent over with pain, Corin didn’t move for a few minutes. He knew some ribs were cracked. One of his legs might be broken too, but he couldn’t be sure. The only thing Corin could be sure of was that if he stayed here any longer, Zara’s guards would be all over him. He had to get up.
Biting back on the surging pain that run up and down his body with every movement, Corin clawed himself to his knees. Then shakily to his legs. He paused and took a few deep breaths. Then, at last, Corin limped away from the Osiri Palace – once again.
With thanks to Shaun for writing the part of Zara Orsiri.
Arica and Garim
Continued…
The sound of the door banging shut silenced Irina’s obscene accusations. Arica’s breath burst from her lips in anguished gasps as she tried to smother her uncontrollable sobbing against the sleeve of her dress. Tears soaked the light coloured material, tears and blood. Her shoes pounded against the marble floor, echoing in the cavernous hallway as she ran, occasionally slipping on the polished stone. Still Arica maintained her frantic pace, heading in whatever direction her feet took her. It didn’t matter so long as she put enough distance between herself and Irina.
Thoughts raced through her head with the heaviness of her footsteps.
How could her Aunt say such things? Was her mind so disturbed to imagine she and her uncle could be engaged in some kind of torrid affair? Not only that, but that they might be plotting, conspiring to end her life! The mere thought made Arica feel sick.
She was so consumed with panic and fear that she didn’t even notice the person coming in the opposite direction until it was too late. Rounding a corner she slammed fully into his body, almost knocking them both to the ground.
“Woah! Hey!”
Arica choked on her tears as a strong pair of arms caught her around the shoulders, encircling her and holding her close while simultaneously averting a collision. The arms held her calmly and she could feel warm, relaxed breath descend upon her from above. But her vision was so blurred by her tears she could hardly make out who it was.
“Arica? What is it? What’s happened?”
The voice was masculine but soft, full of silent concern and sympathy.
“G-Garim,” Arica stammered uneasily, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand and bringing his handsome features into focus. She’d never felt so glad to see him, she wanted him to pull her closer so that she could bury her face against his chest, close her eyes and forget all the horrible things Irina had accused her of.
Sensing her distress Garim did just that. He wrapped his arms around Arica’s trembling shoulders and drew her close, allowing her to press her cheek against him. She continued to sob, her body shuddering like a leaf in a hurricane. A stern frown creased Garim’s forehead, he didn’t know what had taken place but it must have been something dreadful to upset Arica so much. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry before, not once in the whole time he’d known her.
Drawing back, Garim looked her in the face, his frown deepening as he noted the bloody scratches on her cheek and a rather nasty looking gash across the side of her head.
“You’re bleeding…” he stated in disbelief, quickly searching his pockets for something to stem the flow but found nothing. In frustration he ripped free one of the pockets from his vest, folding it in half before using it to dab at Arica’s bloody cheek.
“What on Vorgrell happened to you?” he asked gently as he attended to her. Though his attention was focused on the task at hand he occasionally glanced at Arica worriedly, noting the troubled expression in her dark brown eyes.
“You know you can tell me,” he urged kindly when she remained silent. “Does this have anything to do with your Uncle? Was it Master Oldrak? Did he do this to you?”
“What?” Arica’s voice was full of incredulity and she pulled away from Garim, her tears frozen in her wide, terror-filled eyes. Did Captain Moriss suppose her capable of the same depravities Irina had accused her of? Did he imagine Uncle Oldrak and herself caught up in some kind of licentious love affair, planning how best to dispose of his wife while they sat together reading Konnik’s ‘Beach of Stars’ on an evening?
Arica had not even considered that other people might share Irina’s wild assertions, but then where did her Aunt get such crazy ideas if it hadn’t been from the idle gossip and lies told by the palace servants. Arica shivered despite the warmth of the corridor, feeling suddenly ill.
“No…” she said defensively, “he’s my Uncle… he wouldn’t he-“
The look of disbelief in Garim’s eyes made Arica want to cry again. Instead she turned on her heel and began marching in the opposite direction until she realised it was the direction she’d just come – from Irina’s room. Biting her lower lip she stopped suddenly, turning around and almost bumping into Garim a second time as he followed close behind her.
Garim caught hold of Arica again, grasping her more tightly this time. He held her close. “Then who was it, Arica?” he asked gently, not even missing a beat. “You’re hurt, whoever did this shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. I’m your bodyguard remember? It’s my sworn duty to protect you.”
Arica didn’t answer Garim’s question, she didn’t know how. She couldn’t tell him what Irina had accused her of, the things she had called her... Even though they weren’t true Arica couldn’t help but feel tainted somehow, as though she were guilty regardless of her actions, regardless of the truth.
Garim sighed, running a hand through his hair with deliberation before taking Arica’s hand and leading her down the corridor.
08 Epsilon 75
Captain Garim Moriss’ Quarters, Bertrayn Palace
13:32
Garim opened the door and led the way inside. As Arica’s personal bodyguard his domicile was far removed from those of the rest of security. But regardless of his closer proximity to the family, his room was still the spartan furnished residence of a soldier. Garim had little need for possessions; in fact it was easier if all his belongings could be easily and quickly packed into a single bag. That had always been his belief anyway – a belief that had held him in good stead in the past.
As she followed Garim inside, Arica’s eyes wandered around the simply furnished room. There was not much to take in – basic washing and dressing facilities, an exceedingly well-made bed and a reading chair with a standard lamp positioned over the right-hand side. A dog-eared copy of Rogar Farnoster’s ‘Night Mynock’ lay open and face down across the seat while several pressed and neatly folded uniforms had been draped over the back.
Arica let her fingers trail across the solid curves of the armchair, wandering aimlessly in the room as Garim disappeared from view, his presence maintained by a series of sporadic noises as he searched around in a cupboard. She walked over to the dresser and picked up a holophoto propped up on the far end. The image depicted a pretty young woman – probably in her late twenties, with short brunette curls framing her robust features. By her side stood a little boy, skinny and not very tall but with such piercing, serious blue eyes Arica felt certain it must be Garim.
“My mother, Lyeia.”
Arica turned to find Captain Moriss standing over her shoulder, she hadn’t heard him return but then she never did, he always moved with the combination of stealth and skill that his profession required. His eyes lingered on the picture of his mother for a moment, removing it from Arica’s hands before replacing it on the dresser. He held up a green metallic medi-box and gestured towards the bed.
They sat in silence for a few minutes while Garim cleaned up the bloody scratches on Arica’s cheek and the cut on her forehead. She winced as he dabbed them with an alcoholic swab but otherwise remained quiet. As Garim finished he sat back, returning the medical supplies into their box.
“So…” he said finally, his concerned blue eyes connecting with Arica’s. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Arica looked away uncomfortably. Though she felt a little better in herself she still didn’t want to talk about her altercation with Irina.
Garim wasn’t so easily dissuaded. “The marks on your face look like nail scratches,” he observed quietly. “You were attending to Lady Bertrayn this afternoon, weren’t you? Like usual…” Garim watched Arica closely, though she didn’t say a word sorrowful tears filled her eyes again, spilling down her cheeks noiselessly. Garim frowned in understanding.
“It was Irina… wasn’t it?”
Arica nodded silently, wiping at the tears that dripped from the end of her nose. “She… she hit me, attacked me…”
Anyone else might have questioned this allegation but Garim didn’t for a second doubt the truth of Arica’s words. He knew her too well, she was many things – restrained yet excitable, sensible yet naïve, patient, imaginative… but never a liar. The seriousness in her face bespoke her sincerity as did her tears – Arica’s capacity for stoicism had always amazed him, so the fact that she was unable to command authority over her emotions at this time said far more than words ever could.
“Why?” he asked gently, taking Arica’s hand and holding it supportively in his own. “Why would she hurt you like this?”
A trembling sigh escaped Arica’s lips and with her free hand she wiped at her tear-streaked cheeks again. She didn’t want to say anything, she just wanted to forget what had happened and continue on like normal. But part of her knew that she couldn’t, for a start how could she ever face her Aunt again? And how could she continue to spend time alone with her Uncle knowing what rumours were likely to circulate? Besides, she wanted to… needed to tell somebody, and she did trust Captain Moriss. He was her bodyguard after all. In the past she had trusted him with more than just secrets, she had trusted him with her life.
Furthermore, it wasn’t as though there was anybody else she could talk to. Arica didn’t have many friends, it was a critical character flaw but she had never been able to make friends easily, largely preferring her own company and the private delectation that a new book yielded.
Arica looked up at Captain Moriss, in some small measure she was able to hold back her tears though her eyes were red and watery. “S-she accused me of trying to hurt her… poison her…” she took a deep breath, directing her gaze away from Garim when she found the intensity of his stare too penetrating.
“She th-thinks that I’m… that Uncle Oldrak and I…” Arica frowned uncomfortably and swallowed at a lump of disquiet that had lodged in her throat.
“That the two of us were…” she looked up at Captain Moriss again and in his eyes realised that he understood what she was having a difficult time putting into words. “But it isn’t true!” she declared earnestly, her tears flowing freely once again. “I swear it isn’t, I don’t know where she got such ideas from but, but she just went mad! Throwing things at me, calling me… She threatened to have me thrown out into the street!”
Arica sobbed weakly, sliding her hand free from Garim’s and covering her face desolately. “W-what am I going to do?” she wept, “Uncle Oldrak will return from Plateau City soon… I can’t leave with him when things are like this… W-what will people think? I-I can’t… I-I don’t, I…”
“Shhhh,” soothed Garim gently, drawing Arica into his arms again and cradling the back of her head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, this is just a misunderstanding. We can sort it out.” He stroked the back of her head tenderly, his fingers brushing through her tangled curls.
“Your Aunt… she’s just a sick old woman, she probably didn’t know what she was saying…” However a part of Garim worried that she might have been on to something. Not that he believed Arica – dear, sweet girl that she was, could be capable of such behaviour. But Baron Oldrak? Now that was a different matter entirely and Garim couldn’t easily dismiss the unease he felt on that score.
He remained silent. Alerting Arica to his concerns at this moment would do her no good and besides, he wasn’t certain – not of anything. Until he had proof he had no right to make what could be viewed as absurd, not to mention dangerous accusations. Baron Oldrak was a powerful man on Vorgrell; it would not do to cross him.
“Please don’t cry Arica…” begged Garim quietly as she continued to sob into his shoulder. Gently he tilted her face upwards, still cradled against his shoulder, so that he could look at her. His heart softened fervidly as he wiped away the tears from under her eyes. Arica’s lower lip quivered as she attempted to comply with his request and she sniffled pitifully, trying to hold back the tears that rolled endlessly down her cheeks.
Garim wiped them away again, holding her face in both his hands now. He just wanted to comfort her, to stop her crying. She looked so lost; so desolate… it broke his heart to see her that way. Before he knew what was happening he was kissing her, pressing his lips against hers, directing her chin upwards to meet his mouth before kissing her again and again...
Arica’s breath caught in her throat at that first kiss. So unexpected and yet so needed. Garim’s warm breath swept across her mouth as his lips gently pressed against hers a second time. Her heart was racing now, beating furiously beneath her breast as Garim’s fingers caressed the back of her head, lost in her hair, drawing her closer.
Her tears gradually subsided, her despondency almost forgotten with each soft and tender kiss that Garim applied to her mouth. Strong, brave, handsome Captain Moriss, who would willingly throw himself into the path of certain death to protect her if need be. Captain Moriss who so well fitted the profile of every romantic hero she had ever read about. Arica had never felt anything so wonderful in her life as his kisses; she didn’t even mind the feel of his bristly three-day old stubble rubbing against her chin.
Garim could barely control himself as his arms tightened around Arica, drawing her in closer as they continued to kiss. His mind was a blur of thoughts, flooded with emotions of varying degrees. As his lips explored those of dear Arica’s he realised just how long he had wanted to do this, how every time he’d seen her recently the hairs on the back of his neck had prickled with excitement and his muscles had tensed expectantly. How, seeing her so distraught and hurt had awakened every protective instinct in his being.
“Oh Ari…” he moaned hopelessly against her mouth as she uttered the sweetest, most toe-curling moan of requited appreciation he’d ever heard. Garim idly wondered if she’d ever been kissed before, if his lips were the first to impress their warmth upon hers, the first to draw such sweet sounds of enjoyment and reciprocation from her mouth. The thought released a deluge of repressed emotions, feelings he’d kept so tightly contained they were as much a surprise to himself as they were to Arica.
Garim’s body practically throbbed with fierce desire - desire to protect, to comfort. Gently he lowered Arica down onto the bed, pressing his hand against the slight curve of her hip. She was so fragile and delicate, she needed him… …and he needed her. The feel of her body beneath his own, so warm and womanly felt indescribably wonderful, made even more so as Arica slipped her arms around him also, pulling him closer as they continued to kiss.
With a suddenness that seemed to rattle the walls of the palace the door to the room flew open, preceded shortly by the harried and apprehensive arrival of one of the palace soldiers.
“CAPTAIN MORISS!” exclaimed the breathless youth in earnest, coming to an abrupt halt as he acknowledged the scene on the bed. His Captain and the young charge of the Bertrayn’s - Lady Odari-Mosora intimately engaged, their bodies tangled together, their lips tenderly, yet hungrily exploring each others. The young soldier stuttered and looked decidedly uneasy as they both looked up in abject horror.
“Sir… I’m sorry Sir, I… there’s an emergency…” he averted his eyes, looking down at his feet as he shuffled awkwardly in the entranceway.
Arica felt her body turn rigid with fright, cold and stiff. She could barely move and it was Garim who disentangled himself from her, grasping hold of the young soldier by the scruff of his neck and hurrying him out of the room. Before the door closed behind them, Arica could hear Garim speaking in quiet yet firm tones, reprimanding the young soldier for his intrusion. The beginnings of a warning were also audible before the heavy door cut off the sound.
Arica sat upright as the sensation finally returned to her limbs, she raised a hand to cover her mouth, which still tingled with the sensation of Garim’s impassioned kisses. As though things hadn’t been bad enough, less than an hour ago her Aunt had called her a whore and a harlot, accusing her of sleeping with her Uncle, and now she had been caught cavorting with Captain Moriss in his private quarters, on his bed no less!
What would happen to them if the rookie cadet told Baron Bertrayn what he’d seen? He might send her away… he might send Garim away…
Arica was just stumbling to her feet, combing her fingers through her tangled hair in an effort to neaten it’s wild appearance as Garim returned, his face bearing a decidedly uncomfortable expression.
“Don’t worry, I know Bryis, he’s discreet-”
“-But I do worry,” interrupted Arica anxiously, “you don’t know… if Uncle Bertrayn finds out about this and he contacts my father…”
“It won’t happen,” Garim assured her confidently. “Bryis is just a cadet, he won’t tell a soul, Arica…”
But as Garim moved towards her Arica took a nervous step backwards. She felt so confused, she didn’t know what was going on anymore, and there was still the problem of Oldrak who would be returning to the palace very soon expecting her to accompany him to Betra.
“I just… I need some time,” she explained as Garim backed away, a distinct look of hurt in his expressive blue eyes. Arica’s gaze softened with affection, part of her desperately wanted him to take her in his arms again and kiss her like he had before, the other part of her was deeply afraid of the repercussions of such desires. Was it her fault that she was so inexperienced in such things? She’d only ever read of love in books, even amongst the intricate plot twists and expertly devised obstacles the happy outcome of a hero or heroine was assured, the pages held no real mystery – one could easily skip to the last page to lessen the beating of a terrified heart.
If only in life she could skip to the back page to see how things would turn out.
Without another word Arica slipped across the room to the door, her eyes briefly lingering on Garim’s stiffly postured figure before she turned and walked away. If only life was like a book.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
06 Epsilon 75
Imperial Garrison
14:20
Lt. Akula swept outside into the streets where the stormtroopers were drilling in the courtyard. For the second time today he felt the familiar rumble beneath his feet that was the constant companion of this swelteringly hot and humid hellhole.
He wiped the perspiration from his face started to walk down the short steps when his sweat-soaked hand slid on the handrail and made him stumble. A passing stormtrooper offered a hand. "Are you okay, sir?" he asked with official politeness.
"No, I am bloody not all right!" Akula snapped, "This weather is appalling and it doesn't ever seem to change. How many hours do you stay out in this heat, trooper?"
"I do a standard 10 hour shift, Lieutenant." he answered crisply.
"Do you?" Akula said narrowing his eyes on the unfortunate target of his bile, "Then I order you to appreciate my misery by turning off your cooling unit for the remainder of your shift. Is that clear, trooper?"
Akula waited for some sort of dissent. A sigh or some pleading for leniency would trigger the most horrible outburst from Drak. He liked this game.
"Aye, Lieutenant!" The soldier said, immediately switching off his climate unit.
Akula clenched his jaw tighter in mute frustration. "Bring my speeder bike around immediately, I am heading over to the Council Hall, at least the temperature is more tolorable underground."
The trooper saluted and marched off at double time cutting off even that chance to vent his anger. Drak paced for a few minutes
and perked up when a motor pool tech pulled up with his speeder.
Drak inspected his gleaming chrome and ebon Beast for scratches. He was ready to break fingers for the merest fingerprint. The Beast was hideously overpowered and shone with an evil gleam in the hot sun. The black of the seat and vanes drank in the heat and radiated it off in rippling waves that felt hotter than the sun.
Drak slid into the seat carefully to position his balls so that the dewback leather seat didn't burn them. He revved the engine and closed his eyes to appreciate the anguished scream of the engine howling to be let loose. The tech offered him a helmet which he sneered at.
Drak Akula took off his cap and tucked it into his tunic. From inside his jacket he pulled his mirrored goggles and stretched them over his face. He leaned forward and engaged the drive. The speeder bike lurched forward and ran up and over the wall making sentries jump and dive for cover.
Akula roared down to the street level, the collision safety beeped a warning that he was riding under the 3 meter safety line. Akula had replaced the light with a winking icon. The Beast liked to whip along at street level.
Pedestrians (*What sort of fool would walk in this weather?*) leapt aside or ducked. A seriously misplaced wookie hit the deck when The Beast clipped his fuzzy noggin. Akula thought about going back to finish the job, but it felt good to feel the wind and he was enjoying the short and exhilarating ride to the Council Hall.
Akula spun around and hot-burned his retros to stop in the courtyard in front of Council Hall. There was a charred place on the marble facade where he had done this before. He slid from his Beast as the ineffective Noble Guard came running towards him.
"Lieutenant Akula, we have to ask you to not park your Speeder here," complained the deputy.
"Ask all you like, Deputy, it stays parked there. And I will remind you so as to avoid fatalities like last time that I have a Firesnake Lethal Security system and it is armed."
Akula calmly removed his goggles, smoothed his hair and replaced his cap. He deliberately activated his Firesnake system in such a way as to illustrate to the deputy that he wasn't to be ordered by anyone. He strolled into the Hall.
Akula went to the Holo-net office. He could have used the holo-net in the garrison, of course, but he felt it improved his stature here among these thieving and dirty scum to hear his communications with his Uncle.
If the locals got wind (*How could they not when all anyone would have to do is bribe the holonet operator to get the information and he would likely throw in his whore sister as a bonus*) of his plans then they might tighten up a little. They would certainly start to hide things. Things that would need finding. Things that a division of Star Destroyer Stormtroopers would be useful in finding.
Akula licked his lips in anticipation. Yes, Uncle Ybriss would be happy to help; he had loved his sister - Akula's mother. He had been overjoyed to hear of little Drak's intention to join the Imperial Academy. He was only too eager to see him get ahead.
Drak summoned the holo-net operator and slid the credit chip to him quickly so the man would not have to speak and thereby spread his foul breath towards him. He stepped into the chamber and triggered the scanner.
A blue rectangle sporting the circular cog-shape of the Empire floated with scrolling Arubesh explaining that a connection was being established. Soon, the familiar round face marred by the brow-to-jowl scar of Admiral Ybriss appeared.
Introducing Donald Pleasance
as Admiral Ybriss
"Good Morning, M'boy! It is morning isn't it? I lose track so often."
"It is afternoon, Uncle. Have you considered my proposal? I'd like to give the garrison a chance to prepare for your arrival and inspection. We'd be quite honored."
"Vorgrell, eh? Yes, I remember in your last communication. It is just that I can't see anything for our boys to really do there. I mean, really. Madris races? Hot springs? Mountain climbing? It sounds frankly ghastly, if you ask me."
*Uncle, you have no idea,* Drak thought.
"I admit it is somewhat...rugged. But you don't want them to go all soft do you? It is not the sort of place that gentlemen like you and me would go but for those types it could even be considered exciting. Just consider it, won't you? Ask some of the men, if you like. Would they rather go to a soggy, rainy planet with nothing to do but gamble and eat, or would they rather go to a rugged world with a chance to see wild places and participate in rowdy pleasures?"
Ybriss seemed doubtful, but he conceeded, "Well, if you put it that way. I can always ask. How is Commander Harkness? Been a while since I saw the old bird. Is he treating you well?"
*He's an old fart that deserves to be extinct.*
"He's fine, Uncle, I'll pass along your greeting."
The two men chatted for a while with the dutiful inquiries of health, career, family, politics, and news. All polite and all reasonably cheerful. When the holo-net ended, Drak Akula chuckled; an evil laugh that made a chill go through the operator's spine even though he hadn't heard it.
Akula left without a word to the man at the counter and started to walk through the huge marble dome of the Council Chamber's main hall. Something caught on his sleeve.
It was one of those reptile-things that were jokingly called sentient. Horn-somethings he rememberd. "Scat!" he said slapping his hand at it.
"No go!" it demanded.
Akula stopped and turned bright red. An Imperial Commander could order him, it was his right. A Deputy might make demands of him; it was his authority but he was free to ignore it. But this thing would pay for its insolence to make demands of Lieutenant Drak Akula of the Imperial Guard.
Akula grabbed the beast by its scrawny throat and jacked it up against a rock pillar. "You do not order me beast," said Akula in a voice low and full of menace, "Your place isn't even to foul my boots with your sub humanoid fingers. Just because by some joke of evolution you can form coherent speech does not allow you to make demands of me."
The floor rocked violently and a few small trails of dust tricked into the air from the shields above that supported the dome. A quake, and a close one, it seemed.
The creature in his grasp began to turn a pale grey as its need for oxygen began to be dire. It had not struggled once and Akula dropped it in disgust. He'd have to burn his gloves, he decided, after touching the filthy thing.
Akula strode out to his Beast a little rise in his smile brought on by the anticipation of riding it up into the hills overlooking Plateau City. He would assemble the sniper rifle and take careful beads on the people in the street. Who knew, he might actually decide to shoot one of them today.
The last thought died in his mind as he exited the hall. A large chunk of stone sat on the front end of The Beast. Its black vanes poked out at sickening angles from beneath the boulder. He could hear the whine of the repulser-lifts as they attempted to straighten the bike but were unable to budge the mass of rock sitting on it.
Several Deputies and a crowd of people were standing around idly. "Do something, you morons!" he screamed.
"Can't," one of the deputies said, leaning casually against a memorial, "It has a Firesnake security system - lethal under most circumstances. And I'd be careful Lieutenant, it looks damaged. It might not deactivate properly." The other deputies were hiding their smirks as they directed the crowds to avoid the hazard.
Akula's scream of anguish echoed along the hills which passively ignored him.
Byris Blackmails Arica
08 Epsilon 75
Arica Odari-Mosora’s Quarters, Bertrayn Palace
19:21
It had grown considerably darker in the hours that had passed since she’d left Captain Moriss’ room yet Arica had made no motion to turn on the light. The thick gloom had descended upon her chambers like some kind of malevolent presence yet, despite her dislike of the dark, for once Arica found it quietly comforting. There was something soothing about the darkness, something immanently protective. Besides, the room was not completely dark, not yet. Even then, the brightly coloured lights of Plateau City would twinkle like kaleidoscopic stars outside her window – beautiful in a strange exotic way, with none of the foreboding menace that resided in the city itself.
Arica, however, was in no mood to appreciate the view. She had spent a long time thinking about her predicament, of her Aunt Irina and Captain Moriss. Her bags still rested, packed and ready to be taken to the transport ship in the next few hours when her Uncle Oldrak returned. He had called ahead to say that he would be later than planned – that was okay, it gave Arica more time to think.
She’d had a servant check on her Aunt and report back on her condition. Apparently she’d been rather unsettled and hysterical, rambling inanely – an obvious result, it was agreed upon, of her overindulgence of Sullustan Gin again. They’d given her a mild sedative to help her rest in the hope that she would be able to sleep off her intoxication. Arica wondered – no, she rather hoped that Irina’s earlier outburst could also be attributed to an excess of alcohol. If it could, she would be able to dismiss the whole incident, attend to her Aunt as before and never mention it again.
But deep inside Arica knew that her Aunt had meant every word of what she’d said and that her immoderate drinking had merely loosened her lips on the subject.
As for Captain Moriss…
Despite the heaviness in her heart Arica smiled as she conjured the name in her head, her hand rising to absently finger her lips. In a moment of girlish fantasy she replayed those minutes of intimacy with Garim, remembering the way he’d held her, wiped away her tears and kissed her… The feel of his heavy, masculine body restraining her against the bed had been so wonderfully erotic, the apprehension and anticipation of the unknown… Arica trembled at the memory – her first truly sexual encounter.
Now that the moment had passed, she deeply regretted running out on him like some inexperienced little girl. *Like Issdara in ‘Days of the Damned’* Arica thought in dismay. *When she fled from Lord Polves after he ravished her amongst the fields of Wuppa Grass … No, wait, not like that at all…*
From outside the door there seemed to arise an inordinate amount of noise. Her fantasy interrupted, Arica rose from her seat with an air of curiosity, the noise separated into voices, growing louder on the other side of the door that Wooshed open as she approached.
“But I have urgent business with Lady Odari…”
The scene that greeted Arica in the antechamber to her rooms sent a jolt of fear through her heart and a caused a wave of sickness to wash over her. The two guards that were stationed outside her door were wrestling with a young male who seemed desperate to break his way past them. Arica recognised him immediately as the soldier who had walked in on her and Garim that afternoon. Cadet Bryce or something like that. Upon seeing her stood in the doorway he straightened up and ceased his struggle, a smug smile spreading across his face.
“We’re sorry for the intrusion Lady Odari-” began one of the guards but Bryis swiftly interrupted, his self-satisfied grin widening with ruinous intent.
“Lady Odari, we have urgent business to discuss, remember?”
Arica toyed with the idea of ordering the guards to get rid of him for there could be no doubt as to why the young soldier had decided to pay her a visit. Despite Captain Moriss’ belief that this boy could be trusted to keep their indiscretion a secret his presence here told an entirely different story. His crooked smile, not to mention the emphasis that he had placed upon the word business made Arica’s blood turn cold, it said ‘don’t even think of throwing me out unless you want me to tell the whole of Vorgrell your little secret!’
Feeling defeated already, Arica nodded mutely and stepped to one side. The tallest of the two guards allowed Bryis inside and followed close behind, standing by the door.
“Actually…” began Bryis warily, indicating towards the guard, “I thought we could do this in private.”
“Lady Odari doesn’t receive anyone without a chaperon,” reported the guard efficiently, stiffening rigidly as though his spine were made out of solid stone.
“Oh, of course not,” Byris said with a wry grin, turning back towards Arica. He remembered her as she had been employed earlier that afternoon, laid beneath Captain Moriss with her arms wrapped around him, fairly devouring each other with their impassioned exploration of lips and tongue. Byris’ smile widened. “You have your reputation to think of after all.”
Arica’s cheeks reddened slightly at the inference of Byris’ comment, it was obvious he’d come here to try to blackmail her. She suddenly felt terribly exposed and wished fervently that Captain Moriss could be here to help her deal with this loathsome creature. Byris would be fearful of Captain Moriss, fearful and respectful. He wouldn’t look at him in the same leering and scornful manner that he was looking at her now.
Seeing as he was in control of the situation, Byris strolled around the sprawling chambers, his eyes flickering around the room with interest. He was trying to look at ease, casual even, as though he knew what he was doing. He didn’t. He didn’t have a clue; all he knew was that this was too good an opportunity to pass up.
“This is a nice place,” he commented with false indifference, picking up a small trinket box and removing the lid to peer inside. “You have nice… stuff.”
“Yes, I do,” admitted Arica stiffly, walking over to the nearest chair and sitting down. Her legs felt weak as though she were standing in a peat bog. She watched Byris as he continued to turn over various objects in his hands – no doubt mentally calculating how much money he could extort out of her.
As she continued to observe him, Arica couldn’t help but think that Byris looked nothing like the type of person who could be capable of blackmail. Arica would have expected a wiry mop of raven black hair that hung long over his forehead obscuring the majority of his face - dark, hooded eyes that blazed with some inner malevolence and a thick moustache to twirl around his index finger. Then he might have at least looked like a villain from some arty theatre production, or a silent holo-flick. As it was Bryis was rather disappointing. He wasn’t very tall and his build was rather slight and unassuming. His hair wasn’t blond or brown but something in-between, mousy and nondescript.
Rather than imposing or frightening, Bryis was fidgety and highly-strung, his pale green eyes flickering erratically around the room as though he expected the guard to jump up at him any minute and beat him to a bloody pulp. It was only when he smiled that his face took on a rather discourteous appearance, contorting his otherwise plain features into something more crooked.
“Captain Moriss thought you could be trusted to be discreet…”
“Oh, I can be,” assured Bryis, turning towards Arica again, his crooked smile returning as he looked around the room with interest. “With the right persuasion I can be very discreet.”
Arica felt a lump stick in her throat and she swallowed at it uneasily. If only she could be as brave as Lady Gebella Farbass from ‘Tales of the Bride’ – she had taken on the hordes of insectoid drones intent on enslaving the entire race of Zubanites. She had defended her honour against the evil Volton who had tried to sell her into an unhappy marriage. She…
“So… what do you want?”
Bryis sunk down into a chair facing opposite Arica. His eyes wandered over to where the guard stood but he was either not watching them or pretending not to be watching them. Byris kept his voice low anyway.
“What do you think?” said Bryis with more menace than he actually felt. “Money. You have it. I want it. Two-thousand credits. Then I’ll keep my mouth shut and you and Captain Moriss can make-out to your hearts content.”
“Two-thousand?” echoed Arica incredulously, sitting forward in her chair. She might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious. “I… I don’t have that sort of money.”
“You could get it though.” Byris made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the whole room. “Sell some of your pretty things. Heck, Baron Bertrayn would give it to you if you asked him.”
Arica shook her head distressfully; “I can’t… why? Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you? You don’t even know me!”
“Like I said, money. I need it. You have it. Being a palace soldier is fine but it doesn’t pay much. But if you keep your eyes and ears open, sometimes you can catch a lucky break. You’re my lucky break Lady Odari, no need to take it personally.”
Arica fiddled with her hands nervously. “And if I don’t… give you the money, I mean?”
“That’s okay,” said Byris, forcing a measure of calm into his voice as he sat back in his chair and propped his leg upon his other knee. “It’s not like anyone is gonna get hurt – not in a literal sense. The thing is though, I know for a fact that you and Captain Moriss could be in a lot of trouble if I told about what I saw. For starters I think your uncle will be interested to know where you spend your free time and with whom. Sort of scandal like that could ruin a young woman’s reputation y’know?”
Arica sighed uncomfortably. It wasn’t that she was particularly bothered about her reputation, she wasn’t of noble birth after all, her titles were more a courtesy extended to her by association with the Bertrayn’s. It wasn’t as though she had to protect her good name in order to secure a husband either, Arica wasn’t even sure she was all that interested in marriage. The only man she’d ever been even remotely interested in was Captain Moriss and she didn’t think he’d give a jot about titles and reputations.
But that wasn’t what worried her. It was the same reason she’d been so upset about Irina’s accusations. She was afraid that her Uncle Oldrak would send her back home to Coruscant, back home to her father, to confinement and captivity. Away from Captain Moriss. Though Arica didn’t even know if their brief moment together meant anything to Garim the thought of never seeing him again filled her heart with absolute dread.
And then there was her Uncle Oldrak. After everything that he’d done for her since she’d arrived on Vorgrell the last thing Arica wanted to do was bring shame on his house. She might not care for her own name but that of the Bertrayn’s she held very dear to her heart.
“Two thousand?” she said warily, “and you keep quiet?”
Byris smiled with a mixture of relief and satisfaction. “I promise.”
“I want you to leave too, put in for a transfer. I don’t want you around the palace anymore.”
Byris paused for a moment, wondering if he should maybe ask for more money considering this new contingency. He decided against it, the last thing he wanted to do was push Lady Odari too far and risk getting nothing. Byris shrugged, trying to feign disinterest.
“Fine. Two thousand credits in my hand and I’ll be gone. How soon can you get it?”
Arica took a moment to think. She had a little money of her own saved, from the monthly stipend her father sent to pay for her upkeep. But it wasn’t enough. Byris was right, her uncle probably would give her the rest if she asked, but then she’d have to lie to him about why she needed it and… well she didn’t want to bring him into all this. It was her mess and she should be the one to clean it up. That just left Byris’ other ‘suggestion’ – sell her pretty things.
“I’ll need a couple of days.”
“Tomorrow, same time.”
“Fine.” Arica rose to her feet, she didn’t want Byris here any longer than need be. Besides, if he wanted his blood money by tomorrow night she’d have to be quick. Another thought occurred to her, she’d have to find someway of delaying her departure for Betra until tomorrow.
“Don’t fail me Lady Odari,” warned Byris quietly as he walked towards the door. “You know what’ll happen if you do.”
****
Arica had acted quickly as soon at Byris had gone.
Looking around her room she considered what would be most likely to fetch a sufficient price, but since she’d never had much of an interest in the value of objects she found herself at a loss. Her own preference for objects came from something much deeper within. Her crystal pendant was priceless beyond compare because it had once hung around her mother’s own neck and maybe she had also fingered the cool, hard stone, running her thumb along the finely cut edges or gazed into it’s multi-faceted depths and imagined she saw images of far away places and people whom she’d never met.
Arica could not, WOULD not even consider parting with it not for any amount of money. It was trivial perhaps, because no matter how much she wished it, the crystal pendant would not bring her mother back from the dead no more than it could ease the loss she felt inside at never having known her. But in some way Arica felt as though it connected her to the woman who would have been her mother, who would have parted her hair at night and kissed her forehead as she tucked her into bed. Who never would have sheltered her so vehemently from the real world so that when she was lucky enough to meet a man who kissed her with such passion that her skin tingled and she grew light-headed and dizzy, she’d know how to better respond.
Emptying out one of her bags, Arica repacked it with the gaudiest, shiniest, most exuberant pieces of jewellery that her Uncle had ever bought her. She felt a little bad about selling them, not because they held any sort of sentimental attachment – in fact she rarely wore them. But because her Uncle seemed to get so much pleasure from giving them to her, she felt that he may be disappointed, even angry if he ever found out how little they meant to her and how easily she was about to dispose of them.
Arica wrapped the jewellery – broaches artfully worked with gems and precious metals, necklaces dripping with similar stones, and earrings seemingly crafted from scraps of molten platinite, in an old silk scarf, packing it firmly in the bottom of her bag. Next she picked up other objects - a tiny handcrafted music box with mythra inlay that played ‘Lonely Heart Spaceport’ when opened. An elaborately decorated andurite-handled ink pen. A miniature set of antique crystal duck eggs. A jarallan opal encrusted pocket watch.
Anything that was beautiful or might be in someway aesthetically desirable was bundled up into the bag until nothing more would fit.
Satisfied with her selection, Arica hurried over to her dresser and removed a long scarf. Standing in front of the mirror, she wound the scarf around her neck and over her head, covering her hair almost entirely. Securing the bag on her back, Arica took out her heaviest cloak from the closet and pulled it on.
She stood in front of the large, floor-length mirror. In the dim light she looked like one of the harbingers of death from Polliardi’s ‘Night Walkers’, all dark, flowing fabric and a dun hollow where her face was barely visible. Reaching out her hand, Arica trailed her fingers across the mirror’s ornate frame, somewhere in the elaborate carvings a button depressed and unlocked a secret door behind the mirror.
It wasn’t a surprise to Arica, in fact she had discovered it just a few months after arriving. It had been a thrilling find, a veritable labyrinth of secret passageways wound their way around the Bertayn Palace, eventually leading out into the open.
Arica stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
9 Epsilon 75
04:28
Plateau City, Vorgrell,"The Ends"
cle'var hospital
Corin peered over the lip of the window, glancing inside to make sure there was nobody present. When he was satisfied it was empty he took another look around then reached up and hauled himself over. Pain immediately ran through his body and the effort made him grunt and wheeze through clenched teeth. His flee from the Orsiri building had made everything hurt so much more. His back in particular hurt like hell and Corin was afraid there was serious damage. Enough to kill him if he didn’t get it treated. Soon.
And all the while he had to deal with the fact that he had the opportunity he had thought about for so long and failed. Thrown it away. Corin could barely think about it because just doing so made him sick to his stomach. He was in pain physically and mentally and he wasn’t sure which was worse.
Inside the room Corin slumped from the window to the floor clumsily. He knew he had to get up and do something but he was in so much pain. The fight had been bad enough, but the desperate dash from the palace to the hospital had taken whatever was left in him. Most of it was a blur of trying to avoid patrols alerted by his botched assassination attempt and fighting off waves of nauseating pain. Corin couldn’t even entirely remember how he got to the hospital but now he was here he just wanted to take a breather and rest a little here in the dark…
Vish had been working late that night like he usually did. Double checking patient charts, figuring out the right dosage of whatever medicine the patents needed - to others this seemed tedious work but for Vish he enjoyed these quite nights in the hospital. A couple of times he heard guard speeders whizzing by with their sirens blaring. Vish didn’t know what it was they were out for, he just wanted them to stop, they were disturbing some of the younger patients. Many people had asked him why he continued to work in this slum hospital and give free treatment to the poor when he owned four such hospitals but most of which served the more socially acceptable of the classes, to which Vish most of the time replied “why not?”
Vish stood up from his desk, paper work done. It was too late to go to bed but he couldn’t fight the sleep much longer. He looked over to the doctor and nurse that was on duty and gave them a small nod. “I’m going to sleep for a while. Wake me up in four hours. I’ll be ready to start again in the morning.”
The Doctor, Jeana, looked at him and shook her head as she spoke softly. “You have been awake for nearly three days and all you are going to take is four hours? Vish, you aren’t a machine. You’re going to make a mistake unless you get more sleep. Now go to bed and I’ll cover you until you wake up.”
Vish was about to make an comment but he could tell there was no use arguing with the woman. He turned and began to walk along the long corridors of the hospital. As he was nearing the beds set out for the doctors and nurses he caught a strange scent in the air. Vish stopped dead in his tracks. He began to walk slowly towards the strange new scent as quietly as possible. He was making almost no sound at all until he entered the room. It was bathed in darkness, even his enhanced eyes couldn’t pick out anything out of the ordinary. That is, until he looked closer into the darkness. With his eyes darkness should not be that hard to see through.
“Whoever you are, I know you’re there so don’t be jumpy. Lights on.”
Corin didn’t hear the words. The pain had rolled over him too much for that. But he knew when the lights suddenly flared into existence and lit up the insides of his eyelids.
Through rapid blinking and tears Corin could make out a silhouette stood in the doorway. He reached for his blaster and pointed it in the man’s direction but he was horrified at how sluggish the action was. His arm seemed to move incredibly slowly and he couldn’t keep it straight enough to point it properly. “Come in, shut the door and don’t do anything to make me shoot you.” He said in a whispered breath. Even the strain of speaking was making his breathing heavy and Corin could hear a rattle in his chest. He couldn’t believe how bad he was. There was darkness threatening the corners of his vision.
Vish looked at the man pointing the blaster at him. He could tell the man was badly hurt as his scent was filled with panic and fear. Vish fought the urge to launch himself at the man and tear out his throat with his teeth. The predator inside of him smelt wounded prey and called for its blood thirst to be quenched.
Vish slowly raised his hands. “I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you but I cant help you unless you put the blaster down.” Vish began to move toward the man slowly, his hands still visible. As he closed in on the man he tried to raise the blaster to meet Vish but his arm dropped and the blaster clattered to the ground.
Vish moved in towards the man and kicked the blaster to the otherside of the room. He looked at what the man was wearing and shook his head. He began to examine the nearly unconscious man lying against the large operating bed. “Hey, friend. My name’s Vish Cle’var but my friends just call me Vish. Can you tell me what happened to you?“
Corin looked at Vish and thought how much to tell him. He didn’t like being here at some stranger’s mercy, but there wasn’t really much else he could do about it. “I fell…from a high window.”
Vish made a quick mental decision. Whatever damage the man had got from the fall and the walk to his office would have been done now. “Right friend I’m going to lift you onto the table but when I do you’re going to have to lay as still as possible, ok friend?”
The mans wavering voice answered in a small joke. “No problem there, doc.”
As Vish lifted the man onto the bed and lay him down he striped him of his weapons and lay them down on a nearby table. He quickly prepared a dosage of anaesthetic and moved quickly over to the man and injected him. “Sorry, my friend, but I’m going to have to put you to sleep. You will thank me for it in the morning.” Vish quickly began to cut up his shadow suit as he new the suit wound interfere.
***
Corin awoke in a world of orange. He looked from side to side and his head moved slowly, sluggishly, as if there was something holding it down. There was something over his mouth and nose. Corin began to panic. He didn’t know how he got here or even where he was. Then he recognised the rebreather over his mouth and the familiar sensation of bacta treatment settled in. Calming down, Corin attempted to peer through the orange bacta and the tube into the outside world. Dimly he could make out somebody stood on the other side waving towards the ceiling. Corin looked up to see the hatch of the bacta tube sliding open and pushed himself through the bacta towards it. Pulling himself out of the tube he was satisfied to feel no overwhelming pain threatening to drive him back into unconsciousness.
Vish gave a large smile to the man climbing out the bacta tank. “I’m glad to see you are feeling better. You were nearly paralysed for life last night. You damaged your neck, back, ribs and your right leg, so I can pretty much assume that it was you who took the spill out of the princess’s window, then?”
Corin didn’t reply until he grabbed the nearby gown and draped it over himself. He decided to move the topic of the conversation as quickly away from that as possible. What could he say, after all? He was dressed in a shadow suit, carried weapons and had fall injuries. Even a gungan could work that out. “Thank you for helping me, doctor…Cle’var, was it? Vish Cle’var?”
“Yes, but people just call me Vish.” Vish caught him scanning around the room looking for something; a weapon most likely. But that was little concern to him. “Before you get ahead of yourself, friend, I’m not about to sell you out to the royals. I have enough money to keep myself happy for a long time and quite frankly I don’t like nobles. They are all just a bunch of fething back-stabbers.” Vish moved closer in, studying the man. While he was conscious he tried to hold himself proudly, even in the current circumstances. “I don’t believe you told me your name friend.”
Letting the noble comment pass, Corin hesitated. Which name should he give? He had a number of fake names, any of which would pass and his real name probably wouldn’t go down too well. Besides, he couldn’t be sure that, despite what he said, Vish wouldn’t go blurting it out to every Imperial official between here and Coruscant. Still…surely by now Zara had the entire machine looking for him. How could it hurt? By the time Vish was in any position to tell anybody Corin would be long gone. It may even do Zara some psychological damage to know he was still alive. That settled it, as far as Corin was concerned. He took a deep breath. “My name’s Archell. Corin Archell.”
A large grin passed along Vish’s face. “Aw, the assassination attempt begins to make sense now. You are one of the nobles that got away. So do tell me how you managed to feth up killing a skinny little girl. This should be one of the funnier stories I’ve heard since I was in the clone wars. Oh, by the way, I had to cut up your shadow suit. It would have blocked x-ray and I couldn’t have healed you."
“If it was just the skinny little girl there wouldn’t have been a problem.” Corin growled, narrowing his eyes. He wasn’t too bothered about losing his shadow suit, he had a spare tucked away just in case, but didn’t like the way this doctor was talking to him. “Need I remind you, Doctor Cle’var, that you tell anybody about this I will have to kill you…Now, could you do something about clothes?”
Vish gave a nod. “Sure, I’ve got some scrubs you could use. And I wouldn’t try to go out right now. The place is swarming with guards. They even tried to search the hospital, but the guards know better than to disturb me and my patients even for your skinny little princess. I’m the best doctor on the planet and I’m affordable.”
By the time he had finished talking, Vish had the scrubs in his arms. As he gave the Corin the clothes he could feel the anger building up inside of him. How dare such a
pup threaten to kill him? He would rend his flesh with his bare hand.
Vish flashed a smile and moved towards a large bag. He lifted it up and slide it across the ground to Corin. “All your weapons are in there, very good for assassination purposes I can see. So you didn’t tell me how you got tossed out of a second story window. Don’t tell me skinny little Zara did that to you?”
“Not her. Her bodyguard-” Corin’s muffled voice came through the scrubs as he pulled them over his head. He bent down to check his weapons and was about to go on when he stopped. How would a doctor know what was good for assassination? How did he know what a shadowsuit was? Something about this guy wasn’t quite right. Corin kept a frown off his face but pulled a blaster out and pretended to be looking it over as he went on. “Another little girl, but with a big neuro-whip. You ever been hit with a neuro-whip?”
Vish gave a nod. “They are big among the Hapan low ranking pirates. They sting like feth, best to take a small dosage of a neurotic suppresser before going up against someone with one. I’m sure that’s a lesson you will remember for next time, assuming there will be a next time that is. If you don’t get caught by the guards. But to answer your question, yes I’ve been hit with a neuro-whip when I was in combat."
“Who were you fighting?” Corin asked. This doctor seemed to go deeper and deeper. Hapan pirates, combat…he mentioned Clone Wars earlier and Corin had just assumed he was a medic in it, but now he wasn’t so sure. The power pack of his Power 5 was fully charged.
Vish smiled. “It felt like we were fighting everyone but that’s in the past. Now, Corin, its going to be hard to get you out of this city unnoticed unless you come with me.”
Corin looked a little confused at this comment. “Why are you helping me and why should I trust you?”
Vish began to move to the door and signalled for Corin to come. “I’m helping you because I like to help people in need and you seem as needy as anyone right now. I’m a doctor so none of the guards stop me when I’ve got my lights on because next time it could be them I’m coming to save. So grab your gear and lets head out.”
The doctor left without waiting for Corin, which left him little time to make a choice. He decided to throw caution to the wind, chucking the Power 5 back into the back and pulling out his more discrete hold-out blaster. Although he was willing to trust Vesh for now, he wanted to be sure.
***
True to his word, Vesh was able to move around the city in his groundcar without question. Although they were stopped by alerted patrols every now and again, Corin simply hunkered down in the back under medical sheets and kept quiet. They were only stopped for more than five minutes once, and that was because Vesh chatted amicably with a soldier friend, and the car was never searched.
In almost no time at all, though for Corin it seemed like a life time passed every time the car was stopped, they pulled up round the back of the space port. Somewhere inside the Siren was docked and Corin was struck with a sense of déjà vu. He dropped out of the back of the groundcar and crouched down as Vesh leaned out of the driver’s window. “Okay, Noble, here’s where you get off.”
Corin looked around but it was quiet. Despite the alarm Plateau City was a city that slept at night, after all. He turned back to Vesh. “Thank you, Doctor. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
Vesh waved Corin’s thanks off. “Just don’t pull a blaster on me again. Now get out of here before somebody gets suspicious. Even I’ll be in trouble if I’m caught round here this late at night with an alert on.”
Corin nodded and, taking one last look around, darted from the ground car to the shadows offered by the spaceport service entrance. He glanced back in time to see Vesh dart away, then headed deeper into the darkness.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Kappa 73
15:38
Plateau City, Vorgrell
Corin pressed himself up against the half-wall, trying to make himself as small as possible but afraid it wasn’t working. He listened intently to the two stormtroopers standing just on the otherside. Through the grate above the half-wall he could hear their conversation. Just on the top of his vision he could see the sun glinting off their white helmets. They were looking for him.
They weren’t doing a very good job of it, true, but this close it wouldn’t take even an idiot to spot Corin if he but breathed too loudly. He checked his blaster charge. One shot left…blast. Even if it would do me much good against a platoon of stormtroopers, that’s for somebody else…. Not for the first time in the last few minutes, his fists tightened.
Stop. Focus. Focus means good plan. Good plan means living. There wasn’t much chance of him shooting his way out of this one. He looked around the back work-area of the starport for something, anything. A few bits of rusting ship parts…nothing. Nothing he could use.
Corin looked back out the stormtroopers. But any minute now one of them would turn around and, surely, spot him. He had to make a move. Where to? This Daell girl? All he knew was that Zayen had a thing for her. Hell, until a while ago he hadn’t even known she had her own ship.
Zayen…
Damnit, he was in trouble.
The stormtrooper’s conversation suddenly picked up. They were talking more rapidly. Then they were moving away, answering to a suspicious report that needed investigation…
Corin didn’t need another opportunity. He was up on his feet and moving quickly but as silently as he could, keeping low. Darting around the half-wall he was into the starport proper. Ships of all shapes and sizes filled it but, to his dismay, it didn’t look like any were taking off. Or even looking like they were prepped to go.
He needed to find Daell. Or another ship. Quickly…
Daell couldn't wait a minute longer in the Siren, either she went looking for Zayen or she’d die of anxiety and fear. She had received his call asking her to ready the ship and she hadn't lost any time with questions. His tone had been enough. Her years working as a smuggler had taught her to do first and ask later. However, he was taking longer than expected. After a last worried glance to the outside scans, Daell checked her weapons and walked towards the boarding hall.
The dockbay was deserted, and the spaceport seemed strangely quiet. Most people was probably hiding inside their ships, waiting for the 'storm' to pass. She left the ramp down, with the alarm protecting her ship and moved towards one of the dockway’s entrances. It was dark, darker than usual, but she could move around the Spaceport docks blindly anyway. And her night vision was very good, like all Twi’lek’s.
She didn't have to walk far to find what she was looking for. There was a man there, crouching against a wall. His position and raised armed hand told her that he was probably hiding from guards. Daell frowned, and her lokku tensed in worry, he didnt look like Zayen, the man moved his head and she could see that his hair was much lighter than her lover’s. *Corin, that’s Corin.* she thought.
Then she heard a group of people walking towards them. Corin had also heard them, she saw, for he tensed and raised his arm again. *Damn it,* she whispered to herself. And she moved quickly towards the crouching man.
Corin kept one eye on Daell and the other looking out for whoever was approaching. The voices weren’t clear enough for him to be able to tell if they were soldiers or not. “Get down and shut up.” He whispered to Daell as soon as she was close enough, grabbing her with his free arm and pulling her down next to him. Other than as Zayen’s most recent love interest, he didn’t know her very well. But despite her relationship with his friend, he couldn’t risk openly trusting her. When she was down on the ground Corin placed his blaster alongside the Twi’leks temple, giving her a hard stare but remaining silent.
The voices grew more distinct and Corin relaxed marginally. They sounded like pilots complaining about the Imperial presence in the starport. He hadn’t even stopped to consider the fact that the Imperials might have shut down all travel. His only hope was that Daell had something planned.
When the voices had passed Corin pulled Daell closer to him and whispered in her ear. “Don’t take this personally, but I can’t afford risks right now. Your ship. Lets go…and keep it quiet.” He stood and, keeping the blaster firmly but discretely pointed at her back, hauled her up as well. “The long way round…” Corin whispered, although it looked like the stormtroopers seemed to be mostly patrolling the outside of the starport not inside. That was good. It meant they weren’t completely on to him yet and that gave him a chance. If they were quick.
Daell tensed in Corin’s grip. She wouldn’t walk one step till she knew what had happened to Zayen, much less threatened by this man. She didn't know Corin very well, only that the man was Zayen’s best friend. But she wouldn't be harassed by him.
Moving slightly away from Corin, Daell turned to look at him. She was past caring for his blaster, her need to know from Zayen and her fury at being treated like this was stronger. “You won't shoot me. You need me,” she hissed to the sheriff, her voice equally low but intent. “And I won't take another step until I know where Zayen is.”
Corin looked away and clamped down on a terse response. This wasn’t OWSO. He couldn’t just bark an order and have people immediately carry it out. Still, this wasn’t the time. Fixing Daell with a piercing glare Corin got her moving whilst he talked. One hand kept the blaster at her back, shielded from sight by his own body. The other gripped her arm. “Zayen’s not coming. There was a complication. Later.” He added with a warning voice that left no room for questions as he saw the Twi’lek go to speak.
They moved behind a large freighter, the downed boarding ramp covering them from prying eyes. Corin stopped and rounded on Daell. “Now I really don’t want to shoot you but I didn’t want to have to shoot stormtroopers today, either. I can fly myself but I’d much rather have you do it. Your ship. Which one is it?”
With a brusque movement, she extricated her arm from his hand. She was seething, this was more than enough. Taking a step further, she let the cold barrel of his blaster press her stomach. She wasn’t scared of this man, actually she couldn't feel anything but dark despair threatening to flood her. And fury. Zayen was not coming, that could only mean that he had been captured or worse... She knew enough of these friends' relationship to know that Corin wouldn't be leaving Zayen behind unless something really serious had happened.
“You can do whatever you want, Duke” she hissed, her purplish eyes almost level with his. “If you want to shoot me, do so. But it won’t help you. Only I can fly my ship, and I mean it.”
Daell felt the blaster tremble against her belly and she relaxed a bit. She had some inkling about what kind of man the Sheriff was, Zayen had spoken often about him. Corin was his friend, and she owed helping him to Zayen.
“I never said I wouldn’t fly you out of Vorgrell. But I won’t do it by force.” She said in a softer tone. Her lokku twitched in distress and her sharp teeth bit her lip, “there’s no way Zayen is coming?” She asked, even if she knew the answer already.
Taking a deep breath Corin looked away and squeezed his eyes shut. After recent events he felt emotionally drained and strung out. Already he felt worse than on many tense military operations, probably because this was all so very personal...His best friend's sister betraying them, his family no doubt arrested, said best friend dead...Yes, this is very personal... As much as Corin might have liked this firey Twi'lek under normal circumstances, these weren't normal circumstances. She just seemed to have no sense of urgency.
"Zayen is gone." He replied very slowly. "I'm sorry but I can't say anymore than that right now. We've already wasted too much time. If we don't go now, then we'll be gone too."
Daell bit back her tears, and just nodded. She could sense the urgency in Corin’s words and stance, his anxiety, and she could understand it. His words made sense, they needed to move. There would be time to mourn Zayen later.
“Ok.” She answered, and moved round the downed ramp of the Siren, while she deactivated the protection inside it. The docking bay was still deserted, but she took a look around before starting up the ramp, she turned to Corin in the last second. “You coming or not?”
Corin grunted and bit back another reply. Instead he just moved as quickly but as inconspiculously as possible up the boarding ramp and into the ship.
Daell waited for him to get inside the Siren to close the ramp and tap her security code to unlock the navcom. *He’ll soon learn that he wouldnt have been able to fly the Siren at all,* she thought. Then she turned and walked past him towards the freighter’s cockpit, leaving him to follow her.
“We can leave right now,” she said over her shoulder as she took her place. “I started this code a friend gave me when Zayen called...” she almost choked with his name. *Zayen’s gone, he’s dead!* the thought invaded her mind and she paused for a second. Then she tried to get busy starting the engines and setting the navegation route. She needed to do something or she’d just collapse right there.
“Code?” Corin asked, settling in the copilot seat, although he soon noticed that the YT-2400 had been modified for only one pilot. It seemed that the firing system had been hooked up too. He looked at the Twi’lek girl with a little more respect as her fingers flew with dexterity over the freighter controls.
“Yeah, it opens us a back door... now the flight appears as if it had been scheduled a week ago. Hopefully, the dockmaster won't question us. We shouldn’t have problems taking off.”
She didn’t take her eyes off the nav panels as she added. “Their scans will show only one life form too, if they bother to check."
Corin nodded. “Good. Then I suggest we leave as soon as possible.” He looked down at the blaster in his hand, still pointed at Daell, and saw her watch it carefully out of the corner of her eye. Sighing, Corin smiled apologetically and holstered the weapon. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have shot you - not with this, anyway. There’s only enough charge for one more shot and I’m saving it for someone special…” His voice trailed off almost whimsically and his eyes lingered towards the ship’s cockpit viewport.
A little more relaxed, Daell nodded and pressed her lips. She’d make a note to ask him about that later. At the moment leaving Vorgrell was top priority, but she wouldn't let Corin off her sight without learning what had really happened to Zayen... Shaking her head, she opened a channel in the comlink and started a quick conversation with the dockmaster command.
“The ‘Space Witch’ had this flight scheduled last week!” Daell protested, when it was evident that the take off wasn’t going to be that easy after all. She caught Corin’s surprised expression at the ship’s change of name and smiled. Then she proceeded to give the dock officers the authorization code she had got from Cael.
Her confidence faltered when the dockmaster repeated that all flights had been canceled for the time being. Daell was about to start another set of complaints when she felt Corin’s hand on her arm. She raised her eyes in surprise but his resolved face stopped any questions she may have. The ex Sheriff leaned over the comlink panel and he quickly tapped a code, his eyes intent on the board. There was a short silence on the other side of the comlink and then the authorization lights shone green.
“The Space Witch has authorization to take off... Sir,” sounded the dock officer voice.
Daell grinned and winked at Corin, it had its uses to be the Sheriff... “Thank you, officer,” she answered. Reaching to the control board again, she keyed for engine prestart. The low rumble of the YT-2400 engines was tranquilizing under their feet.
Corin sat back in the co-pilot’s chair and folded his arms across his chest. Although he had just got them authorisation to take off without being immediately blasted out of the sky, he had also just shouted out his whereabouts to whoever might be paying attention. “Now we’ve got about ten minutes before the Imperials catch on and scramble half a squadron of TIEs after us.” His voice was heavy an
Corin turned to look at Daell. “How fast can she go?”
“Fast.” Daell chuckled, “just watch.”
The abrupt clank of the docking hatches releasing the ship sounded and the Siren was flying off Plateau City Starport. Soon the ship broke the gravitational pull of the planet, getting into the dangerous but familiar rock and debris cloud orbiting Vorgrell. Daell rised the shields and maneuvered with ease, keeping an eye on the Siren’s sensors. The Twi’lek knew that Corin’s prediction about TIEs was right, they didn’t have much time.
“Any place in particular...?”
Visibly relaxing now that they had reached open space, Corin gazed out of the view port at the stars. Daell had raised a good point. Where should he go now? Flee into exile? Who would take him in? Nobody. Nobody would dare harbouring a fugitive in case they suffered the same fate. Corin sighed. “Anywhere but here.”
Daell nodded, and she started to calculate the lightspeed course to ‘anywhere but here’. The Siren was fast indeed, but she needed a couple of minutes to plot the course in.
Then the Siren’s sensors started screaming.
“We’ve got company,” she said, needlessly, without taking her eyes off the nav computer. She needed a little more time. “Can you use the blaster cannons?”
The blood drained from Corin’s face as he sat up at the alarm and began looking over the cannon controls. They looked like a similar set up to those he had used in the military so he nodded. “I think so. How many?”
“A full squadron,” Daell answered reading the screen. She grimaced, if there were TIEs there... maybe a Destroyer too? Whatever had happened was more serious than she had thought.
“I just need another minute,” she added, while she jabbed viciously at her board, “to lightspeed.”
A full squadron… Corin repeated in his head as he powered up the dual laser cannons and swung them round to face the oncoming TIEs. Immediately his sensor board lit up with a dozen signals, closing fast. Corin lined one up in the targeting brackets and watched as the range indicator scrolled down, trying to calm his breathing. Although he was an excellent shot with the pistol, dogfighting wasn’t really his thing. Not that he was about to tell Daell that.
As the TIEs closed the comm channel crackled. “This is Captain Roland of the 126th Imperial TIE Fighter Squadron to Space Witch. We have reason to believe you are harbouring fugitives. You are ordered to power down your vessel and hold your position here until further notice.”
And the Star Destroyer arrives… Corin finished, looking over at Daell. “Don’t answer it.” He warned even as she reached over to toggle the comm. After a few seconds in which the TIEs hurtled closer the channel crackled again.
“I repeat, you are ordered to power down your vessel and maintain this position. Do not change course, do not take any aggressive actions. I am authorised to open fire if you fail to comply. This is your last warning.”
“And we’re surely obliging, Captain Roland” Daell replied absently to herself.
She forced the freighter’s still sluggish engines to their maximun and turned the Siren away from Vorgrell. She took another glance at the nav computer display, her hand twitching over the hyperspace levers. *Just another min, just a minute,* she repeated to herself.
“Ready for partying, Sheriff?” she asked, her voice tight.
Corin watched on the sensor board as the TIEs suddenly broke formation and accelerated. “No, but here they come…” He warned Daell, watching the range finder around his targeting brackets scrolling down even faster. The brackets went yellow around the TIE, then with a ping they turned green. Corin squeezed the trigger and both felt and heard the dual laser cannons going to work.
At the same time, the fighters began juking and jinking, attempting to throw off Corin’s aim. His salvo only clipped the wing of the TIE he had targeted, but the heavy energy bolt melted through the solar panel and sent the craft spinning out of formation. Then the TIEs returned fire, and twenty-two twin-linked laser blasts suddenly slammed into the freighter’s rear shields. The ship shook and hurled Corin and Daell forward in their seats. Corin saw red warning signs light up all across the dashboard as the TIEs flashed over them and began peeling around for another run.
“I thought you were going to hold them off!” Daell yelled, still furiously tapping into the astrogation computer and fly the ship around the meteorites floating on space at the same time.
“I’m trying, I’m trying!” Corin yelled back, swinging the laser cannons back around and trying to find another target. “Try dodging! And shunt all power to the forward shields!”
Without looking away from the computer Daell began hitting buttons around the cockpit. “You shoot, I’ll fly!”
Corin dropped the laser cannons over another TIE just completing its arc. They were so close now it flashed to green and the targeting computer began beeping incessantly almost immediately. Again he closed his finger around the trigger and was rewarded this time by seeing red streaks of energy lancing out from the top of the ship into the darkness ahead of the cockpit. Through the viewport he could just make out the glimmer of a dual explosion and quickly looked back at his sensor screen. His salvo had taken out both the TIE he had been aiming for and its wing partner.
Then the TIEs fired their own second salvo. Though it was much reduced the red lights across the cockpit nearly doubled and Corin heard something rattle and crashed in the bowels of the ship. The TIEs screamed past and began turning for a third pass.
“Daell!” Corin yelled. “There’s too many of them! How much longer?”
“Now!” Daell answered, her eyes everywhere at the same time. The nav computer pinged - the lightjump calculations were ready. Daell felt a final hurl as another blaster hit her ship, but she was already pulling the hyperspace levers towards her. For less than a microsecond it seemed that nothing was happening, and then the Siren shuddered and the stars outside burst into white starlines.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Kappa 73
16:15
somewhere in Hutt Space
With what looked like motion, the YT-2400 freighter emerged from lightspeed, getting neatly into normal space flight... in the middle of nowhere.
Daell smiled, looking through the view port. Empty space extended around them. Well, it was as ‘anywhere but here’ as any other place. She had held her patience during the last hour, besides the Siren had needed her immediate attention, although the TIEs hadn’t managed to do much harm, thanks to Dan’s improved shields.
However, now was time for a little talk.
As the stars reverted Corin sat up sharply. He knew the look of deep space when he saw it. Something was wrong. And he had just started to relax, too... “Whets wrong? Did the astrogation computer get damaged?” He asked, looking over to Daell.
“The Siren’s fine, thanks.” She answered the ex Sheriff evenly, reclining in her seat. Daell looked at the man Zayen had called his best friend, and felt a shudder go through her. She just hoped she had not helped her lover’s betrayer to escape, but his eyes had been full of sorrow when he had told her about Zayen... As it went, she needed to know the truth.
“But she won’t move until you tell me what happened on Vorgrell,” she saw his jaw tighten and added. “Now is the time for telling. We are safe here; nobody is chasing us and nobody’s around either. I won’t admit more excuses.”
“I want to know exactly what happened to Zayen.”
She looked directly at Corin Archell, Duke of Vorgrell. She guessed he’d be furious; men like him weren’t used to be forced to anything. But here, in the middle of deep space, she had the upper hand and he was too intelligent not to know it.
“No.” The ex-Sheriff finally replied, breaking eye contact with Daell to look out the window. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” The knowledge he possessed, accidentally discovered, was much too sensitive to pass on to anybody else. Zara had wasted no time in filling Plateau City with soldiers. Even now she had probably summoned and dispatched half a dozen mercenaries and the like on his trail, and was most likely in contact with another dozen more. No, knowing what he knew would get people killed and Corin was not prepared to drag Daell further into this. “You’re better off not knowing. Trust me. Now lets cease this little game and get on with it.”
*Game! He called this game* Daell averted her eyes too, but for another reason. She didn’t want this man see her tears. Her hands gripped the arms of her pilot chair, and her lokku twisted in distress. She took a deep breath before speaking again, not looking at him.
“Zayen was my life,” she said, trying to find the words for him to understand. “I loved him more than anything. We had plans, so many plans...” she chuckled mirthlessly and her voice broke. “Plans that will go unfulfilled now.”
“Don’t tell me this is a game, don’t hide things from me. I’m part of this, I’ve been part of this all along.”
She searched his eyes with hers, “I need to know, and I will. Even if you don’t tell me anything. Now, if you are not talking for my safety, think how much more dangerous will it be for me to start asking questions.”
“That’s your problem, not mine.” Corin growled, but at the same time knew that she was right. Remembering how much Zayen loved infuriating women – and why he never took the time to meet any of them properly – he sighed and turned to look Daell straight in the eye. “If I tell you this, you have to understand that you must take it to the grave. If anybody ever even suspects you know what I know, you’ll be hunted to the far corners of the galaxy and back again. Do you understand?”
Daell just stared back at him. Her expression was telling enough, but he seemed to be expecting an answer nevertheless. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Of course, Duke, I’m not thick! And I know how to keep my mouth shut.” At his continued silence, Daell closed her eyes and added, softly. "Please. I just have to know."
Again Corin’s gaze drifted out of the viewport. He took advantage of this moment of calm to allow everything that had happened in the last few hours to sink in. With a deep breath, he relayed it all to Daell. Everything, in as much of an unemotional voice as he could manage. He was still of noble blood, damnit, and he had standards to maintain. Breaking down in front of this commoner, whether she had just saved his life or not, was not how House Archell did things.
Corin kept looking out the viewport as he relayed his story, not wanting to have to see the look on Daell’s face when he reached the bit about Zayen. Commoner or not, he knew the two had been in love. When he was done, Corin sat back in the chair and folded his arms. “And now you know why I didn’t want to tell you. If Zara ever finds out that you knew, you’d be hunted. Just like I will…”
It was Daell’s turn to look out of the viewport. She was crying silently, fat hot tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she didn’t want this man to see it. *Zara…* Daell said her name to herself, Zayen had loved his little sister, she could do no wrong in his eyes… but then, that was Zayen. Her Zayen. Who was no more.
That she was responsible in part for his death weighted in her heart, like a stab of stone. Suffocating.
Daell tensed, her fists closing and her lokku wrapping her neck tightly. She wiped her tears, she wasn’t responsible. Zara was. She had loved Zayen, she hadn’t killed him. Zara had.
Resolve strengthened in her. Zara couldn’t be let out triumphant in this.
“So, what are we going to do about it?” She asked the Duke.
“I don’t know.” Corin answered, shaking his head. “My face is probably plastered over every security force’s datapad between here and Coruscant. I guess the best option now would be for me to lie low for a while, but…” His fist clenched until his knuckles were white. “I’m not going to just sit by and let Zara get away with this. I don’t care how long it takes me, I’m going to make her pay.”
“Neither am I,” Daell said fiercely.
She nodded to herself, yes, Corin would have to lie low, but she didn’t. If Zara didn’t know she knew, she could go on with her normal life. Somehow. Somebody should stay close, keep an eye on the bitch.
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, and I’ll go back to Vorgrell,” she said. “Zara doesn’t know I know. It’ll be safe enough for me.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her.” She looked Corin in the eye, “We’ll get to her.”
Corin broke eye contact and rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I certainly can’t go back for Vorgrell, that’s for sure. But where…?” He trailed off whilst tapping his hand on the cockpit dashboard. “My father had friends on Bimmisaari. Traders; they’re the ones who have been buying our Rubixium recently. It’s a little out the way, I know - the other side of Hutt space in fact - but it’ll be a start at least.” A start to my exile… Corin thought, bitterly, then looked up at Daell. “Once there I should be able to access my family private accounts and can pay you for your assistance.”
Daell shook her head. “No need for paying. I’ll assist you in whatever you need, now and in the time of your return.” She smiled, but her eyes were fierce. “We’re together in this.”
Without another thought to the matter, she bended over her astrogation panels. “Bimmisaari, you said? We’re still on Hutt space, it's just a small jump ahead.”
Watching her go to work, Corin licked his lips. “Thank you.” He said, at length. “For helping me get off Vorgrell, I am in your debt. And an Archell never forgets a debt.”
Daell didn’t look at him. “And a Twi’lek just never forgets, Duke.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
9 Epsilon 75 17:46
Re-introducing Kate Beckinsale as Lianna Merrol, and Ben Browder as Cael Draxel
Cael Draxel as played
by Ben Browder
Cael’s fingers flew over the keyboard, watching one of several monitors he had set up to help with assessing Krell’s security. A map of the offices of the Tuldrai Sala Corporation’s offices was displayed with his notes. Security and computer systems were his speciality, and setting up a secure system followed the same principle of entering them: look for weak points, and ask yourself how to infiltrate. From there, figure out how you would stop yourself.
The computer system was easiest to temporarily fix; he just had Krell disconnect the mainframe from the network. Yes, it made things a pain to get and correlate data, but he wanted things to be more secure, and with a couple of exploits he already located, that was about the only way he would be able to become secure.
Boots sounded softly from behind him, approaching slowly and steadily. He smiled at the light footsteps; it was just what he expected from one of them. “Glad you could come, Lianna. Thank you.”
Lianna raised an eyebrow, stopping in surprise. When Cael had first asked her to come give him advice on his job, she’d been flattered and wasn’t sure what to do. That he had identified her without actually seeing her. “Yes, well, you managed to pique my interest,” she said.
Besides, she didn’t say, with some of the things she’d managed to dig out of after their meeting to recruit Cael, improving security would definitely be called for. She gestured to the map displayed on one of the screens. “I gather that is the current layout of the security here?”
“Yep. All three levels of the Tuldrai Sala Corporation.” Cael turned in his chair to face the woman, her hair falling gracefully around her shoulders. It was easy, he thought, to forget how dangerous she was sure to be with her striking looks. “Cameras, motion sensors… figured that you could help pick out the holes best. I’m sure you’ve broken into worse.”
Lianna nodded. Cael turned back to the map, with her leaning over his shoulder. Studying it carefully, she asked herself the best way to infiltrate with the knowledge of the facility placed here. “There,” she said, pointing to an area. “That tunnel heading out. I know it’s an older door, but it’s sliceable.”
“Right.” He made a note on the chart, trying to focus. Her body hovered close to him, as she leaned over his shoulder to study the map. “What about this area over here?”
“Not a good point of entry,” Lianna looked at Cael as though he had just suggested something obscene. “Exposure, guards, and cameras. The point of infiltration is to avoid detection, Cael, not die trying to enter the building.”
Cael thought on what she said for several moments before turning to her. He didn’t realise how close they were, until he found himself looking into her eyes. “Which might make that an idea entrance, since it would be unexpected.”
“Surprise only takes you so far. I’ve seen hunters and mercs rely on that so much that it killed them by their own stupidity.”
“So you wouldn’t do anything to security there?”
Lianna turned away from Cael’s blue eyes, back towards the map. She wondered what he would say if he knew about her people’s ways, then dismissed the thoughts as quickly as they came. “Not really; it’s a bit too public for added measures, but that itself is a measure.”
The two of them continued to go over the security. Lianna was impressed with Cael’s knowledge; a few times, he pointed out a potential hole that she missed, a way to infiltrate. In the end, they had a whole list of recommendations to make, which would ultimately make the offices harder to break in to.
“Thanks for your help,” Cael finally said towards the end. Lianna gave a nod, and began to walk away, as he turned back to examining the network. There was something he still needed to know, though, a suspicion. “Say, Lianna. Can I ask you something?”
Lianna stopped in surprise, turning back to him. What harm could it possibly do? They were both on retainer, and would probably have to work together more. “Go ahead.”
“Your name, Merrol,” he said, tapping away on the keys, “it sounds familiar. That’s an Alcona name, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” There was a hint of surprise in her voice; she wasn’t used to people outside of one of the clans who knew even what the Alcona were, much less able to pick out the name of one of the clans. “I’m impressed. Not many have heard of us. How did you know?”
Cael felt a small amount of pride at that. He knew that the Alcona were never really famous, especially compared to the Mandelorians, and that impressing one was not easy or idly done. “I’m interested in the Mandelorian Wars, the effect that they had, so I’ve read a bit of Alcona literature. Including the Saga of the Merrols.”
Lianna raised an eyebrow, fascinated. It seemed there was more to this slicer than it seemed. Such an interest or admission was rare, though she also wondered if he didn’t have other, ulterior motives. “Naturally, I have that pretty much memorised. I remember that mother was particularly fond of the story of Emer,” she grew distant as she remembered her time when she was younger, before the Hutt slaughter. “But I’d rather not talk of that, if you don’t mind. Besides, I always preferred some of the stories surrounding Penrath Nagrodur.”
*The great mythological leader? Interesting* thought Cael. Like most, he knew that the Alcona treated the tales of Penrath as fact, even though there was no archaeological evidence to back up such a view – which wasn’t surprising, given that they were conquered by the Mandelorians.
“I haven’t heard many of his stories,” Cael confessed. “The ones that I have heard, well… Penrath doesn’t seem to do much after a while, does he?”
“He united a number of the smaller clans, established a peaceful order which allowed other heroes to establish themselves,” she returned a little stiffly. Lianna had to remind herself that Cael wasn’t trying to be insulting. “Penrath brought stability and order to a chaotic world, giving us unity and some measure of peace.”
*That sounds a lot like what some people say about the Empire.* He still remembered when the Supreme Chancellor declared himself Emperor, the transmission from the Senate, where to thunderous applause he revealed the treachery of Jedi and an attempt on his life. “You admire him a great deal?”
“We all admire Elder Penrath a great deal,” she returned, wondering when he would accuse her of engaging in hero worship of a man who never existed. Cael appeared more respectful than that, though, and in her experience, he was being more careful in his wording. He didn’t want to show offence, but had genuine interest. “Penrath was perhaps our single greatest leader – the Great Sage Utilis is second only to him.”
Utilis was a name that he had run across only in passing, much like Penrath. The stories surrounding both of them were so well known among the Alcona, that they never seemed to feel the need to explain references to them. “I think I would be interested in hearing more of your stories,” Cael finally said, turning to meet Lianna’s eyes. “The tales we tell say a lot about us, and how we think of ourselves.”
Lianna smiled ever so slightly. It had been a long time since someone was genuinely interested in her and her traditions; it was a refreshing change to find an outsider who might be respectful of them. “I’m going to Deso’s tonight,” she said. “You’re free to come if you would like to talk some more.”
“I’d like that, Lianna. Thank you.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
9 Epsilon 75 19:13
Onboard the Queen of Air and Darkness
In deep poodoo
The Queen of Air and Darkness stuttered out of a coreward hyperspace jump into Vorgrell space. Chib's hand immediately flew to the manual switch for his transponder card, shutting off its automatic broadcast. Zeethree had plotted a desperate, zig-zagging jump path through the Outer Rim to escape the vengance-driven assault of the Falleen noble Xrithrillial's capital ship, the Ruby Gash. The Queen had taken heavy fire from both ion and plasma cannons; he was flying half-blind and without shields. The jump had taken him from Nal Hutta, to Gand, Tatooine, Rodia, and finally Vorgrell. Now, his hyperdrive was vibrating, shooting sparks and screaming like a stuck gundark, leaving him with the Kimogila's paldry atmospheric thrusters to bring him in.
"Zeethree, shutdown the hyperdrive before it rumbles through what little hull we have left! I'm going to take manual control and try to get us a landing pad."
He hit the comm switch, "This is the Angas Chaska hailing Planetary Control. I'm running hot and naked, need immediate touch-down." There was a moment's pause, "What planet is this anyway?"
The comm burst into static and a crisp, Empirial voice, "This is Vorgrell Planetary Traffic Control. Why don't I see your transponder code, Angas Chaska?"
"Sorry about that, Traffic, I just made an emergency jump from Rodian space. I took heavy ion damage from a pack of orbit pirates."
"So, what is your business on Vorgrell?"
"Emergency repairs and refit – my hyperdrive is screaming like a schutta and my shields are dead. My Arfive is busy keeping the ship together and I have to fly her in manually."
Another pause from the other end ended with, "I'm transmitting coordinates to the Shipwreck spaceport now. Do not deviate from this course, and be ready for inspection upon touch down. Welcome to Vorgrell. Traffic out."
"Angas Chaska out."
"Well, looks like our luck isn't getting any better, Zeethree. We're about to hit a debris field, so latch on to something heavy after you close all ports!"
The battered fighter hit the Vorgrellian debris cloud hard, the flotsam threatening to rip her apart. Chib's hands flew across the controls, desperately trying to keep control. The ship rocked and heaved, more hull stripping away with each impact. The ship cleared the field, and hit atmosphere at an amazingly good angle, flame bursting around the tattered hull.
"Zeethree! I thought I told you to lock down those ports! Now we're venting fuel! We're going to burst if we don't close down!"
The droid trilled in on the intraship com, "Breeep leedo drtt ba-reeeep!"
"What d'ya mean they won't close?! Why didn't you tell me?"
"Dreet ta-bree-lo, bee-tee-dee-lee-oh!"
"Yeah? Same to ya!"
Chib flicked the outboard com, but got nothing but static.
"E-CHU-TA! Zeethree, get up here, I can't land this thing without you!"
The flat-headed, orange astromech sputtered up to the bridge and latched himself into the ship's data socket. The ship immediately leveled out to a more stable flight path.
"Thanks, little buddy. Looks like we may get through this after all."
Twenty minutes later
Chib touched down on Shipwreck port landing pad G-34-005-S. He reached under the ship's black box and pulled the very illegal transponder switch from its side, and turned to Zeethree, "Better keep hold of this, little buddy." The astromech opened a storage pocket just to the right of his main tool bay and received the contraband.
The ryn grabbed his shoulder holster, jacket, and backpack before slapping the control panel for the ship's boarding ramp. Smoke rolled out into the comparatively clean Shipwreck evening.
Safety Inspector Morin Chard
An imperial noncom coughed and franticly waved the smoke out of his face as Chib descended the ramp. "Hold on just a minute. Are you the captain of this... ship?" he asked.
Chib adjusted his pack, crossed his arms, and leaned against the doorway, "Yes, I'm sorry to say."
"Any particular reason you don't have a transponder code?"
"Heavy ion damage from a pirate attack near Rodia, officer."
"That seems to agree with your initial statement as you entered the system," the officer said as he checked the box marked ion damage on his pad. "You won't mind if I just look around for any other possible safety issues then, would you?"
"Not a problem."
He slipped on the entry ramp, and looked down. "This deck plating is loose, someone could get injured when loading cargo."
Chib shrugged knowing there were worse things he could find on the Queen. He played it casually, "Is there anywhere I and my utility droid can find shelter? The stink of burning plasteel is beginning to give me a headache."
The inspector wandered through the personnel areas and peeked in the galley. "The food storage unit looks as if it hasn't been cleaned in a standard month."
Chib was glad he had not looked in the disposer instead. "Yeah, I was getting to that."
The inspector looked at the extinguisher and the empty hook next to it by the airlock. "You don't have breathing filters near your emergency exits?" Chard asked as he wrote a fine for 15 credits.
"Understood. I was actually heading for a refit on Tatooine when I was attacked. Oh, and this ship is the Angas Chaska."
The inspector didn't even look up, "I saw that on your landing clearance. Be sure you bring this...ship up to code before I'll clear it for liftoff."
"Will do. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate this break you're giving me, officer."
Zeethree grumbled something as the inspector pushed past him to look into the cockpit. "You'd better tell that droid I speak Bocce and understood what it muttered at me."
Chib clenched his teeth. This wasn't a time to lose it. "Zeethree, settle down."
Chard looked at the dangling wires and holes in the console where custom components had been ill-fitted to the frame. He made several marks in hand-held. "Be thankful I don't have it inspected."
"Thank you, again, officer. So, about that shelter..."
The inspection officer flipped through four screens of inspection forms as he walked outside and along the exterior of the ship. He answered the spacer's question after marking a few more violations, "Oh I suppose that the Escape Pod Inn over there on Plucvat's Crevasse is passable, but don't eat the stew, it is better suited for vacsuit repair."
"Will do – thanks again. Anything else?"
The inspector pulled out the yellow chip copy and handed it to the pilot. " Nope. Your ship is frankly appalling. It is a wonder you landed it at all. You can pay the fine with the portmaster and he will verify that the necessary repairs are made before you lift off. Welcome to Vorgrell Captain..."
"Chibba Fann"
"Ah, enjoy your stay," Chard said as he noted the name on his report.
Chib took the copy and sighed with relief. "Have a good shift, Officer," he said as he pocketed the chip and watched the Imperial bureaucrat leave. Glancing at the chip, he noted that the final tally of fines was under 100 credits. He had gotten off light.
Once the officer had gone he gave his astromech instructions. "Zeethree, better stay with the ship. Lock us down." His eyes scanned over his immediate area, picking out what must have been the Escape Pod Inn, and started in that direction.
As he made his way through the crowds, a slight shiver ran the length of his spine, ending with two distinctly vague impressions-- one female, and one... other. He paused for a moment to re-gather his bearings and pushed on.
Introducing Martin Freeman as Imperial Safety Inspector Morin Chard, written by our own Mr. Dave.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
5 Epsiolon 75
08:36
Aboard the Ruby Gash, in high orbit around Nar Shadaa
Guns smoking
Introducing Jaye Davidson as
the Falleen nobleman Xrithrillial
Xrithrillial positively vibrated on the comand deck of his familial Dreadnaught-class capital ship, his finely scaled skin nearly glowing a deep and angry red. The ryn gambler known to him only as Oronoko had just made an unbelievable escape into hyperspace after recieving a brutal pummeling from the Gash's plasma guns and ion cannons. The vagrant had cheated Xrithrillial out of the holo-cloak gifted to his family over two millenia prior by the Prime Minister of Arakbal.
The falleen stared out the ornate front windows of the ship's bridge, his hands gripping tightly the railing seperating him from the control pit. He took a few deep breaths, his skin calming to a cool, dark green before addressing his comm officer, "Get me the Gand. I need a Findsman to drag that cheating szrillak back here in shackles!"
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
06 Epsilon 75, 14:40
Council Hall
Plateau City
Ghhah'tth had been taking a nap. In his nap he could feel the ground trembling and he could see the various rocks and boulders falling like the game of timblies he had played as a hatchling. In the game he would shoot a small rock at larger ones and try to aim them at circles drawn on the ground. He kept trying to push the boulders to fall on places there weren't any people.
He couldn't seem to stop them all. There was one, a man in grey that always ran out and got hit. Then the dream would rewind and he would see it happen all over. Some one of the maintenance men gave him a gentle kick, "Better move Garth, Lt. Akula is coming. He'll chuck a wobbly if he sees you lying on the floor of the main hall."
Garth rubbed his eyes and as his eyes cleared he could see the man in grey from his dream walking purposefully across the smooth marble floor. Garth snorted and walked behind Hammert as he mopped the floor.
Garth could not shake the feeling that he was missing something. The dream that had been so vivid a moment ago was now dissipating like dust in a wind. All he could remember was the man in grey and that he was in danger.
Garth waited while helping Hammert with the bucket, fetching cleaners and water as he needed it. Then he saw the man come out of the office. Garth ran, feeling the strain in his knees at the unaccustomed effort, and grabbed the man's sleeve.
"No go!" he said urgently.
The man's face turned the vermillion of rage. Garth could feel a swelling of the darkness in the human that made him wince in alarm. The man in grey grabbed Garth by the neck and lifted him above the floor. Hammert was running towards them and the man in grey was saying something to Garth. But the blood was pumping in Garth's ears and there was darkness appearing around the corners of Garth's vision.
Garth saw his great Grandfather shaking his head. There were others of his ancestors there and they all were sad. Why? Garth tried to ask, but the pounding in his head would not go away.
The pounding became a deep rumble that Garth could feel in his bones. Then the man in grey dropped him on the ground. Hammert ran to Garth and picked him up to carry him into the custodian's office.
"Why did you do that, you stupid horny?" he said with more concern than the words could convey.
Garth rubbed his sore neck and remembered the dream. He could remember his ancestor's disappointment. "Garth was trying to warn him," he said hoarsely.
Hammert brought water for Garth to drink. He scolded him as he handed it over, "Well fat lot of good that did! The dome protects us from falling rocks anyway, so there weren't no need. You gotta be more careful ya little green menace otherwise someone's gonna shoot you and there isn't a lot we can do to help ya when that happens."
Garth sipped the water and closed his eyes. He could hear the simple wisdom of Hammert's words, but that same wisdom – Keep low, don't get noticed – only worked if you were sure that nobody was going to come looking for you. And all too often they did.
He had made an error, and unlike a game of timblies he stood to lose more than a pile of polished rocks. What was it about the man in grey that filled his ancestors with such sadness? Why should he not live?
Garth resolved to go into the caves to meditate. Sometimes these answers made themselves known in the dark.
In the Caves with Arica and Garth
08 Epsilon 75
Labyrinth Tunnel’s Beneath Bertrayn Palace
20:18
The darkness seemed impenetrable at times, solid and inaccessible. Arica thought that the eyes were supposed to adjust themselves after a while but she still seemed as blind as ever, bumping into walls and every now and then cracking her head against the ceiling when she misjudged the low clearance. In hindsight, thought Arica as she rubbed her sore skull for the fourth time, it would have been a much better idea to have brought a lamp… If only she could have been sure that a light wouldn’t have been noticed by anyone on the other side as she moved behind the walls and down, down into the darkest depths of the catacombs beneath Bertrayn Palace.
A light shower of debris fell from above as Arica hit her head again and she yelped in a mixture of pain and surprise before immediately clamping a hand over her mouth. Scrambling around in the labyrinth of tunnels for what seemed like days (but had in fact been just less than an hour) had ripped Arica’s nerves to shreds. Ordinarily, the thought of creepy-crawlies and other multi-legged nasties would have made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, but it was the endless darkness that made her heart leap with panic. Insects she could cope with – just. Even one of those icky eberon-spiders that could kill a child with one bite – at least she’d know what to expect.
But the dark… it was frightening because it was impossible to predict.
It was in the dark that Arica realised she was probably lost, might never be found and would wander forever like her pet Tonu that had got stuck in the air vents and eventually starved to death. In desperation she plunged her hand beneath the soft layers of her cloak and clutched hold of her mother’s pendant that swung around her neck.
“Please, please, let me find my way out,” she whispered quietly. “Please… please…”
Ghhah'tth sat in the still gloom and felt the comforting embrace of the rock above and around him. It soothed his feelings and made the ancestors stop singing to him of times to come. There were times like this that Ghhah'tth resented the gift of the ancestors because it made him question each path he could see.
"You don't have to beat yourself up for saving a life, Ghhah'tth," a voice said to him. It was the woman who seven (or was it eight?) turns ago had believed him about the ancestors. It was she who had taught him of the Zhedi and the Force.
"Ghhah'tth too old beat up anything," he said to the glowing blue ghost, "Ghhah'tth too old for anything but death."
"Ghhah'tth your path in the Force is one of the most difficult, the Path of Life - to harm no other being is the highest calling of the Jedi. Your actions were done in good faith for all the right reasons," she said laying a ghostly hand on his head.
"I not sure. Is life of death and pain worth saving?"
"My dear friend, we are all called to preserve life in all its forms. Even if it means preserving the lives of the foolish."
Garth looked at her and then saw the distinctive heat shimmer of a human deep in the tunnels past her fading form. Garth grumbled deep in his chest in aggravation. Was there nowhere he could escape these clumsy and stupid beings? Why was it always his job to bail these curious and oversized creatures out of their difficulties?
As Ghhah'tth sat silently he watched the female. Ghhah'tth was pretty sure it was female; since the Humans didn’t change genders it was tough because their genders changed characteristics. She reached into her gown and clutched something. She mouthed a prayer of supplication to her ancestors.
"Save her, Ghhah'tth," his ancestors urged him.
"You not get angry if save him like last one?" Ghhah'tth asked.
"Save her," they said.
Ghhah'tth sighed. The human jerked in fear. "No, no Garth harmless. Garth Help you. Lost. Garth know way out," he said in Basic.
Arica’s heart nearly leapt out through her throat at the gnarled voice that suddenly rose up from the darkness. The noise echoed in the tunnel, disturbing her perceptions and Arica clutched at the wall to steady herself, straining her eyes to see through the darkness.
“H-hello?” she called nervously, trying to reign in her fear that was growing out of all proportion. Her pupils widened, trying to admit what scrap of light there was in the tunnel to allow her to see. “It’s too d-dark,” she stammered, “I-I can’t see you. W-where are you?”
Ghhah'tth moved closer and took her outstretched hand. Her skin was clammy with fear and panic and he could smell her musky scent. He wrinkled his nose-horn at it. Humans always stank when they were afraid.
"I here," he said patting her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring way, "Called Garth. Hchni'I. Foolish woman come here without torch. Follow me, Garth know way out to Palace."
Arica let Garth take her hand, not because she wasn’t afraid but because she didn’t have many other options apart from wandering around in the dark, afraid and alone for the rest of her life. She still couldn’t see Garth and she didn’t know what Hchni’I meant, but whoever - whatever he was it was better than the alternative, and at least he seemed to want to help her.
She closed her fingers around Garth’s hand; it was rough and dry like sandstone, quite small too. From the way that his arm seemed to reach upwards to her, Arica guessed that Garth must be quite short – which would probably make him just the right height for walking around in these dratted tunnels. She wondered if he lived here.
“T-thank you,” she stammered as Garth began to lead the way, she held on to his hand tightly as though afraid that he might vanish or run ahead and leave her in the dark again. “I… I’m Arica. I didn’t mean to… to, well… you startled me. I didn’t think anybody lived down here.”
Garth pitied her for her ignorance. Humans were blind to the world around them. They didn't hear or see what they didn't want to hear or see. He could see the same thing happening to the young males being hatched today. Always rushing to conclusions and never stopping to wait for answers. He spoke to her like a hatchling.
"Hchni'I live here since Sun Dragon drop Vahgyl'l back in age of stories. We here before your people come and make us sorry we in way. Garth live here many turns. I old now. I not live here but I know these ways. Ancestors sent me to help you this time. Next time you not be so lucky."
Ahead Garth could see light. He suspected that the human would be blind as a cave fish for many more minutes. The darkness had a way of robbing you of your eyes. He slowed and waited for her eyes to adjust to the feeble glow of the palace lights reflecting off the rocks.
"Up there," he pointed when she began to gaze around rather than blankly staring, "is palace Bertrayn. My kind not go there or get whipped. Maybe killed. We know who not mind and who cruel. You no tell guards I here. Okay?"
He turned to plod back into the comforting embrace of the darkness when an odd impulse came over him. He faced her and said, "May Force be with you." He had never said anything of the sort to another being in his life, but it was what his friend the Zhedi had said to him. It gave him comfort to share it with her, although he doubted she would ever know the significance of the gesture, as blind as she was.
Arica felt her skin tingle at the familiar words. She’d heard them many times living on Coruscant - it was how the Jedi greeted each other, how they wished each other a safe journey or good luck. An all powerful Force that binds the galaxy together. That’s what her father had told her, he’d also warned her rather harshly before her departure for Vorgrell, never to use those words or even mention the Jedi ever again. He hadn’t given much of a reason except to say that her life could be in danger if she didn’t obey him.
"Thank-you,” she said softly, but didn’t dare utter the words of the Jedi herself even though, for some strange reason, they burned inside of her. Turning away from Garth, Arica realised that she was standing at the entrance of some kind of obelisk surrounded by trees and shrubbery. Above her towered Bertrayn Palace, the glass and bronzed steel of the structure gleaming in the dull evening light. She was outdoors but still within the Palace grounds.
Arica trembled slightly, feeling the weight of her bag at her shoulder. She couldn’t go back but there was little chance she’d make it out of the grounds without someone stopping her. Arica bit her lower lip nervously before ducking back into the cavern after Garth. The dark swallowed her up again and she almost tripped on the uneven ground as she struggled to catch up with the Hchni’I.
“Wait! Garth! Please wait!” she called after him, trying not to shout too loud lest someone might hear her. When she felt sure that he’d heard her call, Arica stopped running, once more feeling lost and disorientated in her darkened surroundings. “I… I… need to get outside, outside the palace I mean,” she blurted desperately. “Could you help me? Please?”
Ghhah'tth clicked his tongue in annoyance. She really was a hatchling full of silly ideas and romantic notions. Even without knowing it, Ghhah'tth, knew that there had to be a male involved. But he felt a connection to this woman that transcended their species. He felt a desire to guide her and council her as, at one time, his Zhedi friend had counselled and guided him – for however brief a time they had been together.
"Once outside, do you know where you go?" he asked her with the disapproving tone of the elderly to the young. "Garth know many things in Plateau City. Garth know secret names techs have for generators beneath Great Hall. Garth know the place the Imperial Commander keep his glasses. Garth know the favourite song of the Mayor of Shipwreck."
He leaned close to drive home his point. "But nobody know hearts of young girls except young girls. Go home and cry. Write in diary or whine to nanny. You on fool's errand and it not solve your problems. Ancestors will tell you that best way to face foolishness is to wisely confess. Deeper lies will make deeper troubles."
Arica felt hurt at the scorn in Garth’s tone, he didn’t know a thing about her and yet he’d dismissed her troubles as the petty and childish concerns of a little girl. Didn’t she have a right to worry when she might be shipped back to Coruscant and have even the small amount of freedom she had on Vorgrell taken away? And Captain Moriss – she couldn’t bear to leave him, not now.
Though she fought to hold back her tears - still unsettled from earlier that afternoon - she still felt a lump stick in her throat, causing her to sniffle and swallow downheartedly.
Garth could hear her quietly smothered sniffling in the dark. There was a long silence where he could feel her heart breaking and it made his heart break too. "Okay, Garth take you. But go get lamp first. Garth not know where your head is."
*Or mine,* he thought.
**********
Ghhah'tth ate his F'fagagh in silence as he waited for Arica to return. He shook his head at the absurd notion of helping one of the humans do anything. They were constantly killing his clutchmates and treating them badly. They angered the mountains with their noisy machines and they stole the hearts of the rocks and didn't return anything in its place.
The Hchni'I had tried to tell them that the Space Dragon would be upset to see how they had treated her planet when she returned, but the humans laughed and called his people primitive. There were ways in which the humans were far more primitive than the Hchni'I. Their minds were so big, but their hearts were shrivelled and cold as the underground rivers.
This girl he was helping had a big heart. He hoped she would learn from the pain it would bring her, rather than letting her heart go numb as the other humans had done. He could hear her coming down the cavern entrance long before he could see her light or she could see him.
Arica felt much safer with the soft, reassuring glow of the lamp lighting her path and as she saw Garth leaning against the cavern wall, she quickened her step, anxious to be reunited with him. It wasn’t until she got closer that Arica had her first real look at the Hchni’I, guiding the dimmed light of her lamp across his form briefly. He was no more than a metre tall as she’d already deduced, with small horn-like protrusions erupting from either side of his head and a sort of spike for a nose.
Arica was suddenly reminded of a race of ‘horned beasts’ that her uncle had told her about some time ago. Vorgrellian natives that had once roamed the planet as their own but now were resigned to the darkness of its caves and tunnels so that no one would need to be subjected to their intolerable ugliness. The Hchni’I.
Personally, Arica didn’t think Garth looked that offensive, in fact his short stubby horns made him look almost cute – like the gnomes in Wathur’s ‘Tales from the Underground’ or the Spakbekker Trolls in ‘Into the Darkness’. Of course Arica had been deceived by appearances in the past, like when her pet Tonu who’d looked as though he wouldn’t harm a snowflake had almost taken her hand off as she’d tried to feed him.
“Hi Garth, I have the lamp,” she whispered quite redundantly since the lamp was bright enough for anyone to see that she had it. “Should we make a start?”
"I take you to market square. It safe enough to exit there. It crowded and no-one question two more strangers. Follow close, young one," Garth cautioned, "Know the way, but ways not always easy - not safe for those unfamiliar."
Garth scuttled off into the tunnel with Arica close behind. Her lantern lit the walls of the caves and she could make out small marks along the floor. They looked like claw or tiny tool marks and made the normally smooth rock surface easy to walk on even when it sloped up and down alarmingly.
Clearly these passages had been put here deliberately, but there seemed to be thousands of kilometres of them under Plateau City. Arica glanced down a passage that had a fairly stiff and slightly sulphurous smell coming from it. Looking back she completely lost track of Garth. There were only two ways he could have gone and she hesitated a moment trying to pick the probable path.
Garth realised almost instantly when the girl stopped following. He jogged back to the crossroads and found her a few steps into the wrong tunnel. "Wait," he said in a hoarse whisper, "Go no further. That way hides danger. Walk back slowly and be silent."
Arica felt her spine stiffen at Garth’s warning and her feet scuffled to a stop. Pressing her back against the side of the tunnel, she slowly retreated, even holding her breath so that she wouldn’t make any unnecessary noise. Arica didn’t know what ‘danger’ was hiding in the darkness, if she was being truly honest part of her was curious to find out even though the tone of Garth’s caution made her feel cold with fear.
Inching her way back up the tunnel, Arica soon found herself at Garth’s side. “What… what’s down there?” she asked with a mixture of dread and curiosity.
"Garth show you something save your life in future," he said to her with a serious tone. "See patterns in rock? See how cuts make shapes?"
Arica glanced at the pattern of gouges and they seemed completely random to her. But as soon as she looked where Garth was pointing she could see it. Where before there was a scattering of gouges for traction, there was suddenly a shape.
\\\///\\\///\\\///
Triplets of gouges in a definite pattern. Garth traced them with his clawed hand. "Different shapes, different messages. This one mean loose rock. Dangerous for big folk like you with big feet and who not know how be really quiet."
Garth took her hand and led her back a few steps to the windy cavern. He showed her the marks on the floor.
~^^^~^^^~
"This one mean lava. The Mountain blood burns down this hall. The smell tell me this hot place no good for girl in flimsy dress."
He then led her back to the path she had missed. The marks there were clear once she knew what to look for.
^^^_^^^_^^^
"This mark high cavern. Big place with many echoes. But good for tall one like you. Watch, and please, stay close." Garth started back down the high cavern path but moved a little slower this time.
Arica walked close behind Garth, determined not to lose him a second time. She was fascinated by his knowledge of the caves and wondered if maybe they had been made by the Hchni’I back in the days when they had ruled Vorgrell. It would account for how Garth knew so much about the different tunnels and the meanings behind the strange markings. She decided to ask him.
Garth explained to her about how the Great Space Dragon had dropped Vorgrell in space. He told her that the world was alive and that these caves were the veins of the planet. He told her about how they were the children of the Dragon Hchni.
Garth figured she wasn't listening to him since he was old and wise and she was young and foolish. But it felt good to share his culture with her. He paused in one of the caves and touched a place on the wall. "The ancestors come here," he said to her.
He stood there a moment in quiet contemplation before rushing up a steep incline. "Come, girl, move quicker. Market not stay open all night."
Arica hastened her stride because she knew Garth was right even though it was difficult to judge the passing of time when so far underground. She was very aware of the fact that she would soon be missed at the palace – as soon as her Uncle Oldrak returned in preparation for their journey to Betra. Arica could make up some story for why she was late, even though she hated lying. But her excuses would only cover her for a few hours, not if she was out all night.
The progress upward towards the surface was much harder going than previous and Arica found that, despite being in rather good physical shape, she didn’t have enough breath to maintain her vigorous pace and hold conversation at the same time. So instead of talking she let Garth continue to explain about his people and the Great Space Dragon Hchni, and she listened.
Pretty soon the cavern came to a dead end.
There were metal rings wedged into the stone and held with carved hooks. Garth pointed up. "Market there, be careful moving stone, you not want to hurt anyone and make them ask too many questions."
Arica looked up the shaft and saw there was a dim light about 10 meters above. Stowing her lamp on her belt she smiled at Garth. "Will you wait for me?" she asked.
"Garth wait, he not have any place else to be."
Taking a bracing breath, Arica reached up to the first ring and began to pull herself up, climbing towards the opening of the shaft. Her calves burned as she got to the top and her hands were sore from hanging onto the rough rings.
On the bottom of the hatch was set a handle, Arica took hold of it gingerly and lifted. Light flooded the dark area and she squinted as her eyes tried to adjust. When she could discern her surroundings she became aware of a chill that seemed to fill the room into which she had emerged. As her eyes became better accustomed to the bright light she also saw limp animal carcasses hanging from hooks over her head and shelves of cheeses and vegetables surrounding her. She was inside a cooler of some sort.
“Ugh,” was all that Arica managed to utter as she surveyed her new environment, ducking to avoid a cluster of dead game birds hanging from the rafters above. “Who on Vorgrell puts the entrance to a secret tunnel in a pantry?”
*And how am I supposed to get in and out of here without drawing attention to myself?* thought Arica, her eyes still flitting around the compact space before resting on wide metal baton resting across the door. *Must be to open the lock from the inside – in case some silly dope gets themselves trapped.*
Kneeling on the floor, Arica peered back down the hole. She could just make out Garth’s eyes glittering in the darkness. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?” she called down in his direction.
"Garth stay here. he get in trouble with owner of meat shop last week. Laying low," the breathy voice came up the rock chimney.
Arica was a little disappointed not to mention frightened, she’d never been into the city on her own before and was ashamed to admit that the prospect scared her. It would have been nice to have Garth for company but she wasn’t about to pressure him into it, he’d done more than enough for her already.
“Okay,” she said after a minute, trying not to let the disappointment show in her voice. “I’ll try not to be too long, and thank-you Garth. I won’t forget your kindness.”
Garth hesitated. He really didn't want to see the meat shop owner again. The guy had it in for Garth and promised him a blaster hole in his backside if he ever saw him again. But clearly the girl was afraid and unsure. And (of course) the ancestors weren't talking. They never did when you wanted them to, oh no, they always were yammering to save this person or warn that one when Garth was eating lunch or having a nap.
Garth looked up the hole. He began to doubt the wisdom of bringing her this way rather than through one of the other entrances into the market, but he figured this one would be easy to find her way back to.
Garth waved to her and smiled. One of the maintenance crew had told him that it was unnatural to see that toothy smile in a lizard-like beak and asked him to never do it again. Garth liked smiling, it really made humans trust him and it unnerved the others in his tribe.
Seeing Garth’s smile, Arica carefully lowered the hatch back in place and then straightened up. With a resigned sigh she tried the door lever. It took a couple of try’s, working the baton up and down, but eventually the door opened with a dull click.
Arica stepped outside warily. The shop was dark – probably closed already considering the late hour. But even as she thought that there was noise out in the back – the sound of two men talking in low, bristly voices. Arica let the door swing shut and quietly crept to the front door and slipped out into the street.
Her adventure had begun.
Conversations & Confrontations
9 Epsilon 75
20:22
Introducing Vin Diesal as Theron
“Not exactly what I expected,” remarked Cael, taking stock of Jeren Diso’s Cantina. A faint light covering the tables and a circular bar, things looked polished and put together. The music was softer, almost relaxing in its tone. Somehow, he had expected Lianna to like a place which appeared rougher.
“Diso probably has a live band later,” Lianna told him, moving through the sparse crowd of people already there; the busiest part of the night had yet to arrive. “Still, don’t let the music fool you. Getting blasted here will turn a few heads to see who the victim was and that’s about all.”
“Right.” Cael inwardly gulped at that. It was a strange mix, but Diso’s had been open for years on Vorgrell. Whatever he did worked, despite the fact that he defied convention, or perhaps because of it.
Lianna leaned closer to him, lowering her voice so that she wouldn’t be heard. “Tell you a secret,” she whispered. “Most of us come here because Diso rarely reports anything to the authorities.” She noticed Cael raise an eyebrow at that, and smiled. It was always interesting when people worked out that little tidbit of information.
When they reached the bar, the bartender came over and waved to her briefly. “Do you trust me?” she asked Cael, impishly. He gave a small nod. “Two Nar Shadaa Specials.” Nodding, he went about fixing the drinks.
“What’s a Nar Shadaa Special?” Cael asked, not entirely certain he wanted to know the answer. From the look about her when he asked that, he guessed it had to be strong. It didn’t’ take long for the drink to be mixed, but soon two deep blue drinks sat on the counter.
Lianna slipped seven credits onto the counter, for him, the bartender deftly pocketing the one offered as a tip. She picked out one of the tables in the corner, leading Cael over to it, back to the wall. “So, Cael,” she began, taking a sip of her Nar Shadaa Special; a strong drink which actually had a minty taste to it. “You wanted to talk about some of my stories?”
Cael paused for time by trying the drink cautiously, carefully lifting the glass to his lips. Following Lianna’s lead, he took a small sip of the drink, before promptly coughing. It felt like fire as it went down. “Ye… yeah….” He let out another cough before getting himself under control, Lianna smiling at him impishly. “We were talking about Penrath and Emer, I think?”
Lianna leaned back in her chair, watching Cael. His reaction to a Nar Shadaa Special wasn’t quite as bad as she expected; he had to be new to them. “Here I thought you wanted to hear about things that I actually did,” she mocked hurt, catching his blue eyes before letting out a mock sigh. “Though I suppose we can talk about old history, if that’s what really interests you.”
“It’s not all that interests me,” Cael sputtered. He felt trapped, as it was one of those remarks to which there was really no good way to reply to, and Lianna knew it. “I mean, I’m sure that your stories are just as attractive….”
She resisted the urge to laugh at how flustered he had suddenly become. Men tended to assume that women could become angry so easily, and how they responded to that gave her another insight into them. “Don’t worry, Cael. I know what you meant.”
Cael breathed a sigh of relief, using the drink to stall for a few moments. It wasn’t as strong this time, and he could detect the minty flavour. “To be honest, I’d like to know more about the Merrols,” he started. “Where they come from and all that, since I’ve noticed that all of the Alcona clans have a rather unique history.”
A look of sadness crossed Lianna’s eyes. The Clan Elder was screaming orders to get the children out of there, leading a charge unarmoured against a group of Gammorreans. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, beating down the memories that threatened to well up inside of her again. “Ours seems to be at an end,” she reached for her drink.
“Are you alright?” Cael asked. Lianna looked like she became more distant for a few moments, years added to then disappearing from her appearance.
“I’m fine.” How can he possibly understand what it means to lose an entire clan in one night? Lianna regretted the longer drink, as the strength of it kicked inside her. “There are four of us left, maybe a few more – I don’t know if anyone was out on their own at the time.”
Cael sat there in shock; now he knew what the distance was. “I’m sorry, Lianna.” If he was understanding her right, she was telling him that she had witnessed her Clan be almost destroyed. Even if it was just on the periphery… “I can’t begin to imagine what that was like.”
“It’s better that you don’t,” she sighed, pulling her hand away from Cael’s as he reached across the table to comfort her. “Tell me about yourself, Cael. How did you come to know about us?”
He wasn’t sure how to tell the story, but could tell that she was actually interested in it. Telling it might help, and would be a safer topic, some several thousand years in the past. “My parents were historians for the Republic. They would always tell me stories of the great heros,” he started. “Carth Onasi, Bastila Shan, and Ulic Qel-Droma among them. It started my interest in history, and the Mandelorian Wars. Yours was one of the first worlds conquered by them – Corridor III, I believe.”
Lianna nodded. That was certainly the one. It was said that Utilis sent a word of warning to the Republic when he saw the impending invasion, and was ignored when the Mandelorians invaded down three main paths. Cael continued, “The effects were interesting, to see how the invasion could shape so much of what followed.”
He lowered his voice, not wanting to be overheard. Some views were always dangerous to express, especially in the middle of change. “I believe the Republic died, then.” It was a view that might get him in trouble, but he had a feeling that he could trust Lianna not to go running to the Committee for the Preservation of the New Order about him. “The wars and the restoration afterwards did it, allowed corruption to set in… until at last, the only way to regain control of the bureaucracy was for a single, strong leader to emerge.”
Lianna could understand the view, though she didn’t know nearly as much of the history as he did. Without a doubt, he could tell the stories of the Republic’s heroes in as great a detail as she could tales of her own people. “And this somehow led you to become a slicer?”
“Self-educated,” he remarked. “You can only rely on secondary texts so much – you read two different histories of anything, and you’ll get two different agendas. Especially when something isn’t well known, like exactly who or what Goto really was.”
Goto. The name brought back another memory from the Saga, of the time when the clan arrived on Nar Shaddaa to make its final home, and its struggle with the Exchange. “It’s said that Eirene first fought with, then negotiated the settlement with him,” Lianna remarked. Cael looked at her intently; it felt good to be able to sit back and talk about the stories with someone willing to listen.
“Then you can see the problem.” Cael felt relaxed and in his element now, or at least one of them. It was easy to forget that the woman he was talking to was a dangerous bounty hunter when discussing one of the most confusing mysteries of the post-Mandelorian era. “As far as I can tell, nobody ever met Goto face to face, only by holographic projection or video. Even Eirene found it curious.”
“Perhaps Goto was not a man at all,” Lianna suggested. “That’s what my father always thought, at any rate.” Lianna cried, pushed along the path by people. Blaster bolts flew through the air with deadly accuracy. A Gammoreon beared down on her, when her father moved in the way, parrying the axe aside. Raising the glass, she took another deep drink again. Memories never went away. “He always thought that Goto was someone or something else, or a series of people, hiding his true identity. It’s possible he was even a droid.”
Cael saw that distant look pass through her eyes again. Something was wrong, even if she hid it well. “Lianna?” he spoke with concern in his voice, reaching across to try to comfort her again. This time, she didn’t immediately pull away.
“Well, well, look who we have here.”
“What do you want, Theron?” Lianna hissed. She could never stand the other man, being far too brutish for her tastes. He was the kind of bounty hunter who enjoyed the killing, and would gladly execute any prisoner worth enough dead.
“Just wanted to see if what I heard was true,” he returned, keeping his attention mostly fixed on Lianna, though eyeing Cael in an attempt to size him up. “They said that you were working out of here, so when I arrived, how could I pass up a chance to see an old friend?”
“Still delusional as ever, I see.”
“Temper, temper,” Theron mocked. “Here I am, trying to be nice, and you go and get all insulting.”
Lianna seethed. He expected her to be nice to him? After the time that they worked together, she’d seen his true colours. The only thing stopping her from permanently ending his life was that it wasn’t worth the effort. “I thought we had an understanding? You don’t get in my way, I don’t get in yours.”
“And as long as you stay out of mine, there won’t be trouble. Just wanted to make sure that you remembered it.” Theron turned his attention to Cael. The short blonde man didn’t impress him much.
Cael didn’t know how to take the exchange between the two. By all appearances, they knew and disliked each other, and both of them looked to be more than a bit on the dangerous side. If a fight broke out, he knew that he didn’t want to be caught in the middle. Neither would anybody else, for that matter. “Don’t let him bother you,” Cael tried to reassure her.
Theron smiled. It was far too perfect of a set-up. “What do you know? Your new little man can talk.”
Lianna stiffened at that, noticing that Cael didn’t seem to take to it too well either. The other chuckled slightly at the obvious discomfort he was causing. “I would suggest you leave, Theron,” Lianna said dangerously. “While I probably will not do anything, I can’t say anything about my little friend, as you called him.”
“He doesn’t look so tough,” Theron remarked. “Not quite your type, either. Guess you finally decided that you need someone you can kick around.”
Cael glanced over to Lianna, noticing her hand gripping the edge of the table with enough ferocity to turn her knuckles white. She was holding back, despite his provocations. Without thinking, Cael stood to look Theron right in the eyes. “I suggest,” he said, “you leave the lady alone, before I lose my temper.”
Theron remained silent for a moment.
Then, he moved.
In a solid motion, his fist impacted Cael in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Cael coughed and doubled over, gasping for air, when another fist impacted with the side of his head. Heads turned in the room to see the scuffle.
Lianna was up and on top of the table moments later. Theron turned too slowly to avoid her boot striking him in the head, knocking him back. She dropped down off the table next to him, blocking an attempted punch by Theron. Her right arm came around to hit him. Theron caught her arm.
A fast head butt from him later, and the world begin to swim. Lianna fought to keep her balance. Ducking a swung fist of his, she spun and kicked Theron in the back of the knee. Dropping to one leg, he reached into his boot to emerge with a knife.
She jumped back, barely avoiding his swing. Back on his feet, he advanced fiercely. A pair of arms wrapped around Theron from behind, Cael hanging on Theron. The other reached up to grab him, flipping him over his shoulder. Cael let out a cry as he crashed on to a chair.
Lianna reached to her side, removing her blaster pistol. “Enough,” she said. “I don’t want to kill you, Theron, but if you leave me no choice, I will.”
Theron smiled, before laughing again. “Another time, Lianna,” he remarked, turning the blade over in his hands. “Another time.”
Arica's Late-night Adventures in Plateau City
08 Epsilon 75
The Spaceport, Plateau City
22:13
Night had fallen over Plateau City like a heavy blanket, wrapping the sprawling metropolis in a shroud of darkness broken only by disparate pinpoints of multi-coloured light. Having spent all her life on Coruscant, Arica was more accustomed to the kind of bright, densely distributed lights that hurt the eyes and burned all night so that the darkness never fully intruded into any but the lowliest parts of the city. This was not the case on Vorgrell except for the sporadic hot-spots of bustling nightlife that seemed to have sprung up here and there without any sort of forethought or design.
It was into one of these districts that Arica now entered, in search of a fairer prospect having already exhausted the tradesmen of the Market Square. Rather surprisingly, she’d managed to sell most of her belongings without much difficulty though it was probably more of a testimony to her Uncle Oldrak’s good taste and thoughtful extravagance than her own skill as a trader.
Nevertheless, Arica walked with a slight spring in her step, enlivened by her earlier successes and more confident too, not only of herself but of the city as well. She had started out with such fear and apprehension in her heart but her failure to meet with any sort of hostility or conflict (except for the occasional trader who thought her innocent appearance and wide-eyed appraisal of everything she saw marked her out as easy pickings) made her start to question whether her uncle’s warnings about the dangers of wandering the city alone were entirely unfounded.
“Hey!” Arica shouted suddenly, jumping to one side as a speeder passed so close it almost knocked her off her feet. “Well… maybe not entirely unfounded,” she muttered to herself. Dusting down her dress, Arica paused briefly to take in the fast-paced wonders of her new surroundings.
Everyone seemed in such a hurry.
Several more speeders zipped past, flying across the unmarked highways forcing all unwary pedestrians to quicken their pace or risk being flattened. Meanwhile labour droids busied themselves transporting goods and equipment between the docking yards while their security counterparts ensured than nobody took advantage in helping themselves to any unguarded cargo.
Amongst all the hustle and bustle of industrious enterprise was a seamlessly integrated network of cantina’s, trading posts, nightclubs and habitations. Outside one such establishment a slender, chartreuse coloured Twi’lek dressed in an overly short mesh dress leaned provocatively against the door, twirling her lekku in one hand while waving at passers-by with the other. Though obviously attractive, the Twi’lek – who appeared not much older than Arica herself – had seen fit to paint her face in a manner designed to appeal to the more extensive human client base of smugglers, pilots and merchants that roamed Plateau City’s Spaceport.
Removing a slip of paper from the pocket of her cloak, Arica held it up so that she could read the set of scrawled directions. Lorr’s Trading Emporium was somewhere in the commercial centre of the spaceport neighbourhood – or so Quache of Trader Quache’s – “Every Deal a Bargain!” had informed her as he’d written down the address.
Arica pulled her hood back over her head as she walked amongst the low, semi-circular structures that rose almost unobtrusively out of the flat, even ground of Plateau City’s rim. As she walked she thought about Garth and pictured him waiting in the tunnel beneath the butcher’s shop for her, eating more of those rodent creatures he seemed so partial to. Arica wondered if maybe she could purchase them anywhere, it would be nice to get something for Garth to say thank-you for all his help.
*First things first,* she told herself, *find Lorr’s and sell the rest of your things, then you can relax… not before.*
But Arica found it hard not to stop and stare at all the strange and unusual sights of the spaceport neighbourhood. The streets were more crowded than in the market and as she hurried through them, new smells assaulted Arica’s senses, smells of cooking meat and alcohol, of smoke and engine oil and human sweat. In the centre of a small courtyard a huge fortibeast was being roasted on a spit by the metallic carcass of a pod racer that declared itself as JAYEN’S in huge orange painted letters across the side of one of the now disabled turbo engines. People crowded around, masticating like a heard of wildernerf’s swilling bottles of Vorg Ale and Ebla Beer.
And there were games too, entertainment the like of which Arica had never seen before. To one end of the street scrappy looking Nunas were being raced on a large, hastily constructed track, surrounded by cheering fans who waved their betting slips in the air. At the other end of the street challengers took their lives into their hands by attempting to slay a particularly aggressive Borran boar-wolf – the prize for winning was $500 credits. Such a small price for a life.
Arica was simultaneously appalled and entranced.
At first her heart pounded fearfully in her chest. Arica had never been in such a place before, for the obvious reason that young girls of her character and status never usually ventured out into the city alone. Had Captain Moriss been here with her, he would have wrapped a shielding arm around her shoulders and quickly led her to a more respectable district - but then they wouldn’t have been at the spaceport in the first place.
Gradually though, Arica’s unease began to fade. Her footsteps slowed and she stared wide-eyed at the collection of life forms as they engaged in their nightly pursuits. A quiet voice inside her head urged her to show caution, to find her way to the trade post so that she could return home before anyone realised she was missing. Surely her uncle had already found her room empty – but that didn’t mean she couldn’t sneak back into the palace and say that she’d merely found herself lost. Even after two years it was still possible to mistake one winding corridor for another, to take the stairs to the wrong floor or to mistakenly double back on one’s self and end up going around in circles.
Leaving the crowded hustle of JAYEN’S, Arica reluctantly quickened her pace in an effort to more directly locate Lorr’s Emporium. But like Bertrayn Palace, the streets of the spaceport all looked alike and after walking for long, lonely minutes down one street Arica found herself staring at solid wall – a dead end.
“Who on Vorgrell builds a street this long leading to a dead end?” she muttered to herself, removing the slip of paper again to check the directions.
“That’s because it’s not a street, it’s a service access route.”
Arica turned quickly in the direction of the voice. She hadn’t heard anyone following her but then she’d been concentrating so much on finding Lorr’s that she hadn’t been paying attention. Arica’s heartbeat quickened in response to this new situation. The two men that faced her were heavily built, the first a rough looking human with hard set features while the other was of Bothan origin with a fearsome set of fangs and thick, bristling fur.
“See?” said the human, pointing to a number of shutters that lined one side of the street. “Loading bay access.”
“I see,” said Arica warily, looking beyond her companions and into the shadows, hoping that some kind of assistance might appear. It didn’t. She was alone.
“You looked lost,” the human continued. “That’s why we followed you down here.”
“Why don’t you come with us?” growled the Bothan in Basic, his fur rippling in the breeze. “We’ll help you find where you’re headed.”
“No,” said Arica a little too quickly, exposing her apprehension that the two men might mean to do her some harm. Trying to sound a little more composed she added, “I… I can find my own way; I don’t need any help. Thank-you.”
Sensing possible danger that seemed more certain by the second, Arica took a step forward and then made a run for it. She managed to duck past the human man; he was slow and ungainly. Arica dodged to one side out of his reach and ran as fast as she could, her heart pounding in her chest. But the Bothan moved much faster and before Arica knew what was happening he’d grabbed hold of her and was hauling her back down towards the dead-end.
“Let go of me!” Arica screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to wriggle herself free from the Bothan’s strong grip. “Let me go or I’ll scream!”
The Bothan growled with mirth, his warm, foul breath flaring down the back of Arica’s neck. “Scream all you like, no one gonna hear, no one gonna care if they do.”
“Hold on to her Tosh, I’ll contact Bell.”
Arica heard the beeping sound of a Comlink and despite the Bothan’s warnings she began screaming, screaming at the top of her lungs and thrashing out with her arms and legs like a wild animal. Her Bothan captor struggled to keep hold of her, eventually dropping her to the ground.
“What the frag are you playing at?” cried the human as he shoved his Comlink back into his pocket and helped his companion take hold of Arica again, struggling to subdue her. Eventually a hard backhanded blow across the side of the face did just that.
Arica felt the ground move from under her feet as her world reeled and spun madly in dizzying circles. She landed on the ground in a cloud of dust, her right cheek feeling like it was about to explode. And then suddenly the two men were dragging her up roughly, twisting her arms behind her back before slamming her forward against a nearby wall.
Arica groaned in pain as her right cheek took the brunt of the blow again, scraping against the rough sandstone. She could feel one of the men lock something in place around her wrists, his grip loosened but her arms remained firmly restrained behind her back.
“Get her over there so Bell can look her over,” ordered the human before Arica was once again hauled roughly through space, her feet barely touching the ground before she was shoved face down against a stack of packing crates. Arica groaned with a mixture of pain and nausea as she felt the contents of her stomach rise upwards in a precursor to vomiting.
But she wasn’t sick and minutes later a tall blonde woman dressed head to toe in some kind of tough brown animal hide stood towering over her. Bell Yidic was a freelance slave trader by profession and spent her days shuttling from one planet to the next looking for a good prospect before returning to Nar Shadaa to cash in and turn a profit. She loved her work and was damn good at it too.
“Hi boys,” she sang in a cheerful drawling accent, “so… whaddaya have for Bell today?”
Tosh growled low in the back of his throat, pressing his paw hard against the girl’s spine to hold her in place. “Take a look.”
Bell strode forwards, tugging back Arica’s hood and running a smooth hand across her cheek.
“Weel now, lookie what we have here, a real shrinking kibo flower and no mistake. Now don’t mind me hon, ol’ Bell is just gonna take a better look at her little flower.”
Arica yelped in surprise as Bell hoisted the heavy material of her dress high above her head and squeezed at her thighs and calves as though inspecting a prize Madris. Once finished, she repeated the process on her arms and flipped Arica over to feel her stomach and hips.
“Hmmm,” Bell mumbled again, taking a step back to observe her new acquisition.
“Well? What do you think?” asked the human eagerly. “How much do you think we’ll get for her on the slave market?”
Bell laughed lightly, scratching her pointed chin. “I dunno Balkan, she’s kinda feeble… skinny too. She wouldn’t last long as a manual labourer, maybe a house slave – making beds, cleaning, cooking… Can you cook honey?”
Arica wanted to spit in this woman’s face; it was what her favourite heroine Magda Tatta would have done. But Arica didn’t think she’d ever spat in her life and wasn’t so sure how to do it. She was suddenly very afraid of trying to spit and instead just drooling down her chin.
*Stop thinking about books and heroines!* she mentally berated herself, *this is serious Arica, these people are gonna kidnap you and sell you as a slave! You have to find a way to escape…*
*What would Magda do in a situation like this?*
*Oh, Droyk!*
“Not dumb are ya?” asked Bell in annoyance.
“Oh she can talk alright,” said Balkan, “don’t let her fool ya.”
“Well I doubt we’d get more than $800 credits for her as a worker,” said Bell thoughtfully. “Even house slaves need to be able to fetch and carry, lift heavy loads. We won’t be able to pass her off as a labourer unless she toughens up a bit first else she won’t last the year, and you know I hate giving refunds.”
Bell suddenly smiled and walked up to Arica, taking a firm hold of her chin and turning her face towards her. She hmmm’ed a little more, pulling back her headscarf to reveal her long, brunette curls.
“You’re quite a purdy lil’ girl aren’t you?” Bell laughed, pulling back her cloak and squeezing at her small breasts causing Arica to squeal in a mixture of embarrassment and pain.
“Not a bad body either… some men go for the lean type. We could try selling her as a concubine. I bet some stupid old bloah would pay two thousand credits easy for her, maybe even more if we dress her up a bit, show off her assets to better effect.”
Tosh uttered another of his low-throated growls, inhaling Arica’s scent deeply into his nostrils. “She fresh too.”
“Fantastic!” Bell clapped her hands together with glee. “Fresh produce always raises more at market. Tie her up properly and take her over to the safe house.”
Arica cried out in protest as Tosh and Balkan roughly took hold of her, forcing her down to the ground. She struggled one last time before something was pressed against her face. It smelled strongly of the kind of alcohol-based substances used in hospitals, it made Arica’s head spin wildly and her limbs grow heavy.
Then everything went black.
Missing Arica
09 Epsilon 75
Arica Odari-Mosora’s Quarters, Bertrayn Palace
07:11
Oldrak stood centrally in his niece’s chambers, looking around thoughtfully. Last night he’d returned home expecting to depart on the transport ship to Betra with Arica as his companion. But when she failed to meet him as arranged and every knock on her door remained unanswered he’d had the guard break it down.
Finding no trace of his niece, Oldrak had ordered a full search of the palace and its grounds. No room had remained unexplored, every nook and cranny in which a young girl might hide herself had been inspected. That had taken them until very early this morning.
Then Oldrak had received news of the incident at the Orsiri Castle. The intelligence reports about what had taken place were still rather sparse, just that someone had managed to infiltrate the security at the palace and attempted to harm the Princess Zara Orsiri – so far no motives had been disclosed, nor the identity of the operative at work. The lack of detail was particularly worrying to Oldrak, security at his own abode was far inferior to that at the Orsiri residence. If someone had managed to evade their security systems it was more than possible that the same had also happened at Palace Bertrayn.
“Ah, Captain Morris,” said Oldrak as the head of his security patrol arrived, standing in the doorway. He bowed dutifully before entering. “Thank-you for coming so quickly. You’ve been briefed of the situation I take it?”
“Yes, Sir,” replied Garim sternly, trying to compose his features into those of a concerned soldier instead of a troubled paramour. Arica was missing with no clue as to where she might have gone, adding to that the situation at the Orsiri Castle and there was a serious possibility that they might be looking at a kidnapping.
“Has any ransom been received?”
“Not yet.”
Baron Bertrayn resisted the urge to bite his thumbnail in frustration. He couldn’t let his imagination run wild, there was no evidence that anyone had broken into the palace after all, let alone that there was any connection between Arica’s disappearance and the attempt on Zara Orsiri’s life.
All the same, Oldrak looked distraught and curled his lower lip under his upper thoughtfully. “What is your assessment of the situation at present?”
Garim took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He’d been up all night inspecting the security systems and making inquiries with the guard on patrol, but it wasn’t tiredness that had him on edge it was the thought of Arica missing. Ever since he’d heard the news his mind had been working overtime imagining every worst case scenario from a possible abduction to some kind of accident.
“Miss Odari is missing,” he reported with marked stoicism, “some of her personal belongings are also gone. Furthermore there appears to be no sign of a struggle to suggest that she was taken against her will. None of the security systems were triggered during the night. Nobody that I’ve talked to so far reported seeing Miss Odari leave the palace, I’ve yet to check with the guard on duty outside her chambers but there is no record of her even leaving her quarters.”
“That must be wrong,” said Oldrak with a huff of annoyance. “A girl doesn’t just vanish from the safety of her room without anybody noticing. Someone must be lying about not seeing her. Maybe… maybe if Arica wanted to leave without my knowing she could have persuaded someone to lie for her.”
“Perhaps she just wanted to take a walk around the city,” suggested Garim hopefully, “or explore on her own. Who knows, Lord Bertrayn? Arica is a sensible girl but she can get some strange ideas in her head and not be satisfied until she’s acted them out.”
Oldrak scowled with disapproval. “I’ll warn you to watch your tongue. My niece is not fickle Captain Morris, she’s an intelligent girl. She’d know the risks of venturing out on her own. Besides, she’s been gone too long. Something must have happened.”
Behind his back Garim anxiously clenched and unclenched his fists. He secretly worried that maybe his indiscretion played a part in Arica’s disappearance and silently reprimanded himself for not controlling his emotions better. Now Arica was very likely somewhere in Plateau City – a dangerous place for a girl like her, especially at night. She didn’t know the city very well, only having ventured out into its streets when under the care of himself or one of her companions.
Oldrak regarded the Captain closely, during the years that he’d worked in his service he’d come to know when the usually composed young man was concealing something. When his face took on a strained expression and his jaw line hardened almost rigidly as though tightening every muscle in his being would contain his hidden truth.
“Captain Moriss, if you are particular to something that I should know about, it is your duty to tell me.”
Garim would have sighed if it wouldn’t have been a direct admission of his guilt. Baron Oldrak knew him too well, he knew when he was being less than entirely truthful and he knew how best to work such secrets out of him by appealing to his sense of duty and honour.
“There was…”
“Yes?”
Garim’s spine stiffen slightly and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He deliberated what to say. There was no way on Vorgrell he could tell the Baron that he’d taken such liberties with his niece, how he had enjoyed her kisses and laid his hands on her. At the very best he would be dismissed.
“Well, it’s a matter of some privacy. I believe that Miss Odari had words with her Aunt yesterday afternoon. The affair rather upset her I’m afraid.”
Oldrak looked suspicious. “And you know of this, how?”
“I ran into Miss Odari shortly afterwards,” somehow Garim managed to keep himself perfectly calm and composed. “She was particularly distraught, she talked to me about what happened.”
“And?” Oldrak could feel his temper building up inside of him. “Well, come on Captain Morris! What was this business with my wife all about?”
“Well, if you’ll pardon me Sir I’d rather not say. Miss Odari spoke to me in confidence and I’d feel it a breach of that trust if I disclosed the details… …I suppose you could always discuss the matter with Lady Bertrayn…”
“You can be assured Captain Moriss that I will be doing precisely that. In the meantime I bid you find my niece before anything unfortunate befalls her.”
Garim bowed respectfully. “You have my word, Sir.”
Oldrak was practically trembling as Captain Morris left the room and he hastily sat down on the bed to steady himself. He didn’t know if it was anger or worry or a combination of the two. He didn’t like the sound of this altercation between his wife and niece. Irina’s illness had made her particularly vindictive and he wouldn’t put it past the old witch to upset Arica out of nothing more than spite. Oldrak had tolerated her for the past two years out of respect for what they had once shared, for their marriage and the son that they had raised together. But if she was starting to make a nuisance of herself he would have to do something about it.
Arica’s nightgown lay across the bed and Oldrak ran his fingers absently across the soft folds of fabric. Fabric that had wrapped around Arica’s nubile young body as she slept. Fabric that had grazed the mounds of her small breasts and fallen between her slender legs, perhaps to brush against the source of her enduring virginity...
Oldrak trembled and he withdrew his hand. Sometimes his desire for Arica overwhelmed his good sense. He knew he had to wait for her and yet as time passed he grew more feverish in anticipation of his prospective matrimony. What had started out as necessity had turned into something else, something verging on the obsessive. Yes, Oldrak was obsessed with his young niece and in as much as he wanted to provide and take care of her and make her happy, he also wanted to possess her. Her youth, her virginity, her sweet temperament were things that he adored. The fact that she was untouched by any man before him made Oldrak desire her even more, she was as alluring as freshly fallen snow into which he was desperate to forever set his footprint.
“Find her Captain Moriss,” he urged quietly, his hand finding its way back to Arica’s nightdress, screwing up the soft fabric tightly in his fist. “Find her and bring her back to me.”
PRISONER!
09 Epsilon 75
Somewhere in Plateau City
11:07
Arica awoke feeling stiff and drowsy. She wet her lips and swallowed though her mouth was as dry as the hard earthen floor upon which she lay. Slowly Arica forced her eyes open, from somewhere above faint light spilled into the small confined space in which she had been imprisoned.
Suddenly a furry little creature squeaked and crawled across the floor not far from her face. She squealed in shock and sat up abruptly, pressing her back flat against the wall, watching as the rodent scuttled beneath a gap in the door and vanished.
Taking a deep breath to settle the fluttering of her heart, Arica looked around her prison, squinting against the shaft of sunlight that flooded in from a small window overhead. *I could be anywhere,* she thought dismally. *Am I even still on Vorgrell? How long have I been asleep?*
As the squeaking of the scrap-mouse returned, Arica stumbled to her feet and stamped a foot against the floor. “Shoo!” she shouted, waving her hands in the direction of the rodent to frighten it away. It was then that she noticed the object of the scrap-mouse’s persistence for by the door rested a tray holding a jug of water and a small roll of bread.
Her hunger and thirst immediately overwhelmed her and Arica fell to her knees in front of the tray, gulping down the water and stuffing chunks of bread into her mouth with savage ferocity.
Squeak, squeak… … Squeak, squeak…
Arica was about to shoo the mouse away again but she suddenly felt very sorry for the tiny little creature. It was so small and frail, just looking for something to eat. Breaking off a piece of the bread, Arica held it out in the palm of her hand.
“It’s okay, I won’t hurt,” she urged softly as the mouse froze, its short stubby nose twitching frenziedly before it scuttled towards her and began to eat out of her hand. Arica smiled, the little creature’s whiskers tickling her fingers.
“I guess you were hungry too huh?” she said quietly as the mouse ate, stroking a finger down its back gently.
Arica broke a little more of the bread and was about to feed it to the rodent when it suddenly sat back on its hind legs, sniffed the air and ran away. Seconds later she heard voices outside the door. Warily Arica crouched on the floor and pressed her ear by the gap under which the mouse had made its escape.
“…well if you have any better ideas Balkan I’d love to hear them!”
It was the woman, Bell Yidic. Arica frowned and held her breath, pressing her ear closer to the door as she strained to hear more of what was being said.
“Don’t start your bellowing at me! It’s not my fault some stupid frak decided to try bump off that Paladian Princess Zara Orisri!”
“The streets are filled with guards, we never move her without someone seeing us.”
Arica recognised the Bothan, Tosh’s deep-throated growl, just the thought of his fetid breath on the back of her neck sent shivers down her spine.
“Exactly,” said Bell emphatically, “not to mention there’s a complete lock down at the docking bay. I heard Roland say that no spacecraft are gonna be allowed off the planet for the next couple o’ days. Everything’s been grounded.” She sighed in annoyance. “We’ll just have to wait it out that’s all. Tell the others to keep to the safe houses and we’ll rendezvous in three days time. Hopefully all this will have settled down by then. I’ll contact Nar Shadaa and let them know we’ve been delayed. In the meantime you see to our latest acquisition… I’ve got a feeling she’s gonna make us a lot of money.”
Arica scrambled to her feet quickly, panic swelling inside her chest. She looked around the room frantically for something to defend herself with. As the cell door opened she swung out at Balkan with the metal water jug, landing him squarely on the side of the head and then a second time across the back.
Balkan yelled in surprise, batting Arica away like nothing more than an annoying insect. As he grabbed hold of her, Arica shouted and kicked and lashed out with her fists.
“Quit all this racket!” he barked angrily, “shut up or by the Emperor himself I’ll make you quiet!”
When she paid him no heed, Balkan held her tightly and pressed his hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence her. Arica bit down hard on his fingers, drawing blood and causing the man to howl and swear in pain, removing his hand. He pulled Arica back and raised his fist, still spitting venom as he swung out to punch her.
Before his fist made contact his wrist was yanked back. Bell stood over him.
“Don’t damage the merchandise,” she said in a firm yet threatening voice. “Remember the rule honey – ‘You break, you buy’ – and I doubt you have the credits to afford this one.” She knelt down next to Arica and brushed back her hair in an almost kindly gesture. Arica could tell, however, that her affection was merely that of an owner concerned over the condition of her possession. She could have just as easily been brushing dust from an antique urn or smoothing out a wrinkle from a prized tapestry.
“I sent her information on this morning,” Bell cooed in satisfaction. “Admiral Mendes has already shown an interest in her, offered me eight thousand straight up! Cash on delivery. I doubt he’d be pleased if his latest purchase was covered in cuts and bruises.”
“Mendes eh?” chuckled Balkan, nursing his wounded hand. “Well that’s punishment enough I guess.” He leaned close to Arica and chuckled. “You’ll love the Admiral, he’s one of our best customers.”
Bell grinned, parting Arica’s hair soothingly, her actions were so gentle that it caught her completely off guard when Bell twisted a handful of hair around her fingers and shoved her to the ground. Dust filled Arica’s mouth as the powerful woman pressed her knee into her back to hold her down, binding her hands together behind her back and then tying up her feet. Next Bell removed a length of fabric and secured it firmly over Arica’s mouth, fastening it in a knot behind her head.
Bell patted her on the back as she climbed to her feet. “There, that ought to keep her quiet!” Pointing to the tray that contained the remains of Arica’s meal she added. “Take that away and let her go without for the next couple of days, that’ll soon cool her enthusiasm.”
Arica groaned weakly from behind her gag, rolling over on to her side just in time to see Bell standing in the doorway looking more than pleased with herself.
“You see boys, there are other ways of getting what you want without raising your fists.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
09 Epsilon 75
Lambda Class Shuttle Anephedros, initiating landing cycle at Plateau City Spaceport
07:12
Her brow twitched briefly and the soft, barely perceptible clank-grind that she felt rather than heard through the deck plating. Eyelids fluttering open to reveal intense yellow eyes, Zastra Carnifex knew from sensation alone that the Anephedros had begun its landing cycle. They had arrived at their destination, though for what reason the Emperor had dispatched her master to Vorgrell was a mystery to her.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor of a Spartan white chamber, her long dark hair cascading over one shoulder, Zastra had been in deep meditation. Now, disturbed by the groaning of a transport desperately in need of maintenance, she stared directly ahead at the bacta tank, which contained the only other occupant of the room. She often wondered, as she watched him through the cloudy liquid, what her master dreamed of as he slept in that thick, sticky chemical bath.
She stood and shook her head. There was nothing to be gained by such speculation, she told herself. Besides, she had duties to attend to. She flicked on the intercom.
“Prepare the Major’s armour,” she said in a surprisingly soft voice. “And announce our arrival to Commander Harkness. Indicate to him that the Major will require time to recover from his long journey before reporting to the Imperial Command offices.”
That was, in part, a lie. Certainly, the trip from Tattooine to Vorgrell had taken some time, but it was far from being an arduous journey. The “recovery” time was simply a way of keeping the local authorities slightly off-balance and to give Zastra time to review with the Major the briefing material they had discussed on the first leg of the trip. Zastra felt it was important for the Major to have as much information as possible about every planet he visited in order to give him as much of an advantage as possible. Generally, Imperials were content to learn whether the locals posed a military threat and leave their research at that. Major Zod Severus was different. Every scrap of information was useful, no matter how arcane. Every inhabitant was of interest, no matter how insignificant in the grander scheme. Every political arrangement, every organized crime group, every social development, and every bounty hunter in operation in the vicinity – he could use it all in service to the Empire. And Zastra was determined to give it to him. Her loyalty, unwavering, was not to the Empire, but to Severus himself.
As Zastra punched in the sequence of numbers that would release the Major from his bacta tank hibernation, the two medical attendants wheeled in his armour. Despite having served Severus for years, the sight of his armour always filled her with a sense of… she wasn’t quite sure what. It seemed that every time it was wheeled in, encased in clear plasteel, power cables connected to the silver connectors on the head and chest, her heart beat a little faster and the whole world seemed to come into sharper focus. The armour was battered and scarred and the outer layer of paint had been chipped and scraped in countless places. But the Major was adamant – the suit would not be cleaned up. Each scratch, each pit, each gouge had its own story. The Major’s armour, though Zastra, with more than a hint of pride and admiration, could be read like a map for those few who could understand it. A map that charted a path littered with the corpses of the Empire’s enemies. The corpses of Jedi.
She smiled.
The streets of Plateau City, en route to the Imperial Command Centre
07:39
The bright morning sun glinted off the dull bronze of Severus’s faceplate as he marched through the streets of Plateau City. At his side, as always, was Zastra. In an informal, but defensively sound formation around the pair was a squad of Imperial Stormtroopers, though unlike other Stormtroopers stationed of Vorgrell, each soldier in this squad carried a green shoulder plate. These were the Major’s personal troops.
The group cut a swath through the streets as early-morning commuters and merchants on their way to market all gave the Imperials a wide, wide berth. The Major had insisted on the walk, rather than taking the speeder that had been reserved for them. Living so much of his life on starships or in bacta tanks, Severus had developed a heightened appreciation for fresh air in recent months.
“Any further developments?,” he asked in his low, rumbling voice. He wore a heavy cloak about his shoulders as he generally did when out and about on sunny days. Despite the cooling system built into his armour, having the full suit exposed to direct sunlight for long periods could cause it to heat up more quickly than the cooling system could compensate.
“An attempt on the life of Zara Orsiri,” said Zastra, reading from a datapad. “Local law enforcement claims no leads, as do Imperial investigators.”
“Unsuccessful? The assassination attempt?”
“Yes. Apparently, the woman’s handmaiden recovered in time to repel the attacker.”
“Hm. Recovered.”
“Yes, master.”
“Hm,” he said. He didn’t like it when she called him ‘master,’ but no matter how many times he explained this to her, Zastra stubbornly continued with it. “Were it a professional job, the handmaiden would not have recovered. She would have been rather dead.”
“Quite so, master.”
“Anything else?”
“Not about the assassination attempt,” she said. “There is also a matter of a girl who has gone missing from one of the noble houses – House Bertrayn.”
“A daughter?”
“Nothing so straightforward, I’m afraid.”
“Is it ever straightforward when dealing with nobles?” He shook his head and sighed. He’d dealt with a noble family on Coruscant just before leaving for Tattooine. The experience had left him… frustrated, to put it mildly. He would have compared the family’s level of intellectual reasoning with that of a bantha, but he decided he had no cause to level such an insult at the poor bantha. “No leads, I presume?”
“None. The girl has only been missing a matter of hours.”
“Send someone to the Bertrayns. Inform them that Imperial assistance is available to them should they require it,” said the Major as he and his entourage trudged up the steps to the Imperial offices. “Nobles may be on par with pack animals in terms of intelligence, but they can also be useful when indebted to you.”
“As you wish, master.”
As they reached the large front doors, Severus, with a nod and the wave of a hand, commanded his troops to wait for his outside. Inside, Lieutenant Akula was waiting. He had been waiting for half an hour. He had, apparently, not been informed that Major Severus would be late. Major Severus was happy to discover this – it was rarely a bad thing to keep potential problem officers off balance and from what he knew of Akula, the young man could certainly become a problem.
“Lieutenant Akula,” said the Major. “Any difficulties parking this morning?”
Akula paused momentarily and the corner of his mouth twitched of its own accord. The Major had just arrived, how in bloody hell could he have known about…? Not that it mattered. Staring at the Major’s skull-like mask, Akula felt certain that behind the faceplate, the man was mocking him.
Akula was correct.
“Commander Harkness is waiting,” Akula said simply, not trusting himself with any further conversation. He couldn’t help but feel that the presence of Zod Severus was intended in some way to erode his own power on Vorgrell. Probably some plot by the fool Harkness to maintain his tenuous grip on the colony.
Akula guided Severus and Zastra through the Imperial complex in silence, speaking only when the trio arrived at the office of Commander Harkness.
“Your slave will have to wait outside,” said the young Lieutenant, glancing with obvious distaste at the purple-skinned alien. He moved to step into the office, but found himself stopped by a heavy, armoured hand on his shoulder.
“She is not a slave,” said Severus quietly. “She comes with me. And you stay outside.”
“Sir, I must protest…”
“I’m sure you must. Excuse us,” he said, shouldering his way past the Lieutenant and entering Harkness’s inner sanctum with Zastra at his heels.
“Major Zod Severus,” said the Commander, standing and coming out from behind his desk to shake the Major’s hand. “It’s been a long time.”
“Indeed it has, Harkness. Indeed it has. Zastra Carnifex, Grig Harkness, said Severus by way of introduction. “Zastra is my personal assistant.”
“A pleasure,” said Harkness as they two shook hands. “The Major and I fought together – briefly – after the initial founding of the Empire. And now, I need his special talents here on Vorgrell, though I must admit I didn’t know it would be you they sent me.”
Severus raised a brow, hidden behind his mask. He said nothing, but his years of interrogations had taught him to pick up on the subtlest speech cues and he could tell from the Commander’s slight pause before the word ‘you’ that the Major’s presence was both unexpected and regarded with some trepidation.
“Of course there are no Jedi or Vorgrell,” continued Harkness. “However, recently certain… events have shown us that the Imperial presence here may not be as secure as we’d like to believe. We… I am certain that persons unknown are actively trying to sabotage our operations. I thought these people would continue their more subtle approaches, such as encouraging mine labour strikes, but there have been recent cases of outright violence against Imperial interests.”
“Like the Orsiri woman,” said Severus, clearly catching Harkness off guard.
“Beg pardon?”
“I have studied this planet, its history, its political structures,” Severus said, trying to keep his annoyance at being patronized out of his voice and failing rather completely. “The only way the nobles houses could have fallen as entirely as they had during the Empire’s initial annexation of this planet is if there were a person or persons working from the inside. A collaborator.”
“How did you know it was Zara Orsiri?,” asked Harkness, clearly surprised at the Major’s discovery and clearly worried that the information may have gotten out.
“You just told him,” Zastra said, barely hiding a smirk. The commander of an Imperial garrison had just fallen for the simplest of interrogation techniques. Throw out potentially relevant factoids – an assassination attempt, for instance – and gauge the reaction. Use the reaction. Bluff your way through a plausible explanation until the person being questioned gives up the information you were after in the first place.
Harkness grunted and seated himself behind his desk.
“You are not here to ferret information out of our people, Major,” he said tersely. “You are here because I need someone to find out information – names and locations, if possible – regarding any actions, past, present or future, against Imperial interests on Vorgrell. Lieutenant Akula is… not subtle. Though he excels at public displays to scare the average citizen into behavioural changes, I’m afraid he lacks the investigative skills of an Imperial Inquisitor. Should you discover any Force sensitive types, you will, of course, fulfill your primary duties as an Inquisitor and deal with them. In both capacities, you will be given considerable leeway in your… techniques.”
“Understood.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
10 Epsilon 75
03:13
Room 12-Y-10, Escape Pod Inn, Plucvat's Crevasse, Shipwreck
Chib hadn't slept five minutes since he found his room. The name of the Inn was derived not, as he'd orignally assumed, from its incorporating an escape pod from incident that gave Shipwreck its name, but from the size of the rooms-- tiny, full bed-sized capsules with temperfoam floors and just enough headspace to sit up fully. The manager had placed him in a row nearest the inn's garbage incinerator. These issues really didn't bother him much, the capsule wasn't much smaller than his own space on the Queen of Air and Darkness. Even the incesant stink of burning detritis didn't bother him, most gazho prefered to keep ryn in similar spots. No, the problem was two-fold. First, there was the earthquake that hit about 00:45, and its related aftershocks that rocked and heaved his little capsule squarely every ten minutes there after for three hours straight. Second, every time he closed his eyes, he'd hear some schutta scream bloody horror. The one time he managed to keep his eyes closed long enough to fall asleep, he dreamed of falling through Nar Shadda's vertical city. Convinced he wasn't getting any sleep any time soon, Chib grabbed his jacket, pack, slung his holster low on his hip, and climbed out of his room, the hatch locking tight behind him as he checked the charge on his blaster before dropping it into place.
The Escape Pod Inn was in fact a large, rectangular bunker flanked on either side by several rows of capsule rooms stacked twenty-high by about thirty-across with open-air repulsorlifts in the middle of each stack, all encased on one side by scaffolding. Chib's room was in the twelfth row, twenty-fifth column, tenth row. The Inn had a charming rusted facade, and the scaffolding and lift each shook and moaned threateningly with the slightest breeze or step.
Once he reached the valley floor, Chib looked around himself at the vertical sprawl of Shipwreck City. On the whole, the place reminded him of simultaneosly of Utapau and Nar Shadda-- a chaotic swarm of activity in a city spilling out of the valley floor, up and into the canyon walls. Even out in the open, he felt a kind of comforting enclosure in the climbing lights and ubiquitous noise.
He pulled himself out of revery when a strange and worrisome detail crossed his mind-- the only ships in the air of this spaceport town where atmospheric jobs. The most likely explanation for this was a lockdown. No doubt some Imperial official had some kind of...officialness that for some reason required a clean orbit. The beauracracy of the Republic had been bad enough, but the outright whimsy of the Empire was damn near unbearable.
His stomach was rumbling, his throat dry, and his credits thin since the half-hearted safety inspection. Prospects were looking poor until he noticed, in flashing green capitals, SABACC HERE FREE BUFFET.
Chib cracked his knuckles, ran a hand through the shock of his hair, and stepped through the door.
Prospects were looking up after all.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
10th Epsilon, 75
18:40
Plateau City Starport
Daell was talking haltingly to a small Bothan, trying to make herself understood between his terrible Basic and her not so good Bothan. The nervous feline-looking creature needed transport to Nal Hutta and wasn’t accepting her no for an answer.
“The Siren is under re-pa-ra-tions” she said slowly, so the Bothan would finally understand. “The hyperdrive needs chan-ging.” She was rewarded by a tirade of hissing sounds that tried to sound like Basic.
“The dockmastersss toldss me you’ss jusssst come from ssspace,” the Bothan insisted. “Yoursss onlyss ssship.”
*Damn Peccy*, Daell thought angered. She’d told the dockmaster she needed some time on port, but he’d probably got his hand greased to point her ship to this creature. She would have to talk to him. She couldn’t go denying jobs, it wasn’tthey way she usually did it and it’d lead to questions. Daell usually took any job that came her way. She couldn’t stay too long on firm ground, and everybody knew it around the spaceport.
“I just craw-led to port!” She said back, her tone final, “the Siren needs a checkout. She won’t be flying for a while.” She was relieved to see that the creature gave up and left.
Vish stood cross armed in the shadows watching the Twi’lek talk to the Bothan and listening to their conversation. Vish had never seen the attraction that other humans had for Twi’leks. Granted, they were one of the more human-looking of the races in the galaxy, but everytime the woman opened her mouth to show those damned pointy teeth shivers ran down his spine. “Disgusting,” he said outloud but the Twi’lek didn’t hear.
Vish sniffed at the air. The scent of Corin was strong there. This was obviously where Corin had gone and Vish wanted to know the score between him and the Twi’lek. Vish steped out from the shadows and began to walk towards the Twi’lek. “You know, I never understood why people wanted to buy the YT-series of ships - I mean, it looks like it’s been put together by a blind man”
“Oh, but a very skilled blind man,” Daell answered, recovering swiftly from the start the approaching man had given her. *More trouble?* she asked herself as she looked at him. The human walked purposefully towards her, “Can I help you?” she asked, suddenly hoping she couldn’t.
Vish flashed a smile. “Well, yes and no. I was looking for a man - Corin, I believe his name is. One of those disposed royal riff-raff” Vish got the reaction of shock and fear from the woman that he had expected.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m the one who saved him the other night. I smuggled him here as well, so I’m just as guilty as you are. I just came to see how he was and perhaps find out if he would be willing to do a small favor for me. Though, I’m guessing he isn’t here. My name is Vish Cle’var, by the way, but just call me Vish, I prefer that. What would your name be, my lady?”
Daell just looked at him, although she relaxed visibly. Corin had told her about his encounter with ‘Dr. Vish’ and besides she had heard about the doctor before; yet his smile unnerved her.
She straightened and smiled tightly. “My name’s Daell, Daell Lauren.” She looked around and back to him, “Do you usually go talking about helping royal enemies outloud, doctor?”
Vish shrugged “I help whomever I feel needs it, and to be honest the fear of death isn’t as harsh as it used to be. When you do what I do for a living, a blaster shot to the head would be a nice way to go.”
Vish moved towards the ship and neared the entrance ramp, “May I enter the ship? I haven’t been in a YT-series for a very long time. They have this smell to them that I like - reminds me of when I was young.”
“Do I have an alternative?” she asked to nobody in particular as the strange doctor walked up the ramp. He turned and gave her that unnerving smile again and she had to smile back. “Sure, go ahead. At least we’ll have more privacy there. You may not fear a shot in the head, but I’m particularly fond of this headpiece, you know?”
As Vish entered the ship he began to examine the interior. As he walked over the floor he could hear the echo under his feet. “Smuggling compartments under the floor boards, very orginal.” When he reached the seating area of the ship he took a seat and got himself comfortable.
“You know, I’ve been in dozens of these types of ships and yet not one has ever smelled different. They all share that same stale smell of oil and sweat. But enough of me reminiscing, I can see my boldness in coming here has caught you slightly off guard. I’m sorry about that, but I feel it’s best to get things done. So Daell, tell me about yourself. I already know about Corin and his history. Tell me a little about you.”
“Well, for one, I’m not royalty.” She said, as she sat in front of him. She wasn’t about to go tell him all her story but much of it was easily found anyway. Enough to have him satisfied, she hoped. “I own the Siren – which, by the way, doesn’t smell, thank you very much – since my father passed away. About seven years ago.”
She smiled and crossed her legs, her lokku mirroring the motion on her shoulders. “And I also help whoever I feel needs it as I see fit. That’s the case with Corin.”
Vish nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it was shame for the boy that the girl betrayed him and destroyed everything that mattered to him. He should have just shot her in the face when she was asleep, rather than play a game of dodge the neuro-whip with her bodyguard. But, yes, I wanted to talk to him.”
“I’m in need of some illegal goods and it would be nice if he procured them for me. I assumed he had a ship that could do it, but as I heard from you this ship’s hyperdrive is fethed. What is wrong with it anyway?”
Daell rolled her eyes. “Nothing is wrong with the Siren, she’s as fit as new. I was only getting that Bothan out of my way. Just can’t leave the planet for the moment.”
Vish raised an eyebrow at this. “Why’s that? Apart from dear Corin having to lay low for a while.”
“That’s enough for me. I stick around when my friends need me.” She shrugged. “It’s a defect of mine.”
Vish smiled. “Helping your friends is never a defect, Corin seems nice enough even through he is a nob, or ex-nob, but still I need his help to smuggle in some danga root. As you no doubt know, it’s a highly addictive and illegal drug. But if you process it in a certin way it creates an antibiotic which works for some of the more exotic of races. I mainly only deal with humanoids, but Quarrens and Trandoshians don’t react at all to the kinds used on humanoids.”
Daell frowned. Even if she didn’t smuggle for a living anymore, she wasn’t against a job here and there when it seemed right. And this seemed right, just not at the right moment. Neither Corin nor her were ready to drop their path against Zara, and the following days would be crucial if they wanted to succeed. One little setback wouldn’t detain them.
“Well...” Daell started, looking at the doctor, comfortably sitting in her ship as if he were the owner and she the visitor. “First of all, I don’t think Corin is in the position of helping you, he isn’t the owner of the Siren. I am. So I’m the person you should talk about any ‘job.’”
Vish’s smile dissapeared. “Aw, I apologise. I didn’t mean any offence, but if you want the job its yours. Though I don't pay much - only 1,800 creds ; all I can afford at this point. But I’ll be able to give you some more work later on if you would like.”
“None taken,” Daell answered absently. She did need the money. She had been on port for too long, and the plans against Zara had made her reject some good jobs in the past months. Eighteen hundred wasn’t that much, granted, but they’d be welcome anyway. Plus the possibility of future work. She could always ask Corin for some cash, or Cael for that matter, but she didn’t like doing it.
“I could talk to Corin about it...” She heard his chuckle and smiled, “my movements are linked to his for the time being.” She sighed and looked at the human again. He knew about Corin already, he had helped the Duke and hadn’t talked about it; she figured she could be honest with him. “You have to understand that our ‘position’ here on Vorgrell is very delicate at the moment.”
Vish got to his feet and smiled, “Yes I totally understand. It was nice meeting you Daell. It was a pleasure, but I have to go to work. I am the boss after all”
Daell stood up too, and extended her hand. “The pleasure is mine, doctor. I’ll come back at you with my answer after I talk to Corin.”
“You do that.”
Vish shook Daell’s hand and she could feel the strength in his long, surgeon fingers. Obviously, there was more that what caught the eye in this man. The Twi’lek smiled tightly and walked the human out of the Siren.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
9 Epsilon 75
The Black Spear
20:56
Cael’s body hurt, which was not surprising to have happen after being tossed onto a table and attacked by Theron. They hadn’t stayed long after that; Lianna had been insistent that they leave immediately. He found himself back on her ship simply because it was closer than the corporate offices, and she could tell that he needed to relax.
Groaning, he collapsed into a comfortable chair on the observation deck. It was obvious from the appearance that she had converted much of it into a training area, adding in several punching dummies and contraptions. There was even a shooting stall set up now, though ended against a solid wall; a few chairs remained, however, for looking outside.
Lianna stood stiffly, looking out the window at the stars. She couldn’t believe that she’d let Theron bait her like he had, especially when she had someone else with her. He was one of the few people she couldn’t control herself around, thanks to her loathing for him. “I’m sorry that happened, Cael,” she broke the silence.
“It’s ok,” he reassured her, trying to adjust his back to become more comfortable. “My fault for picking a fight with someone the size of two men.”
“I think Theron was looking for a fight,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. It was difficult to admit to even knowing the brute, let alone any of his habits. “He’s a bounty hunter, only... Theron does it for pleasure and sport, considers the kill to be the point of it. I don’t think he’s ever brought in a bounty alive.”
Cael didn’t know what to say to that. While he knew that there were bounty hunters who operated like that, he never expected to run into one himself. I should probably count myself lucky to still be alive after that. “In that case, I should be thanking you for helping me.”
Lianna turned to face Cael, feeling concern for the man laying there, obviously in pain, waiting for the mild pain killers to start to take effect. “You’re welcome.” He was her companion, and more than that, her guest; his protection had been her duty.
From her stance, he could tell that she was still worried about him. There was something about her that intrigued him, beyond the curiosity he already had. The light of the observation deck, framing against the black outside, made her look quite striking, when her voice broke him out of his ruminations. “You said that you studied computers for history,” she said. “But I was wondering… why slicing?”
“Money was good,” Cael replied. “There was no guarantee of the kind of freedom that I wanted in the private sector, either, and they want you to have some kind of formal education. Criminals generally don’t mind if you don’t have a degree from a technical institute, ‘long as you can make the slice without getting caught.”
That was too true, she thought. Credentials in the underworld were different from the real world: there ability and reputation mattered more than anything else, except perhaps who vouched for you. “You can actually control what you work on, but doesn’t that make it harder to get things to examine?”
“Sometimes,” Cael acknowledged; without valid historian credentials, he sometimes had trouble getting access to things. “Sometimes it gets access to things that might otherwise be lost – my current side project is part of a Republic Cruiser which may have been at Malachor V.”
Lianna could not hide her shock at that statement. “Malachor V? You’re kidding.”
“I’ve only gotten a partial ID,” Cael said, smiling at her. After her fun with him earlier, it was nice to finally turn the tables, and surprise the Alcona woman. “Even if it wasn’t at Malachor, from the records it was definitely at Dxun.”
“I’m impressed.” Lianna could see why Krell made the offer to help him with artefacts: this was the quality that he was looking for. At it was, he may have found one of the single best historical finds from that period in recent years: if the cruiser was at Malachor, it had seen the entire course of the Mandelorian War.
Lianna walked over to a nearby chair, sitting down across from Cael. Here he was, a man passionate about what he was doing, and determined enough to seek it even though he had to do so by less than legal means. “You ever do any work on transponder codes?”
“Couple of reprogrammings,” he said, thinking of Daell’s ship. “Even gone so far as to set up fake transponders on a few occasions. Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering if you would be able to look at my transponder switch setup. Could use some new false transponder codes for it. It’s a simple ‘switchable’ setup on the blackbox,”
Cael thought for a moment before he answered. It wasn’t strictly in the job description, but he was enjoying the woman’s company. “Sure thing,” he said, smiling at the thought of an excuse to talk with her some more, though he could not help but wonder just what he was getting himself in to.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
10 Epsilon 75
Plateau City Space Port
10:23
Lianna sat in the cockpit of the Black Spear, checking the routine systems reports. She hated performing routine maintenance, if for no other reason than the dryness of checking various ratios, half of which she didn’t understand, and the tediousness of checking the screen display against her datapad. But it had to be done, and she was not about to let Krell and his mechanics take over the simple routine things.
Beep Beep
Proximity sensors. She wondered if they were going off because they were being tested and just overly sensitive, or if they actually had detected someone approaching the craft. Quickly flipping a switch, she was almost relieved to see that someone had entered the docking bay.
He didn’t look like much she thought, just dressed in a simple t-shirt and casual pants. Then again clothes could be deceiving and she didn’t recognise him. *Probably just a lost tourist,* she thought, moving through the ship to the entry ramp in order to greet the stranger - though not before securing her blaster at her side.
As she exited the ship, the man approached her with the degree of confidence that she expected of someone able to defend himself. On closer inspection she couldn’t help but admire a certain handsome air about him despite his obvious weariness that he tried to conceal.
“Can I help you?” she called out as he approached.
Garim ran a hand through his bedraggled hair, mussing up his dark locks even more as he squeezed at the back of his neck in an effort to rouse his tired senses. His search for Arica hadn’t been entirely fruitless except for the fact that he still hadn’t found her or any indication of where she might be. Twenty-four hours had already passed and this would be the second day she’d been missing – not a good sign, sometimes people went missing on Vorgrell and were never seen again. Garim couldn’t bear the thought that something terrible might have befallen his dear, sweet Arica.
*Not your Arica though,* he corrected himself internally, *not really. Not yet… maybe not ever…*
Pushing his thoughts aside, Garim approached the dark-haired woman as she emerged from her ship. He recognised the vessel immediately, The Black Spear – one of the SoroSuub Luxury Yacht series if he wasn’t mistaken, though it had been heavily modified.
“Lianna Merrol?” he asked as he walked closer, though there was no doubt in his mind that this was the woman he was looking for. Smuggler, mercenary, bounty hunter… Lianna Merrol had a reputation for being both efficient and professional. She was also a great beauty, something that Garim certainly couldn’t dispute as he stood before her now.
Shifting her weight ever so slightly, Lianna allowed her body to drop into a more combat-ready posture. Long experience had taught her to be careful when first meeting someone who knew her name, especially when the contact came out of the blue.
*So much for a tourist.*
“Perhaps,” she said, taking a few steps away from her ship. “You’re not here about that incident in Deso’s Cantina the other night, are you?”
It was her all right. Wary, suspicious… just like any good bounty hunter should be. Ready for trouble too if the slight flinch in her posture meant anything.
“Deso’s? No, I’m not,” Garim answered forthrightly. Never one for exchanging witty banter, he was always straight to the point. “I’m trying to find someone, I thought you might be able to help. I don’t normally eavesdrop but I heard your name mentioned in passing, the guy in question said that you’re pretty observant, that you know a lot of people in the city.”
“It’s possible,” Lianna replied, watching him carefully. The problem with being on retainer meant that she couldn’t accept sidejobs, unless they furthered another mission she had. Though depending on who was doing the hiring, it might provide a useful contact for her at some point.
“I’ll need to know some things, however. Who is asking, and who you are looking for.”
“Captain Garim Moriss,” he replied briskly, holding out his hand to her, “Chief of Security for the House of Bertrayn.” Garim knew he was taking a risk by disclosing his position so freely but if Lianna Merrol was to be of any assistance at all she needed to know at least who he was.
“The person I’m looking for is a young girl by the name of Arica Odari-Morosa, you may have heard of her, she’s under the guardianship of the Bertrayn family, has been for a number of years.” Garim lifted his wrist and pressed a few buttons on his holographic projection devise. Beams of light merged to create an image of Arica taken from the archives.
“She went missing over 24-hours ago,” he explained, his voice giving way to a hint of worry. He worried because he knew Arica had never been in the city on her own before, because she had been so upset earlier that day and most of all because she was so ingenuous and the city was literally overflowing with the sort of scum waiting to take advantage of someone like her.
“The last recorded sighting I’ve been able to ascertain was at Trader Quache’s – a local pawn brokers. That was two nights ago on the eighth. She hasn’t been seen since.”
“I actually hadn’t heard of her until just now,” Lianna replied, examining the recording of the young woman. That she was under the guardianship of one of the Great Houses could mean any number of things, but for Baron Oldrak’s head of security to be here meant that she had to be important. She could only assume that he’d started with Quache.
It was entirely possible that this Arica Odari-Morosa had fled of her own volition and did not wish to be found - then again, one didn’t come to a bounty hunter for someone who wanted to be located, did they? “Knowing Quache’s reputation, she was probably getting cheated on high-value items. He’s invented more names for fake, worthless gems than the entire Syndicate.”
“So, Captain,” she continued to examine the projection recording – the girl’s clothing looked far too refined for her to be one of the common people. They must have lost someone important. “How capable would she be on her own to hide from you? Staying hidden from a Great House is not the easiest trick, after all.”
It had occurred to Garim that Arica might have run away, especially after how upset she’d been after her altercation with Lady Irina. But it just wasn’t in Arica’s nature to have such a hysterical reaction, she wasn’t that capricious. But then again, there was no doubt that she must have left the palace in secret, in disguise too since nobody had seen her leave and with a sizeable collection of her personal belongings that she seemed to be in a hurry to dispose of.
“I don’t believe that it is Miss Odari’s intention to stay hidden,” Garim explained, “I’d be more inclined to believe that she’s been abducted or is perhaps in some sort of trouble, maybe hurt. But so far an inspection of the local medical facilities has unearthed nothing.”
Clearing his throat, Garim added. “There is a rather handsome reward on offer to anyone who can ensure her safe return.” Garim placed extra emphasis on the word safe, he wasn’t entirely sure of Lianna’s reputation and there were a certain breed of bounty hunters who had no qualms about returning their quarry in a decidedly less than ‘safe’ condition. In other words, dead.
“As you can imagine, Baron Bertrayn is exceedingly concerned for her safety.”
*She has the Baron’s personal attention, then? Interesting.* Officially, she was on retainer. There was an opportunity here, however, which Lianna could not afford to pass up.
But something wasn’t quite right here, she thought. A large reward, offered discreetly? They were either being silent, or trying to avoid the wrong people hearing the news. “I can tell you that I haven’t heard anything. If something has happened, it’s possible nobody realised who she is.”
Lianna looked into those piercing yet tired blue eyes of his, trying to hold his attention. “I could check with a few people, but I need somewhere to start - a copy of your holo-recording would prove useful, Captain. So would any other information you could give me, for instance, how you managed to lose someone in the Baron’s Household.”
“I wish I could answer that,” replied Garim honestly, scratching his chin thoughtfully. He’d ordered a copy of the guard rota for Arica’s domicile so that he could question the soldiers who had been at her door that evening, but as yet he’d not received anything back which was irritating to say the least. Vorgrell seemed to move at a much slower pace than Naboo, when he’d been in the Space Corps things got done immediately, not when people felt like it.
“Considering the level of palace security and the fact that she was seen unaccompanied at Quache’s and several other similar establishments on the night of the eighth I have to deduce that she at least departed the palace of her own accord.”
Garim suppressed a hesitant sigh for he was really much more anxious to find Arica than he was letting on. “To be entirely honest Miss Merrol, Miss Odari is rather… unfamiliar with Plateau City. It could be that she is merely lost and unable to find her way home, but regardless I have to admit to a certain amount of concern. She is… you see she’s not very…”
*She’s a sweet, innocent girl who never hurt anyone in her entire life but that doesn’t mean somebody wouldn’t hurt her.*
“Well she’s just rather young to be out here on her own. Whatever help you can offer in finding her, I’d be most grateful.”
Part of Lianna didn’t want to help; she could guess what ‘rather young’ meant. Noble families tended to shelter their children from the harsh realities of the galaxy, and rely on their bodyguards to protect them. The professional part of her, however, took the opportunity.
“As I said, I can ask around,” she assured Garim. “I trust I can send word to you at Baron Bertrayn’s palace if I discover anything?”
“I’d appreciate it if you could communicate with me directly,” said Garim, detaching his comlink devise from his wrist strap. “Seeing as I may not be at Bertrayn Palace until this matter is resolved, you can contact me on this receiver address. Any time.”
Lianna took the device, programming the address into her own comlink. “Very well, Captain, I will contact you directly as soon as I hear anything.”
Arica's Vision
10 Epsilon 75
Somewhere in Plateau City
23:54
Arica rubbed at her sore wrists, easing the reddened flesh where her arms had been bound together. Balkan grinned, revealing a mouthful of blackened, rotting teeth. He swung the binders into his pocket before removing the gag from Arica’s mouth.
“Now behave yourself or I promise, a day tied up will feel like a spacewalk compared to what Bell will do to you. Now here, drink this.”
Arica took the beaker from Balkan’s outstretched hand. She regarded the contents warily but was too thirsty to even think of not drinking it despite the warning bells that rang in her head. Gratefully she gulped down the cool liquid, draining the cup until not a drop remained. With her thirst sated, her stomach rumbled like an angry rancor and Arica wrapped her arms around her middle to try and smother the embarrassing sound.
Balkan chuckled. “Hungry?”
Arica nodded silently, apart from the small roll of bread that she’d half-devoured upon her arrival, hardly a scrap of food had passed her lips for the last two days. She wasn’t just hungry, she felt half starved.
“You’ll get to eat tomorrow night no worry,” promised Balkan, “until then get some sleep. You’re gonna need all your energy.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” asked Arica warily, though the look on Balkan’s face convinced her that she didn’t really want to know the answer.
“Lock down’s being lifted. Tomorrow we blaze a trail off this rock headed for Nar Shadda, and believe me,” he chuckled again as he headed over to the door, “you’ll need all the strength you can muster when the Admiral gets his hands on you.”
Arica trembled fearfully as Balkan slammed the door shut behind him. Despite trying her hardest not to, several tears rolled down her cheeks though she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.
“I won’t cry,” she told herself firmly, rising to her feet. With her limbs unrestrained she walked around the room a little, her legs stiff and achy causing her to stumble every now and then. Arica leaned against one of the walls, her head reeled slightly from the lack of food but it was nothing compared to the sense of overwhelming despair that filled every fibre of her body. She had to put faith in the likelihood that she was missed and being looked for, maybe even as she breathed people were searching the city, piecing together a paper trail of her comings and goings in a desperate bid to track her down. They could be so close to finding her… to freeing her from this nightmare…
It wasn’t entirely impossible, was it? Surely nothing was impossible.
With a weary sigh Arica slid back down to the floor, tucking her knees up under her chin in a bid to stifle the sound of her hungry stomach. She was about to take Balkan’s advice and get some sleep when she heard the familiar squeaking of her little mouse friend. From beneath the door the tiny rodent crept into the gloom, as always, hunting for a scrap of food.
Yesterday, while gagged and bound and laying out on the floor, Arica had named him Iromo the Intrepid and imagined him to be a great adventurer who was always getting himself into narrow scrapes. Only last week he’d barely survived having his tail cut in two by an angry Cook’s meat cleaver after stealing a scrap of cheese. In fact Arica had done more than give the mouse a name, she’d given him a whole family! A wife and forty children who lived in the gaps beneath the floors, always searching for food and adventure. But Iromo was her favourite; Iromo was the only one who ever came to visit her.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you tonight either,” she apologised, picking up the tiny creature and putting him down carefully into her lap. The mouse ran between the folds of her dress, his nose constantly twitching, whiskers bobbing to and fro, always on the search for a meal.
“What am I going to do, Iromo?” she asked quietly, picking up the mouse and letting him run between her hands, passing one beneath the other so that he could keep moving. Finally she lifted him up to her face, so close that his whiskers tickled her own nose.
“Am I the stupidest girl that ever lived?” she asked dismally. “I got myself into this mess all because some jumped up little cadet wanted to make a few credits. I should have just told my uncle about what happened with Captain Moriss, let him take care of things. Even being sent home to Coruscant would have been better than being sold into a life of slavery.”
Arica leaned back against the wall again, feeling the rapid heartbeat of Iromo between her hands. His fur was so soft and silky, and his tiny body so warm, she loved to hold him. Somehow it made her feel less lonely. “Oh if only I knew what to do,” she lamented sadly.
Bringing the pendant out into the open, Arica held it in the palm of her hands. The chain from which it hung around her neck was particularly long, long enough that she could pull it over her head without unfastening the clasp. Arica held the crystal out in front of her, gazing into its bright, multi-faceted depths in a way that she had done so many times before.
Arica’s eyes widened as the inner core of the crystal began to glow softly in the dull light of her prison, at the same time she felt a light tingle travel up through her fingers. But this phenomenon didn’t frighten Arica, or even alarm her. In fact it was an occurrence quite familiar to her by now, having first happened when she was in her early teens – around the same time that her visions had started even though it often felt to Arica that she’d had the gift of foresight all her life.
Slowly, the bright glow of the crystal increased, shedding warm luminescence into the inky depth of the room and gilding Arica’s profile. She continued to stare into the core, thinking of her mother, thinking how it was probably for the best that she’d never survived to see what a disappointment her daughter had become.
And then, in that state of extreme concentration and heightened emotional awareness, Arica’s mind was filled with a series of images. The future, the past, her Uncle pacing his study with a furious expression on his face, Garim standing talking to a rather attractive young woman with long, flowing dark hair, of a spaceship gliding through the skies…
Another woman filled Arica’s mind, beautiful and as graceful as any creature that ever walked, her skin gleamed the most astonishing colour of blue streaked with orange. She moved like a lioness, proud and powerful and free.
More images filled Arica’s head and her eyes widened as she tried to make sense of them all.
Her bare feet were sore as she stumbled across the rocky ground. Some how she’d lost her shoes, or had them taken away – most possibly the latter to impede any attempt on her behalf to escape. Faltering, she was half dragged, part pushed onwards by her captors. Behind her back, her wrists were sore and chaffed from the binders that constrained her.
“Hurry up! C’mon, move!”
Arica hastened her footsteps but just as suddenly she was falling down, down, down, so fast that she began to feel dizzy. Then just as suddenly she stopped. She was standing at a huge wall and there, inset into the solid stone glowed the most beautiful mural, or emblem. It was like pure shining gold and in the middle was an eye, the All Seeing Eye with the rays of the sun pouring forth from the iris.
Images continued to fill Arica’s mind until the glow of the crystal began to fade. With it faded the visions until Arica was once again sat in the dark. She tucked the pendant back into the bodice of her dress and looked around to see if she could see Iromo, but he must have been frightened by the light and scurried away. For an adventurer he wasn’t terribly brave.
Only fleeting impressions of her visions remained but Arica felt soothed by them to some degree. The cooling warmth of her necklace also felt rather nice against her skin and soon she was settling herself against the corner of the room and tucking the corners of her blanket around her shoulders. It was cold in Plateau City at night and without her cloak Arica felt it more keenly than she should. Her dress was pitifully inadequate, designed for wear indoors, in the warm, environmentally controlled interior of Bertrayn Palace.
Sleep was descending upon her swiftly, with an almost unnatural rapidity that made Arica idly wonder if Balkan’s drink had anything to do with it. She didn’t have long to wonder though for as soon as she closed her eyes she was fast asleep, dreaming of a pair of dazzling blue eyes that slowly converged into one which burned with the force of the sun…
Daell Comes to the Rescue
11 Epsilon 75
Plateau City Spaceport
22:08
Daell walked silently and securely through the darkened alleys of the Starport. She didn’t need any lights; she knew the maze around the docking bays like the back of her palm, and her eyes didn’t need too much light either. Her night vision wasn’t as good as that of Twi’leks in their homeworld, who were used to living in caves, but it was good enough for her purposes. Nobody wanted to be too conspicuous in the Spaceport neighbourhood by night, not even Daell, who was a well known figure in the area.
Jumping lithely over a fallen creature, probably drunk or completely high, maybe even dead, she revelled in being out. The past two days had been hell, the Duke had been hard to get along with and she had been on living on a knife-edge. He had been hiding in the Siren since the night he had broken into the Orsiri Palace and that, for an active man like Corin Archell, was torture. She could understand him, and she shared his frustration for not succeeding in killing Zara. They had plotted too long to have failed. But neither of them were giving up either. Daell closed her fists, they would get to her, eventually.
But for that they needed information, and that was what she was looking for tonight. She touched the dark blue ribbons wrapping her lekku and straightened her cape over the tight fitting blue bodysuit she was wearing. It fit her smugly like a second skin, only opening over her spine and shoulders, to show off the yellowish markings on her skin. The bodysuit flared at her knees and elbows in an exuberance of cloth that the rest of the outfit lacked. It was a provocative outfit, but it also fit her purposes, for the flaring cloth hid her weapons quite well. Nothing better than a lusty male to loose his tongue, and stormtroopers were usually the worst.
Arica stumbled forwards as she was pushed from behind. The Bothan, Tosh made a slight growling sound deep in his throat, a threatening sound that warned her to stay in line.
Silently they walked through the spaceport, the human Balkan taking the lead while Tosh brought up the rear. The same bustling exuberance of commerce and entertainment that Arica had experienced four nights ago surrounded them, but it no longer captivated her attention. Her imprisonment and near starvation had left her drained and weakened so that she barely had the energy to lift her feet.
From beneath the hood of her cloak, Arica regarded her surroundings dispassionately and with little hope that one of the passers-by might be her salvation. She was going to be sold as a slave… or worse serve as a concubine to some leery old Admiral. Wallowing in her own sense of self-pity, Arica almost didn’t notice the strange symbol carved into the side of one of the old sandstone buildings, but when she did she stopped so abruptly that Tosh almost fell over her.
Oblivious to the cussings of her captors, Arica tilted her head to look at the symbol – a three-sided shape with an oval, eye-like carving in the middle. From within the eye several straight lines had been etched outwards, like the rays of the sun. Arica recognised it immediately as the sign that she’d seen in her vision and a cool shiver travelled up her spine.
“Move!” barked Tosh again; shoving her forward so hard that Arica bumped into Balkan.
With a flushing of cloth, Daell retreated into a darkened threshold. The approaching footsteps and coarse voices didn’t sound like anything she wanted to encounter. Her dark cape enveloped her and confused her with the shadows around as she settled to wait until the coming group passed her by.
Arica lagged behind, dragging her bare feet on the ground. The symbol burned in her mind as her vision replayed itself. There was something that she had to do, but what? Without even thinking, Arica ducked down as though to tie her shoelace – an obvious ploy since Balkan had removed her footwear before they’d set out. However, her sudden halting caught Tosh off guard again and he went flying over the top of her, colliding into Balkan and sending them both crashing to the ground.
Seeing a chance to escape, Arica limped away as fast as she could. But her bare feet abraded painful against the rough ground and she was too weakened from lack of nourishment to move at any great speed. It wasn’t long before Tosh and Balkan had caught up with her. It was the human who took hold of her by the neck of her cloak, yanking her so violently Arica thought she was going to choke.
Tosh growled angrily, rubbing his sore head where he’d struck the ground. He raised a clawed paw to strike her down but Balkan grasped hold of his arm before he made contact.
“You heard what Bell said!” he hissed quietly, shoving Tosh back. “The Admiral doesn’t want any damage on his latest purchase. Lay a paw on her and Yidic will skin you alive and make you into a floor covering for her parlour.”
Balkan turned his attention back to Arica, reaching under her cloak to tighten her binders so that they twisted her arms painfully. “Now you, keep quiet and no more tricks or I won’t hold him back next time.”
Daell’s lokku twisted in fury, *slave traders!* They couldn’t be anything else, their rough treatment of the girl showed their mean ways. Slavery was a tender spot on Daell’s heart, the fate of most of her fellow Twi’lek girls, the fate of her mother… weighted on her heart every time she saw a slave.
Daell watched impotently how the Bothan managed to administer a vicious blow on his prisoner’s low back, and heard the girl cry in pain. A future concubine, probably, they didn’t dare to mar her face. She tightened her fists, looking up and down the alley. They were alone, there didn’t seem to be any more slavers coming after these… maybe she wasn’t so impotent after all, if she could save just one slave girl…
Moving swiftly, she emerged out of the threshold. The two slavers and their prisoner were just in front of her, none of them had noticed her form in the darkness, so her attack took them completely by surprise. Her small vibroblade in her hand, Daell silently approached the human, passing her arm around his neck and pressing the tip of her weapon on his back.
“Easy,” she said softly. She moved a little, making the suddenly tense human move with her, the Bothan wasn’t aware of her presence yet. “Untie her, or I’ll stick this in your sorrow hide.”
Balkan grunted uneasily as the stranger pressed the edge of whatever weapon she carried firmer against his back. His eyes darted around in panic as he tried to decide what to do, weighing up whether his life would be worth the eight thousand credits Bell would lose out on if he set the girl free.
Eventually he cleared his throat, shouting out to Tosh. “Untie her,” he ordered suddenly. The Bothan wrinkled up his snout in confusion, growling in query. “Don’t question me you stupid great pile of fur! Untie the girl, set her loose!”
Tosh narrowed his beady eyes at Balkan, for the first time noticing the slender blue arm wrapped around his throat. He growled and grabbed hold of Arica tightly around the waist, pulling her against him like a human shield.
“Too bad for you Balkan,” he snarled, his coarse voice holding a slight hint of humour. “But Bell kill us both if we lose her trade. Tosh not going to suffer for Balkan’s stupidity. Whoever you are,” Tosh raised his voice so that the shadowy figure behind Balkan could hear him. “You move and I break the girl’s neck.”
The Twi’lek’s arm tightened on the human’s throat as she cursed floridly under her breath. The man was sweating profusely, and she only had to press her blade firmer on his back to secure his immobility. Daell watched the Bothan intently, trying to assess his seriousness. The furry creature wasn’t nearly as tall as the girl he was holding, but he had a firm grip on her waist and his right arm on her neck. She recognised the grip, she was holding the human exactly in the same way, the Bothan could break the girl’s neck with one swift motion.
Daell looked at the human girl then. She looked frightened and exhausted, but at the same time there was something in the set of her jaw that spoke of her strength. With a brisk movement of her head, Daell let her hood fall back and her eyes locked with those of the girl. She frowned slightly when she saw her body tense and her eyes grow wide as in recognition, only to be brought back towards the Bothan’s form with another vicious pull. Daell made a decision then. So much for trying to spare the slaver life, not that he deserved it. None of his kind deserved it.
“Sorry, Balkan,” Daell whispered, as she burrowed the vibroblade into the human’s back, kidney high, pushing him with it at the same time. Her knee raised and added to the motion, sending the human’s body hard against Tosh and his prey. She only hoped that her sudden actions would surprise the Bothan or the girl was dead. She didn’t see many options, anyway. Her predictions were right, and she was glad to see the Bothan slumping under the larger weight of his companion. It also helped that the girl moved out of the way, using Tosh’s surprise to her advantage, almost as if she had known what was going to happen.
Not losing a moment to think about that, Daell raised her arm and pointed her ‘Quickfire’ towards Tosh, firing rapidly its deadly blasts before the Bothan’s own blaster could be shot.
Arica tightened her eyes shut as the bright bursts of blaster fire lit up the darkness of the alley. When she opened them again Tosh was slumped over Balkan and neither of them were moving or ever would again. Arica let a sigh of relief escape her lips and she visibly slumped within herself despite the fact that her arms were still tied behind her back.
*I saw it all,* she thought as she watched the Twi’lek woman nudge the two bodies with the toe of her boot to make sure they were dead. *I saw this woman in my vision, that’s how I knew to jump out of the way when she fired at Tosh, it was all in my vision.*
“You saved me,” she exhaled gratefully, her voice trembling with an excess of emotion and adrenaline. Arica took a step towards her saviour even though she felt so weak she thought she might faint from exhaustion at any minute. “They were going to sell me, make me a slave. You… you saved my life!”
Daell smiled at the frightened girl, and moved towards her when she staggered on her bare feet. “Here, let me help you,” she said kindly, getting her arm around her waist to balance her. She quickly cut her ties loose with her blade and massaged her wrists to help the blood run freely again. “I’m sorry, it’ll feel better in a minute,” she said, when she watched a grimace of pain cross the girl’s pretty face.
“It’s okay,” Arica whispered softly, quite in awe of the powerful female. She was also astounded by her kindness, after three days of being treated abominably it felt strange that someone – a complete stranger in fact – would come to her rescue.
“I knew that you’d save me,” she said with a slight smile then, realising what she’d said stammered and added. “I m-mean when I s-saw you appear, I could tell you were capable.” Arica sighed, holding her head tiredly, “ I, I guess I should try to find my way home.”
Daell watched her intently again, her words not going unnoticed, as her jumping away hadn’t, as she continued massaging the tender wrists. “You aren’t going anywhere,” she said softly, and smiled again when the girl looked up in fear, “not until you clean up a little and have something to eat, at least.”
“My name is Daell, and it’s been a pleasure to help you.” Her purplish eyes almost even with the girl’s, Daell tried to sound comforting, not wanting to add to the girl’s fear. “My ship is not far from here… if you want to come with me.”
“I… I suppose I could,” stammered Arica uncertainly. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the Twi’lek woman, whom she now knew was called Daell. She’d seen her in her vision quite clearly, not to mention that she had saved her from a life of servitude and whoredom. No, more than anything Arica was worried about her Uncle and everyone else at Bertrayn Palace who must be out searching for her. But then she was terribly hungry and tired too. She would better make the journey across the city when she was well rested and fed.
“Okay, thank-you Daell,” she said finally, offering the Twi’lek a grateful, if not also, rather weak smile. “A-and my name… it’s Arica, Arica Odari-Morosa.”
The Twi’lek smile grew at the mention of Arica’s name. She knew quite well who Arica Odari-Morosa was, and now that she had a name to put the face to, she recognised the girl as well.
“Well, Arica, nice to meet you,” Daell greeted, as she started walking towards the Siren again with the girl’s hand in hers. “Watch your step, and just follow me. I’m sorry but I don’t use lights at night.”
Arica tried her best to keep pace with Daell, but without shoes or any light to guide her way she found it difficult and more than once Daell had to catch her when she almost fell. Eventually the Twi’lek slowed her stride, taking a firmer hold of Arica’s hand to guide her better through the darkness. As they walked, Arica took the opportunity to better observe her companion.
“Daell, do I…” she began, pausing for a moment to catch her breath, “do I know you at all? I mean… you seem familiar somehow, the way you move that is.”
The Twi’lek didn’t answer for a couple of minutes, her frown lost in the darkness enveloping them. How could she have recognised her? True, Daell had recognised the Bertrayn’s guest, even if Arica had usually isolated herself… but she hadn’t been trying to pass for another nor watching everything with conspirator eyes as she had been…
“Maybe you saw some other Twi’lek girl dancing?” she asked at last, trying to sound casual, as they arrived at the Siren’s docking bay. “We all move the same, it’s the curse of many of my kind. To end up as slaves, dancers or concubines.”
She turned to look at Arica in the glow of the Siren’s docking lights and smiled again. “A fate I was just lucky not to share, and I’m happy you didn’t either.”
“Yes…” agreed Arica. Maybe she had been mistaken, she hadn’t seen many Twi’lek’s dance before so perhaps they did all move the same. And it wasn’t as though she was every particularly engaged by Zara Orsiri’s extravagant banquets, in fact Arica usually slipped away the first chance she got and found herself some nice quiet corner of the castle in which to read a book. But then the music and the dancing… oh yes, she loved the dancing…
“This is your ship?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “It’s fantastic… a Correllian YT-2400 Transport Vessel, I read that they have one of the most reliable backup hyperdrive systems in production…” Arica’s voice trailed off as she noticed the surprised look on Daell’s face. “I um, I’ve always been fascinated by space travel. Not that I’ve ever done that much.”
Daell laughed at the embarrassed expression on Arica’s face. “I’ll take you for a ride anytime you want; sometimes I feel more at home in space than on firm ground.” She tapped her security code on her wrist coder and moved away as the entrance ramp started to low. “Welcome to the Siren’s Song, Arica.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Epsilon 75
Plateau City
09:14
It was late afternoon before Vish had got to the hospital in the richest quarter of the city. He almost never came here, but he had received a message that two squads of stormtroopers had entered the building and were not only trying to toss out the sick but restricting anyone from entering. To make it worse, Commander Harkness was there demanding to see “that damned doctor,” by which Vish assumed he meant him.
As he got close to the clinic he stopped his speeder and saw the troopers for himself. He hoped out of the speeder and began to walk rapidly towards the clinic. A trooper stepped in front of him to stop him entering but a sergeant - by his markings - told him to let him through. Vish assumed he must have been one of the ones he had treated in the past. Many times during his stay here he had treated troopers, they didn’t exactly trust medical droids since they spent a better part of their life blasting their cousins to bits.
Vish marched past the troopers into the main hallway where Commander Harkness was sitting, quietly reading a data slate. Vish was in no mood for this at all.
“Well, Commander, I hope you have a fething good reason for trying to put my patients out on the street.”
Harkness calmly put the datapad down and took off his spectacles. The latest production reports would, sadly, have to wait until this whole unpleasant business was over. Without immediately replying Harkness put his spectacles away in their utility pouch and rose. He had expected such a reaction and, from experience, knew the best way to approach restrained fury was with calm. Harkness straightened his uniform, flicked off a speck of dust, and held out his hand. “Doctor Cle’var, I presume? It is a pleasure. I have heard a lot of good things about you.”
Vish was calmer now that he had got that off his chest and cracked a smile that to anyone who looked at it seemed totally genuine. “Yes, I’m Doctor Cle’var and the only reason you hear good things is because me and my people are good at keeping things alive. I even helped some of your troopers with some problems, but my patients are staying in this hospital and if anyone wants to come in they will. I think 30 stormtroopers is enough to guard a hospital this size. So, now that I have cleared that up, what can I do for you, Commander Harkness?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Harkness muttered, reaching for his comlink. “I’ll inform the sergeant straight away.” After speaking swiftly with the stormtrooper, Harkness turned back to the doctor. “Your patients will, of course, now be allowed to enter freely. And onto the purpose of my visit here.” The Commander looked up and down the very public corridor. “Ah, this is a matter of some confidentiality, as you can probably understand. Perhaps it would be best if we spoke somewhere private?”
Vish nodded. “Of course, right this way. Vish moved past Harkness and made towards a door on the far side of the room. “Its my private surgery, we can talk there.”
As they entered the room Vish offered Harkness a chair and he pulled up a stool. “So what seems to be the problem ?”
Harkness sat in the offered chair, arranging himself before speaking. His left foot rested on his right knee and he pressed the tips of his fingers together before him. “That is why I am here Doctor.” Choosing his words carefully, Harkness paused before going on. “In the last several weeks I have been encountering…ah…difficulties. With breathing, on occasion, but also a pain in my chest, here.” With one hand he reached up and pressed it against the area over his heart. Pushing himself up off the chair he began pacing the room with both hands clasped behind his back. “Naturally, I sought out the best Imperial doctors on Vorgrell but there findings were…inconclusive.”
Vish smiled. “I don’t put much trust in Imperial doctors. They couldn’t find their arse with both hands, but let me see…When have these problems been happening? During any excessive excersises or during times when you're under a lot of stress?”
Before Harkness could answer Vish got to his feet and moved over to a bed and began to fiddle with a hand-held heart monitor. “If you would kindly remove your shirt - you can keep on your undergarments on - I only need to see your chest.” As Vish turned on the heart monitor it made a squealing sound as it was powering up.
“This machine looks through your chest cavity and into your heart. It can give me a detailed look into what’s wrong but I think it might be something simple.”
“Yes, yes, I know what it does.” Harkness spluttered, irritated at both his shot at the Imperial doctors and the needless explanation. The Imperial doctors had subjected him to many similar machines. He began unbuttoning the front of his uniform and, almost regretfully, pulled it off. There was a burn scar across his left bicep over his heart, and another, a knife wound, under his left nipple. Both were souvenirs from the Clone Wars and threatened to swamp him with memories, but Harkness pushed them aside.
“It had better be something simple. I have a very busy schedule and cannot spend all my time moving amongst Vorgrell’s medical professionals.” He said, apparently still irritated as Vish began working the heart monitor. “But as to your question…yes, as a matter of fact I have been under some stress recently. Obviously I cannot tell you the nature of this stress, for security reasons.” That damned Akula, for a start.
Vish nodded. “Of course, Commader, I understand.” As the machine did it work a small readout appeared on the screen. “Well, it looks like the machine doesn’t know what's up, either, but I don’t need the machine to tell me whats wrong. Chances are you have a heart condition. Not surprising, considering your age, high blood pressure and a bad diet. It's easily fixed with some nano-orgainics. Most people haven’t heard of them but all they do it attach themselves to your heart and slow its pace when you feel panicked. I need to create a batch especially for your genetic structure, so it might take a few minuets will this be alright?”
Commander Harkness nodded, not particularly fond of the idea of either using treatment ‘most people haven’t heard of,’ certainly none of the other docctors he had seen suggested or diagnosed a heart condition. But he did not see much choice.
Vish took that as a cue to take a small blood sample and send it to the lab. “It’ll be no more than 10 minutes but if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get the plasma burn to the chest? Its an unusual place to get one.”
“Oh, that? Mercenaries, I believe. Caliscotians, I think they were. They had our unit pinned down in a ravine on Dantooine. I lost twenty men fighting our way out.” The Commander paused, looking up at the Doctor as he buttoned up his uniform. In a rare moment, his eyes focused in on him properly, then went again as Harkness thought back to another time, another place. “Good men, each and every one of them."
Vish nodded grimly. “I take it a man was standing in front of you when you got hit, those burns were only second degree from a powered down plasma blast.”
“You seem to know a lot about weapons, Doctor and yes, a man was standing in front of me. My junior officer. He died instantly.” Harkness added, somewhat unnecessarily.
Vish took a seat and began to speak about his past. “I was a combat medic during the Wars. I saw a lot of action. I worked with the Caliscotians a lot; they don’t usually have medics in their squad so I was assigned to them. All I can say is you're lucky to survive that. They are the only race I know who issue every soilder with plasma rifles, or worse; those dammed mag rifles. The wounds those things create are barbaric."
"Yes," Commander Harkness nodded, "Yes, that's exactly what they were. Barbaric." Again, his eyes glazed over. He remembered the desperate fight out of the ravine, the cries of the injured and the brilliant, deadly flash that would have taken his life had not young Lieutenant Brax leapt in the way...
"I was given a Medallion of Honour for that, you know." Harkness said suddenly, snapping back to the conversation. "Seems the ravine was so well defended because the Seperatist headquaters were just behind. When we fought our way out, we took it and got a surrender almost without having to fire a blast. Wait, you said you served with Caliscotians? You mean you were on their side?" His hands clenched and reached for his com-link.
Vish smiled. “Yea, but after the Clone Wars were over the Caliscotians hunted Jedi for the Empire. Did a good job as well. I hear took out more Jedi than the clones and Inqusiters put together, I do believe. They even have a vested stake in Vorgrell as well. The Empire rewarded them well, that’s the reason I came here. When my term was over the Caliscotians dropped me off here and gave me a feth load of creds to build hospitals as well. Barbaric as they were they treated their friends and their prisoners well. Say what you want of them, in battle they are battle fiends. I've seen them cut down full grown men with their chainswords and leave nothing. But when the battle is over they still respect their enemies. I always wondered that about you. I knew a Harkness managed to defeat a cohort of Caliscotians on Dantooine but I didn’t think it was you. I take it they gave you their chainblades when you captured the base?”
More Jedi than the clones and Inquisitors? Harkness scoffed. I sincerely doubt that. He also sincerely doubted the Empire would hire mercenaries for that kind of thing, but he let it slide and began to relax nonetheless. "Yes, it was I. A long, long time ago now, but I was that man." Then he frowned. "Chainswords...ah, yes, I remember those things. Of course we took all their weapons off them but I didn't touch them. Barbaric things, if I'm honest with you. Barbaric weapons for a barbaric people. You wouldn't find any true Imperial using such weapons."
A small beep went off from the wall. “Well, I think that your stuff is ready. I’ll just go get it for you, Commander.”
When Vish returned he came carrying an injector. “These,” said Vish holding up a small silver tube of liquid, “are the nano organics. You will have to inject yourself with them once every 3 days. I can only create enough for you for two months but I might be able to get some delivered to me. It's not going to be cheap. Normally I don’t charge patients with heart conditions, sometimes the cost kills them if you get what I mean, but since you are a Commander in the Empire you should make enough for a few months of treatment. It would also help if you could maybe pull a few strings to get them delivered faster.”
The nostalgia had been eroded and Harkness sneered, the Imperial Commander again. So you profit from them, no doubt. Well, I’ll certainly see what I can do and make sure it is reported heavily on – and that those reports come directly to me. Aloud he said, “You do understand that, as an officer in the Empire, I am expected preferential treatment. But I am an honest man and so I will work a deal with you, Doctor. I will pay half price for the treatment and in return I will see what strings I can pull.”
Vish smiled. He loved it how the rich always did this; they make enough money in a week to cure themselves but hated having to pay for it. That’s why he always charged full price for them - so he could help offset the poor’s treatment. Most of the time the poor in the hospital would offer a few home cooked meals as payment; even the poor have pride and to be honest he was lying to the Commander when he said he could only afford a few months treatment. Even half the payment could pay for a year's worth for some miner out there. “Yes, Commander, why not?”
Vish held out his hand to shake the Commander’s but Harkness just brushed by him, took the vials and walked off.
Vish could feel anger boiling his blood. In the old days if the Commander had spoken to him like that he would have broken his back. “Good bye, Commander, I’ll see you in three months for your next dosage.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
11 Epsilon 75
Plateau City Spaceport
22:40
“Wow.” Arica mumbled, mouth agape, as Daell led the way into the Siren’s Song. She couldn’t help but peer down every corridor they passed, determined to take in every detail of their surroundings. Arica had only ever been on two spaceships in her entire life – and the first had been during her birth which she supposed shouldn’t really count but she included it anyway because the number one just seemed so… sad.
“Wow,” she mumbled again when Daell showed her the cockpit and the gunwell. Arica knew she must seem like a brainless skugg, but she couldn’t help it. Everything just seemed so impressive, like something out of a holo-flick.
Daell enjoyed showing off her ship to Arica; the Siren was her pride and joy and she loved the reaction she was getting from the girl. Arica must love space travel indeed; she knew technical details about the freighter that completely proved it. Arica was especially interested in learning about the modifications she had made to convert her ship from cargo freighter to passenger charter, and Daell happily obliged.
She also was giving Corin time to learn that she had come back with company, before she took the girl to the kitchen. She was clearly starving, and she didn’t want to delay feeding her more than needed.
“Come on, Arica. I’ll prepare you something to eat…” she started, when a low rumble coming from her stomach made her chuckle. “You need that more than a tour at the moment.”
When Corin heard voices moving through the ship, he immediately reached for his Power 5 – his DeathHammer was in pieces on his desk undergoing servicing - but he paused after hearing Daell’s voice. Nevertheless, he remained alert in his cabin until he had been able to hear enough of the conversation to satisfy him that there was no threat.
As concern faded away - the product of being locked up in the ship, lying low for the last several days – curiosity took over. He dropped the blaster on to his bed and, making sure that the Happy Surprise was still tucked in his sleeve, left his cabin. A whiff of cooking food drew him towards the passenger area, and there Corin found Daell.
“Daell, you didn’t tell me you were making dinner…” Corin’s voice trailed off as he took in the young girl sat close by. She looked as if she’d had a terrible night. In fact, she looked as if she had an awful night. “Ah, I…hmm…Daell, a…client?” He asked at length, searching in vain for the right word to use.
Daell looked up from the stewing colegg tentacles she was cooking and smiled at Corin. “I wasn’t, Velryn, but you are welcomed to join us if you want.”
She smiled at the duke and winked. “Arica, this is Velryn Cynein, a friend. Velryn, this is Arica Odari-Mosora. I found her on my way to the Cantina.” She moved to set another plate on the table and gestured Corin to sit. “She needed some help with these slavers... and now she needs some food in her belly.”
Arica blushed and offered Velryn a shy smile of acknowledgement as he leaned against the table. “I think Daell’s being rather too modest. The truth is, she saved me… if it wasn’t for her I’d be half way to Nar Shaada by now. I owe her my life.”
Sending a subtle look of thanks to Daell for not revealing his true identity, Corin turned his eyes to Arica. The face wasn’t familiar to him, but the name he instantly recognised. *So this is the young Bakurian noblegirl, is it? Not quite what I was expecting…*
Certainly, he assumed, there was quite some story behind her bedraggled appearance and Corin was also certain he’d hear it all soon enough. The mention of slavers went someway to answering things. He moved his blaster further out of sight, slipping it into the belt of his trousers at his back. “Ah…yes, Daell certainly has a habit for getting people out of unfortunate predicaments.” Moving towards the girl, Corin held out his hand. “Velryn Cynein, milady.”
Arica gave Velryn her hand though she couldn’t help but blush again as he took hold of it. Her inexperience with the opposite sex made her terribly shy, in truth there were less than a handful of men that she felt anything like comfortable with – her father, Uncle Oldrak and Captain Moriss making up the majority. Plus Velryn, she had to admit, was also rather handsome. One of those swarthy rugged types that was probably forever working out or engaging in athletic pursuits – someone who was good at lifting heavy objects and generally putting his considerable strength to good use.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said shyly, “do you live on the Siren with Daell?”
“A pleasure, milady.” Corin raised Arica’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand. It was a gesture he had not done in quite some time and it stirred a sense of nostalgia inside of him, at the same time he berated himself for slipping the cover Daell had so masterfully handed. Still, he couldn’t see how much harm it would do. From the looks of things combined with what he had heard, Arica Odari-Mosora wouldn’t be the sort of person to go running to Zara about it. Besides, if Corin allowed himself to admit it, he enjoyed the nostalgia.
“No, no. Well, not exactly. Daell and I have a certain arrangement. I’m something of an indefinite guest.”
“Velryn is a friend, Arica.” Daell added, taking the stew off the heater, and serving the still moving tentacles on the plates. She poked at them with the spoon until they stopped, and caught Corin’s look of disgust.
“What? You didn't mind yesterday when you finished your part.” She chuckled and looked at Arica, who fortunately looked too hungry to care and winked to her. “Men! They like food but not the process!”
"Um… Daell...” mumbled Corin warily, “this is still moving!"
“Sure, and they’ll come alive in your stomach and strangle your heart!” Daell chuckled, “just eat, you know it’s good.”
Arica, however, didn’t need any encouragement after almost three days without food. She was starving and would have eaten almost anything Daell might have put in front of her. Besides, she was used to dining on strange aquatic delicacies from eating with the Bertrayns.
But despite her considerable hunger, Arica held herself in check. Though she would have gladly shovelled the colegg stew into her mouth in a matter of minutes, she forced herself to show decorum and graciously raised her spoon to her lips, sipping daintily in the way that she had been trained to by many a governess. Even so, Arica supposed that such manners must look quite ridiculous considering her bedraggled appearance, like a beggar folding a napkin across his lap to eat a meal of scraps and roast bark-rat.
But good manners, like good breeding were exceedingly difficult to omit, despite the circumstances.
“This is… very good,” Arica agreed, taking a small sip of water though her body was begging her to guzzle and stuff her face like a street urchin. “Thanks again Daell, you’re so kind, really.”
“It’s a pleasure, hon, “ she said, noticing the girl’s discomfort. “And don't worry, I like my food being appreciated, not like with this man here... ah, you’re eating. Good.” Daell turned to Arica again, “so, how come you ended up with those slavers?”
Corin flashed Daell a playful scowl then, picking at his still moving tentacles, looked back at Arica. “A good question. A woman of your stature shouldn’t be out in the wilder parts of Plateau City at night. On the whole, the City is generally quiet after dark but there are some areas – the starport, for one – you should still be wary of.” He frowned. “Surely you have some sort of bodyguard?”
Arica had thought she couldn’t blush any more than she already was, but somehow as she considered Velryn’s question, she did.
“Well… yes, yes I do,” she admitted, stirring her spoon around one of the tentacles in her stew. She felt that Daell and Velryn deserved the truth but the latter’s manner of addressing her hinted that he knew her to be from one of the noble houses. If that was true she could hardly tell them that the series of events that had led to her being captured by Bell Yidic and her gang had all transpired because she had been caught ‘making out’ with her bodyguard.
“It’s just… well it’s a little complicated,” Arica confessed after a moment. “Well… not really complicated I suppose, just rather personal. The truth is that my guardians didn’t know that I had come out here alone… though I’m sure that’s not the case anymore.”
Forking a mouthful of tentacle into his mouth, Corin chewed and thought carefully. *Sneaking out of the house, complicated personal matters…ahh, yes. She must be eighteen.* For a moment, Corin flashed back to his own teenagers years and remembered all the times he had been in similar situations. But then, prompted by his memories of his friends – Zayen, Derex…Zara - the flashback was overshadowed and the nostalgia shattered.
“Of course. They are probably mad with panic right now. We should probably get you home right away, before they do something…well, let’s say ‘crazy’.”
He set down his fork and brought his hands together before him. It wasn’t Corin’s place to pry, and if he remembered anything about being eighteen it was being bitter towards troublesome adults who did. Especially with regards to complicated personal matters. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder…
“Though, I am intrigued. Not by how you got out without anybody knowing – I’m sure you know that building inside out – but what brought you out? Did you get whatever it was you wanted done?”
“Not really,” Arica admitted with some unease.
Though she had almost managed to raise the money she’d needed, Bell had swiftly liberated it from her possession along with the rest of her belongings. Arica silently hoped that her inability to pay of Byris hadn’t meant that he’d blabbed all about her indiscretion with Garim to her Uncle. Somehow she doubted it, all her experience, (and by experience she meant book reading) had taught her that people like Byris were cowards and only did such things to try to scam a credit. If there was no money to be made then there was no reason to take unnecessary risks.
“I… I needed money for something,” she confessed, “but the slave traders took all that I had when they captured me.”
Daell bit her lip in sudden concern for the girl. She looked so young and vulnerable; she had obviously lived a very sheltered life and coming to grips with the harsher side of life was never easy. Why would a girl of her position need money so desperately that she’d risk going out alone to get it? There were only a few possible answers, none of them very nice. She touched the Arica’s hand and gave it a gently squeeze.
“Don’t worry, dear. You’re safe now,” she said, smiling. “We’ll worry about your money after you eat and get some rest, unless you want us to contact your house right away.”
“Oh… no, no,” said Arica quickly, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. Only a few hours ago being home was the thing she’d wanted most but now the thought filled her with dread.
*It’s because you know Uncle Oldrak will be angry, you’ll have to be punished for flouting his orders about leaving the palace and all the worry you’ve caused. Oh Arica you silly, silly girl!*
“I mean, it’s late and… well if you have to contact someone, I’d rather it be my, my bodyguard. I think he’d be able to handle the situation better than anyone else.”
Corin saw the dread flood through Arica and raised a glass to his lips to hide his curiosity. Well, he couldn’t blame her, really. In her position he would have been inclined to feel the same.
“Well, I imagine it’d be best to get you home but, if you don’t want to leave right away, I’m sure Daell wouldn’t be against putting you up for the night. Although, I can’t imagine the look on Baron Bertrayn’s face when he finds out his adopted heir has spent the night consorting with lowly freighter captains and their crew.” He set the glass back down and sent Arica a wink. “Tell me, how is the old Baron?”
“I wish I knew,” said Arica sadly, “I’m sure he’s terribly worried about me, we were supposed to leave for Betra on business… I expect he’ll be quite angry with me when I return.” She glanced between Daell and Velryn, feeling as though they held some secret she wasn’t being allowed in on. “But- how did you know I was staying with the Bertrayns?” she asked curiously.
“Your name is well known, Arica.” Daell said, shooting a warning glance at Corin, “for those who want to know, at least. We try to keep track of what happens to the Noble Houses, they are too powerful not to.”
She felt ashamed of lying to Arica, but even if she didn’t look like she’d go running to Zara they couldn’t take the chance. In fact, the less she were with them, the better. It was a shame, for she really liked the girl. “So, this bodyguard of yours… how can we contact him?”
“He’s Captain of security at the palace,” said Arica, trying not to blush at the mention of him, even though just the thought of returning home, of seeing Garim again made her heart flutter and her body quiver with delight. “His name is Garim Moriss. If someone left a message at the barracks, they would be able to let him know where to find me.”
“Captain Garim Moriss, huh?” Daell couldn’t help smiling. She remembered the captain, the handsome man had not passed unnoticed at Zara’s banquets. Arica’s blush when mentioning him hadn’t either. She couldn’t help herself when she added, “I know him, a fine figure of a man.”
Corin kept quiet, sat back in his chair with arms folded as the conversation moved on. It wasn’t what Arica had said that had him deep in thought but rather what she had left unsaid. She had asked they contact her bodyguard, indeed a handsome man if it was the same Captain Morris who used to serve Myklos, over her legal guardians. Add that to Arica’s not-so-subtle reaction to mentioning Captain Moriss, and suddenly Corin had reason to believe this chance meeting could have helpful potential.
“I will go leave a message for you.” He said, pushing himself up from the table. “Do you want me to tell him where you are, or where you can meet him?”
“He could come for me here,” suggested Arica, turning towards Daell, “if that isn’t too much trouble?”
Daell exchanged a glance with Corin. If she didn’t remember wrongly the man had been Myklos’ bodyguard as well and as such, he’d probably recognize Corin easily. He could probably recognize her as well, even if her relationship with Zayen had been secret.
“We surely can work something up," she said, not willing to compromise.
Arica smothered a tired yawn behind the back of her hand, nodding in agreement with Daell. With her hunger taken care of she was beginning to feel frightfully sleepy, probably a result of the cosy interior of the Siren and a full stomach as much as anything else. Arica rested her chin on her hand as the Twi’lek and Velryn talked some more, the latter seating himself back down at the table to eat a second serving of colegg stew.
Arica watched the interaction between her two hosts; they were playful and comfortable like an old married couple or maybe a close brother and sister. Arica liked the way they talked and teased one another though she couldn’t help but sense a small amount of trepidation every time they glanced in her direction, as though uncertain of her or wary somehow.
“Do you want some more st-“ Daell started to ask and halted when she noticed that Arica had fallen asleep. She smiled and took the spoon out of her hand, nodding to Corin to help her with the girl.
“I guess we can wait till tomorrow to send that message,” she told him, as he carried her to one of the empty passenger cabins.
Good News and Bad News
12 Epsilon 75
Plateau City Spaceport, Docking Bay #23
05:21
Jumping down from his speeder, Garim stifled a yawn against the back of his hand as he made his way to docking bay #23. After almost two days silence, he’d been surprised to hear from Lianna Merrol at all, never mind so early in the morning. He’d just assumed that either she’d decided against taking up his offer of work or had found nothing worth contacting him about. But less than an hour ago Garim had received a call over his comlink from the bounty hunter, saying that she had both good news and bad news and that he should meet her as soon as possible at the Black Spear.
Garim raked one of his large hands through his bedraggled hair. He had barely slept since Arica’s disappearance and when he did he found himself dreaming about her, about finding her laying in a crater somewhere half-dead, her pretty face hideously scarred and a number of other disfigurements marring her once perfect form. In his dreams he would bundle her wounded corpse into his arms, holding her close as he carried her home. All the while her life blood soaking through into his own clothes and Arica’s body growing cold until her heart fell silent.
On more than one occasion, Garim had awoken to the sound of his own anxious cries, calling out Arica’s name with desperation as he’d tried to rouse her back to life. Baron Bertrayn was particularly agitated, having called off his business trip and barely leaving his study except to visit his wife. He contacted Garim constantly, asking for updates on the situation though there had been little to report in the past 24 hours. Which was why Garim had wasted no time after receiving Lianna Merrol’s message.
Spying the woman waiting outside her ship, Garim hurried to join her. “So…” he said before he’d even reached her, “what have you found out? Do you know where she is?”
Lianna raised an eyebrow at Garim’s demeanour. There had to be much more going on than he had let on before, and would hopefully make the situation favourable to them. She’d appraised Krell of the situation, and his response had been simple: take the case, but don’t indicate his interest. With the backing of the Syndicate, it hadn’t been a problem to locate and discover news of Arica’s fate.
“There is good news and bad news,” Lianna began. Garim’s mood seemed to visibly sink at the words, hopes falling rapidly. She could read that expression: he expected her to tell him that she was dead. “My sources tell me that she was seen in the company of several slavers – one of them was almost certainly Bell Yidic. Records indicate that her ship left for Nar Shaddaa as soon as the blockade was lifted, however. I’m sorry, Captain Moriss.”
Garim tensed discernible, trying to process the information. There was good news to be salvaged here, at least if Arica was being held by slave traders she would be safe – they wouldn’t risk anything happening to her which might harm their profit margin. Inhaling deeply, Garim straightened himself, making sure his blaster was securely anchored to his belt.
“Then I need to bum a ride to Nar Shaddaa as soon as possible. I don’t suppose you know of any transport vessel headed that way?”
A more perfect opportunity would have had a harder time presenting itself. Time was of the essence here, considering the way things went on that planet. It was entirely possible that Arica was already sold and picked up… or worse, on her way to an auction. “I’ve completed my pre-flight process already,” Lianna said to a rather surprised look.
“You’re going to need help if you want to find her on short notice there, and it also happens that I was born and raised on Nar Shaddaa. As head of security for one of the Great Houses, you can cut through the red tape and get us priority clearance to leave.”
“Of course,” said Garim, smiling slightly. He didn’t know what he would have done without Lianna’s help and her sense of immediacy was more than agreeable. “Give me about an hour to sort things out with ground control. I’ll meet you back here then we can set off. There isn’t a minute to lose.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
10th Epsilon
08:23
Escape Pod Inn's all-night Sabacc den
Chib had been in rare form the last five hours. His evening started with a splitting headache, empty stomach, and pockets. As he stood now, his stomach as bursting, his headache was salved by several unidentifiable local drinks, and his pockets lined with the money of several Corelian salarymen. He loved Corelians-- they assumed that, because they'd invented Sabacc, they had some species-specific monopoly on its mastery. In fact, he found this true of many pursuits to which humans directed themselves. His own skill, his oponent's arrogance topped off with the laughable openness of human emotions combined to give Chib Paramisii a fantastic run of wins.
The Corelians were literally dragged from the table by security about three hours earlier when one of them pulled a blaster on Chib after loosing the title to his ZRX-29 land speeder. Now, three hours and five dealers later, Chib was facing off against an implaccable Morseerian. The pickle-headed, fully masked sentient kept all four arms above the table, which was more than Chib could say about his emotions-- his opponent had an unbelievably random thought process. Regardless of his inablility to read the Morseerian, Chib's pure skill was enough to put him on even footing here at what was most likely the end game.
The game was a strange Shipwreck variation called Stud Sabacc. Essentially, each player (now only the Morseerian and Chib) recieved two cards, which they could discard and redraw each round, and five communal cards were laid out on the table by the dealer (now a completely humourless C5 model droid). On the table were Demise Inverse, The Idiot, Five of Sabres, and the Eight of Staves-- for a grand total of zero. Chib held in his hand The Star and the Ace of Coins-- putting him at a complete bomb-out of 32. The hand pot had risen to 2000 credits, but the Sabacc pot was at a cool 20k. In order to win both pots and end the game, Chib had to somehow generate a Pure Sabacc hand with just two cards. He double-checked his hand, discreetly bit his tongue behind his teeth, and ran the Ace through the randomizer. The face of the card blurred and spun, stopping on the Six of Flasks-- Chib had it! The Morseerian, implacable as ever, stayed. Chib went all in with his remaining 3000 credits, and Called. The Morseerian matched and laid down the Ace of Flasks and Endurance Inverse-- a hand value of four. The old familiar burst of endorphins surged through the Ryn's veins as he layed out his hand. The dealer announced with automated enthusiasm, "Pure Sabacc".
The Morseerian inclined its head, took its few remaining chips, rose, and calmly walked to the den's central podium. Chib filled the empty chip sack with his winnings, slipped the title and keys into his jacket's inner pocket, and followed suit. The ridiculously attractive Twi-Lek behind the counter smiled at him, "Sure you want to cash-in, handsome? There's plenty of fun to be had, it's not even midday." Chib smiled a winning smile, peeled a 1000 credit chip off the top of his stack and smoothly inserted it in the smooth, deep blue of the woman's cleavage, "I'm thinking I'd better not test my luck much further, or the trust of your employers. I'm not certain how many more dealers they have to throw at me." The Twi-Lek returned his smile, dumped the chips into the counter droid, and passed Chib a freshly minted credit stick with the number 27000 in Hutt numerals on its side, "You have a good day, then, Mister Fann."
"You do the same, gorgious."
"Call me Kalla, when you call me."
Chib raised an eyebrow and headed out the door, spotting his shiny new speeder just a few meters away. He pulled the credit stick out of his pocket, and flipped it over-- a com number was blazoned on one side. A flarg-eating grin forming over his lips-- things were indeed looking up.
introducing Haute Tension's Cecile De France as the Twi-Lek Kalla
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Epsilon 75
Unknown location, Plateau City
09:22
The room was dark, dank and smelled like a mixture of mildew and sweat and vomit. The vomit had been cleaned up an hour ago, but some smells have a bad tendency to linger, especially in rooms such as this, so far underground as to make ventilation weak, if it existed at all.
The overweight man in the chair – the only chair in the room – slouched forward slightly, his balding head glistening with sweat. His wrists were clamped tightly together by a pair of binders which were, in turn, clamped tightly to his chair.
“Once more, I ask you,” said Severus, stepping forward to tower over the man. “To whom did you intend to sell this contraband?”
“I… I told you… already. I didn’t kn-know…”
“Didn’t know?,” snapped Severus. “How could you possibly not know that plasma grenades are considered contraband? I am not some half-wit Imperial bureaucrat, blissfully ignorant of the world around me. I have seen a pattern in your business dealings, Mr. Ruuwe – containers routinely arrive with your shipments that are not identified on ship manifests and are never recorded in your store inventories.”
He picked up a datapad and began reading from his prepared evidence.
“Two months ago: thirty-two shipping containers are delivered by the cargo hauler Grenliome to the supply store owned by Arturs Ruuwe; supply store inventory lists thirty-one containers as being received. One month ago: fifteen crates arrive on the transport Space Cowboy, but only fourteen are listed in your inventory. Finally, two days ago the transport Grenliome delivers twenty containers and you list nineteen. I order the entire shipment impounded, and what do I find?,” asked Severus, tossing the datapad onto the nearby table. “The container whose existence you have attempted to deny contained fifty plasma grenades. If you did not know that the Empire had declared these weapons contraband, then why go to the trouble of trying to hide their existence, Mr. Ruuwe?”
Silence.
“Very well. Zastra.”
Instantly, the man began to struggle against his bonds and beg the Major for mercy. Stepping out of the shadows behind Ruuwe, Zastra raised a small, tubular device, the tip of which glowed a pale pink. As she pressed the glowing tip to Ruuwe’s neck, the merchant convulsed and all of his muscles flexed involuntarily as the intense electric shock coursed through his body. He had been shocked in this way five times in the previous hour and Severus was beginning to wonder if the man would ever break. Though Ruuwe seemed like a very ordinary man, he was remarkably strong-willed. The Major indicated to Zastra that she should continue the shock for twice the standard duration. Strong-willed or not, the man would break, even if Severus had to resort to tactics less human than the shock stick. The importation of so many plasma grenades – and who knows what else that had yet to be discovered – posed an immense security problem for the Imperials, not to mention the gaping holes in their existing security that were made abundantly clear.
When Zastra finally pulled the shock stick away, Ruuwe continued to convulse for another two full minutes, spittle flying from his lips and blood trickling from his left ear.
After he had recovered the power of speech, the man continued in his defiance, going so far as to tell the Major that the “damned Imperials would never-.” But that’s as far as he got before Severus snapped the bones in two of Ruuwe’s fingers.
“You will tell me what I want to know,” he said coldly. “Or I will break every bone in your body, one by one. And I will call in a medic to follow my progress, so that by the time I have broken each of your bones, he will have healed each of them. And then I will start over. This will continue every day for the rest of your natural life.”
Grabbing the man by the throat, Severus began to crush his windpipe. He’d done this so many times, he knew instinctively how hard he could squeeze to give his prey a taste of death without causing any real harm and still leaving him able to speak.
“Now you will tell me for whom these weapons were smuggled into Plateau City and for what reason.”
“I… I don’t know his name,” Ruuwe sputtered. “He never said… who he was… who he worked for… anything. Corellian. Blond guy… probably my age… tall.”
“Where did you meet him to arrange the transfer of goods?”
“The bar. Diso’s Cantina.”
Severus released the man’s throat, shoving him backward with enough force that Ruuwe, still bound to his chair, toppled over onto his broken fingers. He yelped in agony.
Stupid bastard, thought Severus. He never understood why people bothered to try to hold out for so long. They always cracked in the end and told him everything he wanted to know. Had this Ruuwe done the simple thing and confessed everything straight away, he could have saved himself nearly an hour and a half of torture and two broken fingers. Holding out for as long as he had gained him absolutely nothing and lost him absolutely everything.
“The Empire thanks you for your cooperation,” said Severus. He turned to Zastra, who was putting her torture instruments away into a black plasteel case. “Kill him. Leave the body in an alleyway at the spaceport.”
She nodded, drawing a holdout blaster and silencing Ruuwe’s pleading with a blaster bolt through his forehead.
Shuttle Anephedros, Plateau City docking bays
10:40
The Major had just disconnected himself from his armour’s recharging device when Zastra returned from her errand. The pair began inputting the information recorded during the interrogation into Severus’s personal database, but were interrupted by two incoming messages – one an Imperial security communiqué and the other a message encoded with Severus’s own encryption algorithms. One of his informants, possibly, who preferred to keep their identities a secret from the Empire.
“The Star Destroyer Vindicator has intercepted a transport attempting to smuggle weapons to the Kashyyyk system,” said Zastra, reading the Imperial broadcast. “Admiral Wessell believes they were intended to be delivered to the Wookiee resistance.”
“Was its exact destination discovered?”
“No, master. The ship was captured as it exited hyperspace on the fringes of the system. The droid piloting the ship self-destructed upon capture.”
“The Empire should never have become involved in slaving,” Severus muttered under his breath. “The Wookiees could have been powerful allies…”
“Indeed, sir.”
The Major sighed. This was all getting far more complicated than he’d intended. Initially, he thought his report advocating the outlawing of slavery had been well received within the Empire, but he had quickly discovered that the individuals whose opinions really counted – Palpatine, Vader and Tarkin – had all but ignored the report. And, of course, with those three against it, he found that suddenly, many others changed their mind and thought slavery was a pretty good idea after all.
“I assume,” said the Major, sighing again. “That the coded message is from Churrrla.”
Zastra nodded.
“Respond using our secondary code and inform him that another shipment will be sent as soon as is feasible.”
“Yes, sir.”
On Board the Siren... Continued
12 Epislon 75
The Siren’s Song, Plateau City Starport
09:54
Arica yawned widely, covering her mouth with the back of her hand as she stretched. As she opened her eyes it took her a moment to remember where she was and she sat up abruptly, surveying her surroundings. The room was unfamiliar but she guessed it must be somewhere on the Siren’s Song since that was the last place she could remember being – sat in the galley eating colegg stew with Daell and Velryn.
Looking around, Arica was surprised to see her dress hanging over the back of a chair. A circumspect peek beneath the sheets confirmed that she was dressed only in her underclothes, a thin cotton camisole and matching pantalets. Arica felt her face redden and she silently prayed that Daell had been the one to get her into such a state of undress – it was bad enough that she wasn’t one of her handmaidens, but at least she was a woman.
Drawing back the covers, Arica shook her head in disbelief. *Was I really so tired I had to be carried to bed? I don’t remember a thing!*
Arica was reminded of a time several years ago on the eve of the Republic Day festival when she’d managed to sneak a glass of bubblezap without anyone noticing. Hiding herself underneath one of the large buffet tables, she’d drank the fizzy liquor with a superior feeling of maturity. It was only the next morning when she awoke, still under the table, with the worst headache of her young life and little memory of the previous night that she’d realised what a mistake she’d made.
“Daell?” Arica called out warily as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She didn’t want to raise her voice too much, especially when she wasn’t sure what time of the morning it was. Shuffling to the edge of the bed, Arica landed her bare feet onto the solid metal floor. All of a sudden she felt quite dizzy and held her head for a moment until the sensation passed. It was cold on board the ship and Arica wrapped the sheet around her shoulders while she waited for the dizziness to subside.
Sliding off the bed, she happened to catch sight of her reflection in a shiny panel of the metal wall. Arica wrinkled up her nose distastefully, her wrists and ankles were circled with sore looking red abrasions from where she’d been tied up and her right cheek was scratched pretty badly. There were also dark smudges of unrest beneath her eyes and Arica noted how much more paler she looked than usual.
Pushing off the floor with her feet, Arica stood up fully. That was when the dizziness returned followed by a weak sort of light-headed feeling. She felt the room roll around her crazily and then realised it wasn’t the room but herself that was reeling.
“Daell?” she called out again, a little louder this time before her knees gave out beneath her and she slumped to the floor in a heap.
Daell’s head shot up as she heard Arica’s shout, followed shortly by the noise of something, or someone falling. She lowered the crate she had been carrying and hurried to Arica’s cabin. Pausing a second before entering, she rapped softly on the metallic door.
“Arica? Are you all right?” She leaned closer to it, but couldn’t hear any sounds. “I’m coming in,” she announced and opened the door.
“Oh my! Dear girl, what happened?” she exclaimed, as the sight of Arica lying in a crumpled heap on the floor greeted her. She ran to the girl, rolling her over so that she could look at her face.
“Corin! Please help me, Arica has fainted!” she shouted, while she gently slapped the unconscious girl, trying to get her to wake up.
In the kitchen preparing breakfast – a little revenge for last night’s colegg – Corin dropped the utensils at Daell’s beckon. It didn’t even occur to him that she had called him by his real name, potentially blowing his cover. He dashed for Arica’s room, making sure to grab the medical kit from where it hung on the wall in the kitchen, and dropped to his knees next to Daell’s side. “What is it? What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Daell answered. “She called and I found her like this, let’s put her on the bed, okay?”
She watched as Corin easily took Arica in his arms and laid her on the bed, she was relieved the girl was already coming to. Daell sat on the edge of the bed and arranged the covers over her body. “Hey, how are you feeling?” she asked and smiled.
As Arica’s vision cleared she became aware of Daell and Velryn both standing over her looking worried.
“Uh… umm,” she raised a hand to her head again, there was already a bump forming on her forehead. “I… I, a little strange,” she mumbled weakly. “I was trying to get up and… I don’t know, I… I felt dizzy and… What happened? Did I fall?”
“Yes, you just had a little slip and took a bump to the head, Arica. Nothing to worry about.” Corin soothed, smoothing some of her hair out of her face. He looked up to Daell. “She’s probably a little dehydrated and starved. Slaver’s aren’t exactly well-known for their good treatment of prisoners. It would best if we didn’t move her for a while, let her regain her strength first.”
“Yes, it’s probably just that,” Daell agreed. She looked at the frightened Arica and smiled again. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better after a taste of Velryn’s breakfast. Or maybe you’d prefer to take a quick bath first?”
Arica hummed a reply that was neither an acceptance nor a denial of Daell’s suggestions. She thought she would feel better after something to eat and a nice warm bath but there was something else praying on her mind.
“What… what time is it?” she asked uncertainly, turning to Velryn though she hardly had the courage to look him in the eyes. She clutched the bed sheet against her scantily clothed body, which suddenly seemed too thin to offer her any real protection. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Captain Moriss yet, to tell him about me?”
“No, not yet,” Corin said, inwardly frowning at the hesitant look in her eyes. Then he realised that, as far as noble upbringing was concerned, she was half-naked. He made sure to maintain eye contact with the girl, assuring her he had no ulterior motives – just as he had, in turn, been taught.
“I was going to go and leave a message after we had eaten-“ *Oh, hell…* His eyes widened and his face went pale. As if he had been attacked by surprise, Corin shot up ramrod straight. “The breakfast!” Darting out of the room Corin ran for the kitchen as if Vader himself and half the Imperial Army were behind him. *There’ll be no living with her after this.*
“Daell!” His voice echoed back through the ship. “Breakfast may be a little longer.”
Daell threw back her head and laughed heartily at this. “Good one, Arica. If I didn’t know you were really ill I’d think you did this on purpose. Now I’ll have a reason to nag him!”
Her eyes twinkled with humour as she looked at the girl, noticing for the first time how Arica was holding the covers to her chest. *How long since I was this innocent?* she asked herself before dismissing the question. Growing up among smugglers in the Spaceport, she really never was. It was a nice change to be with a girl like Arica. *To be with a girl, period.*
“Come on, I’ll lend you some clothes. I don’t think yours can be saved,” she caught a look of confusion in her eyes, and added, “but don’t worry. I have more inconspicuous things than the outfit I was wearing last night.”
Arica let herself be swept up by Daell even though her head was still reeling slightly with that now familiar, washed out dizziness. She wasn’t sure whether Daell would have anything really befitting, certainly nothing her father would approve of but so long as he wasn’t around to find out Arica wouldn’t turn down Daell’s generosity. *Besides, I can hardly walk around in my underclothes all day.*
“Well… okay,” she said trying her best not to sound reluctant as the Twi’lek led her through the Siren to her own quarters with the sound of Velryn cursing from the direction of the galley in the background.
Daell helped Arica enter her cabin, and settled her on a low seat before palming the wall that opened her closet. Daell’s cabin was larger than the passenger ones and her touch was evident in it. A variety of indoors plants, trinkets, and holopics cluttered every surface. The walls were not empty either, but a large slow-motion mirror occupying the wall opposite the bed, showing the sunrise over the Halean Falls, caught the eye.
“Here, I think this’ll fit you,” she said, taking a long garment out of the closet. She presented it in front of her and her eyes took on a dreamy look. The dress was white, made with a gossamer like cloth, and covered her from neck to feet. It was a magnificent dress –a gift from Zayen- and Daell had never worn it after her lover’s death. Somehow it felt just right to offer it to Arica, though.
Arica took the dress, feeling a small amount of guilt at her earlier thoughts. The gown was really beautiful and she could tell from the way that Daell was holding it, with such care and reflective affection, that it must mean a lot to her. It was the same way in which Arica held her mother’s pendant.
“Thank-you,” she said softly, holding the dress up against herself. It did look as though it would fit; Daell wasn’t much taller than herself though her curves were significantly more womanly.
“Are you sure you want me to wear this?” asked Arica quietly, “I mean it looks so… special.”
Daell sighed. “It is. But it belongs to another Daell,” she smiled at Arica. “You’ll give a better use to it, and I know you’ll care for it. I’ll just make sure you don’t encounter any more slavers.”
Taking the dress and laying it on the bed, she led Arica to the small private bathroom. “Take your time, a good long vibro-shower will make wonders to your aching muscles. I’ll be in the galley, but if you need me, just call.”
“Vibro-shower?” mumbled Arica to herself as Daell left her in the bathroom on her own.
She walked up to the funny-looking cubicle; hesitantly shedding her remaining clothes before stepping inside. She had never used such an invention before, mostly because her father had adamantly disapproved of such contraptions declaring them to be as indecent and amoral as the people who used them – especially women.
But Arica didn’t think Daell was capable of being either of those things and so she paid little heed to the past admonitions of her father. He wasn’t always right after all. Arica examined the smooth walls, looking for some way to turn it on. But there were no handles or taps, just a smooth black disk set into one side. Passing her hand across it, a downpour of oscillating water hit her from above. Arica shrieked as she was drenched in a matter of seconds, her skin tingling and her tightened muscles slowly relaxing under the powerful torrent.
Minutes later she was standing infront of a long mirror in Daell’s room. The white dress that she’d given her only slightly swamped her petite frame but Arica could solve that by folding some of the fabric about the waist like a sash and tying it back. That made it a little short, showing a discreet flash of the ruffled edge of her pantalets, but it was better than tripping up at every step.
Arica paused only to pile her damp hair on the top of her head so that it wouldn’t ruin the back of Daell’s dress before she went off in search of the galley and her two new friends. She found them both sat at the kitchen table eating plates of what looked like scrambled Dosso-Bird eggs.
“Daell… Cori- I mean Velryn, I’m sorry,” said Arica, frowning in confusion as she sat down at the table. “I don’t know why I said that, I guess my head’s still a little fuzzy…”
Corin looked up suddenly, sharing a look with Daell. He tensed and had to force himself to relax. *She must have overheard us when she was half-unconscious.* It was no disaster if he managed to cover it up well enough.
“No problem at all, Arica.” Corin said, waving it off. “I’ve seen people with larger bumps on their heads do stranger things than mistake people’s names. There was this one time I-“ He broke of suddenly and chuckled to himself, forking another mouthful of Dosso-Bird egg into his mouth. “No, no, I can’t tell that one in polite company. Certainly not when said company is eating.”
“Humph,” Daell answered, recovering quickly as well. “Nothing abates a Twi’lek’s appetite. We can eat almost everything... even your breakfast!.”
She turned to Arica then, taking in her pretty frame garbed in her dress and smiled. The girl looked beautiful, even if she was shyly twirling her hair with her fingers. “I was right. That dress does look great on you.”
Arica continued to smile timidly, gratefully receiving the plate of food that Velryn slid in front of her. She didn’t say much as they ate, but instead glanced occasionally at her two hosts, enjoying their exchange of playful banter and giggling at their friendly jokes; and feeling for the first time since she’d ventured outside of Bertrayn Palace quite… happy.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Epsilon 75
Nar Shaddaa
23:41
Nar Shaddaa.
The Black Spear approached the grey world, hanging in the backdrop of space. Soaring gracefully between towering city spires, several speeders moved out of the path of the vessel as it came to rest on an open landing pad.
The ramp lowered and Lianna walked down with Captain Garim Moriss, breathing in the familiar, industrial air. “Just like I remember it,” she said with a quick glance back at her companion as he took in the large, steel buildings that jutted upwards from the surface of the Smuggler’s Moon. “Watch your step, Captain,” she said with a grin. “Or you’ll be falling for miles.”
Her armour catching rays of sunlight, Lianna began to walk forward, hair falling behind her in a long braid. She raised her right arm in greeting to the human who walked out on the landing pad to greet them.
“I have another ship coming in,” protested the man angrily. “You cannot land here!”
Putting her arm out to the side, Lianna continued to walk forward, Captain Moriss following behind. The human turned and hurried to keep up with Lianna as she put an arm over his shoulder. A small holodisk appeared in her hand, displaying the image of Jorran Krell.
“My mistake,” whispered the human, before raising his voice. “Of course I’ll take that offer! I’m sure I can always put that other vessel elsewhere.” A large set of double doors opened and the dock owner disappeared.
It was a typical Nar Shadaa promenade, at least for the upper city: doors led into buildings, while a series of catwalks alternately appeared straight or snaked around. A large wide-open area of space, to read even larger interior sections. All one needed was a quick glance over the crowd, the way the people walked and talked, to realise that most of them were on the dodgy path.
“Welcome to Nar Shaddaa,” Lianna said at Captain Moriss’ partly disgusted appraisal of the moon. “Bell Yidic is probably in one of the Hutt-controlled areas in the Refugee Sector, but we’ll have to move quickly if we’re to locate her in time.” Her mind went back to growing up, and her mother explaining to her the people led through the corridors, past the Alcona area in binders: the days’ slaves being taken off to some auction or other.
It took nearly an hour to track down the right information peddler to direct them to where the slave centre had moved to that Bell normally used, and about as much time to actually locate it. The refugee sector was neither pretty nor safe for outsiders. Trash and debris littered the floor, and there appeared to be two classes: the heavily-armed and well fed and the destitute. Outside of one area, a Gamorrean grunted several times before being convinced to let them in.
“We’ll have to wait in here,” Lianna told Garim. “We’ll find a good vantage point, and wait for Bell to show up.”
Garim wasn’t so happy about waiting, the journey to the smuggler’s moon had been hard enough to endure, his dark reverie over Arica only broken by Lianna’s more than welcome small-talk. He followed Lianna as she led the way through the streets to a rather beat up looking cantina though it was certainly an improvement on the rest of the neighbourhood.
Entering, the interior confirmed Garim’s worst suspicions. The patrons, on the whole, appeared to be a rag-tag collection of low-life scoundrels and villains, suggesting that this was a place where deals of the most corrupt kind were made rather than an establishment where one could merely procure refreshment and mind one’s own business.
Ordering a couple of drinks and finding a table that offered both a good view of the doorway while also managing to remain secluded, Garim and Lianna prepared themselves for a long wait.
“So…” said Garim, trying to drag his gaze away from the entrance so as not to look too conspicuous, even though such character traits would look almost normal in such a place. “You know what this Yidic woman looks like then? You’ve had dealings with her in the past?”
“Never – I just have a description of her,” Lianna replied, trying to take stock of the various people that surrounded them. If they were lucky, a fight wouldn’t break out, as might often be the case. Those situations could be deadly, especially if it turned into a more general brawl, or a person was well known.
“But I do know about this place,” Lianna continued, letting a hand drop to rest near her blaster. “We always lived in this sector before one of the Hutts attacked us. Right next to one of the main routes they use to transport people as well.” It was a time she didn’t want to remember. Eventually the faces all blended together, and they became just another part of the background.
Garim felt as though he might have offended Lianna, she seemed kind of distant and almost anxious. He decided to change the subject. “I can bear the thought of Ari- Miss Odari being brought to such a place, I just hope we find this her in time before…” Garim fell silent, finding himself unable to finish his thought.
*So he does feel close to Arica.* Lianna figured from his near-slip at using her first name, something which would count as a serious breach of etiquette. She hoped to find Arica as well; a life of slavery would be no life worth living. “I’m sure we’ll find her.” *If she hasn’t already been sold as a concubine.*
Her voice lowered as memories threatened to return, but this was not the time to get distracted. “That is not a fate to be wished on anyone.”
“She’s just a girl,” said Garim quietly, “I’m her bodyguard, I’m supposed to protect her.”
*Not again,* he pleaded to whatever benevolent force might be listening. *Not after Myklos, please don’t let the same happen to Arica…*
“I’m sorry Lianna,” Garim added swiftly, trying to conceal his morose mood while also occupy his mind with something else. He wouldn’t be helping Arica if he let his own feelings get in the way of him doing his job, already he’d noticed how his temper flared at the thought of her not to mention how impulsive he’d become.
“I’m grateful to you for coming here with me,” he continued, “especially since I get the feeling Nar Shaddaa holds some particularly uncomfortable memories for you.”
Lianna nodded. “I watched as the rest of my clan died around me, the eldest of three children to survive.” She turned away from her observation of the area for a moment, to lock eyes with Garim.
“Promise me something, Garim,” she said, keeping his attention. “Promise me that when your young woman is safe, you will teach her how to protect herself when the need arises.” She felt a form of sympathy for his plight, and knew that this was the best that she could do to help. Nobody, after all, should have to rely completely on others for protection.
“Trying to put me out of a job, Merrol?” chuckled Garim, his smile quickly fading.
“Miss Odari… you don’t understand. She’s an extraordinary girl, very kind and gentle, well-educated. But she’s led a sheltered life, like most noble’s I guess. She’s developed her own way of dealing with the galaxy and I… well I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, well maybe teaching her how to protect herself would just encourage her to take more reckless chances.”
A sheltered life. It was typical of those with the money and influence to hide from things. It was why they needed bodyguards to begin with. She could understand the worry about making her more reckless, but what good was served by keeping her dependent on others to that extent?
“The Alcona believe that sheltering our children does more harm than good. We have to face the galaxy for what it is – a violent, dangerous place.”
Lianna sighed, returning to observing the room. Where was Bell Yidic? “Perhaps she would become more reckless… or perhaps not, if you guide her well.”
“I don’t like to deal in maybe’s,” answered Garim, draining the last of his drink, “and it’s hardly my place to question Miss Odari’s upbringing, or to correct any defects in her character. I’m her bodyguard, Lianna. Nothing more, nothing less.”
But in his own head Garim was less certain. *JUST her bodyguard? Is that really all you are? Weren’t you hoping for more when you kissed her five days ago? Isn’t that why you’re here, on this degenerate lump of rock looking for her? Because she means so much more to you than just another mere charge in your protection…*
“But…” Garim sighed, running a hand through his mussed up hair – the result of a few restless hours sleep on the Black Spear. “Perhaps I could bring the issue to her Uncle’s attention. If he deems it appropriate then I’ll consider it.”
Lianna sighed again; of course her Uncle would likely consider a such a thing unnecessary and beneath her station. That was the way the upper classes thought. Never dirty your hands when you can get someone else to do it for you. Only something else caught her attention, a tall blonde woman. “There,” she pointed to another table.
“Looks like two bodyguards – Rodian and a human.” From their stances, she could tell that they were battle-hardened, but without special training. “You wait here for me – doing this without violence is preferable.” At Garim’s nod, she rose from the table to approach the small group.
Bell Yidic, Lianna thought, looked more determined than some of the other slavers in here. She also appeared to be more annoyed, and wondered as to the exact cause of that. Likely, she was out profit for some reason. “Bell Yidic?” she said when she reached the table. “My name is Lianna – I was told that you were the one to talk to regarding a certain acquisition I wish to make.”
“Weel Lianna,” Bell’s drawling lilt dripped with condescension. She was too irritable to hide her annoyance, not since those two fraks Balkan and Tosh had failed to show up at her ship last night with that pretty little bint she’d promised the Admiral. He’d been less than pleased, calling her all the names under the sun for reneging on their deal. What was more she’d lost out on the $8000 credits he’d promised her, and she’d been pretty certain that upon presenting the Admiral face-to-face with the luscious little sunblossom, he’d have more than doubled his offer to secure the purchase.
Bell turned her back on Lianna for a moment, taking her glass of Corellian Rum from the barkeep before facing the woman again. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of your business before. May I enquire as to who made the recommendation?”
Lianna carefully removed the holodisk given to her by Garim earlier, with the recorded image of Arica. Her main purpose was simple: determine the girl’s status, and if she was still ‘on the market.’ If the latter was a no, the purchaser.
“Jorran Krell of Vorgrell,” she spoke softly. “Perhaps you have heard of him – he works for the Boss.”
With luck, that would tip her off instantly to the level of connection she was dealing with. Assuming that Adair Tullas still had the clout and name recognition. She displayed the image of Arica for Bell’s benefit. “It’s come to our attention that you recently acquired this young lady, and you have the interest of Jorran Krell. I hope she’s still… available.” It made Lianna feel sick to go through with the charade, but she reminded herself that it was necessary.
Bell’s face turned decidedly pale at the mention of Krell, and she quickly swallowed the rest of her drink, trying hard not to cough as the strong liquor almost took her breath away.
“You work for Krell, Jorran Krell?” *Flack.* Bell put her glass down on the bar with a hard clank, staring at the hologram. *Oh fripping jiffies, that girl must have been damn important to warrant this amount of interest, bet I could have got ten times what that cheapjack Mendes was offering. Bet he knew who she was all along…*
“Weel she’s a purdy little girl but I ain’t got no recollection of seeing her. Sorry I can’t help you stranger.”
Shutting off the hologram, Lianna’s expression turned hard and less than amused. If the colour draining from her face was any indication, Bell knew exactly who she was. Denying it now meant that some of her worst fears had happened.
“In other words, you’ve already sold her?” Bell’s expression looked more worried. *Maybe something worse happened. Maybe she got hurt.*
“Some of your people were seen in her company, and you yourself were positively identified at the scene, and my instructions were clear. So, there are two ways to do this now,” she continued, watching her companions for any sign of motion.
Her body dropped into an Echani stance. “You just cost yourself credits; now, you’re avoiding the boss putting a price on your head so big that you won’t be able to set foot in even the Outer Rim.”
“Look, Lianna,” said Bell cautiously, raising her right hand defensively. “I don’t have your precious girl, whoever she is. I wish I HAD sold her, she would have made me a pretty penny but unfortunately the two idiots I had in my employ who were supposed to bring her to my ship never arrived. So far as I know that girl is still on Vorgrell so why don’t you totter off back there to look for her hmmm?”
While Lianna managed to show some measure of control in the face of such scorn, Garim was rather less restrained. The slave trader’s laconic remarks regarding Arica had ignited a fiery rage inside of him that he found impossible to subdue. He jumped up from his seat so swiftly that he almost knocked the table over, charging at Bell Yidic and grabbing hold of her by the hair before slamming her down on the bar execution style. Her two companions moved too late to stop him and Garim removed a small vibro-dagger from the scabbard strapped to his arm, holding it firmly against Bell’s neck.
“Come any closer,” he threatened the two bodyguards, “and I’ll cut her open so quickly you’ll be able to bathe in her blood.”
Turning his attention back to Bell, Garim spoke through gritted teeth, fairly spitting his words in her face. “Listen to me you worthless bludfly, if you don’t show us some measure of respect you’ll wish you’d never set foot on Vorgrell.”
The human had a look about him which said that he was trying to determine if he could pull his weapon on Garim before the latter drove the vibrodagger into Bell’s neck. Lianna’s body reacted before she could think about it, delivering a blow to his throat. Her own blaster came out a moment later, to rest at the Rodian’s head, before stepping closer to Garim.
“Take it easy, Garim,” she resisted hissing in disgust. A chief of security should have more discipline than to allow his feelings to overcome him in such a way. Not that she hadn’t planned on turning on Bell anyway, but to be so carried away, he was as likely to kill her as not.
“Leave us,” she said to the other two, pointing the blaster more squarely at them. For a moment, they seemed to consider their options, then decided that it wasn’t worth it. Eyes turned away from the scene as it seemed to break up; just another business transaction. Lianna placed a hand on Garim’s arm to restrain him, easing the knife back.
Garim slowly replaced his vibro-dagger into its scabbard and took a deep breath, trying to cool his temper. He couldn’t believe how he’d lost it just then, letting his emotions override his sense and discipline. He hadn’t been so out of control since he’d left Naboo in disgrace. Just the thought of how fired up he’d felt, how enraged and volatile filled him with horror.
“Here are your options, Bell,” said Lianna, pushing the woman down into a chair. “You’re going to help us find those ‘two idiots’ of yours, and in return, I’ll give you your life. Refuse, and I’ll collect the Empire’s bounty on your corpse.”
“I don’t know where they are,” spat Bell, glaring at the male who had taken a step back and sheathed his blade. “They were idiots, morons, they couldn’t even handle a little girl. I don’t care what happened to them, they cost me big time. In fact the only benefit to my finding them would be so that I can skin that Bothan’s hide to make a new rug for my parlour.”
Now it was Lianna’s turn to seethe at Bell’s tone. “You cowardly schutta,” she returned viciously, keeping her blaster trained on Bell. “You prey on those who are unable to defend themselves, and bring shame to yourself. But if that is your answer, then so be it.” Lianna swung her blaster’s butt hard into Bell’s head, rendering her unconscious.
“We’ll take her back to the ship,” she told Garim, thinking of Bell’s cowardice in her selection of targets. At the very least, if she was to make slaves, she should focus on warriors. “She’s mine when we find Arica, however. This coward does not deserve the gentle gloves of a Great House.”
Home to Vorgrell
13 Epsilon 75
The Black Spear, en route to Vorgrell
15:22
Bell Yidic was still unconscious when Lianna secured her into one of the converted rooms of the Black Spear. She had searched Bell thoroughly for weapons before deciding to place binders on her arms and legs. It wouldn’t make the slaver comfortable, but then, Lianna wasn’t overly concerned with her comfort.
Once they were in hyperspace, she began to feel safe from a potential reprisal and went to look for Garim Moriss. It was on the observation deck where she found him, watching the movement through hyperspace. Overall, she thought he looked more concerned than before.
“We’ll find her two companions,” Lianna assured him from the entrance. “I’m sure that Arica will be located and returned home in a day or two.”
Garim clenched his fists tightly behind his back, his eyes not so much observing the starfield as looking straight through it into the beyond. “I failed her, Lianna,” he said, his voice blank in an attempt to mask his true emotions right now which could only be described as unstable. “She’s lost out there somewhere and what if I can’t find her?”
*Her upbringing has failed her worse* Lianna thought, though she would not say such a thing. Not now. She could sympathise with Garim’s predicament, however; she had felt much the same when one of the survivors had vanished whom it was her duty to protect. Still, she hoped to offer him some reassurances.
“You will be able to find her,” she said softly, closing the gap between them to stand at his side. “When the Syndicate decides to find someone, they’re found. An independent slaver doesn’t have the resources to hide her for very long.”
“What if she’s dead?” Garim asked solemnly, still staring out into space. He was silent for long minutes before turning to face Lianna. He was suddenly struck by how incredibly beautiful she was and contemplated how much easier things might be if he could be attracted to someone like her, someone who was able to look after themselves.
“You know the statistics, Lianna,” he said rigidly, his mask of indifference slipping away slightly to reveal his inner turmoil. “What’s the likely hood of her still being alive after so long? Five days, Lianna. She’s been missing for five days!”
Lianna did not dare voice her true opinion on that matter. Even among the Alcona, who trained in Echani-based martial arts, young people who went missing this long rarely survived. From what Lianna could surmise; this Arica had none of those skills, in fact she seemed wholly vulnerable.
“You must hold on to hope, Garim,” she said eventually, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder. Lianna observed Garim silently for a moment and as she did she couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t quite right. His façade of neutrality and indifference had been failing for the whole trip, he just did not have the distance that someone who was only a bodyguard usually had.
“You feel very strongly for her, don’. You will find her eventually, and not because it is your duty. It will be because you care about her.”
Garim frowned at Lianna, taking a step back from her. “She is my charge, it’s my duty to care about her. Just like it’s my duty to protect her. If I can’t do one I have no right to expect the other.”
She heard the words and the false conviction behind them, yet his actions betrayed something more. “There is no shame in having stronger feelings for one who you protect - it is, in fact, a mark of respect to care for your charge on more than a professional level.”
“Damn it Lianna do you understand what you’re saying?” Garim said, trying to hold back the bristling emotions bursting to be freed from his heart. “She is a Lady, I’m nothing, a nobody. I work for her House. Such words could have me locked up! Her Uncle is fiercely protective of her, he would never allow Arica- Miss Odari to become… attached, to anybody so, so beneath her.”
“So Ragnar One-Eye once said,” Lianna replied. She felt her heart go out to him, as no matter what he might protest, the feelings would still be there and real. When she saw that he did not recognise the name, she continued.
“King Torias of Beltan III could not control the heart of his daughter. It is said that he won his charge’s love by his kindness and devotion to her. When Torias heard of the affair, he had Ragnar arrested; the two plotted to escape, and it is said that Ragnar fought his way through an entire battalion of troops.”
“All for love,” she concluded, remembering the story with fondness. “Armies, tyrants, even Sith Lords have fallen before its power. Do not deny what you feel to yourself; draw strength from it.”
*All for love…* thought Garim silently, returning his steely gaze to the field of stars that stretched endlessly before them. *And all for nothing if I fail to find her, if I cannot protect her.*
“You saw how I was before,” he said finally. “With Yidic? I could barely control myself. What use am I to her then? If I cannot do my job, if I allow my judgement, my training to become overshadowed because of this… this thing that I feel…”
Garim shook his head and sighed wearily. As always when he was feeling anxious and conflicted, he ran a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s gonna take ten more hours to reach Vorgrell. I’m gonna crash, I think I need the sleep.”
Lianna nodded, standing aside to allow him to pass. She was struck by how tired and haunted Garim appeared. Not at all like a chief of security should, he appeared to be an old man. On the way past, however, she put a hand on his shoulder to stop him briefly.
“Rest well, Garim, and try not to worry too much. I promise you that we will find Arica.”
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
14 Epsilon 75
Corellia, Treasure Ship Row
14:28
Aran was staring at his reflection in the tapcafe’s mirror. His decision to leave his family had been a tough one, but it had been the right one. It’s better this way, he told himself. The Empire won’t find them, Dad’ll make sure of that one. He stared down into his glass of Whyren’s Reserve Corellian Whiskey further contemplating his decision. Don’t linger on it, you’ll give yourself away then someone will come to ask what’s wrong, and you know how you hate conver…
“Hey friend, a credit for your thoughts?” A somewhat overweight tapcafe patron asked with a hand on Aran’s shoulder as he sat down.
…sation. Damn. Just down your drink and leave and give him a smile as you leave. Camoth slugged down the whiskey, “No thanks, besides, I’ve got somewhere to be.” He got up from his stool and tossed the bartender his tab money and headed for the door to collect his weapons. After doing so he stepped outside into the summer sun of Corellia. Hot today, it’s days like these when I wish I was on Mon Calamari, what a nice vacation that was, everyone together…Get it out of your head Camoth, you’ve got work to do.
Aran walked down Treasure Ship Row towards Booster’s little headquarters. He smiled to himself a bit, Hal would kill me if he knew who I was working for now. And that’s just the way I like it. He finally came to the alley leading to the “Office”. Ha, Office, more like run down flat with a few cargo crates and old snub fighter seats for chairs. Aran stepped in front of the door and input his key code to enter.
“State your name and business, please,” a gruff voice came on audio.
“Emperor’s black bones Booster, you know damn well who it is,” Camoth replied.
“Never can be too careful my boy.”
“There’s a fine line between careful and paranoid. I think you’ve crossed it.”
“Careful, you’re not the one who has a button within reach that can activate all sorts of trouble.”
“Yeah, whatever Terrik, just let me in.”
The door opened and Aran stepped through. It was still a dump. When was he going to spend some money and get some luxuries?
“Aran! How are ya?”
“Same as always.”
“That bad, huh?”
Booster sat down behind his makeshift desk. “Son, I’ve got a special assignment for you. There’s a bit of an issue on the planet known as Vorgrell, it used to be free of Imperial involvement. However, for one reason or another, the Imps have taken an interest in it. Like they need a reason. Anyways, I’ve got some interests there, mainly because the Hutts are there, and wherever the Hutts are, I want to cut into their profits. Anyways, I need you to go there and poke around a bit, make sure the Imps don’t take an interest to any of our interests.”
“Vorgrell…That’s in the Outer Rim right?” Camoth asked.
“Not quite, but it’s close enough to where it oughta be. And it’s run down enough too. Being close to Nal Hutta may have something to do with that.”
“Alright then, anything else I should know?”
“Well, there are apparently a few factions among the royal houses, the Osiri, Jay’Vex, and Bertrayn are all Empire friendly. However, the Jay’Vex weren’t too happy about it, I think there could have been something there that the Empire was holding to their heads to get them to cooperate. Their leader, Lara Jay’Vex seemed to be a good person,"
"Seemed, weren't, could have been? Booster, these are all past participles, not very useful information."
"She's believed dead, killed by her own bodyguard, probably because she wasn't happy about Imperial encroachment. The house of Archell is undecided, but they will be leaning against the Empire, seeing as how Corin Archell was recently betrayed by the house of Osiri. The Elencho are pro-Syndicate, they’re crooks, but they don’t have any love for the Imps. It’s pretty volatile, so watch yourself.”
“Always do, Booster.”
“Yeah, like that time on Tatooine,” Booster said with a chuckle.
“Oh come on, that Twi’lek dancer set me up.”
“Never did learn to think with your head, did you?”
“Whatever…” Aran said on his way out.
By the Force I hope this doesn’t turn into another Tatooine. Then again…that was a fun time. He grinned to himself as her remembered the young lady Twi’lek. With that, Aran headed towards the docking bay where his ship, the Black Krayt was held.
First Epic Series (9 May 2005 to 9 November 2005)
12 Epsilon 75
12:38
Valley Floor Apartments, Room 23-B
There were various things Chib could say in praise of Kalla, the Twi-Lek chipgirl from the sabacc den, but at the moment he very much appreciated her taste in bedding-- soft, firm mattress, copious pillows, and sheets with a four-digit thread count. He didn't know what time it was, and didn't much care; he was comfortable for the first time in years. Comfortable and in comfortable company. As much as he'd learned of the Twi-Lek bedroom arts, he realized over the last day or so that there were several tricks he'd never even imagined. The things she could do with those Lekku boggled his sleep-addled mind. He'd slept dreamlessly, a blessing he attributed to the large amount of intoxicants he'd consumed before, during, and after the various courses of evening.
Kalla's small and soft form slid on top of his own, and before he could pry open his eyes, something cold and hard pressed against his throat, and he half-croaked, "Is it that time already?"
Kalla pinned his forehead to the pillow with her free hand, and pressed the vibroshiv a bit closer against the scar across his throat, "You'll keep your mouth shut unless you want me to slice this thing open again! Now, tell me, where's the credstick?"
Chib opened his eyes, regained his bearings, "You need to make up your mind, sweetheart. Do you want me to talk or 'keep my mouth shut'?"
The Twi-Lek shifted her weight, "Don't try to get funny with me, where's the frelling stick?!"
Chib opened his mind, and the only thing he got from Kalla was a mixture of fear and anger. He suddenly felt very serious, "It's safe. I learned a long time ago to never trust a horny Twi-Lek."
For some reason, this didn't help in diffusing Kalla, and a low hum started out of the blade. Chib felt a sharp sting as the shiv sliced shallowly into his skin. The same blend of fear and anger started its way through his blood; his throat had been cut once before, and he'd be damned if it was going to happen again. There didn't seem to be much he could do about it, so he bluffed, "Listen, little girl, you don't know just how far out of your depth you really are here", the blade bit a little deeper has he spoke, and he fought back a wince. The shiv's vibration gave an odd timbre to his voice.
Kalla didn't move, but tightened the grip on his wrist and her shiv, "Tell me where the money is or I'm going to cut your damn throat!"
In desperation, Chib bucked his pelvis up and brought his free left hand in a fist across his assailant's skull. Kalla staggered enough that he was able to free his right arm, but the shiv flew up and opened a deep gash along his jawline. Chib threw himself off the bed, landing in a pile ontop of his boots and trousers. Kalla tensed and pounced at the prone Ryn, and as he put his arms out in defense, the blade sliced across his right forearm. Kalla wrapped her legs around his chest, but before she could bring the blade to bear for another attac, Chib brought his right fist down and forward into her gut. The shock of the strike loosened her grip and he pushed himself away.
The struggle had knocked his boots across the floor, and his dartgun had fallen out its boot holster. Chib threw himself across the room and mananged to palm the gun in his good hand before rolling onto his back. Having recovered her breath after Chib's gut punch, Kalla charged him, shiv raised and ready to impale. Chib raised his right hand and pulled the trigger, the Palm Surprise spoke softly, and Kalla fell, paralyzed, on the floor in front of him.
He stayed put for several minutes-- knees up, back flat, shoulders raised, dartgun aimed at an empty point in the air-- before climbing to his feet. He relieved Kalla of her weapon and pulled the spent dart out of her neck. He used the shiv to slice his attacker's sheets into bandages, dressed his wounds, and got dressed.
An odd impulse pointed him to Kalla's nightstand. He tapped open the top most drawer, scooped out the contents, and ran his fingers across the smooth plasteel on its bottom. There was a shallow chip or scratch near the left side. Chib grabbed the shiv and jabbed the bladetip into the hole. There was a slight click and the false bottom slide up and opened. Inside the compartment was a black, unmarked datastick, which Chib pocketed.
Kalla let out a weak growl as he stepped out the door and began a search for the nearest medbot.
Coming Home
14 Epsilon 75
The Siren’s Song, Plateau City Starport
08:12
Garim paused outside the hulking metal space-freighter. Upon his arrival at Bertrayn Palace much earlier that morning, he’d been relayed a message that had been waiting for him since the afternoon of the 12th – not more than several hours since he’d departed the planet for Nar Shaddaa with Lianna Merrol.
It turned out that Arica was safe and being cared for on board a vessel known as ‘The Siren’s Song’ in Plateau City’s very own Starport, and awaiting his arrival to deliver her into the arms of her guardians. The inauspicious timing of the two events was not lost on Garim. Had the message been delivered earlier or his own journey delayed, so much heartache and anxiety might have been spared them all.
His own worries and concerns back on the deck of the Black Spear filled Garim’s mind. The despair… the pain… he had truly hurt inside at the thought that he had failed Arica, and that his failure might have cost the girl her life. Now all that seemed quite ridiculous and Garim was filled with a certain amount of elation at the thought of seeing his charge returned both safe and well.
The Siren’s improved sensors announced Captain Moriss’ approach as he entered the freighter’s docking bay. Daell leant over the screen and watched the captain walk towards the entrance ramp with a small frown. He had taken long enough to get there, and Arica had been quite worried, even if she refused to go home if it weren’t with this man. She inspected the captain’s appearance before unlocking the ramp, the man looked tired and his handsome features showed signs of strain. Daell felt a little guilty about her earlier thoughts, there probably was a good reason for his delay.
It was just as well that Corin had left the ship; they had agreed that only she should meet the captain. He had been Myklos’ bodyguard after all, and he’d surely recognise Corin upon sight. He may even recognise her, but that didn’t matter, there was no way he could connect her with Zara’s assassination attempt.
After a last look to the screen, the Twi’lek walked towards the entrance hall. Arica was resting in her cabin, Daell thought of calling her after the Captain had entered the ship.
Garim frowned as he saw the Twi’lek woman exit the ship, adopting a slightly impatient pose while she waited for him to near. Coming to a halt at the bottom of the ramp he tilted his head to one side, squinting a little, there was something unerringly familiar about her. Of course many humans were of the opinion that all Twi’leks looked the same except for their disparate skin colours. But despite the full-length yellow boilersuit that she wore, Garim could tell that this particular Twi’lek had a rather unique colouring of blue with orange markings – quite uncommon for her race.
“Lauren?” he asked warily, noticing how the woman seemed to flinch slightly at the name. “Daell Lauren? Is that really you up there?”
Daell tensed for a second, she had thought of the possibility of him recognising her, but for him to remember her name was a surprise. She hadn’t thought the Captain had such good memory. She smiled, then, and nodded.
“Yes, Captain. It’s me. I didn’t think you’d recognise me after all these years. Even less remember my name.”
“It’s not been so long has it?” Garim asked, climbing the ramp to the top where she stood. Remembering Daell Lauren brought back many memories of the years before the Orsiri Coup when he had been bodyguard to the young Myklos Bertrayn. He had spent many hours in the company of the young master and his childhood friends, including the deceased heirs of both the Archell and Orsiri houses. Daell had been there too of course, although he recalled that her presence was often a matter of some secrecy.
“And since you seem to remember me you might also recall that it was my job to be observant.”
Daell smiled. “Indeed. I remember you well also, you were never too far away.”
Her eyes grew misty for a second. She hadn’t thought that seeing Captain Moriss would bring such painful memories to the surface. She had forgotten little of those times with Zayen and his friends. “Those were good times,” she added, before she could control herself. Nostalgia was just too great.
“Yes, they were,” agreed Garim, noticing the look of sadness in the woman’s eyes. “I have to admit though, I didn’t realise you were still on Vorgrell. I guess I just assumed that… after what happened…”
Daell’s face hardened. “I didn’t want to forget what happened. It would follow me wherever I went, so I might as well stay here and face it...” She shrugged, trying to ease the moment. “Although actually I’m not ‘on’ Vorgrell much. I come and go as my business commands. I’m in the chartering business now.”
“Apart from when you’re rescuing young noble girls from slave bandits?” said Garim with a grin. At Daell’s confused expression he continued.
“Just a theory and correct me if I’m wrong, but that is what happened right? You intercepted two slavers as they were transporting Miss Odari-Mosora to the docking bay. Unfortunately I was under the assumption that they’d succeeded in shipping her to Nar Shaddaa – which is where I’ve been for the past two days tracking down the ring leader.”
“So that’s what kept you from coming earlier. No wonder. And yes, that’s exactly what happened. Those two... slavers,” Daell almost spat the word, “were carrying her as cattle and I just couldn’t stand it.”
Daell smiled as she led the Captain into the ship towards the passenger’s area. “Arica was all right, fortunately. Just hungry and tired, she’s had time to recover since she got here. She’s still sleeping, actually.”
“I didn’t realise how early it was,” said Garim as he checked his wristwatch, “I only received the message a few hours ago, I came here directly.”
As they sat themselves on the Conform-lounge furniture of the passenger’s area Garim had to calm the sense of urgency he felt at needing to see Arica for himself. He suddenly realised that they had never been separated for so long before, not in the two years since she had arrived on Vorgrell. He missed her. It was as simple as that, he missed hearing her laughter in the adjoining rooms, or watching her expressive face as she read her latest novel.
Unfastening one of his pockets, Garim removed a data chip, holding it in his hand. “I don’t know if you were aware of this, but Baron Bertrayn was offering a substantial reward for the safe return of his niece.”
He held the data chip out towards Daell, “I think in light of what you’ve done, you more than deserve this. I only wish that the amount could equal the value of your bravery and kindness. Miss Odari-Mosora is very much loved by her family and they wish for me to express their deepest gratitude.”
*Is she?* Daell thought as she looked at the credit chip on Moriss’ extended hand. *Then why did she need to go out to get money?* Instead she smiled and denied with her head. “I didn’t do it for the money, Captain. Arica is a sweet girl, and now that I know her I’m more than glad to have helped her. But I’d have done the same for a simple housemaid. Nobody deserves to be a slave.”
She looked into his eyes, “please, I’d prefer not to be connected with Arica’s rescue. I’m sure you can think of something to protect my privacy.”
“It is a rare thing indeed to meet someone of your integrity,” said Garim as he closed his fingers around the data chip somewhat reluctantly. “Especially since the freighter business can hardly have been lucrative this past week, what with the flight ban and your accommodating Miss Odari-Mosora. At least allow me to compensate you for any losses you may have incurred.”
Daell chuckled, “it hasn’t been a good week, I grant you that, and I do need to work. Just try to remember my name when somebody needs a ship, okay?”
“But I’m sure you want to see Arica for yourself, I’ll go wake her up.” She stood up and smiled at him again. “It’s been nice seeing you again, Captain.”
But in her room Arica had already awoken. She stretched her legs and pushed back the sheets just as Daell knocked softly against the door, barely loud enough to waken anyone – which was probably why she decided to enter despite receiving no reply.
Arica only had to look at the Twi’lek’s face to know why she had come for her so early in the morning. “He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked, hardly able to keep the smile from her face.
Daell smiled herself; she had already guessed at the true motives behind Arica’s request for her bodyguard. She just hoped the girl was luckier than she had been in her attempts to break class boundaries in love. She sat at the border of the bed and nodded.
“Yes, he’s here. He thought you had been taken to Nar Shadaa and went there to rescue you, no wonder he took so long.” Daell laughed as the girl almost jumped off the bed. “Take it easy, he’s not going anywhere now that he’s found you.”
Arica smiled again though her cheeks also reddened in embarrassment. She knew that she must be entirely transparent in her feelings for Garim Moriss but she couldn’t help it. Though she had long ago learnt how to disguise her emotions into something less obvious when in public, Arica had never before experienced the kind of feelings she was now enduring.
Picking up the length of gauzy material that was the dress Daell had loaned her, Arica quickly slipped it on over her head. “Nar Shaddaa?” she exclaimed while fastening the dress and tying up the length again, though considerably neater than before so that it didn’t reveal so much of her ankles.
Arica suddenly whirled around to face Daell, real worry in her dark brown eyes. “Is he terribly angry with me for causing him so much trouble? He is, isn’t he? T-that’s why he sent you here to-“
“-He isn’t. He’s just relieved and happy that you’re all right.” Daell said firmly, taking Arica’s shoulders and making her stop moving. “You have to control yourself, girl. I can see the love in your eyes, you have to take care.”
Arica felt a sinking feeling take over inside and her smile faded slightly. Daell had seen through her rather flimsy attempts to disguise her feelings but it was her response that puzzled her the most.
“I know about love,” she said hesitantly, “I’ve read about it in a thousand books, but I never expected it to feel like this. But I’m ready for it Daell,” said Arica with determination. “After all these years I know I’m ready.”
“That’s not what I meant, I know you’re ready. It’s just...” Daell sighed, her lekku tensing in frustration. She didn’t know how to broach the topic, so she decided to be blunt about it. “It’s just that he’s not of your social class, and such unions aren’t often well received.”
She lifted her hand to stop Arica’s protestations, and took her hands in hers, sitting down again with the girl at her side. Daell’s heart went out to Arica, she could very much identify with the girl’s pledge. It wasn’t so different from what hers had been, and that had hardly ended well. She just didn’t want Arica to suffer as she had. In the few days that she’d been on the Siren, the girl had grown on her considerably.
“Please, don’t get me wrong. I don’t care about breeding, or politics, or fortunes ... but most of the world does. If you love this man as much as I think you do, you’ll have to be careful. I’m not saying you should give up on him, just try to have a level head. Plan your movements, think ahead. You can’t go on displaying your emotions like this.”
“Arica, you know better than me how restrictive your class can be, how selfish... sometimes the most beautiful thing can end in the most terrible way...” Daell’s voice almost broke, and she averted her eyes before going on. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
Arica was quiet for a while, not really knowing what to say. She could tell that Daell was upset and not just because she was concerned for her future happiness. Arica placed a hand on the back of the Twi’lek’s shoulder gently.
“Well I… I admit that I, I am a little concerned. But Captain Moriss truly is the best kind of man I’ve ever met, so brave and good and noble. I don’t see how he could be considered unworthy, and besides, my father has only ever wanted me to be happy and Captain Moriss makes me happier than I’ve ever been before in my life.”
“Oh Daell, he kissed me,” Arica confessed shyly, “and it was so wonderful, I’ve never felt anything like it!”
Rising from the bed with such obvious gaiety, Arica fairly danced over to the long mirror and smoothed out the fabric of her dress. “I know there are bound to be complications because of who we are,” she admitted as she turned her attention to her hair, turning this way and that while trying to sort the pile of messy curls into something more becoming. “But how can anything come between two people if they truly and honestly care for one another?”
Oh, she was so young, so naïve and full of life! So optimistic. Daell could think of a thousand things that could come between Arica and her captain, but she didn’t want to sound like a bitter old woman. She stood up and took Arica’s rich brown hair in her hands, combing it with her fingers.
“There. It looks just perfect when you let it down like this. I’ll give you one of my headpieces to keep it from your face and he’ll never see you more beautiful.”
In an impulse, she quickly hugged Arica and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I really hope things work for you two, you deserve to be happy. Just remember what I told you.”
“Thank-you so much for everything Daell,” whispered Arica gently as she received her spontaneous embrace and wrapped her own arms around the Twi’lek, returning her hug.
“Please tell Velryn that I’m sorry I missed him and… and… Daell? Will… will you promise to come and see me at the palace sometime?” she asked anxiously as they parted, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be allowed out again after all this and I’d so like us to keep in touch.”
“Nonsense, Arica. Your uncle won’t have you imprisoned in that palace, he’ll just insist you go out with an escort, as is proper.” She smiled at the younger woman. “We’ll see each other again, I promise you that... and if you ever need me, well, you know where to find me.”
Arica nodded although she wasn’t entirely sure that her uncle wouldn’t have some kind of punishment waiting for her upon their return. “Well then…” she said softly, clapping her hands together with a sense of resignation. “I guess it’s time…”
As the two women returned to the passenger area, Garim swiftly rose to his feet and bowed dutifully with one arm tucked behind his back.
“Miss Odari-Mosora,” he said with distinct politeness, straightening up to his normal height. “You look well. Are you ready to return home?”
Arica dipped her head in a slight nod of assent, stealing a glance in Daell’s direction. “Yes Captain Moriss, I believe I am.”
Oldrak's Punishment of Arica
14 Epsilon 75
Oldrak Bertayn’s Study, Betrayn Palace – Plateau City
16:37
“…and furthermore, there’s the matter of your consorting with these lowlifes! A common freighter captain and her crew are not the kind of company a young woman of your social standing should be associating with…”
Though she felt a desperate need to defend Daell and Velryn, Arica barely dared to raise her voice. Uncle Oldrak had waited patiently since she’d arrived home, allowing her enough time to freshen up and get a change of clothing before he’d summoned her to his study. There had been no doubt in Arica’s mind as to the purpose of this discourse and Uncle Oldrak had not proven her mind to be wrong.
“Thank the Empire, Captain Moriss was able to locate you without rousing too much public interest. If those holoshill’s at NewsGrid 42 ever found out about this you can wager that your good name, and mine too I shouldn’t doubt, would be plastered all across the HoloNet for the whole galaxy to hear about!”
Oldrak was pacing now, walking back and forth across a large, intricately woven floor-covering and despite her ongoing chastisement, Arica found it difficult not to let her mind wander into fantasising about how many years of pacing it would take to wear a path into the weaving.
“A laughing stock, a joke, is that what you would make of me, child?” snapped Oldrak, the force of his voice abruptly shattering Arica’s flight of fancy. The angular lines of his jaw had hardened and his eyes had grown even more steely than usual.
Oldrak clasped his hands together firmly as he paced, suddenly coming to a halt and turning on his heel to face Arica. “Would you ruin everything that my family and I have ever worked for? This way of life that thousands would envy but silly little girls like you seem to take for granted.”
Arica bit her lower lip tearfully and bowed her head with measured respect, willing to accept her uncle's censure. He was trying to make her break down and cry. Arica knew because he’d done it before, what she could never figure out was why he did it.
"…it’s not enough that you come wandering home with some weird Twi’lek head garb in your hair for all to see, dressed in… well I don’t know what you’d call that thing you had the indecency to wrap yourself in…”
Her father had made her cry when she was little and did naughty things, like reading books that he’d marked as ‘inappropriate’ or ignoring her studies in favour of, what he’d called, ‘frivolous pursuits’. When Arica broke down into tears he’d send her to her room to think about what she’d done and hours later, as she lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, he would peek in at her door, kiss her forehead and say that they were all friends again before wishing her pleasant dreams.
But Uncle Oldrak… whenever he succeeded in making her cry he would immediately wrap his arms around her trembling shoulders and draw her close in a comforting embrace, letting her sob against his chest. And just like in his penchant for letting down her hair, Arica couldn’t help but feel that her Uncle took some kind of pleasure in his concurrent roles as both disciplinarian and emotional succour.
“…and frankly,” continued Oldrak, turning from his niece and resuming his even pacing, “I’m more than a little disappointed in you. To take it upon yourself to go out into the city unaccompanied for ANY reason is wholly insensible! I don't know what's gotten into you lately, I really don't!"
"I'm sorry, Uncle," Arica said, not for the first time that afternoon. "You're right, I-I was foolish a-and reckless. If it hadn't been for… Captain Moriss, I don't know what would have become of me..."
Garim had told Arica, upon leaving the Siren’s Song, that they were to divulge as little as possible in regards to Daell and Velryn. Though Arica had wanted them to be attributed to her rescue, she hadn’t argued, if they wanted to retain their anonymity then she was glad to oblige – it was the very least that she could do after all.
"I’ll tell you what would have become of you,” Oldrak retorted hotly, entirely aware of the increasing distress that he was putting his niece in. “You'd have been sold off to the highest bidder then who knows what would have become of you! Probably spending the rest of your life as a slave to some Huttspawn!"
“I am sorry uncle!” insisted Arica desperately, throwing herself to her knees before him. “I promise you I’ll never do anything like this again! I only want to make you proud of me, to have your good opinion. Please don’t send me back to Coruscant!”
Oldrak took a deep breath and nodded his head as though satisfied that he’d gotten through to her. He placed a paternal hand upon her head, stroking her hair back gently.
Sometimes he thought that perhaps Arica was too young to bear the responsibility of being his wife, just as he often wondered whether he was too old to fulfil her needs as a husband. It was a loathsome question for Oldrak because there was no denying that Arica was terribly young, maybe TOO young. But then there was no doubt in his mind that he could provide very well for her and give her everything that she could ever want. He could make Arica happy, he was sure of that also. They got along exceedingly well together and in many respects they were quite well suited despite the age gap. Besides, some young women preferred an older, more experienced man - someone who could take them by the hand and lead them through life and take care of them. It was true that Arica had an independent streak, a love for adventure, but she was also a delicate little flower that needed sheltering and protecting from the harshities of the galaxy.
"I know you've been through a terrible ordeal,” he soothed gently, tilting Arica’s pretty face up to look at him, “and some might say that you've already learnt your lesson... but I'm afraid you must also be punished for disobeying the rules of the house. You were told you must not leave the palace without an escort and you wilfully flouted that directive."
Arica’s eyelids dipped with self-reproach. "I really am very sorry, Uncle. I never meant to cause you such trouble and I'm willing to accept any punishment you think necessary."
"Very well," Oldrak sighed; it was hard to measure out discipline when the person in question had no objections to it. His own son Myklos would have insisted that he'd learnt his lesson and begged to be spared from any further castigation. Then, when given a punishment he would do his best to evade it, or complain so much that Oldrak would just cave in and let him be.
But Arica was completely different. Oldrak guessed it was the product of Morden's strict upbringing that she was used to obeying her elders and more importantly, never even thought to complain about it.
"You are hereby confined to the palace, and that means no walks in the grounds either. You are to stay within the palace walls at all times. Furthermore, I'll be removing the books from all your rooms; there shall be no more reading, instead I want you to practice your Electroharp. Zara Orsiri will be having a banquet in honour of an important guest to which we have been invited, and I want you to play a flawless rendering of "Oh, Glorious Empire!" for all to enjoy. It shall be your way of letting me know just how sorry you are. If all this is to my satisfaction we'll review your punishment."
Arica remained silent while inside she felt choked at the thought of being separated from her beloved books. And how long would this punishment last? Days? Weeks? Months? How could she last any amount of time without a book to lose herself in and only the Electroharp to keep her occupied?
“Does that seem fair?” Oldrak asked when his niece’s silence became noticeably protracted.
Arica nodded quietly, “yes Uncle, more than fair.”
“Good.” Oldrak helped her to her feet and turned his cheek to allow Arica to kiss it in assent to their agreement. As her soft, child-like lips brushed against his skin he couldn’t help but shiver inwardly with pleasure. He smiled and walked with his niece to the door. “I shall see you at dinner.”
Arica dipped her head in agreement, standing in the doorway. “Yes uncle.”