# Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba



## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

Once again.  This time I'm going to try and finish this thing.

_Prologue:_

Kalarba City burned when Alexi Ak'Heleth took the throne.

He watched the fires below and each one broke his heart.  He knew that each one was another family dead or out in the cold.  He knew the scars that he was forcing on his people.  And he knew that he was the cause of it all, that he had broken his home and the thousand-year peace that his ancestors forged after generations of war.

A soft rain fell about the palace.  It was the beginning of the new season, the season the Witches called "the Undoing."  It was the day of coronation for the new King, where Crown Prince Arthur Denfrey of House Indobok was to rise to power.  It was the culmination of years of planning and prophecy.  It was the night Alexi's father died by his own hand.

It was as good a time as any for violence.

A dark shape stirred in the shadows behind the throne.  It stepped out into the dim light coming from the open terrace.

"You have done good," it said in the mother's voice.

"Many will not see it that way," Alexi replied.

"They may not.  And yet... in time, martyrs are forgotten."  This time the crone spoke.

"They do not forget themselves."

"They will remember their young."  The maiden, now.

"I will not forget."

"And this is the price you must pay."  The crone again.  "If you stay true to yourself, you will feel many pains.  But better this than the alternative."

Alexi nodded in the dark.

A door opened somewhere.  A thin man walked in.  He bore the uniform of an Imperial Governor and wore the ribbons of a Moff.

"My troops are securing the outlying cities.  From here to the Great Sea we have control.  Before the night is out, the planet will be ours."

"The Prince has escaped," Alexi said without turning.

The thin man waited for a moment, then anger crossed his face.  "You were to capture him."

"I will.  In time."

"If you had let my storm troopers into the city..."

"You overstep your bounds!" It was Alexi's turn at anger.  "Your Imperial troops are not to enter the City.  This is my planet, Darksun."

"Of course."  Darksun's thin lips stretched into a smile.  He bowed and left Alexi alone in the shadows.

What have I done? he wondered.  He knew - he had to know - that he had done the right thing.  The Witches of Tharen had raised him for this.  He trusted them.  He knew that Crown Prince Denfrey was weak willed and supported the wrong side in the Civil War.  He had studied the Dark Prophecy and knew that it must not come to pass.  And he knew, just as surely, that he had damned his soul.


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

_Background:_

Arthur Denfrey, the Crown Prince of the world of Kalarba, flees the royal palace, his home, his people, and his duties in a single night of flames.  Alexi, Arthur's shadow and Prince-despot of one of Kalarba's two ruling houses, capitalizes on fears of weak leadership from the young and spoiled Crown Prince Denfrey and his pro-rebellion leanings.  Alexi seizes control of their planet in a brutal purge and sides with the Empire.  It is a task that the Witches Coven of Mount Tharen have trained him for all his life.  

The Witches Coven possess forbidden knowledge of a dark prophecy that holds all life on Kalarba in its clutches, and only they have the foresight to battle the coming storm.  Their only weapon - Alexi Ak'Heleth.  

Alexi rules the planet with an iron fist alongside the Imperial Governor, Moff Darksun.  Darksun is tasked by the Emperor to wrest real power from Alexi and turn the rogue Dark-Force user to Imperial control.  These are among his hidden schemes...

Til-Gon, an eccentric and unorthodox Jedi dispatched to explore mysteries of lost civilizations beyond the outer rim, escapes the Jedi purges by crashing his library-ship on the uncharted world of Dathomir.  After repairing his vessel with the help of the force-sensitive youth Feyd, the Jedi Master spends five years training his faithful student on an ancient base hidden in the midst of an asteroid field.  Feeling a tremor in the force, Til-Gon sends his student out into the world, charging him with the task of finding Arthur Denfrey, deposed Prince of Kalarba, and bringing him back to study the Force.

Meanwhile, Arthur Denfrey and his life-long friend Troy Chance, a scoundrel with a penchant for gaming, flee from port-to-port from the Imperial-backed forces of Alexi Ak'Heleth...



```
[color=white]
Kalarba : A terrestrial planet in the remote Kalarba 
system, Kalarba is orbited by the moons Hosk and Indobok. Sites on the 
planet include Kalarba City, the Great Sea, and the Three Peaks
of Tharen - a revered symbol of the spirit. Animal life on the planet 
includes the flying Vynock. 

This is the homeworld of Alexi Ak'Heleth, Prince Despot of Kalarba's two 
families.  With support from the empire, he led his family in a
violent overthrow of the proper King.  Without the aid of the Dark
Side of the Force, which Alexi has become a student of, his victory
would not have been realized.

The two families, the Hosk and Indobok, have been peaceful for over
a thousand generations.  They take turns ruling the planet; when the 
eldest of the ruling family passes beyond a certain age (or 
dies), the eldest of the other family takes the throne.

Other Planets:

South Quadrant: 
Quence - Whitecastle, home of superstar Crystal Angel. 
       - Elshandrau Pica - Sector capital and entertainment world.
Parmic - Sorotarr/Socarro VI, gambling planet & home of Conrad 'Jet' Black 
         and the Casino Royale
         Boonta - Home of the Boonta Eve, a famous swoop racing track.
         Taul - location of blockaded world and water delivery site.
         Shownar - spired planet, rich black market.
Fakir - Sarnikken Asteroid Field - Home of the Jedi Master Til'Gon. 
	Alabesh - TransGal Meg mining operation.  Run by Egus Glotto.
Dalchon - Geedon V - Home of Reaper Jones' pirate base.
Plooriod Cluster - Berrol's Donn - Main resistance for Quadrant.
		 - Ploorad - Capital of sector and home to Techno-Mages and Gulguthra.
		 - Imperial deep dock L-51 - An Imperial maintance shipyards. 
Mortex - Refax - location of Imperial comm post
         Fangel - location of Rebel Fang Base.
Rondeau - Kalarba - Home of Alexi Ak'Eleth.  
	- Norvall II - Home of Lady Brooke Ashby & the best pilots in the Galaxy.
	- Borgo Prime - Seedy space centre in asteroid & HS tranfer point.
Portmoak - Russ VII - Super industrial planet, heavily polluted.

North Quadrant: 
Jurvex - Trenwyth, ruins of a great civilization known only as the "old ones."

East Quadrant: 
Atrivis - Cilpar, dozens of ancient temples.  
Rifken - Criton's Point - The Imperial run library of Xer and vast, ancient ruins.
```
[/color]


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

*Act One: Heroes of Kalarba*

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . . 

_A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop for the main title.  War drums echo through the heavens as a roll-up slowly crawls into infinity._

*STAR WARS*

Episode I: Heroes of Kalarba

After giving the forces of Alexi Ak'Heleth the slip, Arthur Denfrey and Troy Chance take a well-deserved rest at the Casino Royale on Socarro VI, a favourite getaway spot of theirs.  Little do they know that Alexi has caught their trail.  As Arthur and Troy drink and gamble and whore, Alexi's fleet races through hyperspace...

The young Jedi Padawan Feyd arrives at the Casino on the orders of his master.  It is the backwater teen's first sight of the splendours of the galaxy.  He approaches the Casino entrance, unsure how to handle himself, with his master's old astromech droid, R2-FU.  At the "suggestion" of the bouncer, Feyd leaves the droid-rot ridden R2 unit behind.  The bouncer lets Feyd into the casino, where Feyd allows the Force to guide him to Arthur.

In the Casino, Feyd is led to a shifty looking man hunched over the bar.  Feyd knows this must be Arthur; he can feel the Force within him.  Unsure how to introduce himself, Feyd offers to buy a round of drinks.  Feyd gets his first strange look when he orders a fizzyglug - a kid's drink - for himself; he gets another when he tries to pay with his fortune of old Republic credits.  The bartender informs Feyd that they "aren't worth a litre of bantha swill".  Arthur, suspicious as ever, decides to "play the brother" and pays for the drinks.

"Your name is Arthur Denfrey," Feyd states.

"Uh... no it's not.  Who told you that?"  Arthur replies.

"The Force of Others tells me.  And my master, Til-Gon."

"O-kay, kid.  You sure that's fizzyglug you're drinking?"

"I'm come here to take you back to my master's hidden base, to train you in the ways of the Force."

Arthur looks the backwater kid up and down.  With his strange accent, his odd, tacky Republic clothes, and the strange device hanging from his belt, Arthur decides that Troy is going to get a kick out of this.  "Sure, kid.  Let's hear what these 'Forceful Others' are telling you."  Arthur leads Feyd back to Troy, who is in a game of daatichi, hoping his smooth friend will be able to fleece Feyd out of everything he's got.

Troy and Arthur work over the naive Padawan.  After a couple of minutes, Troy realizes that Feyd probably doesn't have anything valuable on him.  "Get lost, kid.  Go back to your mommy."

Suddenly, Feyd feels a ripple crash through the Force.  Feyd and Arthur turn to look down at the Casino entrance.

A man dressed in a flowing black cape enters the Casino... it is Alexi!  Stormtroopers appear at all the exits.  Two of them at the nearest one (Troy always sits near the back door) menace the nearby tables with their blasters.  Feyd and Arthur have a strange sensation, like some great hand was reaching into each one of them, in a moment that lasts forever.  Arthur recognizes the prying of Alexi's mind; Feyd, feeling the touch and the seductive power of the Dark Side for the first time, feels a strange familiarity with Alexi.

Alexi snaps his head and makes eye contact with Feyd.  He points at them across the distance of the Casino floor, shouts out some orders, and wills his lightsabre into his hand.

"That's our cue," Troy says, knocking over the daatichi table.  A small holdout blaster appears in his hand, and he catches one of the troopers by surprise, blasting it in the face.  His blaster lets out a thin wisp of smoke; Troy hopes it has enough juice for another bolt.  Arthur pulls his blaster out of its holster and ducks behind the table.

They both look over at Feyd when he ignites his lightsabre with a hum.

The stormtrooper fires a bolt through the table and catches Arthur on the shoulder; Arthur grimaces through the pain and tries to return fire.  His aim is far off.  Feyd leaps over the table and swings at the stormtrooper.  The trooper, not expecting this, throws his hand up; to Feyd's surprise, the lightsabre jars the trooper but does not cut through his armour.

Troy pops out from behind the table and blasts the trooper.  It goes down in a heap.

"Hokey weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side, kid."  Troy looks at the smoking remains of his burnt out hold-out blaster, and picks up the trooper's rifle.  He'll have to get another hold-out made.

The three of them rush to Arthur's beaten up old freighter, Bessie.  R2-FU is waiting there for them.  Troy and Arthur gladly accept the old droid and the kid following them.

Patrolling TIE fighters swoop down and chase Bessie as it flies off planet.  Troy mans the ship's turreted blasters and does a fair job of keeping the fighters off their backs.  R2-FU, plugged into Bessie's main nav computer, begins plotting the quickest astrogation route out of system.  Bessie manages to warble a cry of disgust when she comes into contact with R2-FU's strange form of droid rot, but Arthur is too busy to notice, dodging the blaster fire of the TIEs.

Once they reach the safety of space, Arthur kicks in the hyperdrive and they leave the TIE fighters, Alexi, and the Dark Side of the Force behind them.

_[The players freaked out when Alexi first showed up... they thought it was Vader at first!  It was the first game with a new group, so they didn't know how I would run the game.

Oh yeah, this was all I had planned for the night, since I didn't know who was going to play or what type of characters they were going to have.  So the rest of it was on-the-fly.]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

Landing on the corporate world of Vesanto comes none too quickly for Arthur and Troy, having to constantly turn down Feyd's offer of asylum on his master Til-Gon's hidden asteroid base.  Arthur begins repairs on Bessie, mostly fried stabilizers and burnt-out power coils.  Arthur is in his element here, looking forward to the hours of work that lie ahead of him.  It calms him down, takes his thoughts away from Alexi, Kalarba, and his royal title.

Troy, however, gets bored with the whole idea of work.

"Hey kid," he says to Feyd, "ever been to a strip club?"

"I don't think so."

"Good, you'll enjoy this."

Feyd and Troy head to a local strip bar.  On the different stages, real women dance and sway with obscene holograms of varying quality.  Feyd is appalled but strangely enticed.  The bright lights of Vesanto's holo-culture are almost too much to handle.  Luckily, he can focus his attention on the beautiful women dancing naked for him.

Troy picks a seat near the back door and buys a pair of drinks.  A large rust coloured caterpillar-like alien is sitting at a booth nearby.  Playing cards are laid out before him, but he's focusing his attention on the two strippers giving him a private show.  Troy smiles and takes a drink.

"What's this?" Feyd asks Troy.

"It's good."

Feyd takes a drink.  "Strange taste, but not unpleasant."  He chugs it down.

"That's more like it."  Troy pulls out some cash and waves over a waitress, stuffing some of it in her skimpy clothes.  "Keep this kid drinking, and there'll be more for you."  The waitress smiles, and a flicker runs through her; Troy starts, realizing he's talking to a service droid overlaid with a hologram.  At least it's a nice looking hologram.

"Hang on here, kid, I'll be back."  Troy leaves Feyd staring at the dancing women and introduces himself to the alien nearby.  In a moment he had the alien laughing, and Troy was invited into a game.  A few hours later, the alien was cursing the smooth-talking Troy and the money that just changed hands.

"Not a good idea," one of the better-looking strippers says to Troy.

"Hmm?"

"Robbing Big Quince like that.  He's connected around here, you know?"

"You're a good dancer, you know?"  Troy slips her some cash with writing on it.  "Here's where we're docked.  Come by when you're off.  Bring a friend."  Troy pauses, looks over at Feyd, and slips her more of Big Quince's cash.  "Bring two friends."  The stripper smiles and walks off, rubbing up against Troy as she does.

Troy collects Feyd from the table, now littered with empty drinks, and the two of them leave for Bessie.

"So, what do you think of strip clubs?"

"I think that master Til-Gon would say they are a way for the Force's more... uh, attractive creatures to reveal their inner beauties.  Til-Gon teaches me that those strong in the Force can express themselves in many ways."

"Glad you enjoyed it, kid."

"I think there was something in those drinks... I don't feel too good."  Feyd staggers over to the gutter and reveals to Troy just what a Jedi Padawan's diet looks like.

[I love my good old drinking rules.  Feyd's player wasn't rolling too good that night.]

Back at the ship, they find Arthur relaxing in a lounge chair with a cooler full of dantic.  "The stabilizers are still out, but I won't be able to fix them until I can buy the right parts."

"That's good," Troy answers.  He sits next to Arthur and grabs some dantic.  Feyd wanders into the ship, looking for a place to die.

"What d'ya do to him?"

"Took him to a strip club.  We're going to have some company later."

"Sounds good."  Arthur leaned back and the two friends stared off into the holographic sunset.

--- Star Wars ---

A few hours later, the sun down and the holographic ads out lighting up the sky, three young women show up.  What they're wearing doesn't make so much of a statement as what they aren't wearing.

"Glad you could make it," Troy says.

"Where's your other friend?" One of the women asks.  Troy doesn't recognize her.

"He's up in the ship," Troy answers.  "Come on, I'll show you girls around."

After a few communal drinks, everyone pairs off.  Feyd, already having pissed his wits away, strikes up a conversation with the stripper talking to him on the only subject he really cares about.

"The Force of Others is all around us, running through us.  I can feel it passing through me, around me."

"You're really spiritual."

"Spirit is what binds the galaxy together, not the simple flesh."

"I'd like to feel the force of your flesh."

Feyd goes red with embarrassment.  "Uh... I..."  His face goes from red to green in an instant.

"Are you okay?"

"As long as the Force is with me I will always be."

"O-kay... maybe you should have a drink of water."

"The Force can cleanse the body of all impurities.  I just meditate and out they go.  Bwwwp!  Just like that.  Heh heh."  Feyd begins to hum a rare Jedi mantra.

"You're really hooked on this force , aren't you."

"My master says - urk!"  Feyd's eyes flash open and he tries to hold back the last few drinks he's had.  He doesn't succeed.

The stripper jumps up, not an easy thing to do considering the size and cut of her skirt.  "You little bastard, you almost puked on me!"

Arthur pops his head into the cabin.  "We're going to head into the city.  You guys want to come?"

Feyd vomits again.

"Feyd, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Cleansing the body?"

"You better have this mess cleaned up when I get back."  Arthur and the stripper leave Feyd alone in the dark with his Jedi ritual.

--- Star Wars ---

"Where did you find that messed up guy back there?" Feyd's stripper says between sips of a smoking drink.  The nightclub's lights pulse against her body.  

"At the Casino Royale, on Sacarro six," Arthur says, raising his voice to sound regal above the pounding beat of the music that fills the place.

"Casino Royale?" the other girl asks.  "I heard that place is pretty high-rolling.  What were you doing there?"

Arthur leans back, filling up with confidence.  "Oh, the typical," he says, trying to act cool.  "They know us pretty well there."

"Why?  Who are you?"

"I'm actually the crown prince of Kalarba."

"And you still fly that piece of  out there?  Whatever, buddy."

Arthur feels the confidence leaving him.  He takes another drink.  "No, really.  I swear.  It's just that we're being hunted right now - lost the throne in a bloody coup."

"Really?"  The two strippers share a knowing look.

"Oh yeah," Arthur says, and proceeds to tell the two women his life story.  Not once does he pick up on the greedy look in their eyes, nor does he realize he might just be giving a little too much away about himself.  The more he talks, the more he drinks, and the larger his story gets.  When he's finished, he feels full of confidence and courage, both real and liquid.

"You guys want to head back to the ship now?"  Arthur asks.

"Oh yeah," they say, smiling at each other.  "Just let us fix ourselves up.  We'll be back in a second."

"No sweat," Arthur says, smiling and waving to them as they walk away.  It takes him a full hour to realize that they ain't coming back.

Dejected, rejected, and depressed, Arthur stumbles back to Bessie in a drunken haze.  He passes out as soon as his face hits the pillow, and soon the whole night is forgotten.


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

Morning breaks over the Vesanto skyline along with the standard holographic advertisements, daily news, and entertainment features.  Arthur is the first to wake.  Peeling himself off his bed, still dressed in last night's clothes, he heads off to the washroom to see just what kind of creature relieved itself in his mouth last night.

Slowly the memory of who he is and why his head feels like it holds a pissed off rancor comes back to him.  He smiles when he thinks of the girls; frowns when he realizes he woke up alone and fully clothed.  Oh well, could have been worse.  The ship's unfinished repairs lie foremost in his mind, so he heads off to pick up the parts he needs.

--- Star Wars ---

"I can't believe this!  You're throwing me out!  Who the hell do you think you are, you two-bit little prick know-nothing wannabe!"

This is the first thing Arthur hears when he reaches Bessie, the parts in his hands.  He notices that the gangway is down, and he can see a pair of bare legs on the top of it.  This should be interesting, he thinks.

He hears a laugh from inside the ship.  "Thanks for the night, it was nice getting to know you, now get the hell off my ship."  It's Troy's voice.  His ship? Arthur thinks.  The last of my royal funds didn't go towards buying Troy a present.

"My boyfriend will kick your sorry little spaceboy ass when he finds you," the stripper continues as she's forced down the gangway.  Her clothes are bunched up in her hands, covering little of her assets.  She doesn't seem to care.  "Him and Big Quince are friends and they'll pay me good cash to get their hands on you!  You'll get what's coming-"

The unmistakable cry of blaster rifle fire cuts her off and seems to shut her up.  At the bottom of the gangway, she stares in horror at the armoured men, all bearing blasters, gathered by the ship.

"Arthur Denfrey, Troy Chance, this is your only warning: leave your ship peacefully and nobody will get hurt."  It is a metallic voice, coming from one of the hunters clad in full body power armour.

" you all," is Troy's reply.  He scrambles back up into the ship, leaving last night's acquaintance alone and naked at the bottom of the gangway, trembling in fear.  Everyone watching is impressed that she can actually run that fast.  Must be all the dancing that keeps her body in shape.

Arthur sets down his supplies and tries to head around behind one of the groups of bounty hunters.  There are at least three that he can see, and at least one that he can't.  He slips his blaster into his hand and waits for a clear shot.

In the ship, Troy rummages through his supplies and pulls out his new rifle.  Feyd steps out of his cabin, his hair and clothes a mess but seemingly recovered.  "Feyd, we've got company.  Where the  is Arthur?"

"I don't know.  Outside?"

"Great.  Get that fancy glow-stick of yours and get ready for a fight."

"The path of a Jedi is peace," Feyd says.  "I think that my master would suggest a peaceful solution to this."

"If you don't fight now you're never going to see your master again."  A blast goes off that rocks the ship.  "Tell your droid to power up Bessie.  I'm going to try and keep them from tearing her apart."

"I will trust my feelings and assist you," Feyd says.  He follows Troy to the open gangway.

"Thanks a bunch."  Taking cover behind the entrance, Troy points out at the fuel receptacles and empty anion containers that the bounty hunters are hiding behind.  "There's three over there, and another one hiding over there.  One of those three is the leader, I think."  An armoured head pokes up from behind a container and fires a bolt from his rifle, barely missing Feyd.  "You still think we should talk?"

A hum springs from Feyd's lightsabre.  "My master told me to use the force only in defence."

"Great, kid.  Now, if you can blast that - hey, where the hell are you going?"  Troy watches while Feyd rushes out into the open ground, charging the lone bounty hunter, and curses to himself.  He spots a hunter about to throw a grenade, takes quick aim, and fires.  The bolt goes wide, but another bolt coming from behind the hunter hits him in the back.  The grenade rolls harmlessly towards the rear of the ship.  Arthur's improved his aim, Troy thinks to himself.

With Arthur revealing himself, two bounty hunters fire at him.  Both shots impact harmlessly against Arthur's cover.  Troy shifts to get a better angle of fire, but is jarred from his cover, and the ship, as the unattended grenade explodes beneath.  He rubs his eyes and fires off a shot to cover himself.  He hears another blaster rifle ring out, and then feels a burning pain run down his leg, the bounty hunter having connected.

Meanwhile, Feyd engages his man in melee combat.  He swings wildly, missing the bounty hunter and nearly cutting himself.  His emotions are running wild and his heart is racing; he is not yet the calm Jedi Knight that his master is trying to make him.

Arthur takes a look at Feyd, swinging wildly, and smiles to himself; not for long, as a bolt hits him in the side.  Pain rushes through his body, and he retreats once again behind his cover.

On the ground, Troy realizes that things are looking grim.  He scrambles behind the lowered gangway just as a bolt hits where he was.  He hears the crackle of Bessie's engines starting up.  At least one member of the crew can get his act together.  He fires off another bolt, but hits the bounty hunter's cover once again.

Arthur, grimacing in pain, peeks around the corner.  He looks right at the barrel of a hunter's rifle and ducks back as quick as possible.  A bolt flies right by him.  He reaches around the wall with his pistol, firing blindly at the hunter, hoping he gets off a lucky shot.  He hears nothing; the bolt must have gone wide.

Feyd faces off against his opponent, taking a waiting stance that his master was fond of.  The hunter runs by him, towards the gangway and the ship; Feyd takes this chance to swing at the hunter, catching him on his back but failing to break through his armour.  The hunter stumbles along, but continues to run.  

Troy sees the hunter running towards him, takes one quick shot, and the hunter falls.

Arthur, knowing that his cover will be worthless soon, makes a wild run towards the ship with his blaster in front of him.  He fires the moment he sees the bounty hunter, and this bolt flies true; the bounty hunter falls to his knees, but it seems as though his armour saved him from the grave.  Arthur keeps running, hoping that he won't feel the hot burn of a blaster bolt between his shoulders.

Troy takes another blast at the hunters and catches one in the head.  The hit takes the hunter out cold, his blast helmet crumpling before the impact.  Troy stumbles out of his hiding spot, waving the others into the ship.

"Let's get the hell off this rock!" he says as Arthur and Feyd rush into the safety of the ship.  They feel the slight tremors of blaster bolts hitting the hull, but soon Arthur is in his pilot's seat and guides Bessie away.

Troy stumbles into the cockpit.  "What the hell was that?" he asks.

"Don't look at me," Arthur says.  "I guess they were friends of Big Quince or somebody."

"They shouldn't have known our names.  How did they learn our names, anyway, Arthur?  I used my alias and Feyd was passed out all night.  So tell me, you didn't let anything slip, did you?  Didn't do anything stupid like you did back on Elshandrau Pica, did you?"

"Hey, I'm the captain of this ship and what I say goes."

"Thought so.  You gotta watch yourself when you get drinking."  Troy leaves the cockpit, passing Feyd on the way.  "Hey kid, that sabre of yours is fancy, but you've got to learn to use a blaster.  We'll pick one up for you on the next planet."

"The lightsabre is the traditional weapon of the Jedi Knight," Feyd replies.  "Not so clumsy or random as a blaster."

"When you're a Jedi Knight, maybe you should try using it.  For now, just stick to what's tried and true."  

Troy leaves.

"Where are we headed next?" Feyd asks Arthur.

"Somewhere deep in the outer rim.  Shownar, probably.  Nice planet, tourist hangout, which means lots of small traffic.  We should fit in no problem.  Plus, there's a big black market there.  We'll be able to make some money."

"We could go back to my master, Til-Gon," Feyd says.

"Aww, you're not going to start with that again, are you?"


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

A week and a half later, Bessie pulls into dock amid the towering crystal spires of Shownar.

Troy and Arthur head off the ship in search of cash.  Troy hits the casinos and underground gambling dens, while Arthur looks around for some kind of legitimate cargo contract.  Feyd, having never seen such a planet before, wanders around the cities that wind up the massive crystal spires far above the "ground-clouds" below.  He runs into all sorts of merchants, selling things he had never before heard of (and some he hopes he will never hear of again).  He buys a new set of clothing, hoping to blend in with the cosmopolitan galaxy - and with his two new shipmates.

Arthur breaks the news when they meet again in the evening.  "A contract," he says, "to haul some water from here to a planet called Taul.  It's in the same sector, so if we hurry we should be able to get it done in four days."

"How much does it pay?" Troy asks.

"Fifteen thousand."  Troy's eyes go wide.

"I may not know much about finances in the galaxy," Feyd says, "but that sounds like a lot for a shipment of water."

"Yeah, what's the catch?" Troy says.

"Well... the people we're supposed to deliver the water to are under Imperial blockade."

Troy sighs.  "Rebels?"  Feyd lights up.

"Looks like it."

Troy moans.  "I thought we weren't going to get involved with hopeless causes."

"All we have to do is slip in under the cruisers, drop off the water, and we're done with it all.  I can pilot us through anything those Imperials can offer.  It's supposed to be a light blockade - just a pair of corvettes.  Not much fighter cover."

"All right," Troy says, "but just remember I think this is a bad idea."

--- Star Wars ---

The hyperspace journey is short and forgettable.  Arthur fended off Feyd's questions about his rebellion contacts - all gone into hiding, and no, I don't want to see if I can find them - until Troy reminded Feyd he was supposed to bring Arthur back to his "master" before running around with the rebels.  After this, Feyd resumed trying to convince Arthur and Troy to head back to the hidden asteroid base.

The rebel intelligence was right; only a token Imperial force guarded the planet.  It was child's play for Arthur to land, dodging the turbolaser blasts from the orbiting corvettes.  Arthur guided Bessie towards the rendezvous point, flying just a few metres above the ground to avoid detection.  

The planet itself was a wasteland, and from their vantage point they could still see pockets of firefights, Imperial and Rebel troops battling it out.  Whatever it was they had been fighting for on this desolate rock had long since been destroyed.  Feyd had the feeling that it was a grudge match, one that both sides would continue to fight until they had no strength left.  Of course, this meant victory for the Empire.  The planet would be abandoned in the future.

--- Star Wars ---

Landing at the rebel base, Feyd feels a ripple in the Force.  The Dark Side is strong, here.

Unloading the supplies goes quickly, the beleaguered rebel troops delighted that they can continue the fight.  As always, the rebels attempt to recruit more for the cause...

"...won't you fight for the cause that you know is right?  If you join with us, we can provide support for you in return.  You'll never be able to retake your throne without our help."

"Our problems are ours, yours are yours."  Arthur's reply was short and sweet, as was Troy's; "I've got enough reasons for the Empire to want me dead, thanks."  Feyd was silent, torn between his desire to fight against the Empire and his current mission for his master.

"There will come a time when your responsibilities will catch up with you.  Either by your rules or theirs."

--- Star Wars ---

With the supplies unloaded, the group leaves the rebels behind.  Arthur skims across the planet's surface, relying on current rebel recon to bring them off planet as far from the nearest corvette as possible.  A shiver runs through him as he begins the ascent into space.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Feyd says, staring out the cockpit and towards the depths of space.

Suddenly, just as Bessie leaves the atmosphere, a large, heavily armed cruiser and a light escort frigate drop out of hyperspace.  The shiver Arthur feels chills him to the bone, and Feyd senses the presence of the Dark Side.  It is a something he has felt before.

"It's Alexi," he says, as the cruiser beyond them launches a wave of TIE fighters.

"Yeah, that's the Kalarba's Honour," Troy says. "I told you this was a bad idea.  Feyd, head to the turret.  I've got the co-pilot's controls.  Switching auxiliary power over to weapons."

Feyd runs off.  "Uh... got it!"

They all feel the deep pull of inertia as Arthur guns Bessie's single ion engine.  Boxed in on one side from an approaching corvette, on the other by the heavy guns of Alexi's Loronar Class Strike Cruiser and the anti-star fighter Lancer Frigate, they try to break for open space before they come under fire by the capital ship's heavy guns.

"Feyd! TIEs coming in at you!" Troy barks.

"I see 'em," Feyd responds over the crackle of the intercom.  Blaster fire lights up space for a second, coming from both Bessie and the TIEs.  Arthur swings the ship around, out of danger for a moment, and the TIEs swoop by.  One of the TIEs is spinning out of control, ions leaking from it.

"I got one!" Feyd yells.

"Keep it up!"  Troy yells back.  Bessie speeds away from the TIE fighters, running towards the heavy guns of the big ships.  Arthur hopes they won't have time to fire, but he knows they'll face at least one volley of fire.  Come on, Bessie, don't let me down...

The TIE fighters scream along as they make another pass; this time, Feyd grazes one of them, not enough to knock it out of combat.  Bessie is still untouched, thanks to Arthur's piloting, but he can't hold up for long.  Either they make it out now, or Alexi would have them.

The space in front of Bessie fills with laser and ion blasts.  Arthur grips the controls tightly and plunges into the fray.  One laser hits, and rocks the ship; then another, and another, and another.  Damage warnings flash on then die out from power shortages.  Feyd, Troy, and Arthur are knocked back and forth from the impact of the blasts.

"Come on, Bessie, hold together..." Arthur prays.  She sputters out of the field of fire, having survived the first blast.  "Troy, hyperspace, now!"

And on R2-FU's programmed co-ordinates, Bessie lurches into hyperspace and out of Alexi's hands for the second time.


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

A couple of days passed, longer than any of them had expected.  The hyperdrive-powering regulator had been hit, and there was no way to repair while in hyperspace.  The rest of the ship, once the crew took a full damage assessment, was just barely holding itself together.  Another hit would have taken the ship out.  Arthur and Troy couldn't believe it; Feyd chalked it up to the "Will of the Force".  Now that they were back on Shownar, with some money left over, they felt like taking it easy.

--- Star Wars ---

"Okay, here's the take from the job.  I took some off the top for repairs for good old Bessie.  The rest we're going to split between the three of us."  

"Three of us?" Troy asks.  "It's our ship - "

"- my ship," Arthur cuts in.

"- and we have to split it with this kid?  Where's the fairness in that?"

"R2-FU's mine, after all," Feyd says, "and without him it would have been hard to punch in those hyperspace co-ordinates.  Besides, I took care of a few TIE fighters, more than you did."

"What are you trying to say?  I was regulating ion power flow!  If it wasn't for me we'd be dead in space."

"Cut it out, guys," Arthur says.  "I'm going to buy a shield generator, maybe get a med droid.  I'll meet you back here whenever."

"I'm going to find a casino.  Try to keep out of trouble, kid, and don't spend all that money in one place."

"No problem."  Feyd felt like the two scoundrels were beginning to accept him.  "Come on R2, let's see the sights."  R2 beeps rudely.  "Okay, fine then.  Stay with your new 'lady'."

--- Star Wars ---

A few hours pass, and Arthur returns to Bessie.  Supplies in hand, shield generators on their way, and a 2-1B droid following him, he grabs himself a dantic and logs into the galactic holo-net.  His "secret" royal account, still active and undetected, is his only way to reach the resistance still fighting for him on Kalarba.  He hopes to send a message back that he's evaded Alexi successfully twice now, hoping the news will lighten his supporters.  Downloading the messages, mostly spam piled up from account inactivity, he picks out an encoded one meant for his eyes only.  On the surface it is a simple greeting from his old nanny.  He runs it through a filter and receives the real message.

"Prince Arthur, the resistance desperately needs your help.  The campaign goes poorly for us; supplies are at a minimum.  Moff Darksun, commanding the garrison in Alexi's absence, has sent Imperial troops to increase all security measures.  They have raided a weapons cache and struck a vital blow.  The troops are demoralized and, although fiercely loyal, in your long absence they are beginning to doubt.

"We need your support in obtaining a new supply of small arms to carry on the fight; but, more importantly, the troops need to hear a personal message from you, their liege.  You must rally the troops, let them know that you are still alive, free, and supporting them.  That we are fighting on the side of right and must, inevitably, win.

"With love, your old nanna, Maia."

Arthur slumps back in his chair.  Kalarba - a virtual fortress.  I've not been back since the night of the coup.  I have no idea how I would return.  Hopefully the others will show up soon, help me out with this one.

--- Star Wars ---

"Having a good night, sir?" a bartender asks Troy.

"Not bad," Troy answers.  "Corellian whiskey, neat."

The bartender pours the drink.  "I think it's going to get a lot better."  He nods his head to the side.  Troy looks and sees a woman looking his way.  "She told me she'd get the first Corellian whiskey you ordered."

"Good guess, huh," Troy answers, still looking at the woman.  He takes a sip of his drink and walks over to her.

"Hello, Troy Chance," she says.  Still lounging in her seat, she reaches out with her leg and pushes another chair out from under the table.  "Have a seat?"

"Thanks," Troy says and takes her offer.  "And thanks for the drink."

"Still Corellian whiskey.  I guess you haven't changed much."

"Not much, Leelu," he says.  "You still look the same.  As good as ever."

"And you.  If I didn't know better, I'd say that being a on the run agrees with you."

Troy laughs.  "You know me well enough to know that I've been on the run my whole life."

The two of them share drinks and stories, catch up on old times.  Everything seems to lead either to current events or things in the past that they'd rather not bring back up.  Too many things come back to life with some old stories.

"Troy, do you trust me?"

"You know that I do."

"I need your help with something.  Nothing dangerous; I just need somebody who can be discreet."

"I guess I'm your man."

"Walk with me.  Let's get some fresh air, out of this place."  The two get up, and leave the casino.  They continue their talk while walking on one of the balconies that ring Shownar's spires.  The sunlight, reflecting off the polished crystal, sends rainbows dancing through the sky.  

"I'm working for the rebel alliance now," she says.

"I've heard of them."

"I've got to get a man off planet.  A defector, a high-ranking Imperial officer.  We've been running ever since slipping off the supply port at Lotide.  We've run out of contacts, cornered ourselves.  Inquisition agents are crawling around."

"Not dangerous at all."

"We've got to get off planet.  The information this man holds - it could make a big difference in this whole quadrant.  We've got to get out."

"Why not just you - we could get you off without a problem.  Why not just record what he knows, and take off?"

"I can't leave him, Troy - he's my husband.  I love the man."

Troy nods knowingly.  "Okay, we can do it."

"You are a life saver, Troy Chance.  It won't be safe to contact him until later tomorrow.  That should give you time to prepare."

"You might as well spend the time with us.  It's the safest way for everyone."

"You're right."

--- Star Wars ---

Feyd was enjoying himself in the modern galaxy.  Everything that you could ever think of, right there for you.  And the sights!  Such entertaining vistas and natural wonders, enhanced by the subtle dwellings of the inhabitants.  It was a beautiful world.  Feyd was losing himself in his discoveries.

His awareness snaps back when he feels a cold, metal hand clamp down on his shoulder, and the words whispered in his ear:

"Hello, Jedi..."

_[Stay tuned for Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba, Episode II: Cyborgs and Bounty Hunters!]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . . 

_A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop for the main title.  War drums echo through the heavens as a roll-up slowly crawls into infinity._

*STAR WARS*

Episode II: Cyborgs and Bounty Hunters

"Hello, Jedi..."

Feyd spins around, hand on his lightsabre, ready for whatever is facing him.  His Force senses are alert, and he curses silently for allowing himself to be caught up in the strange sights of Shownar.  A Jedi faces too many dangers to risk losing his focus.

He faces a middle-aged man, dressed in an eclectic mix of clothing haphazardly picked from the galaxy's various cultures and histories.  His metal hand leads into a cyborged forearm.  One of his eyes has been replaced by an implant, and it gives off an eerie red glow.  His long, dark, coarse hair is tied in a pony tail, off of his face.

He smiles.  Feyd stares him down.

"Be calm, young Jedi, I mean you no harm," the cyborg says.  "I am not here to hurt you, Force willing."

"Who are you," Feyd asks, "and what do you want from me?"  Feyd's body is still tensed for action.

"They call me Payrd Sei deFreet," the cyborg says.  "I am a seeker in the old meaning.  I search for truth through knowledge.  I am what the layman calls a Techno-Mage, although that is but a word, and I am so much more.

"I sensed the Force in you," he continues.  "It called me to you.  This meeting was destined."

Feyd reaches out with the Force.  "You're telling the truth."  He relaxes his guard.

Payrd laughs.  "Lying only obscures knowledge.  There is nothing to be gained through its use."

"My master says that truth only comes from a certain point of view."

Payrd laughs again.  "And of course, your master is also correct.  For sometimes, both the lie and the truth are one and the same."

Feyd furrows his brow.  "You said that you are seeking truth.  What truth is that?"

"Ah, my boy, the Force will reveal that to me in due course.  I only let myself be carried away on its gentle currents."  Payrd pauses, and focuses on Feyd.  "Enough questions of me; tell me, young Jedi, what is your name, and how did you survive the purges and make your way here?"

Feyd recognizes the strange patterns of speech.  He's heard his master talk in a similar style.  "I am Feyd, Padawan Learner of Jedi Master Til-Gon.  We have hidden ourselves in the uncharted space beyond the outer rim."

"The resourcefulness of the Jedi never ceases to amaze me."

"You are not a Jedi Knight?"

"The Force is a universal phenomenon.  The Jedi are not.  It should be reasoned, then, that there are more ways of understanding the Force than the restrictive fashion the Jedi take.

"Look at me," he continues, "would a Jedi fashion himself with mechanical parts?"

"Of course not," Feyd answers.

"Typical Jedi stubbornness.  They study the Force in a single aspect only, afraid to take on its whole.  The search for truth and understanding requires that one embrace all.  These mechanical parts are just as much of the Force as the skin on your bones or the heart in your chest."

"What about the Dark Side, and the dangers it brings?  You don't want to give up your will to hatred and evil."

"The 'Dark Side', the Bogan Force, is not a thing to be feared, as the Jedi teach.  If you understand the truth behind it, the truth behind all things, it is simply another manifestation of the Force.  If you turn your back on that, you turn your back on the Force itself.  Nothing can be without its shadow.

"If the Jedi understood that," he goes on, "they might still exist."

Feyd feels a ripple in the Force as a feeling of anger grows in him.  "Payrd, it's been... interesting meeting you.  I don't understand what you've said, but I will meditate on it."

"We must each search for truth in our own ways, of course," Payrd says.  He starts to leave Feyd, then turns back: "Our paths will cross again.  Soon.  Be well, young Jedi."

--- Star Wars ---

Feyd is still thinking about his chance meeting with Payrd as he reaches Bessie.  His thoughts leave him, however, when he sees the heavily armoured man, wearing enough ordnance to blow Bessie to bits, talking to Troy and Arthur.  He puts his hand on his lightsabre.

"You're willing to do this, free of charge?" Feyd hears Troy say.  Troy looks at Arthur and Arthur shrugs.

"Not free of pay," the armoured man says in a tinny voice through his blast helmet.  "Just free for you."

"Right," Troy says, sarcastically, "this other guy is paying you.  How do we know you don't just want to take the ship, or something like that?"

"If I wanted that, I could have taken it already."  Troy and Feyd both notice the man's hands reach closer to his pair of heavy blaster pistols, slung quick draw style, as Feyd approaches.  Feyd stops.

"Hey Feyd," Troy calls out, his eyes lingering on the armoured man, "this is Darius.  A bounty hunter who's supposed to be our bodyguard."

"Bodyguard for the owner of this ship," Darius says.  "I don't care what happens to you or your woman."

Feyd focuses the Force for a moment.  "Nice to meet you, Darius," he says after a few seconds.  He offers his hand to Darius.

"What kind of crew have you got here?" Darius asks without taking Feyd's hand.  "Kids and pampered rich women aren't going to cut it against a pirate raid."

"I'm more than just a kid," Feyd says.

"So do you want me, or not?" Darius asks.

Troy looks over at Arthur.  "What could it hurt?" Arthur says.

"You're in," Troy says, "and I hope you're ready for action."

"What's going on?" Feyd asks.

"I ran into an old friend at the casino.  She's going to pay us for taking her contact off-world."

"Sounds easy enough," Darius laughs.

"They're wanted by the Imperials."

"That could make things difficult," Darius says.  "They're crawling all over this place."

"The rest of you don't have to come," Troy says, "she's my friend, my responsibility."

"What else have I got to do?" Arthur asks.  "Just for the record, though: I think this is a bad idea."

"Fighting against the evils of the Empire is always worth my time.  You can count on my lightsabre."

"Great, Feyd," Troy says.  "I'm sure that will help a lot."

"Light-sabre?" Darius asks.  "You mean the kid's going to come with us?"

"I'm more than just a kid!"

_[Darius is the fourth PC.  He was a bounty hunter that liked to shoot first and shoot later.  He was hired to protect Arthur by... well, we'll get into that later.  At this time, even Darius didn't know for whom he was working.  Just that they paid well.]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

Early next day, Leelu leads the group across the spires, meandering this way and that, stopping off at tourist shops and marketplaces.  After many hours of seemingly pointless wandering, the group arrives at an entrance leading deep into the crystal of one of the spires, the living area of Shownar's natives.

"He's not much farther, now," Leelu says as they head into the darkness of the inner tunnels, lit only intermittently by strange crystal lights.  "Everyone, get ready."

"I've been ready for the past three hours," Darius says.

"Glad to know it," Troy snaps back.

The group passes around another bend.  "Our man is being held in a dwelling at the far end of this tunnel."

"I'll wait here and cover your backs," Darius says.  "Try not to get killed or anything."

The rest of the group heads through a crystal curtain and into the small, dark dwelling.  It is a simple single room.  A small bed has been folded out of one of the walls.  A man, covered in rags, lies on the bed.  Another man, this one a near-human Shownar native, stirs a pot cooking over a crystal hot-plate.

"No no," the native says, "friend sick, wasting sick."

"It's okay," Leelu says.  The rag-covered man sits up.

"Leelu?" he says.  "Ah, Leelu, it's so good to see you again."  He leaps out of bed and hugs her, planting a kiss on her cheek..  Arthur and Feyd exchange a look.  "These are the men that are going to help us?"

"Yes," she says, stepping away.  "This is Troy Chance, an old friend."

"Laszlo Inimpi," he says, shaking Troy's hand.  "We, and the free peoples of this sector, are grateful for your help."

"Don't mention it.  I just hope they've got the credits we've agreed on."

"Once we get back to the rebel base," Laszlo says.  "Let's hurry.  I don't know how safe we are, here."

A comlink buzzes on.  "I think the rebel might be right," Darius says.  "Eight troopers are headed right for you.  Get ready."

Feyd's lightsabre jumps to life in a hum and he moves to the entrance.  Everyone else pulls a blaster.  Troy and Arthur grab some cover and get ready to fire at the door.  Leelu, Laszlo, and Arthur head for the back entrance.

"I'll try and hold them off," Feyd says, and leaps out to stand in the entrance.  "The rest of you can make for the back entrance!"

"Don't be crazy, Feyd," Troy says, and squeezes off a shot at the eight white-armoured Imperial stormtroopers bursting into the dwelling.

The next few seconds are a chaotic mess of blaster bolts, sabre swings, and falling bodies.  Feyd swings his lightsabre gracefully, quicker than the eye can follow, and a stormtrooper crumples in a bloody mess before him.  Standing in the entrance, he embraces the stormtrooper's fire, guiding each bolt away from him and those behind him.  Two more stormtroopers fall down from a quick barrage of fire from Darius' heavy blaster pistols.  Troy gets off another shot and takes one down.

The back door is blown off its hinges as a group of four more stormtroopers crashes into the room.  Arthur lets out a quick shot and takes down the nearest one, then ducks for cover.  Laszlo and Leelu do the same, but Leelu is clipped by a blast.

Darius takes a quick look around and sees at least ten more stormtroopers running towards the fray.  He holsters one blaster while firing with the other, blasting two stormtroopers and sending them to the ground.  With his free hand, he reaches for a thermal detonator, arms the device, and throws it into the middle of the stormtroopers.  When the detonator lands, a huge explosion erupts from it, turning the entire tunnel into a blazing inferno.  The roof of the tunnel collapses, cutting off the tunnel in that direction.

"We're clear on this side, guys," Darius says, "clear a path to the back door and we'll be good to go!"

Feyd is still standing in the front door's entrance, jaw clenched, trying to hold off the troopers with his lightsabre.  He is letting the Force flow through him and into his sabre, guiding his actions.  The troopers take a moment to aim, and Feyd stares right down the barrels of the blasters.  He falters for a second, letting fear grip him, and a rain of fire falls on him.  Feyd blocks one blast, then two, but his body is riddled with the rest.  Smoking, he falls down in a pool of his own blood.  

The troopers move forward in force.  Troy blasts the first one to come through the door, but that doesn't faze the others.

Arthur and Laszlo exchange fire with the troopers at the back, neither gaining nor giving ground.

Darius grins coldly beneath his blast helmet and brings his two pistols to bear on the remaining three troopers in the front door.  Slowly walking forward, he lets loose on the troopers.  When the smoke clears, only one stands.  "I've got things covered at this end," he says, letting his armour absorb the stormtrooper's return fire.

Troy slides back to Arthur's position and fires a shot, nailing one of the stormtroopers in the head.  "Feyd did some nice work up there," he says.

"We'll see if that two-one-bee droid I bought is worth it," Arthur says, "once we get out of this mess.  I told you this was a bad idea."

"Nice," Troy says, dodging a blaster bolt.

A few more rounds of blaster fire ring out behind them, along with a heavy thump.  Darius steps into the entrance, reloading his hand cannons.  The troopers at the other end of the room send a few bolts his way; Darius rolls around the doorway, dodging the blasts.  He returns fire, aiming directly into the remaining troopers, sending blast after blast until both chambers run empty.  When the smoke clears, all troopers lay still.

"We've gotta get this kid to a doctor," Darius says, grabbing Feyd and slinging him over his shoulder.

"There's one on our ship," Arthur says.  "Let's go."

"You okay to move, Leelu?"

"Just a graze, Troy.  I'll be fine."  She stands up from behind her cover, supporting herself on Laszlo.

_[This was the fight where Darius learned to love the thermal detonator.]_

--- Star Wars ---

"They must have been watching you," Troy says as they rush through the streets of Shownar.  Alarms ring out and people scramble off the streets.

"Must have," Leelu says through clenched teeth.  "Imperial Inquisitors.  Caught our trail on Pesmenben IV."

"If that's true," Darius says, "they're probably watching your ship.  I'll head out in front and try and take them by surprise."  Darius rushes ahead of the rest, his blasters still hot in his hands.

"Good thing we got the walking tank on our side," Troy says to Arthur.

Darius rushes up ahead of the group, coming up to Bessie's landing pad.  As expected, two squads of stormtroopers cover it.  Great, he thinks, I've seen more action in one day guarding this guy than I have for the past year.

"We got trouble up ahead, guys," Darius says to the others over his comlink.

"You're going to have to do something about it," Troy calls back, "we got more coming this way, too."

Darius takes a look at the trooper's formation.  If only I had another thermal detonator.  "Hurry up and get here," he says, "I'll have things cleaned up for ya."

Darius plans his approach, checks his ammo, and gets ready to move forward.  Suddenly, Bessie's engine begins to power up.  The troopers look in surprise, and a few of them break formation.  No time better than now, Darius thinks, and steps into the open, blasters firing away.  If I take down enough of them, I'll have a chance.

Two troopers go down before they recover and take cover, shooting random shots at Darius.  He's able to dodge the first few, the closest one almost grazing his armour, but once they focus that'll be it.  I needed to take out more than two, he thinks, ducking down behind cover.

The rest of the group runs up next to him.  "I ran into a little trouble," Darius says.  "How're things behind us?"

"Not good.  A couple of squads and speeders are coming."

Darius peeks his head around the corner.  The troopers are moving up in formation, firing at his position to keep them pinned down.  Soon they'll be in grenade range, and that'll be it for us.  "We've got to make a break for it."

As the able-bodied men rush out, blasters firing, another shape comes flying - literally - into the midst of the stormtroopers.  The distinctive high-pitched whine of a vibro-blade calls the attention of most of the stormtroopers, and they fire a few shots off at him.  He's too quick for them to get a bead on, and all shots fly wide.  He lands for a moment, right next to a trooper, and the next instant he's leaping again.  The trooper falls down, his white armour stained red and bearing a large gash.

Under the combined assault of the group and their new ally, the stormtroopers fall without landing a single hit.

"Who are you?" Troy asks.

"I am called Payrd," the man - a cyborg - reveals to the group.  "A friend of Feyd's."

"Thanks for the help," Arthur says.

"The Force has guided me along this path," he says.  He reaches over to Feyd and places his fully organic hand on his body.  "We've little time for explanations, however.  I think our first goal should be leaving this place."

Feyd stirs, and opens his eyes.  "Payrd?" he says weakly.  He slowly, shakily, rises to his feet.

"Yeah, we'd better get going," Troy says, and the group - seven strong now, four more than Bessie arrived with - hurries onto the ship.  A few TIE fighters wait for them in space, but Arthur keeps them out of range until they jump into hyperspace.

_[Maybe having Payrd save the PCs was a little too much... but I think they were tired of the fighting by that point.  Anyways, Payrd's introduction to the group as a whole worked well.]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

*Interlude*

A long finger rises out of the ground, stained with blood.  Around it, nothing but darkness.

Strange writing appears.  Blood red writing as ancient as the galaxy itself.  Writing that was never meant to see the light of day.  Blasphemous writing.

The writing is caught in a web of steel.  A voice rings out.

"The tablet." It is Til-Gon. "The Ancient Tablet of Naga Sidow."

The writing is on the tablet, caught in the web.  A wise old judaa bird lands on it.  Its eyes are hungry.

"Retrieve the tablet before it is too late!"

Feyd wakes covered in sweat.  Til-Gon has spoken with him.  Now, to make sense of it all.


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

Two and a half days later, Bessie drops out of hyperspace near the world of Fangel.  It is a sphere of pure white glowing in space, its entire surface covered in ice.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Arthur asks.  "I'm getting no readings of life, or anything."

R2-FU lets out an annoyed whine.  A series of droid-speak comes up on Arthur's display.

"Yeah, R2, I know that's interference.  I don't think you could get any communications in or out."

"That's the place," Leelu says.  "There should be a communications post on the moon.  They'll give us proper broadcast codes so we aren't blown out of the sky when we land."

"You rebels are real trusting," Troy says.

Leelu tunes Bessie's communicators and speaks into the comm.  "Fang base, Fang base, this is field op thirteen-twenty-six requesting comm clearance.  Over."

A hissing, crackling voice comes through.  "Transmit codes," it barks.

"Transmitting now.  Over."  

A moment passes.  "They're going to have to get a lot more organized if they plan to win this war," Troy says, breaking the silence.  Feyd shoots a look at Troy; the rest of the group, crammed into Bessie's cockpit, ignore him.

"Code clearance confirmed, thirteen-twenty-six.  Wait for escort and proceed under minimal power.  Over."

Arthur shuts down main power and coasts in orbit on auxiliary.  Bessie's sensors, left on passive, don't pick up the two Z-95 Headhunters until they're almost on top of her.  Both star fighters drop communications pods attached to the ships by a micro-thin wire.  Arthur takes up position between them and the rebel star fighters guide him down towards Fangel.

Sensors crackle and whine as Bessie travels through the thick icy mists that cover the planet.  Arthur shuts them down as surely as his two escorts have.  They are flying close to him now, keeping visual contact at a range of only a few metres.  If Bessie had hidden weapons or a power supply, it would be child's play to take out the two escorts.  The rebellion must be short on supplies, Arthur thinks, if they can only afford two old ships for this job.

Suddenly the mists part and the group is treated to a view of the icy surface of Fangel.  Light from the three ships reflecting off the planet's surface scatters across miles and miles of smooth, icy plain.  The Z-95s guide Bessie further down where Arthur can see a series of giant crevasses carved into the ice.  Some of them even big enough for an Imperial Star Destroyer.  Bessie is led down one of the tunnels, watched by turbolaser enplacements the whole time.

Arthur takes the ship down and the group gets a good look around.  Fang base holds a huge number of star ships of all types.  One stands out from the rest: a Mon Calamari MC-80 Star Cruiser.  It dwarfs everything else.

--- Star Wars ---

"So what's the deal with these guys?" Darius asks, lounging back in Bessie's main cabin.  "We've been sitting around for a day now.  When are they going to give us our reward so we can get off this ice cube?"

"Patience," Feyd says, moving through his Jedi exercises while Payrd watches.  "If nothing else, this gives us time to make repairs to our ship."

"You are making progress, Jedi," Payrd says, "but you are over-extending on your third motion of the second rung."

"It's meant that way, Payrd," Feyd says, continuing to move.  "It draws out the motion and teaches the student patience and graceful recovery."

"Jedi exercises have always been so rigid," Payrd says.  "They were not designed for you.  For instance, with your frame, you will find that this maneuver - " Payrd pauses his speech while he leaps to his feet and proceeds to demonstrate a smooth, flowing strech " - will strengthen, tone, and emphasize flexibility while focusing the mind.  It served the warriors of Kalan Dor well for thousands of years."

Darius watches while spinning a blaster around in his hand.  "You guys aren't bad when it comes to that ancient stuff, but a couple quick shots or grenades and your fancy moves won't count for much."

Feyd's response was cut off before it began.  Arthur, dressed in a thick bantha fur coat with a heavy tool belt slung around his hips, walks into the cabin.  "Wait's over, guys.  Troy just called me, told me we can pick up our reward now."

"How much?" Darius asks.  Bonus pay was always welcome.

"Five thousand.  Between the four of us."

"Not bad," Darius says, already spending the money.

"We've got a chance to make some more," Arthur says.  "Some Admiral wants to speak with us."

"Let's go, then," Darius says, holstering his blasters.

--- Star Wars ---

"This is the Refax Imperial Comm Array," Lord Admiral Mountbatten says to the group, gathered together in the the small, cold, and dark conference room.  Feyd shivers, having only light Jedi robes, and tries to warm himself through the Force.  The chattering of his teeth is almost as loud as the hum from the holoprojector.  "It is a central Imperial Intelligence base, able to listen in on most transmissions across the sector.  As you can imagine, this makes it difficult to conduct operations from Fang base.

"Information that you secured for us has made a strike against this array possible.  With this comm array down, we will be able to raid the nearby supply dump on Lotide, as well as make hit-and-run attacks throughout the sector with impunity.  This is an important mission."

"Just how important?" Darius asks, leaning forward in his chair.

"We're willing to provide two thousand credits for each of you," Mountbatten says.

Troy and Arthur look at each other.  "Hardly enough," Troy says.  "It doesn't even cover the cost of our vessel.  Let alone the risk.

"A figure in the range of seven thousand - each - and a load of small arms worth the same."

The Admiral sighs.  "We are sorely pressed for funds," he says, "but your freighter and its unregistered transponder are necessary.  Six thousand, and the weapons."

Troy looks around the table.  "Deal."

_[The Lord Admiral Mountbatten and the 3rd Rebel Fleet show up again later on in the game.  In this game, the 3rd Rebel Fleet was one of Rebel's major armadas, just as important as Akbar's fleet that struck Endor.  The 3rd Fleet worked in the South Quadrant (while the Heroes of Yavin were in the North) and was terribly outgunned and outmanned.  (No Alderaan or Battle of Yavin to help them out.)  The Empire held this quadrant with an iron grip.  This kept the movie heroes out of our games and let us focus on our own heroes and villians.]_

--- Star Wars ---

Bessie heads towards the Imperial installation, loaded down with twenty of the rebellion's best infiltrators: the infamous Black Knights, masters of the quick, silent kill.  Darius respects their craft but prefers loud noises and blinding lights.  He straps on his armour while Troy talks Bessie into Refax's docking bay.

"Our orders are to hit the central processing centre," Darius says.  "You guys are going to make a diversion."

"I'm assigning four men to guard the ship," the rebel captain says.  "Hopefully they won't see any action, if we do this quietly enough."

"I'm sure we can," Darius says, grinning beneath his armour.

Bessie lands.  Darius, Feyd, and Payrd get ready for action while Troy and Arthur try to work their way into the landing bay's control room.  "We need a scan done of our ship," Troy says, dressed in the black of the Imperial Navy.  "I think we're bleeding ions."

"Head on up," one of the naval troopers says, and waves.  Troy and Arthur enter the secured room.  Easy enough, Troy thinks.  Overconfidence.

In the control room, Troy approaches the single operator.  He has one hand on his blaster, the other on a comlink, eyes scanning for cameras and automated defenses.  He subtly points these out to Arthur.  "We need a scan done of our ship," Troy says, leaning over the operator.  "Bleeding ions."  Troy places his gun to the base of the man's skull.

"I didn't pick anything up," the operator says.  Those are the last words he ever speaks.

Troy triggers the comm signal and watches as Darius, Feyd, and Payrd lead a horde of rebel troops out of the ship.  Arthur blasts the room's cameras and turns off the docking bay's security sensors.  Within seconds the rebels have the area secured.

"The main control room is this way," Arthur says, displaying a flat hologram of the comm array's blueprints.  "It shouldn't be hard to reach it."

"We'll meet back here in ten minutes," Darius says.  He is met by a salute from the Black Knight's captain, and the groups split up.

Darius tries to keep up with Payrd, who dashes off towards the main control room, blasters ready.  Many times Darius hears the chaos of battle; but, seconds later, there is nothing left save the hacked and bloodied remains of Imperial naval troops.  Payrd is nothing if not efficient, he thinks.

The group arrives at a similar scene in the control room.  Bodies of communications operators and technicians litter the ground.  Most display screens are speckled with blood.  Payrd, having cleaned off one, seems to be re-tuning the array and scanning communications frequencies.  His one natural hand drips on the controls.

Feyd feels a ripple dance through the Force.

Troy locks the room and pulls out some detonite.  "Remember to keep these things apart," he says, "they'll blow if you get too much of the stuff together."  He and Darius place the heavy explosive throughout the room, hoping it's enough to blow the array to pieces; if not, at least enough to wipe out the array's computer controls.

Staring at the communications displays, Arthur recalls the words of Maia's last message.  "The troops need to hear a personal message from you, their liege.  You must rally the troops, let them know that you are still alive, and free, and supporting them.  That we are fighting on the side of right and must, inevitably, win."  What better chance to send a message to his people than from the Empire's very own transmitters?  He hardens his face, holsters his blaster in his shoulder, and tries to remember all those speech lessons he took when he was young.

When he is finished, Troy, Darius, and Feyd all stand speechless.  They realize that they are in the midst of epic events, events larger than all of them, events that make their own selfish desires seem as nothing.  For a moment, they feel the weight of this responsibility on their shoulders, each in their own way.  They deal with this in accordance with their nature.

"Let's get out of here," Troy says.  "Explosives are planted."

"Sounds pretty damn good," Daruis says.  "I can't wait to watch this bitch blow."

Arthur stands away from the holo-transmitter.  "Good idea," he says, drained.

Suddenly, Feyd feels a rush from the Force, the feeling he had earlier now pushing against him.  Payrd's strange obsession with the communication frequencies draws his attention.  He feels the universe reaching a point, coming to a head.  Feyd steps over to the strange force-user.

Payrd stops his scanning.  He focuses on one single frequency coming from Criton's Point, a world in the distant edges of the galaxy.  A wild grin comes over his face.  "This is it," he says, almost madly.  "The tablet is there!"  He turns, facing Feyd, his one eye glowing wild.

"Payrd, what - " is all the Jedi can get out before Payrd turns on him.  Letting out a blast of a thick, white foam from his cyborged arm, he sprays Feyd and Arthur.  Arthur is covered with the foam, which hardens instantly; Feyd shatters some of it with his sabre, breaking free.

"Blast him!" Troy yells, jumping into action.  But before he or Darius can react, another burst of foam covers them both.  

"What are you doing?" Feyd asks, not yet willing to strike at the cyborg.  Payrd aims his metal arm at Feyd and lets loose another cone of the white substance.  Feyd tries to block it with his lightsabre, but the cone covers Feyd's weapon arm and pins his hand.  

Within seconds, Payrd has all of them incapacitated.  He smiles wildly and runs away.

Darius blasts his way out of his cocoon, but too late.  Payrd has already fled the scene.  "What the  did that bastard do that for?  What the  is wrong with him?  I'm going to blast his ing head off his ing shoulders!  Leaving us here like nerfs in a rancor pit.  He's ing dead meat."  Feyd learns just how much bounty hunters like to swear.

It doesn't take long for the rest of them to free themselves and head after Payrd.  They reach the docking bay just in time to see him leave in a hyperspace-capable TIE prototype; just in time to hear the wailing of the comm array's alarm klaxons.

"Black Knights," Darius says over his comlink, "the hutt has his spice."

Holding the docking bay proves to be easy against the disorganized Imperial forces.  Soon all rebels are back aboard Bessie.  Arthur lifts her back into space, punches through hyperspace and back to the rebel stronghold.

--- Star Wars ---

"Everything's loaded," Arthur says, closing up Bessie's cargo hatches.  

"Good," Troy says, "I can't wait to get off this freezing piss pot."  Darius nods.

"You think we'll actually be able to deliver the weapons?" Arthur asks as they head up Bessie's gangway.

"Not a problem," Troy says.  "It's our home, after all."  They enter the cockpit, where Feyd is working with R2-FU.

"Was our home," Arthur says, slipping into the pilot's seat.  "Feyd, you and Spaz got the astrogation plotted?"

"Just about," Feyd says, stepping away from R2-FU.  "We'll need a couple minutes off-world to plot the final co-ordinates."

"Great," Arthur says, revving Bessie's engines.  "I love that sound."

Feyd steps away from R2 and Bessie's astrogation matrix.  The tiny display screen, meant for operators only, reveals their destination: Criton's Point.

_[Stay tuned for Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba, Episode III: Criton's Point!]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . .

_A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop for the main title.  War drums echo through the heavens as a roll-up slowly crawls into infinity._

*STAR WARS*

Episode III: Criton's Point

Bessie's engines hum as she hurtles through hyperspace.  Troy always found that a calming noise, the light vibration gently luring him to sleep.  He lies in his bunk, listening to the sound, half-aware.  Each ship has its own beat, he thinks.  Bessie's was always a calm, reassuring one.  Never had trouble sleeping in her.

I wonder if star fighters feel the same?

Troy wakes up with a start.  In the darkness, all he can see is the time display.  Something doesn't seem right about it.

Where was Kalarba?

Troy flicks on the lights.  He had expected to enter Kalarba's system yesterday; when they didn't, they just figured it was a hyperspace plotting misstep.  Those things happen.  But they were two days late, two days late on a journey that should only have taken two days.  That's just not right.

Troy throws on some pants and heads to the main computer terminal.  "Wake up, Spaz," he says, kicking the astromech droid.  R2 whined and beeped unpleasantly.  Troy was glad he didn't know droid speak.  "Shut the hell up," he says.  "I want you to check astrogation, tell me where the hell we are."  

Spaz curses him with a series of high-pitched electronic squeals.

"I don't care what you think.  Just tell me where we are or I'm going to slap an inhibitor on you."

The droid blurts out a few more curses, then scomp-links with Bessie.  Her indicator lights light up like the fires on Kalarba City the night of the purge.

--- Star Wars ---

"What's going on?" Feyd says, rubbing his eyes.  He isn't tired.

"That's what we'd like to know," Troy says.  He had his arms crossed over his chest and was standing in front of Arthur and Darius.  "Do you know what's on Criton's Point?"

"No idea," Feyd says.  He was telling the truth here, at least.

"Either do any of us.  So we're wondering why the hell R2's got us heading there - we're running through the Portmoak sector right now."

"It is the will of the Force," Feyd says.  Darius laughs.

"I figured it would be some crap like that.  We're going to pull out of hyperspace and head towards Kalarba, and the Force can go  itself.  Along with your master, Tee Quon or whatever the hell his name is."

A wave of anger passes over Feyd.  "You can't do that.  I need to go to Criton's Point."

"We aren't going to see your master.  Arthur doesn't give a bantha's ass what you say."  Behind him, Arthur shrugs.  "Anyway, I checked the star charts.  It says, 'Criton's Point: No access by Imperial edict.'  That doesn't sound like a good place to hide."

"Just trust me, okay?"  Feyd sets his jaw.  Darius laughs again.  "It's something I've got to do!"

"Whatever.  We're pulling the ship out of hyperspace.  You're going to pay for spent fuel and lost time."

Troy leaves the room and Arthur follows.  Darius stays.  "Ballsy move, kid.  These guys don't like you too much already.  I think you're going to get dumped the next place we stop."

Feyd storms off.

--- Star Wars ---

Troy and Arthur slip into their piloting seats and pull Bessie out of hyperspace.  The ship lurches for a moment as the drive disengages itself.  Everything is normal again, and the two men stare out at an empty field of stars.  

Well, mostly empty.  A ship appears on the sensors.  It's moving closer to Bessie.

"What the hell is that?" Arthur says.  Troy focuses the sensors on the sleek, angular ship.  He can already tell it's putting out about six times the energy Bessie is capable of.  And it's moving fast.  Not a good sign.

Sensors data floods Troy's viewscreen.  "Imperial customs crusier," he says.  Arthur and Troy look at each other and swallow hard.  "Darius, Feyd," Troy says over the intercom, "get ready for a fight."

Bessie's comm speakers crackle.  "This is Captain Babel Torsh, of the ICC B-A.  You are in Imperial Interdicted Space.  Do not engage engines or we will be forced to open fire.  Reply."

"Uh, roger that, Captain," Troy says.

"Prepare to be boarded."  The Imperial Captain's words sound cold and dead coming through Bessie's old speakers.  

Troy cuts off the comm.  "Hyperspace?"

"No good," Arthur says.  "We'd have to maneuver around - the 'B-A' out there is cutting off our current window.  Either we go through that ship or we power up engines.  Bessie'd never be able to take the strain of hitting a ship like that while in hyperspace."

Troy shifts his holster around.  "I guess we get ready to welcome the boarding crew."


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## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

Bessie's airlock hisses and squeals.  They were securely locked to the customs crusier and the boarding crew was coming across.  Troy, Arthur, and Feyd stood in the entrance, waiting for them.  Feyd hoped that his lightsabre, hidden in the folds of his Jedi robes, won't be picked up by the crew or their scanning devices.  Even moreso, they hoped that the crew wouldn't find Darius and his illegal weapons and armours.

The airlock crashes open and steam fills the passage between the two ships.  A floating sensor array is the first thing they see.  Next come the four Imperial naval troopers, outfitted with blasters, blast vests, and their huge black helmets.  Two sensor operators come next; then finally, the officer.  The troopers aim their blasters at Bessie's crew.

The officer approaches Troy.  "Are you the captain of this ship?"

"Yes," he says, "that's me, sir."

"Well, what's your name?  I haven't all day, you know."

"Paul Atreides," he says, "and this is our ship, the Dark Runner."

"You know, of course, that your transponder codes are being flooded with Karlisite particles."

"We're headed to space dock to fix that."

"Running without proper transponder codes is a class three offence."

"We ran across an ion storm in hyperspace," Troy says, "and we just dropped out to get it fixed."

"Even so," the officer says, "there are fines that must be paid for running dirty."  

Troy supresses a smile.  "I'm sure we can handle the paperwork," Troy says.  

The officer nods at him, smiling.  "Well, then," he says, and pulls out a datapad.  "We've just got to make a quick scan of the ship and take a crew manifest.  I'm sure you have no objections to us getting started right away - unless you'd rather take care of the paperwork now?"

"Sure," Troy says, relaxing his posture.  "You can scan later."  The officer moved towards Troy.

Suddenly Feyd chimed in.  "You don't need to scan the ship," he says, waving his arm and focusing his attention on the officer.

"What did you say to me, little one?"

Feyd tries again.  "Uh - you want to send the scanner crew back and leave our ship?"  Feyd's voice wavers and he touches his lightsabre.

"What are you trying to say?" the officer says, but is cut off by one of the troopers.  "Sir, he's got something under his robes."

"What?"  The officer takes a step back and reaches for his blaster.  Looking at Troy, he says, "What are you trying to pull?"

"Nothing," Troy says, trying a comforting laugh.  "This kid doesn't know much of the galaxy.  Look, everything will be okay -"

"Search him and take his weapon," the officer says.  "Scan the ship for any hidden power supplies or weapon sources."  When the first two troopers step towards Feyd, Troy grimaces.  Feyd stands in a rigid pose, a focused look in his eyes.  Troy knows where he's seen that before.

As soon as the first naval trooper touches Feyd, a hum fills the room.  Feyd's lightsabre springs to life.  "Get your hands off me," he says calmly.

"He's got a weapon!  Blast them!"  It turns out naval troopers aren't big fans of lightsabres.

Troy draws his blaster and jumps for cover, firing while in mid-air.  He burns a hole through the vest of one of the naval troopers, sending him flying back.  The trooper doesn't move again.

The hum of Feyd's lightsabre grows into a loud growl.  His lightsabre swings back and forth, blocking the bolts coming towards him.  He shifts his weight, moving from a defensive posture to an aggresive one, and hits the nearest trooper with his blade.  The trooper crumples.  Feyd keeps moving with his lightsabre, blocking shots that are coming for him.

"Arthur!" Troy yells, "get Darius!"  Arthur bolts.

Troy peeks his head around Bessie's interior walls and aims for the officer.  The officer, fumbling with his comlink, snaps a quick shot at Troy; it misses, and leaves a large carbon-scored hole in the wall.  "We're under attack!"  the officer is able to shout into the comlink before a well-placed shot from Troy's blaster catches him in the head.  The officer collapses, his blood splattered against the open airlock doors.

Feyd moves closer and closer to one of the troopers, his lightsabre always in front of him.  He blocks one last desperation shot from the nearest one, then finishes his stride by cutting the man's forearm off up to the elbow.  The last trooper flees out the airlock, following the path the two sensors operators already took.  Feyd stands, tightly gripping his lightsabre, victorious.

"What the hell kind of ing mynock piss idea was that?" Troy yells to Feyd.  "I had the guy ready to accept a bribe!  Why the  did you whip out your glowing prick?"

Feyd remains vigilant in the doorway.  "The lightsabre is the weapon of a Jedi Knight.  It is my duty to keep it safe.  I must not lose it."

"Oh yeah, so you risk all our necks here because of a stupid ing tube of metal.  What do your 'forceful others' say about that?"

"I did what needed to be done, nothing more."

"Let's not forget about the fact that we're strapped to an imperial ship that could blast us into shrapnel as soon as we take off.  Oh no, your 'Jedi weapon' is so much more important."

"Get off my back, Troy!"

"I just hope you realize that we're probably just as dead as these troopers here, all thanks to you and your great idea."

Feyd turns to face Troy.  "Shut up and leave me alone!"

Troy prepares another round of verbal abuse, but reconsiders it when he sees a small cylindrical object drop into the cabin.  It clinks as it hits the floor, again and again, falling closer and closer to Feyd.  Suddenly, after the wild rush of combat, everything seems so quiet.  Troy curls up into a ball and prays.

The grenade's explosion rocks the ship.  Troy peeks his head up, seeing nothing but smoke where Feyd once stood.  No way the kid could have survived that, Troy thinks.  Naval troopers are probably moving in now.  I hope Darius shows up soon.  

It doesn't take long for Troy to make out the shape of a blast helmet in the clearing smoke.  He takes aim, but his senses tell him something is out of place.  The smoke has a blue-violet tinge to it.  The ringing in his ears turns into a violent hum.

The smoke swirls around a risen Feyd.  His lightsabre lunges at the naval troopers.  It catches one and cuts him deep, leaving him on the ground in a bloody heap.  Blaster bolts fly out at Feyd.  All are blocked by his sabre.  

Troy smiles.  Not bad, kid, not bad at all.  Troy fires two quick shots at the dark shapes in the thinning smoke, and is rewarded with two heavy thumps.  

The smoke clears and Troy gets a look at Feyd.  His robes are torn, his padawan braids burnt away, and he is covered in his own blood.  But yet Feyd stands, his head lowered and eyes tensed, holding his lightsabre up and pointed at the remaining naval troopers.

The naval troopers move back.  "Three men fallen, no enemy casualties!"  Troy singles this one out and cuts a hole in his blast helmet.  The trooper falls with blood spurting erratically from his head.  

Feyd advances on the the two troopers remaining.  They level their blasters at Feyd and, with trembling hands, they fire.  Both are solid hits.  Feyd growls and cuts down one of the troopers.

Troy aims at the last one and fires.  The trooper is knocked back against the airlock wall, immobile.  Troy relaxes the grip on his blaster and watches Feyd.

Feyd advances on the downed trooper.  The trooper's empty hands are raised.  "No, please, no!" he pleads.  Feyd isn't listening.  He raises his lightsabre and thrusts it down into the trooper.  The pleas turn into screams, then gurgles.  Deep red blood gushes out the trooper's mouth as he flails around the lightsabre.  Feyd slowly twists his weapon in the man's gut.  The trooper still struggles against it.  Feyd continues to thrust his lightsabre into the man and he cuts deep into the floor.  Feyd's hands are stained by the fallen soldier's blood.  Finally, the twitching stops, and Feyd backs off.

Troy comes around the corner.  "Nice work," he says.  "When you mean business, you really don't mess around."  Feyd says nothing and moves to the airlock, closing and locking it.

Darius' arrival is heralded by the heavy clanking of his armour's boots against the metal floor grill.  Arthur follows behind him.  Darius reaches the scene of the battle with his two heavy blaster pistols drawn and fully-charged.

"What'd I miss?"


----------



## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

The silence in the Imperial customs crusier is deafening.  It is impossible not to feel exposed against the stark emptyness of the cold Imperial passages.  Troy and Feyd move through the main axis of the ship, trying to make as little noise as possible.  All they can hear is the sound of their own hearts beating.  

Feyd, moving in the front with his lightsabre aglow, motions to Troy.  Troy stops and swallows.  He looks at Feyd, who has slipped into some kind of trance.  His sabre isn't humming, Troy thinks.  I wonder if he's doing that.  Troy waits for Feyd's next move.

Feyd's eyes snap open.  "Most of them are in there," Feyd whispers, pointing to the room up ahead.  "I think they are going to try and put up a last stand.

"I say we show them who they're dealing with."  Feyd grips his lightsabre tightly and it lets out a deep, growling hum.

Feyd leaps into action with Troy creeping along behind him.  He walks slowly into the room, the bridge, his back straight and his jaw out.  Blaster fire flies out at him, but Feyd blocks it all with his whirling sabre.  Troy takes a shot from behind Feyd, blasting one of the few naval troopers left.

"I am Feyd, Jedi Knight," Feyd says, the words a deep rumble that seem to shake the very walls.  "You will surrender to me now or die."

Holy , Troy thinks.  Maybe there's something to his ramblings after all.

"I'm Captain Babel Torsh," one of the Imperial officers says.  "We don't recognize your authority here!"

Feyd stares at him.

Troy walks into the room and shoots near Babel Torsh's feet.  "This is our authority.  Drop your weapons and lie on the floor," he says.  The Imperials comply, lining up on the cold steel floor in front of Troy.

Troy turns to Feyd.  "Nice work."  Feyd stands rigid, hands tight on his lightsabre.

"I'll take them to the brig; you stay here and check out the controls.  Look over the crew manifest, too.  I want to make sure we've got all these bastards taken care of."

--- Star Wars ---

Troy descends a ladder leading from one engineering level to the next.  He takes a quick look at the Imperial readings and controls.  This ship's probably twice as fast as Bessie, he thinks.  Decked out with the newest Imperial tech.  Fancy .  I've never seen anything like this, not even in Arthur's Royal Starfighter Corps.

Troy reads over a power output screen.  In the reflection of the glass, he spots someone approaching him from behind.  Troy reaches for his blaster, slowly, hoping whoever that is doesn't see it; then, at the last moment, he draws his blaster and spins around.  He finds himself facing an Imperial wearing a tech jumpsuit, holding a large hydrospanner raised to strike at Troy.

Troy blocks the tool with his blaster, then knocks it out of the tech's hand.  "Nice try, idiot," Troy says.  He pistolwhips the tech.  "Get on your knees."  The technician obeys him.  Troy reaches out with his blaster, putting it to the tech's forehead.

"Please don't kill me," the technician says.  "I'm just here doing my job, trying to earn a living for my wife and kids."

"Wife and kids?" Troy asks.

"They're from Fornax," the tech mumbles.

"The Planet of Fire?  I've heard of it.  What do the fire-rings look like planetside?"

"Beautiful, just beautiful.  It's like the sun is always setting, like it's kissed the planet and made it blush."

"Wow, that's nice.  I'll bet you'd like to see that again."

"And my wife and kids..."

"Them too.  I'll tell you what: apologize to me, and I'll let you go."

"I'm sorry, sir, very sorry.  I didn't mean to do it."

"Hmm," Troy rubs his chin.  "Yeah, I just don't buy it.  Sorry.  Guess you're not going to see anything, anymore."

The tech jerks his head back, a reflexive move, but not quick enough.  Troy's blaster cuts a hole straight through the tech's head and out the other side.  Blood spurts out, a fine layer of it covering Troy's pants.

"Great," he says out loud, "now I'm going to have to get these cleaned."  He wipes himself off, then climbs the ladder out of the engineering bay.

--- Star Wars ---

The Imperial customs cruiser sat silently in space with Bessie latched on to its boarding clamps.  It had been quiet since docking with the rogue freighter.  The opposite was true on the inside; only now had things calmed down after furious firefights rang out on both ships.  Now the crusier's engines fired off, once, twice in quick succession.  The cruiser sprung to life again.

On the ship's bridge, Feyd studied technical readouts while Troy played with the engines' power levels.  Both of them were calm, although there was a strange tension in the air.  They hadn't said much to each other since capturing the ship.  Now they were both occupied by their new possession.

Once Arthur arrived, with Darius in tow, he gawked over the latest in Imperial technology.

"Here's the plan," Troy said, eyes still on the ship's controls, "Me and Feyd are taking this ship to Criton's Point."

"What about the weapons shipment?" Arthur asks, surprised, and more than a little jealous of the new pilots of the Imperial ship.

"You and Darius can take them there.  You've got all the right contacts.  I'm sure if you get into trouble Darius can handle it."  Darius shifts his weight and lets out an affirming grunt.

Arthur looks around the ship's bridge.  It's like a dream come true.  But when his eyes fall on Feyd, he gets a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, as though he just watched himself fall into an abyss.

"Okay," Arthur says, a little hesitantly.  "We'll meet up at Socarro VI once everything is taken care of."

"I figure it'll take us four months to get there and back," Troy says.  Arthur's mind reels, knowing that Bessie would take at least twice as long on the same trip.  "I hope you can find something to entertain yourselves."

"Don't worry about us.  We'll be fine.  Just be careful.  I want to get a chance to fly this sweet bitch ass someday."

Troy laughs.  "Bitch ass... I like the sound of that."


----------



## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

*Interlude*

On the planet Kalarba, a lonely figure broods from his dark throne.  A tall window lets in a sliver of light which ends at the white marble of the throne.  Behind the stone seat, an old crone in a trance mumbles words written long ago, words long since forgotten:

"One will leave
One will return
One will learn
And life will return to all."

The hag comes out of her trance, taken over by a violent coughing fit.  The figure on the throne stays still through it all. Many minutes pass before she is able to stand.  A small pool of thick blood lies at her feet.

With the coughing done, the dark figure speaks:

"Will I catch my fugitive Prince, mistress, or will he continue to evade me?" he asks.

"Gold is a beautiful gift,
but once had,
no longer wanted."

"Riddles, old hag, always riddles!" the figure's voice rises to a passioned angry shout.  "You who are blind can see; tell me what I want to know!"

"Caution, false prince," the crone says.  "Your anger gives you strength, but you must not give in to it.  You are balanced on the edge of the blade; a move in either direction will cripple you forever.  We who are not long for this place have already sacrificed much, of you and of your people.  You must walk the most dangerous path if you are to save us all."

The dark figure relaxed.  "As always, mistress, there is wisdom in your words."


----------



## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

"Criton's Point control to IIC B-A.  This is restricted space.  Reverse course and re-plot astrogation out of this system."  The intercom crackled, the first new voice Troy and Feyd had heard in weeks since resupplying the ship.  Without anyone else to talk to (save the brig packed with Imperial prisoners), Troy and Feyd had bonded.  It might have had something to do with Feyd's new, bloodthirsty attitude.

"Check that, control," Troy says.  "We're here to pick up artifacts for Moff Darksun.  We're sending clearance now."

"This code doesn't mention any specific orders.  Criton's Point is classified security clearance six-"

"Of course there isn't," Troy says.  "We were meant to draw the least attention possible.  The Moff - and the Emperor - want to draw as little attention as possible to this world."

Feyd sat back in the co-pilot's chair, calmly assessing the situation.  Over the past two months, he had spent much time going over his actions in the last battle.  Meditating on it.  He knew that his master would have condemned his actions - but he could not fully accept that they were wrong.  The feeling that coursed through him now, his new connection and understanding of the Force, his new power - it felt so right.

Feyd knew that whatever happened here, the Force would guide him to victory.

"All right, Captian Torsh.  Landing clearance granted.  But keep out of sector 21-Beta."  Troy smiled to Feyd and guided the ship down.

"No sweat, eh kid?  What did I tell you."

"I could have guided his will through the use of the Force."

"We already decided that, remember?  Last resort.  I don't want what happened last time to happen again."

Feyd folded his arms.

--- Star Wars ---

The planet of Criton's point was a red, dusty old planet, covered with barren stone.  Nothing stood here to mark any presence of civilization, nor the Empire's concern with the planet.  Nothing except the lone ziggurat that rose above the landing platfrom in Sector 21-Beta.  It was an ephemeral marker to the age of the galaxy and its hidden history.  

Feyd felt a ripple in the Force flow through him, beckoning him down.  "Something dark lies down there."

A marker of age, and the endurance of the Force.

The ship landed on the empty platform.  Not a single trooper in sight.  No droids, not even a single refueling receptacle.  Just a dark red slab of granite, smooth and bare amid the dust that coated everything else.

"I guess that's where we're going," Troy said.  "Do we even know what we're looking for?"

"Not yet.  But we'll find it."

Troy checked his blaster's ammunition and left the ship, following behind Feyd.

--- Star Wars ---

The inside of the ziggurat was lit with only the eternal twilight that poured through the windows.  Rows upon rows of data tapes cast strange shadows on the black floor.  Troy and Feyd took a look at the long forgotten forbidden knowledge.

"Master Til-Gon will find these invaluable," Feyd said, grabbing a random collection of tapes.

Troy looked around and drew his blaster.  Something wasn't right here.  He spun around, and saw Payrd standing in the dark red light that streamed through a nearby window.  Payrd cast a deep, long shadow that covered Feyd.

"Looks like we've got company," Troy said.

Feyd stood.  "We've come to stop you," he said.  "I can't let you have the tablet."  Payrd looked at the young jedi and smiled.  Troy wondered what the hell they were talking about.

"So you know," Payrd said.  "Would you rather have it lie here, forgotten by all save the Emperor?  Or have it in the hands of a true master of the Force, so that its secrets may be unlocked and delivered to the galaxy?"

"I don't trust you," Feyd said.

"Of course not.  Your master's teachings would make you forget the words of your heart.  But it does not matter.  I will have it.  All I need is the use of your lightsabre."

"What?  You expect me to give you my weapon?"

"With that key to unlock the tablet, we can both learn its secrets.  Think of the knowledge we will gain!"

"You mean power," Feyd said.

Troy didn't like this.  He didn't know what the two were talking about, and he didn't really care.  All he knew was that Payrd had led them on this chase, and that he was threatening Feyd.  He didn't like that at all.  Troy squeezed his blaster's trigger, and let a bolt fly at Payrd.

The bolt hit Payrd on his cybernetic arm.  It left a glowing mark.  

"So your friend has chosen for you," Payrd said.  A high-pitched hum echoed off the walls of the cavernous room as a vibroblade extended from Payrd's arm.  A lower hum followed as Feyd activated his sabre.

Payrd leaped to attack.  Troy let off a pair of shots, both missing their mark.  Payrd responded by striking Troy with his hand, knocking Troy to the ground.  Payrd followed up this attack by striking Feyd in the chest with a foot.  Feyd swung his sabre, but Payrd dodged beneath the wild stroke.

 this, Troy thought, and he slipped beneath one of the rows of data tapes.  Let Feyd deal with this mumbo-jumbo .

Feyd faced off against the techno-mage.  Each slight move that Feyd made, each twitch of every muscle, drew a response from Payrd.  Feyd knew he was outmatched.  He tried a feint to the right, then dove at Payrd.  Payrd was ready for him.  The vibro-blade cut against Feyd's hand even as Payrd struck it with a swift kick.  Feyd lost his grip on the sabre, and it sailed up in the air and into Payrd's waiting hand.

"Many thanks," Payrd said, turning and running at break-neck speed away from Feyd.  Feyd felt his heart break and wondered how many failures he would have to endure.

"Go get him," Troy said, sliding his blaster across the floor to Feyd.  

Feyd picked up the pistol, his mind recalling the old firing lessons, and rushed after the fleeing Payrd.  Up endless stairs, past old halls filled with forgotten lore, he finally reached his quarry on the top of the ziggurat.  Payrd was standing there, his hair and cape fluttering in the wind.  A slab of black rock, glowing with blood-red runes, was rising slowly before him.  Feyd spotted his lightsabre in a small slot, humming wildly.

Feyd took his shot.  Payrd jumped reflexively, but the techno-mage was not Feyd's target.  The bolt hit, and Feyd's lightsabre exploded.  The black slab stopped rising.

"What have you done?" Payrd shouted wildly.  His eyes, open wide, took on a fury Feyd had never seen before.  Payrd's vibro-blade screamed with power and cut through the top half of the tablet.  Both blade and rock screamed, and Feyd covered his ears before the cry.

Payrd grabbed the broken tablet.  "You have made a mistake here, boy," he said.  "Things that you could only have dreamed about will now never be yours."  Payrd read something off the tablet in a long-lost language devoted to all things dark.  His body began to fade from existence.

"And you will be trapped here by enemies made long ago."  Payrd disappeared.

Feyd looked up into the sky.  Far in the distance, he could make out a group of lights making planetfall.  TIE fighters.  The Empire knew they were here.

Stopping only to grab what remained of his lightsabre, Feyd rushed down the steps of the ziggurat towards their stolen ship.  Troy was already inside, waiting, gunning the engines.

"I think we better get the  out of here," Troy said.  Feyd nodded in agreement.

They barely reached the edge of Criton's Point's gravity well before the TIE Interceptors shot out the sublight engine.  The ship crashed to a halt in the dead of space.  TIEs surrounded them, quad-laser cannons pointed at them, daring them to make a move, any move.  They didn't expect, they couldn't have expected, what happened next.

The newly stolen and crippled ship, with no systems left but astrogation, made a hyperspace jump right through the waiting TIE Interceptors.  The TIEs exploded in a shower of light; the patrol frigate shuddered, shed metal skin and ions, its hull ripped open in places, but it escaped into hyperspace.

_[Stay tuned for Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba, Episode IV: A Dark Sun Rises!]_


----------



## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . .

A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop for the main title.  War drums echo through the heavens as a roll-up slowly crawls into infinity.

*		STAR WARS*

	EPISODE IV: A Dark Sun Rises

	It is a time of reunion for
	our heroes.  Coming from the
	distant end of the galaxy, young
	Jedi hopeful Feyd and the cynical 
	Troy limp through hyperspace after
	suffering the loss of Feyd's ancient
	lightsabre and the near-destruction
	of thier stolen vessel.

	Meanwhile, hiding from the sinister
	forces of the EVIL GALACTIC
	EMPIRE, Arthur Denfrey waits to
	meet his allies just outside of
	the Casino Royale on Socarro VI.

	But sinister forces are at play,
	waiting to wreak havoc on our 
	unsuspecting heroes...


Waiting was a humbling experience.  Not something that Darius was used to.  It just made him angry.

It had been months since he and Arthur arrived at the Casino Royale.  Both of them alive and well after making the drop on Kalarba.  A hellish, broken planet, he thought, not something worth risking your life for.  Not worth fighting for.

He thought back to his youth, his early days when each morning came with a new threat.  It had been a while since he left that place, left with her.

Ah, Jo...

Arthur's loud burp brought Darius into the present.  Arthur stumbled into Bessie's lounge.

"Any word?" he said.

"None," Darius said.  He looked at the man he was being paid - and well - to guard.  Arthur's clothes were stained here and there with liquor, his eyes were red, and his head was down.  This was the Prince of Kalarba, a man thousands were fighting and dieing for.  Darius vowed that he would not become one of them.  "No message, just like the day before, and the day before that.  I think your friends aren't going to be coming back."

"They'll be back soon.  You don't know Troy like I do."  Arthur fell onto a soft bench and passed out.

Darius hated waiting.

--- Star Wars ---

Hyperspace gave way to real space, coughing up a crippled ship.  The Imperial Patrol Vessel limped through space on a single engine that was trailing a stream of ions and flaking hull plates.  It spun slowly as it made its way towards the Casino Royale.

"Finally," Troy said, welcoming the sight of space and stars.  He opened up his comm channels.

"Bee-A calling Bessie," he said, "Bee-A calling Bessie.  Come in."

The comm crackled into life.  "This is Bessie.  Go ahead."

"We're back," Troy said.  "And hurt.  We're just crawling.  Our sub-lights have been taken out.  I'm sending our co-ordinates now."

"Finally!" Arthur said on the other end.  "How's it going?"

"Not bad," Troy said.  "You should have seen the kid in action.  I think he's grown up a little.  I even got him playing sabaac now."

"No ?  Well, we'll be glad to see you.  The weapons drop went down, no problem.  Maia's looking fine."

"That's good," Troy said.  He knew Arthur was lieing.

"We've got the co-ordinates now.  We'll see you in a couple minutes."

--- Star Wars ---

"Captain?  Reaper?  I just picked up a message coming from that Imperial ship that just dropped out of hyperspace."

"What'd they say?"

"They're crippled.  Hurt bad."

"I'm not about to go raiding an Imperial ship, not even a crippled one.  That'll draw too much attention to us here.  It'll ruin our plans."

"This one's not Imperial."

"Really?  Power up the engines.  We're going hunting."

--- Star Wars ---

"Troy, come have a look at this," Feyd said.  "I'm picking up a ship coming right at us."

"That'll be Bessie.  Sooner than I expected."

"I don't think so - it didn't come from the Casino.  It was running silent nearby."

"Oh .  See if you can get any power to the engines; I'm going to be in the top turret."

"What-" Feyd's question was broken by the comm.  "Crippled ship, power down and open your docking hatch.  This is Captain Reaper Jones of the Hel's Heart."

"Reaper who?" Feyd said.

"Reaper Jones!  Pirate scourge of the outer rim.  The king of thieves.  The man whose name strikes fear into the heart of every spacer."

"Sorry, never heard of you."

"What - ah,  it.  Get ready to be boarded."

The Hel's Heart opened fire on the Bee-A.  A blue stream of charged ions ripped through space and hit its target.  Blue lightning danced over the impact, but did not spread.

"That the best you got, Ripper Jane?"  The Bee-A let a shot out from its one good turret, right on target.  The bolt didn't make it, dissapating over the range.

"Oh ," Troy said again.

--- Star Wars ---

Arthur was just piloting Bessie out of the Casino's docking bay when the comm barked out at him.

"Arthur!  Where the  are you!  We're under attack by pirates!  Get the  over here now!"

"I'm at least fifteen minutes away.  I can't make that distance-" Arthur stopped when the comm cut dead.

"Darius, get ready for a pinpoint jump," he said, and began plotting an astrogation course.

Seconds later, Bessie ripped through space.  Her hyperspace engines sighed and burst under the strain.  Darius opened up with the guns and let a barrage loose on the unsuspecting Hel's Heart.  Two bolts made their mark, and the Hel's Heart let out a stream of flame.

--- Star Wars ---

"Reaper!  We just lost all power to the weapons array!"

"What the ?  Where did that ship come from?"

"They're moving around for another shot!"

"Get us out of here, full speed!  I'm not losing my baby for a crippled frigate."

--- Star Wars ---

"Looks like they had enough," Troy said, watching the Hel's Heart race away.

"Something tells me that we're going to see them again," Feyd said.

"I look forward to it."


----------



## LostSoul (Jan 18, 2003)

Arthur crawled out from one of the Bee-A's maintenance shafts covered in grease, hydrospanner in hand.  "The damage is pretty bad - to both ships," he called out from atop the Bee-A.  "Bessie's blown all of her hyperdrive coils, and the only thing working on your new toy is the hyperdrive.  Just what did you do to it?"

"Nothing you wouldn't have," Troy said.

Arthur climbed down.  "Well, it'll be a couple of weeks work, at least.  And Bessie'll need a new set of coils.  Those don't come cheap."

"I'll see what I can do to improve our accounts," Troy said.  

Arthur sighed and went back to work.

--- Star Wars ---

Darius had gotten to know the Casino well over the past few months.  Too well, in his opinion.  Nothing to keep his skills sharp, nothing to hone his edge.  He worried he was getting soft.

"Another pint?" the bartender asked.  Darius nodded his head.  He was getting used to staying out of his armour.  Another bad sign.

Darius sipped the foaming dantic.  He looked down into its dark waters, thinking about the life he had led.  Was it worth it?  He had spent years on the hunt.  Was it time to give up?  Was the hunt what he truely wanted?

It was what she would have wanted, he thought, and took another drink.

A familiar face in the bar's mirror caught his attention.  Darius turned casually, scanning the bar.  When he saw what he needed to, he settled his eyes on a buxom young halfer with her legs crossed.  He smiled at her, keeping an eye on a tall and thin man at the other end of the bar without being obvious.

Damn it, Darius thought.  Jib Raltair.  With his pack.  He looks like he's on the hunt.  Probably been here for a while.  I should've been keeping an eye on the docking logs.  Damn it.  With my luck, he's going to be after Arthur.

Darius stood and walked toward the halfer, loosening his blaster as he went.  As he approached the girl, he continued to watch Raltair.  He doesn't recognize me, Darius thought.  Why would he?  I've never brought in the big marks.  Never worked for the Empire.  At least I've got that going for me.

"I was wondering when you'd ask me to come sit with you," Darius said to the halfer.  She smiled at him and gestured to an open seat.  Darius took the offer, making sure he could keep Raltair in the corner of his eye.

"First time at the Royale?" Darius asked.  He noticed Raltair wasn't drinking.

The halfer laughed.  "I work here, in one of the shows."

"Really?  Which one?"  Raltair's waiting for someone.  Wait and see.

"The Emperor's New Clothes," she said.  "It's one of the newer ones, and really hot.  We do a couple of shows a night.  You should come by and check it out."

"Yeah, I'll have to do that.  My name's Darius."  He extended his hand.  The halfer put down her smoke and took it.

"Misty," she said.  Her blue-green eyes glittered.  Darius recognized them as cybernetic implants, used by most of the poor and aspiring or the old trying to recapture fame.  This girl couldn't have been a woman for long, and already she had traded her eyes for ones made of steel.  Or was forced to.  Darius sighed; everyone needs to eat.

"Something wrong?" Misty said.  Something about her was too needy, too ready to accept him into her life.  This drew Darius to her.  He shook his head.

"No, it's nothing, just - aww, !" Darius cried out.  Jib Raltair was gone.

--- Star Wars ---

"Yeah, that's right - docking bay 72."

"We'll send a crew there right away, Mister Chase."

"Good.  There'll be a bonus for you if it's done soon."  Troy passed the maintenance officer a bundle of credit sticks.

"Thank you, sir," the officer said.  He stood and nodded and left.  Troy smiled.  He knew this place like he knew himself.  All it takes to get things done is the right attitude and a healthy account.  Now it was time to get the account back into shape.

Troy left the lounge for one of the more expensive areas of the casino.  In time, he was accepted into his game.  It didn't take long for him to get a reputation - the man to beat, the man to watch, the man who tips.  This was all part of his game, almost as much as the cards were.

Night passed to night before Troy called it quits.  His winnings were impressive, but not enough.  That would be left for the next night, after the Casino Royale's commerical news ran their story about him.  He knew it would draw those with money and the pride to lose it.

Troy sighed and wiped his forehead.  His body was at its drug-pushed limit.  Sleep was calling to him, but he wasn't ready yet.  A glass or six of whiskey would calm him down.

Troy felt a sharp poke in his lower back.  "Your money or your life," a soft voice, full of grace and hidden beauty, whispered into his ears.  Troy felt the warmth of her breath and the moistness of her lips.  He knew that voice, that breath, those lips.  He had dreamt of them before.

--- Star Wars ---

"We've got trouble," Darius said as he entered the private docking bay.  He headed straight for his locker on the Bee-A.

"What's up?" Arthur asked.

"Bounty hunters.  Good ones.  Here."

"What's the big deal?  You're a bounty hunter."

Darius stopped and turned to look back at Arthur.  "You don't get it, do you?  You're wanted.  Millions of people are depending on you.  Thousands are dieing in your name.  That bounty hunter could be after you."

"Yeah, could be.  Nobody knows I'm here.  Nobody's come looking for me for the past six months.  I think we're okay."

"I'd rather play it safe."  Darius disappeared into the ship.

"He makes a good point," Feyd said, waking from his trance.  "There is something special about you.  You are the meeting of many paths."

"More mumbo-jumbo from the stone-cold killer."

"You may make light of the Force, but it will not treat you the same.  If you do not guide your destiny, other forces shall."

"Listen, just let me work on these ships so we can get out of here.  Then I'll be safe again.  Just don't bother me.

"Jeez," Arthur said under his breath, "didn't know you cared."

Darius stomped down the gangway carrying his armour and a bag of weapons.  He put them down beside Arthur and began to dress himself.

"We're going to draw them out," Darius said.  "No point in letting Raltair pick and choose when to take you."

"But I'm working here!" Arthur protested.

"I just called Troy.  He hired a maintenace team.  And you need to buy a new hyperdrive, right?  This will be the perfect time for it.  I heard there's an Imperial-class drive up for auction."

Arthur pouted.  "Okay, fine," he said, throwing down his hydrospanner.  "Bessie don't need no new hyperdrive," he mumbled, "just a few coils."


----------



## LostSoul (Jan 20, 2003)

Troy turned around and stood up.  It had been a long time since he saw her, and he wasn't sure that she wasn't just a hallucination brought on by the drugs, alcohol, and exhaustion.  But she smelled right and stood right, with one hand on her cocked hips, a playful pouty smile on her face.  Her eyes had the same quality they always had.  He remembered the last time he looked into them.

"Brooke," he said.

"Lady Ashby," she said and smiled.  She had lost none of that grace and beauty that brought him to her in the first place.  She still wore mystery, but something of it was lost, something of her was raw and closer to the surface.

But she never looked tired in the night.

"Milady," Troy said in the old fashion, and kissed her hand.  She giggled and punched him playfully.

"Stop it," she laughed, "we're old friends.  None of that."

Troy leaned back against the bar to settle his nerves.  "I can still remember the last time I saw you," he said, knowing it was a mistake when the words left his lips.

"It was a long time ago," Brooke said.  They both felt a gap open between them, one that had always been there but laid quiet if you didn't bring it to mind.  "I hear that you and Arthur are both on planet."  She smiled again and the gap retreated into the darkness.

"Yeah, with a couple of new friends.  I don't know how long we're staying."

Brooke took out a guntha stick and lit it.  Troy looked at her standing there, smiling and playful but sad in the eyes.  She was a blend of sadness and sensuality, fragility and confidence.  Troy felt the need to be both her guardian and child.  He could not resist that feeling; he had been both in the past.

"That's a shame," she said, flipping her short cropped hair.  She looked at him intensely, as though she were waiting for something but Troy did not know what it was.  He wasn't sure if he ever would, and if he somehow discovered it he knew he would not be able to give it.  She was so much the Brooke of old, but different somehow, like a switch was flipped deep inside her.  Troy wondered if it had anything to do with him.

She exhaled a breath of the sweet-smelling smoke into the air.  Troy felt the old feelings coming back, the walls tumbling down on top of him.  He had not thought of her but had never forgotten.  His mind flashed back through the nights and days since, the lights and flesh and emotion. Nothing, nobody in the time spent apart was the same.  

"Listen," she said, "I've got to be somewhere.  And you look like you could use some rest."

"Probably," Troy said and stroked his face.

"I've got something set up that you would be perfect for.  A bit of high stakes action.  You think you're up for it?"

Troy looked at her.  She smiled.

"That's what I thought.  I've got to iron out some things first, but everything should go smoothly.  Especially after what we've seen tonight."  Troy nodded.  "Here's my number; call me when you're ready."

"In the night then," he said.

"In the night," she repeated, and put the half-spent smoke out.  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek; Troy felt a rush of endorphins run through his body.  Brooke smiled and waved, turning away.  Troy watched her as she walked out, commanding the attention of every pair of male eyes and rising above it.  She turned one last time and smiled again, and then she was gone.

Troy turned back to the bar and sighed.

"She a friend of yours?" the bartender asked, his words full of surpressed longing.

"Yeah.  A friend."

--- Star Wars ---

The auction hall on Casino Royale was large and filled with people.  Empty space rose above them.  It echoed with the words of a hundred different tongues and dialects.  The smell was just as cosmopolitan.

Darius led Arthur and Feyd into the hall.  "Right over there," he said, his voice tinny and removed through the blast helmet.  "Wait there.  Try to draw some attention to yourself.  I'm going to be waiting here."  He loosened his blasters.

"Right," Feyd said, taking Arthur with him into the crowd.  They jostled for space, but Feyd commanded distance.  Troy was right, Darius thought, the kid had changed.

"Remember," Darius said, "I'll be able to hear you through the comlinks."

The lights above dimmed and a shadow descended over the crowd.  It hushed the restless speaking, leaving only murmurs.  A great spotlight sprung up and the crowd silenced itself.  In the spotlight, high above the throng below, a man in a dark suit and flashy tie stepped up.

"Let's get this thing started!" he shouted in an arrogant voice.  "Time to spend some money!"

A cheer went up from the crowd, and the cheer was joined with heavy, throbbing electronic music blasting throughout the cavernous hall.  Excitement rose.  Darius stood silent near the door, keeping an eye on Arthur while scanning the crowd.  Looking for anything out of place, anything that might catch his attention, no matter how meaningless.  

A great hologram sprung up in the darkness, flashing the Casino Royale's symbol along with the auction hall's.  The hologram changed into a tall, slim, long-legged and short skirted woman with her hair back holding a small urn covered with strange symbols.  The urn looked expensive and the woman moreso.

"First up for bid," the announcer said.  The woman smashed the urn to the floor, and holographic dust fell around the crowd.  She picked up a small electronic device.  "A portable scanner blocker!"  The crowd cheered.  "Perfect for keeping hidden whatever you want.  And very discreet."  The woman hiked up her skirt to the whoops and cat calls of the crowd, and snapped the device to her stockings.  

"Opening bid: eight thousand!"

This went on for some time.  The value and relative illegality of the items rose and fell with the crowd.  Some of the things up for bid - geniune Sorosuub rifles, Imperial broadcasting codes, transponder jammers - were so illegal that mere possesion would end you up on a blasted rock in the middle of space mining for the Empire.  Nobody seemed to care.

Some items were more esoteric.  There was some art and some collectables.  Feyd bid on, and won, a collection of rather worthless and gaudy Malastair crystals - something that caught Darius off guard.  Feyd's excitement at seeing the crystals, and winning, was unexpected.  Especially for a plain-dressed kid.

An entire military class hyperdrive went up for sale.  Darius thought Arthur might bid on it, but he bowed out after the first round of bidding.  But Arthur's bidding brought more eyes to him than Darius'.  In the back of the hall, in the dark spaces between the rafters and shadows from the hologram, Darius spotted a flash of light.  Not light reflecting off metal, but the distinctive flash given off by a sniper's targetting system.  Jib Raltair had showed his hand.

Darius responded in an instant.  He engaged his rocket booster, launching him up above the crowd on the edge of the hologram.  His blasters were in his hands before he was even a foot off the ground.  Just as soon, they started firing.  Round after round of bolts flew through the darkness and at the shadowy bounty hunter.  Some were off their mark, but more made it through.  When both pistols emptied, Jib Raltair fell to the ground with a heavy thump.  Darius fired off another boost and landed near the body.  What was left of the body.  Still smoking and pumping blood.  Another mark for Darius.

A spotlight descended on him.  The announcer spoke.  "Looks like we've got even more action than we planned for!  The competition here is so fierce, our inventory so damn fine, we've got people killing each other for it!"  The crowd laughed.  The spotlight winked out and the auction began anew.

"Arthur, Feyd, we're done here."


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## mistergone (Jan 20, 2003)

Great story so far! Interesting that the only character I really feel for is Darius.


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## LostSoul (Jan 21, 2003)

mistergone said:
			
		

> *Great story so far! Interesting that the only character I really feel for is Darius. *




Thanks!  I'm not surprised you don't really feel for the others - actually, I'm surprised you feel for anyone - but they were anti-heroes.  They all have their ups and downs.  This last game (session IV, A Dark Sun Rises) was the first one where we really got past the beginning and into the characters.


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## LostSoul (Jan 21, 2003)

It was hard to tell the passage of time on Casino Royale.  Behind the moon of Socarro VI, it never recieved any direct sunlight.  So night grew into night.  It was the perfect place for a den of sin.  Troy felt at home here.

Socarro VI had a long and illustrious history.  It had gone through hell during the Clone Wars, where it had its name changed to Sorotarr after the general who forcibly subdued the population.  During this time, Sorotarr built a large defense platform - the basis for the Casino Royale.  It was a meeting point for all sorts of undesireables, and many of these stayed on after the war.  In the end it was liberated due to a combined Republic, Kalarban, and Norval fleet.  But it was never the same.

Troy always felt welcome here.  The journey was only a few days from Kalarba.  Troy and Arthur spent a lot of time there, retreating to the Casino whenver things got a little too hectic in the palace.  It was a good place to disappear, to lose yourself.

Troy woke up feeling restless.  He was still tired after his rest.  His dreams were strange and wild.  They all had a feeling of loss, of something that was just out of his reach and if he could get his hands on it everything would be right.  But he never could, he just kept falling deeper into darkness.

After washing up on the Bee-A's captain's suite, Troy got dressed.  He chose one of his old suits, an expensive and classy one, but he wore it slightly off.  He strapped on a wrist holster, but didn't have a blaster to fit.  He'd have to find another one.  He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and an old lighter stamped with a Norval II flight insignia.  He neglected to shave but fixed his hair.

The docking bay was alive with activity.  Darius was sitting on a folding chair smoking a cigar.  Next to him was a grill, and a few cuts of meat were grilling there.  Arthur was directing a group of mechanics, arguing with them about the best way to fix Bessie.  Feyd was nowhere to be seen.  Arthur spotted Troy and walked over to him.

"Have a good sleep?" Arthur said.  Troy stopped to light a guntha stick.  "Not bad."

"We saw you on the comms.  Looks like you're a celebrity here."  Troy nodded and sat down on a fueling cell.

"You hungry?" Darius said.  "Dinner will be ready soon."

"A drink would be nice," Troy said.  Darius reached into a cooler and threw him a dantic.  Troy cracked it open and took a long gulp.

"I could use one too," Arthur said.

"The cooler's open," Darius replied.

Dinner was good and greasy.  Troy felt refreshed after the meal and the fatigue drifted away from him.  He stood up and lit another guntha stick.  Darius was talking about his old job as a grill chef on some backwater rim planet.  He led a different life now.

"I've got to head out," Troy said.  "I'll see you back here for breakfast."  Darius nodded and Arthur waved.  "Try and bring back something interesting," Arthur said.

--- Star Wars ---

He met Brooke at the base of a posh hotel.  She was dressed in a slinky white outfit.  She had a small amount of makeup on her, a pale shade of blue that was the fashion in the core worlds.  She looked ready for anything.

"Here's the hold-out you wanted," Brooke said, handing Troy a small and highly illegal blaster.  He fitted it into his holster.  "I hope you won't be needing it.  These players are above that."

"It's good to have some backup," he said.  Brooke smiled.  "You've got me," she said.

They took a glass elevator up, high up, above the lights and common casinos below.  Troy stared out at them, receding in the distance.  Brooke's reflection caught his eye.  She still had the sadness in her eyes.  Troy wondered what it was from but the question was taboo.  He hoped he would find out in time.

They entered a regal suite, similar to the ones that he and Arthur would book when Arthur still had command of the royal Indobok treasury.  It was opulent and garish.  It was made for people who wanted to show off their wealth, to take eyes off of themselves because what was there was never quite as beautiful as the things they owned.  Three man stood around a table filled with drinks and exotic foods.  They nibbled at these and drank, laughing boasfully at their own exploits.  Two of them wore Imperial uniforms, the other been a businessman.  They looked up at Brooke and Troy.

VP Egus Glotto of TransGal Meg, Rear Admiral Stuus Motti, Moff Zin Zit.

"Gentlemen," Brooke said, drawing their eyes to her.  "Let me introduce Troy Chance, an old friend.  You might have heard of him."

"We saw you last night in the casino," the businessman said.  He extended his hand.  "Egus Glotto, Vice-President of TransGal Meg."  Troy shook his hand.

"This is Rear Admiral Stuus Motti," Brooke said, introducing one of the Imperial officers.  The Admiral kissed her hand and shook Troy's.  "And this is Moff Zin Zit.  We are expecting another player; he should arrive soon."

The waiting was always the hardest part for Troy.  He took another couple of drinks while Brooke exchanged pleasantries with the other men.  He fended off a few inquiries into his business but these went unnoticed.  Brooke commanded the attention of the men, and anything said to Troy was just faked courtesy.

Troy studied the men while they talked.  He picked up some tells from each of them, and he knew that would make this night easier.  Brooke had a talent for bringing things out of other people while telling little of herself.  Each question she answered told her more of the questioner and gave away little.  She had used this on Troy before and with him.

After over an hour of waiting and small talk, the Imperial Moff suggested starting.  "Our last guest is taking his own damn sweet time.  Let's just get going."  Troy was ready for this, and took his place at the gaming table.  Brooke prepared the table.

"Enjoy yourselves, gentlemen," she said.

--- Star Wars ---

The game went well for Troy.  He played up and down, losing some at the start but bringing his total up slowly.  He intentionally lost a few big hands but made them back over time.  He faked nervousness with each hand, although he knew that he could have easily cleaned out the men in only a few hands.  To lull them into false security was better.

He had already raised his winnings from fifty to nearly a hundred and fifty when the suite's doors opened.  A small entourage of people walked in - two masked guards, three half-naked twi'lek dancing girls - all around a smallish hutt on a repulsor platform.  The hutt was smoking a large water-pipe, blowing foul-smelling smoke into the air.

"Let me introduce Gulguthra the Hutt," Brooke said.  The Hutt laughed in a booming voice, the laugh directed at Brooke.

"We all are here, tonight," Gulguthra said with a thick and strange accent.  "De real game begin now."

Gulguthra was right.  Troy had to give up his former style, his game of cat-and-mouse, and really put his mind into the game.  It wasn't long before Egus Glotto and Stuus Motti had called it in.  Glotto watched the game continue, while Stuus Motti proceded to empty the drink cart.  The twi'lek girls were giving a dance, and the Rear Admiral watched them intensely.

Brooke was still watching the game, making small talk and flirting whenever she could.  Moff Zin Zit was thrown off with her teasing, but Gulguthra was immune.  Hutts are notorious for their vices, but even more renown for thier ability to shrug them off when it suited them.

"Ho ho ho," Gulguthra laughed.  "Dis hand be mine!" he said, and one of the guards moved the pile of credits over to him.  He had taken most of the other three's money, and now Zin Zit was left with little.  Even Troy's winnings were dwarfed by the Hutt's.  Troy wondered if it had been a mistake to get into the game with a notorious gambler.  He had heard of Gulguthra among the seedier cirlces he hung around with.  A gamer, a gambler, a deadly enemy and worse friend.

"I'm going to fix myself a starburst," Brooke said.  "Does anyone else want anything?"

"Corellian whiskey, on ice," Troy said.  He recognized the clue and had responded in kind.  It had been long since they had worked together in a game like this, in any game.  But together they had never been beaten, nor had they ever been caught.  They worked with such subtlety that even an interrogation droid would have missed it.

The cards were dealt.  Troy had a good hand, but good enough?  He realized that Zin Zit had something, as well - and Gulguthra was an unknown.  Troy decided to fake a tell.  He stared at Gulguthra, hoping the hutt would take the aggression as the sign of a bluff.  If the hutt had gone for it, Troy had no way of knowing.

Betting followed.  Both Gulguthra and Troy increased their ante.  The stakes grew higher and higher.  Brooke put in her own suggestions, causing Moff Zin Zit to think that she could be bought with the winnings.  The Moff threw in almost all he had.  Troy and Gulguthra responded.  The pot was nearly half a million credits.

Brooke changed her tactic.  She brought out the growing doubt in Zin Zit's mind, forcing it to the surface, making it grow so that it he could not ignore it.  Zin Zit threw down his cards in disgust.  "Too much for me," he said.

Gulguthra laughed.  "So, Troy Chance, human, it is down to us.  You have de Hutt's courage.  We see if it lasts, eh?"  The slug laughed again and slapped Brooke on the rear.  That last move just to take Troy off his game.  He knew there was something between them, but the hutt know how deep it ran?

Gulguthra put the whole of his cash on the table.  There was over a million on the table now.

"Can de Troy Chance meet dis?" the hutt boomed.

Brooke gave a signal.  "Not with my cash," Troy said, "but I've got a ship that will cover it."  He threw down the passcard to the Bee-A.  "A new Imperial Customs Guardian Light Cruiser."  It was worth nearly eight-hundred thousand.

"Let's see what you got," Gulguthra said, and laid his hand on the table.  A pure sabaac.  Glotto whistled.  Zin Zit harrumphed.  Even Brooke was taken aback.  The hutt had been cheating.

"Not bad," Troy said, and laid his down.  An idiot's array.  Troy smiled and leaned back.  Brooke sighed as tension washed off her.  Gulguthra laughed, louder than before.

"Troy Chance, you are my human favourite!" he said.  More was left unsaid.  Gulguthra knew that Troy had outcheated him.  "We will game again, eh?  Let me get some of dis back."  The hutt laughed, and the tension was gone.  Troy collected the chips and dumped them into an accounting droid.  The game was over, and Troy had won.

He stayed behind, making more small talk and spending some of his money.  Brooke calmed the losers down.  Finally Troy decided to leave.  Brooke caught up with him.

"Nice game," she said.  Her sadness was there now, just below the surface.

"Couldn't have done it without you," he said.  What could he say to her?  His mind was tangled.

She put her hand on his arm.  "Make sure you give me a call tomorrow.  I need to ask you for a favour."  Troy looked at her hand there, and she removed it quickly.  She took a step back.

Troy put his jacket on and nodded.  "Will do."  He had the feeling that something was lurking there, left unsaid.  He didn't know how to get at it.  With Brooke he never knew.  He smiled and walked to the door, turning as it opened to look at Brooke.  She watched him, and he couldn't help but feel he had let her down somehow.

_[Game notes - Brooke and Troy enjoyed a hefy bonus to Gambling when they worked together.  2D in d6, which probably works out to +4 in d20.  Even with this bonus, Gulguthra had an advantage in skill, and when that last roll came down it was pretty exciting.  But Troy won in the end, and walked out with a lot of cash.]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 21, 2003)

"So what are we waiting around here for?" Darius asked.  They were standing in the lobby of one of the Casino's more expensive hotels.  They drew stares from nearly everyone there.  It's not everyday you see a fully armed and armoured bounty hunter.  Nobody was willing to ask them to leave.

"Just making sure nothing happens," Troy answered, blowing out some smoke.  He touched the blaster at his side.  He had a feeling he'd be using it soon.

"Better be worth my time," Darius said.

"Trust me, it's worth it," Arthur offered.  "This girl, Brooke, she's a knockout.  When she talks to you, it's like nobody else is there.  Just going to dinner with here will be reward enough."  Feyd's eyes lit up.  Darius harrumphed.

"So how do you plan to spend your cash?" Arthur asked Troy.

Troy flicked his cigarette onto the marble floor and put it out.  "I was thinking of fixing up the Bee-A with some creature comforts.  Maybe a hot tub, a couple of bars, the best selection of liquor this side of the core.  The usual."

"Bessie doesn't look like much next to her," Arthur said with a resigned sigh.

"Bessie doesn't look like much next to anything," Darius said.  Arthur shot him a look.  Darius looked away towards the exit.

"," he said, "look."

A pair of Imperial troop transports had just pulled up to the hotel's entrance.  Stormtroopers were filing out in organized deployment.  Full squads with heavy weapons teams.  Couldn't be a good sign.

"Move back, out of sight," Darius said.

The troopers rushed into the building.  The elevator controls were overriden, and most filed in.  A few remained, posting guard at the stair wells, entrance, and the elevator.  Suddenly Darius didn't look so inconspicuous.

Troy's comlink flashed to life.  "Troy."  It was Brooke.  "Are you there?"  Sounds of blasters in the background.  The comm flickered out for a second.  "...your help.  Imperial troopers have us pinned down.  Hurry!"  Another salvo of blaster fire and the comlink went dead.

Troy took off in a mad dash towards the stair well.  Everyone else followed.

"Hold it," one of the troopers said, "this area is quarrantined by Imperial edict."  Troy responded by squeezing off a bolt into the trooper's chest.  He crumpled like paper.

Darius took the cue.  In an instant, both of his hand cannons were firing.  The other trooper guarding the stair well fell down smoking from three holes.  The other storm troopers reacted.

"Rebel terrorists in the lobbey, heading up the east stair well."  They'd have to make this quick.  Troy continued his run up the stairs, Arthur on his heels.  Darius fired off a few more shots and backed behind cover of the corner.  Feyd stood next to him, his lightsabre humming with fierce intensity.

"Go on, I'll cover things down here."  Feyd looked at Darius' masked face and ran up.

Daruis fired a few more shots, pinning down the storm troopers.  Then he ran up the stairs, dropping a pair of grenades behind him.  The explosion echoed in his ears and he smiled.  All in a day's work.

--- Star Wars ---

Outside Brooke's suite a squad of storm troopers were moving in.  Troy was the first to see them.  He let loose with a couple bolts, winging one and taking another down.  Seconds later, the rest of the group moved in.  The troopers didn't last long between the combined fire.

Stepping over the downed storm trooper shells and the bloody rebel bodies, Troy spotted Brooke behind a scarred and burning couch.  He ran to her and the couple embraced.  "Oh god, it's good to see you," she said.  "Another couple of minutes..."

Darius stepped into the room.  "We're going to have to move quick.  There'll be more coming soon."  Feyd took up position in the doorway.

"They're here," Feyd said.

The troopers advanced to the door, and Feyd met them, vibro-bayonet against lightsabre.  The troopers didn't stand a chance.  One fell, then another.  The Imperials backed off and regrouped.

"Grenade!" Feyd said, tumbling out of the doorway.  A huge explosion followed on his heels.  Feyd stepped to his feet and shook his head.  Half the wall had been blown apart and a large hole was where the floor had been.

Darius seized on an idea.  "Get down there!" he said, moving to the edge of the hole.  He knelt down and fired off a few rounds in both directions down the hall.  Everyone picked up on his plan and lept down to the next floor.  Darius was the last to follow.

"Feyd, give me some cover," he said when he reached the lower level.  "Everyone else, back up.  I'm going to open up another grenade in here."

Feyd moved in front of Darius.  His lightsabre whirled madly, blocking shot after shot.  The troopers stopped shooting for a second, planning on co-ordinating their fire.  Feyd had felt that before, and wasn't ready to go through it again.

Darius and Feyd lept back, Darius boosted by his rocket pack and Feyd by the Force.  Another explosion, another hole.  This time nobody wasted a second, and under the cover of smoke they made their way down to the next level.

"We can't keep doing this," Troy shouted.  Darius nodded, and opened up on the window.  It shattered and melted before his blasts.  He stepped to the window and fired off a long steel cable that reached the hotel across the way.  Another round and the windows across from them were blasted out.

"Go on," Darius said, digging his heels into the ground.  Brooke was the first to go; taking off a scarf, she slid down the cable and into the open room across the divide.

The rest followed just as blaster bolts hit near Darius.  Feyd was last; he looked at Darius in a moment of indecision, but decided to make the journey.  Darius stood there, grunting with effort as he held up the far end of the cable.

Just as Feyd reached the other room, a bolt hit Darius square between the shoulders.  He grunted in pain and cut off the cable.  Feyd, in mid air, made a spectacular jump to safety.  Darius spun around and fired his blasters.

Another pair of bolts just missed him.  Fighting through the pain, he tossed another grenade and lept out the window.  When he heard the explosion, he kicked in his rocket booster and guided himself to the ground.

--- Star Wars ---

"What the  is that?" Troy shouted.  He had nearly broken free of the Casino Royale's gravity well, but not the TIE fighters on his tail.  A massive sensor imprint was flashing on his scanners.

"Imperial Star Destroyer," Arthur said over the comm.  Piloting Bessie, Arthur weaved through the TIE's blasters with ease.  Not so for Troy; hit after hit impacted on the hull.  But the shields were strong and the hull moreso.  "The Falstaff.  I recognize it from the night of the purge."

The words hit home for Troy.  He remembered seeing the looming image of the Falstaff orbiting Kalarba, firing down heavy turbolasers and sending shuttlecraft full of Imperial storm troopers.  That was the last time he had seen his homeworld, burning behind him as he and Arthur jumped into hyperspace.  And now the Falstaff was here, again.

Another blast rocked the Bee-A.  "Focus on that customs ship out there!"  It was closing fast.  Troy knew just what it was capable of; he was flying the exact same make.  And its pilots were better trained than he was.  Its captain had a good reason to want them dead; it was Zabel Torsh, brother of Babel Torsh, the former captain of Troy's ship.  He was still locked up somewhere in the brig.

Troy spotted a flash of light to his right.  Brooke had taken down another TIE.  It was true what they said: Norval II had some of the best pilots in the galaxy.  He welcomed Brooke's abilities to his crew.  He had missed them.

The ship rocked violently.  Another blast found its mark.  R2-FU beeped and wailed.  The power flow regulators had taken a hit.  This wasn't looking good.

The TIEs were coralling both ships towards the Star Destroyer.  Soon they'd be within tractor beam range.  They had one last chance; if they could break through the weakest point, maybe they'd make it.

They never got a chance.  Another hit took out the engines and the ship stopped dead in space.  Troy watched helplessly from his cockpit as Zabel Torsh overtook him and focused on Arthur and Bessie.  Not even Arthur's piloting could hold up for long.  In the end, the outcome was decided for him.  The Star Destroyer locked on with tractor beams strong enough to move planetoids.  Both ships moved inevitably towards the waiting docking bay.

--- Star Wars ---

Feyd awoke in the dark.  He had no idea where he was.  Overwhelmed by storm troopers, he had fallen.  So had they all.  

He knew he wasn't dead.  The pain, aching in his joints and muscles and head told him that.  He was cramped up, packed tight in a ball, no way to move.  The pain cascaded through him.

He tried to relax himself through the Force.  But the pain!  Unable to concentrate.  He tried to put it out of his mind.  He focused on his breathing, on the beating of his heart.  The pain was still there.  He went deeper into himself.  He felt the blood rushing through his veins.  The pain lingered on.  Deeper still.  He felt the nerves firing, his synapses shooting off messages.  That was where the pain was coming from.  He focused on that, on the source of the pain itself, understanding and accepting it for what it was.

Time passed.

Finally, he found his concious self returning.  This time the pain was gone.  He reached out with the Force, trying to sense his friends.  They were far off, but alive and well.

--- Star Wars ---

Troy woke in an opulent room.  A window showed the vastness of empty space.  The lights were dim.  His head throbbed.

He sat up.  He was on a bed, a bed so soft that he felt like he was floating.  His clothes had been removed, and he was dressed in a fine set of silk pajamas.  At the foot of the bed were some clothes.  Nice ones.  On the nightstand a glass of water and two pills.

Troy got up from the bed and drank the water.  He put on the clothes.  They fit well, tailored just for him.  His blaster was gone, though.  

Something about this didn't seem right.

His mind jumped to Brooke.  Where was she?  Was she all right?  He would have to find out.  He adjusted his clothes, straightened his hair, and walked out the door.

A large black table stood in the middle of a long, dark hall.  Everyone else was sitting there, sipping drinks cautiously.  Brooke was there.  Troy felt a wave of relief wash over him.  She looked regal and stubborn, defiant to the last.  She was wearing a long evening gown and her hair was up.  She stared across the table at a thin, tall man sitting in the dark.

"Troy Chance," the thin man said, "welcome.  I trust you are feeling well?"

Troy said nothing and sat next to Brooke.  She reached out and gripped his hand in hers, hard.

"Let me introduce myself," the thin man said.  Troy looked at him.  He was old but still had the vigor of youth.  His face was cruel and hard.  He stood at the head of the table, welcoming people whom he knew would kill him if given the chance.  He acted as though he held them in the palm of his hand.  He did, Troy thought.

"My name is Adar Darksun.  I am a Moff in the service of his holiness, the Emperor.  You are welcome guests here on my flagship, the Falstaff." 

 Searing hatred went round the table.  Troy wanted to see this man dead before him.  Brooke stared daggers at him.  Arthur looked down at his empty plate in defeat.  Darius was a simmering powder keg.  And Feyd was... nowhere to be seen.

"Where the  is Feyd?" Troy challenged.  He spat his words out like hot lead.  Darksun smiled.

"The youth you call Feyd is alive and well.  He is in my custody, as you all are."

"Where the  is he, you peice of ?" Darius yelled.

"Obviously not here.  He has certain abilities that necessitate his removal from our pleasantries."

"Lock a kid up like that, it's not right," Darius said.  "Standing behind your guards and lackies, you goddamned pussy."

Darksun smiled again.  "Passion has not left you, Draven, not even after she did."  Darius looked shocked, for once unable to find the proper curse.  "Let me continue," Darksun said.  "Many of you have reason to hate me.  I can accept this.  Many of you want to see me dead.  This is how it must be.  You know me well; I am the one who enabled your nemisis Alexi to take the throne of Kalarba and set it on fire.

"You wonder why I have brought you all here, alive and unharmed, when I am your enemy.  You would not give me the same courtesy, I can assure you.  This is how it must be.  Your lives are important to me.  Especially you, lost prince Denfrey.

"I have watched you for a time now in your futile attempts to flee the Emperor's grasp.  This can never be, but you must continue your heroic quest.  For it is what the Emperor wishes.

"The planet of Kalarba has intrigued his Holiness for some time now.  There are secrets buried there, secrets that even He has not uncovered.  

It is only Alexi who stands in the way of this.  With him gone, He can uncover those things thought lost forever."

"What the  does this have to do with any of us?" Troy yelled.  "Why don't you just blast the er into nothing?"

"You are the bait in this game.  You are the lure with which the Emperor will gain control of Kalarba and its secrets.  And over Alexi himself.  The dark prince has much power that could be put to His unfathomable desires.  You will be the ones that will hand over Kalarba and the soul of Alexi to the Emperor."

"What the  do we care about that ?  Take him.  Let him be the Emperor's bitch.  We don't give a ."  Troy looked across the table.  Darius was quiet.  But he didn't wear that usual taciturn mask.  Something Darksun said had rattled him good.

"That is true.  But you have no option other than to serve His plans.  The further you fly, the further Alexi follows.  Away from his home and his spirit.  That is why I have hired Mr. Draven to watch over Arthur; that is why I'm letting you go."

So that's where Darius was getting these anonymous payments from.  Well, if the Empire wants to pay him for it, let them.  We could always do with some extra cash.

"But Feyd is staying," Brooke said.

"That is unfortunate.  He is a cause of concern for his Holiness.  We cannot let him go."

"You're kidding yourself if you think that we'll just let you take him."  Darius spoke, but in a soft voice.  He was shaken.

"You have no choice.  Eat, drink, enjoy your stay.  My guards will show you to your ships when it is time."  Darksun left the room, but his presence did not.  There was an empty void left there, something that no words or actions could fill.

" me," Darius said.

--- Star Wars ---

Brooke, Troy, and Darius watched the Star Destroyer slowly drift away from them in the cockpit of the Bee-A.  No words were spoken.  They were all thinking the same thing.  Although they were desperate to be away, far away from Darksun, they couldn't help but feel like they were leaving something behind.  Feyd had made an impression on them all.  The innocent youth, full of potential, now helpless in the clutches of the 

Empire.  But there was nothing they could do.

"What're you guys looking at?" The question broke the silence.  It was Feyd, standing there in the doorway, a bright smile on his face.

"Feyd?" Troy asked.  "What - how -"

"The Force," he said.  "Cages of metal and steel cannot hold one well versed in its ways.  It gave me a chance to look deep into myself, to draw on reserves of strength I had never known existed."

"Well I'll be damned," Darius said.  "Good to see you, kid."

"You too."

"Well, boys," Brooke said, "what say we get the hell out of here?"

_[Stay tuned for Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba, Episode V: The Path of Ancients!]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 23, 2003)

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . .

A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop for the main title.  War drums echo through the heavens as a roll-up slowly crawls into infinity.

*STAR WARS*

EPISODE V: The Path of the Ancients

Our heroes have gained a moment of
quiet rest.  After scoring big in
a card game with Gulguthra du 
Hutta, our heroes found themselves
the guests of Moff Darksun aboard
his flagship, the Falstaff.

Set free in accordance with 
Darksun's sinister plan to take
control of Kalarba, our heroes have
reunited on Shownar to rest and 
refuel before the beautiful Lady
Brooke Ashby leads them to a 
nearby Rebel stronghold.

But enemies made long ago persue
our heroes, threatening their
destinies...


CUTSCENE:

An IMPERIAL CUSTOMS FRIGATE falls out of hyperspace, Shownar's rust red surface in the background.  The polished chrome armour catches a star's light, reflecting towards the planet.  The crusier turns towards the planet.

INT - CUSTOMS FRIGATE - BRIDGE

Three Imperial PILOTS sit at various controls, monitoring system controls and the ship's heading.  Captain ZABEL TORSH sits above the crew in his command seat.  Three men operate the ship's sensor suite.

PILOT: We've dropped out of hyperspace at Shownar, sir.

ZABEL TORSH: (to sensor operators) Scan the planet for any signs of my brother's ship.  I will find Troy Chance.

EXT - SPACE

The Customs Frigate banks and heads towards Shownar.

CUT TO:

Berrol's Donn was a muddy, run-down refugee planet.  Serving as the main resistance point for the entire quadrant, almost all rebel ships ended up here at one time or another.  It was a great place to drop off any refugees or prisoners picked up along the way.  The refugees had created their own small ghetto on the edge of the main rebel base, and many of them were recruited into service.

Darius was reminded of home.  The place that he was born in, grew up, and left so many years ago.  Run down, packed mud for streets, barely enough food to feed the starving.  A place where wolves prosper and cubs grow fangs or die.  Darius was one of the latter.  He walked through one of the streets just on the edge of the base.  People kept their distance.  They had seen enough of guns and violence for a hundred lifetimes.  Darius reminded them of what they so dearly tried to forget.

He spotted a small, pre-fabricated cantina down the street and made his way there.  At the entrance a pair of winos slept through the day, lost in their own drunken worlds.  The cantina was dark and dingy, lit with ancient oil lamps.  A fire burned in a hollowed out cargo crate in the corner.  The depression and hoplessness was overpowering.  Darius sat at the bar and ordered a drink.

This place had it all.  Whores watching gamblers wearing gaudy clothes, trying to impress.  No credits on the table.  The pot was made up of blasters, clips, and heirlooms lost long ago.  A holo-music box sat dead in the corner, out of energy.

Darius took a drink.  It was hard and burned its way down his throat.  It warmed him up and he sighed.

Shouting in the back drew his attention.  "Get out!" a man's voice shouted.  A grease-covered cook opened the kitchen door.  He had a small girl over his shoulder.  The cook threw her to the ground.

Darius looked at her.  She was a near-human, a halfer.  Her skin was a pale shade of blue, like the sky high in the mountains.  Tears ran down her grime-covered face.  Her fingernails were cracked and blood was under them.  She was tiny, a waif, desperate.

"If I catch you trying to steal food from here again, I'm going to turn you over to Big Treat!"  It was a real threat.

She slowly stood up.  Darius realized that she wasn't a girl at all, but a woman; so starved and beaten that she had lost her figure.  But something in her face caught Darius' interest.  Here eyes were large and wanting, her face rounded and smooth.  Darius could see the lost beauty in her, beauty that had become secondary to simple survival.

She pulled herself up.  Darius looked over.  "You want something to eat?" he asked.

She looked at him with eyes that had seen too much.  A moment passed, then she sat down next to the armoured man.

"She's a no good theif," the cook said.  "You don't want her around you."

"I don't need your opinion.  Just throw some meat on the grill."  The cook looked down at his feet and turned away.

Darius offered her his drink.  She took it cautiously, then took a long gulp.  He face wrentched up in a grimace, but soon went away.  Darius shot another look at the bartender and soon he had a new drink.

They said nothing until after she was done her meal.  She wiped her face with a napkin, using the faded chrome of the plate for a mirror.  Her tears and the grime was wiped away.  She had a child-like innocence in her face, but her eyes spoke of things seen, things experienced, that would turn Darius grey.

"Darius," he said when she was finished.

"Hmm?" she looked at him.

"I'm Darius," he said.

"Tess," she replied.  Her voice was deep and strong.

"How well do you know weapons and armour?" he asked.

"I've seen my fair share of them."

"Do you think you could keep mine in good condition?"

Her eyes lit up.  "Yes!" she said, embarassed after the words came out.  "Um... I can do that."

"That's good."  Darius sat quietly.  Tess watched him intently.  He knew she was trying to decide whether she could trust him or not, whether he wanted something more than what he was asking for.

She was a good study of character.  Darius got up and she followed him back to the Bee-A.

"This is my ship," he said.  "You get room and board for free.  I'll pay you ten credits a week."  She smiled.

--- Star Wars ---

Troy was lounging in the Bee-A when Darius walked in.  He had a small, thin, near-human woman with him.  Her skin, where it was not covered with grime, was a pale shade of blue.

"This is Tess," he said.  "She's going to be helping me out with my equipment."

Troy looked at her and back at him.  He didn't like it much.  He had already allowed Darius a bunk on the Bee-A, and now he was bringing in street trash.

"I thought you ought to know," Darius said.  He turned to Tess.  "You know where my bunk is; go shower up.  You can put on one of my outfits, if you want."  Tess nodded and left the room.

"Finding it hard to meet women these days?" Troy asked.

Darius glared at him.  "Nothing like that.  She's just here to keep my weapons and armour in repair."

"I'm sure."

"I don't care what you think.  It's my business.  I guess you've got no objections to letting her stay here?"

"Nope.  Just make sure she gets herself clean."

Darius left.  Troy didn't like this much.  He didn't trust Darius with the young girl; he didn't think he should be using her like that.  Taking someone so obviously desperate for anything... it wasn't good.

Then again, Troy thought, Darius hadn't shown much vice since he knew him.  Arthur said he had been pretty much celibate when they were on Casino Royale for those six months.  And he had proven himself in combat, willing to fight for them when it was Brooke who needed it.  It was his buisiness, anyway.  Troy shuffled his deck of sabaac cards and took a drink.

--- Star Wars ---

Brooke walked into the Bee-A's lounge.  Troy, Darius, and Feyd were waiting there.  Troy was teaching Feyd to play some variant of sabaac, but the youth didn't seem to be getting it.  Darius was polishing a blaster silently.

"Well, that's it," she said.  She was wearing a loose-fitting jumpsuit, belted tightly at the waist.  Her hair was simple and she had no makeup on.  "I've just resigned my comission from the alliance."

"Did they give you any trouble?" Troy asked.

"Ahh, you know," she said, walking to the drink cart.  She turned and faced the rest of them, leaning against it.  "It's over with now."

"So where to now?" Feyd asked.  He didn't do a good job of covering up where he wanted the question to lead.

"Not to see your master," Troy answered.  "I want to get this thing fixed up first.  I've got some ideas for this place, to make it a little nicer."  He looked around the lounge, an emptied crew bunk with a few gaudy benches and couches added.  "First thing I'm going to do is get a bar put in."

Feyd looked down.  He wondered if this is what his master had planned for.  It had been nearly a year since he left their hidden base.  And he had yet to convince Arthur to return with him.  He hadn't even convinced Arthur to accept the Force.

And he still felt the anger in him.  The anger that came when they first took the Bee-A.  He could still see the face of the naval trooper he killed, overkilled, plunging his lightsabre deep through him until the twitching stopped.  He still smelt the burning flesh and boiling blood.  He didn't want to turn away from it, though.  He wanted to face his actions and deal with them in the Jedi way.

Or did he?  The anger gave him so much more power.  It ran through his veins, beat with his heart, through every fibre of his being.  It was a part of him now, and unlocked much of the Force that was hidden to him before.  He could see it now, even in the lounge, the anger within him crying out for release, to reach out and subdue the living energies that surrounded everything and everyone.

"The closest non-Imperial port is at Ploorad, the sector capital," Brooke said after taking a sip.  "It's a short trip, only a day or two."

"Maybe I can check up on my accounts," Darius said.  "If that bastard Darksun wants to keep paying me, I'm not going to stop him."

"Ploorad, then," Troy said.  "I'll let Arthur know and we'll leave this place."

--- Star Wars ---

Dinner in deep space.  It was a good meal.  The Bee-A's consumables were made for a full crew of some 24 men.  They had hardly made a dent in the supplies, although the Captain's meals, the best ones, had already been finished.  Thanks to Darius and his grill, the general crew's meals were much better, if a little greasy.

It was dinner on the first day when Brooke and Feyd met Tess.  She followed Darius into the mess, still wearing her work clothes spotted with grease.  Darius' clothes did not fit her at all.  She had rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, but it fit her like a jacket.  She had cleaned herself up, washed her hair and filed her nails.  The beauty that Darius had first seen was more apparent now, and everyone could see it.

"Who's this?" Brooke asked with a smile on her face.

"This is Tess," Darius said.  "She's going to be working for me."  Feyd shot a troubled look at Troy, but Troy waved it off.  Feyd seemed mollified by the gesture.

Brooke stood up and walked over to Tess.  "Tessalonia," Brooke said, using the proper name, "I'm Lady Brooke Ashby."  Brooke made a curtsey.  "Pleased to meet you."

This seemed to put Tess at ease.  She smiled and brushed her hair.  "Nice to meet you," Tess said.  Her voice was stronger still.  She had not been broken.

"Come, sit with us," Brooke said, and waved her over to a seat.  "What would you like?  Darius is a good cook, but his meals are a little... rich for my tastes."

"It's okay," Tess said.  "I'll have whatever you've got."

Brooke fixed her a plate and gave her a large glass of water.  They chatted for a while, talking about girlish things.  When the meal was done, Tess excused herself and headed back to the engineering bay.

"Where did you find her?" Brooke asked.

"Berrol's Donn," Darius said.  "She was living on the street, stealing food to survive."

"How sweet of you," Brooke said.  "But don't hurt her.  She's still a fragile thing."  There was a tone of threat in her voice and Darius picked up on it.  He nodded.

Brooke was satisfied with that.  "It'll be nice to have another woman on board.  Living with you brutes was beginning to get to me."  She smiled playfully, and Troy threw a small peice of food at her.  She screamed girlishly, and returned it.  Laughter went through everyone.


----------



## LostSoul (Jan 24, 2003)

Ploorad was a busy and excited capital.  It had seen its business increase dramatically since the Empire took control of most of the large starports in the mid-rim.  Cheap, pre-fabricated metal towers sprung up with the influx of people.  Ploorad had the feel of a boom town.  Along with this feeling came a sense of danger.  The economic explosion brought in a lot of shady characters that traditional Plooradians would rather not have seen.  

Troy was gambling with one of them.  His new "friend", Gulguthra the Hutt.  Ploorad was his main area of operations.  The Hutt had been getting set up here, and was doing well.  Not so well, however, as to draw the attention of the Empire or his enemies in Hutt space.  Gulguthra seemed pleasantly surprised to see Troy, a small celebrity now on the gambling circut, in one of his Casinos.

"I give you de discount for de purchases, eh?" Gulguthra had said.  "But you agree to play wid me in de game."  Troy looked forward to another game with the Hutt.

He didn't know that it would go badly for him.  Brooke had made all the difference last time.  Without her here, Troy wasn't quite as sharp.  Troy was able to keep his losses down to a respectable amount - he was still extraordinarily wealthy - but losing hurt his pride.

"De losing come sometime," Gulguthra said when the game was over.  "But maybe it not all be lost."

Troy looked at the Hutt.  They were lounging in Gulguthra's private room overlooking a swanky nightclub.  Twi'lek girls were serving them some of the galaxy's best liquor and food.  Troy had his choice of quality cigars.  He puffed silently in the room, looking down at the dancers below.

"I got word dat dere is a big treasure under de city," Gulguthra said.  "Said to be worth de millions.  Or t'ousands."  The Hutt laughed.  "And de life of one of my men."

Troy feigned disinterest.  He didn't trust the Hutt, but if there was something valuable down there, something worth killing for and angering a Hutt... it might be worth it to him.

"I give you de disc dat my man was following," Gulguthra said.  "It lead down in de sewers.  You want it?"

"What's down there?"

"Don't know.  Could be lots, could be nothing.  Up to you."

Troy thought it over in his mind.  "Sure, I'll take it."

"C'est bon!  Good!  Maybe I get de chance to repay you for beating you here, eh?"

--- Star Wars ---

"What are we looking for in here?" Darius asked.  He was up to his knees in thick, syrupy water.  It looked bad and smelled worse.

"Something valuable," Troy answered.

"Better be," Darius grumbled.

"You didn't have to come, you know.  You could have stayed with your girlfriend on the Bee-A."

More grumbles.

"Let's keep moving," Feyd said.  He was excited.  Ever since they had landed on planet, he felt a strange sensation in the Force.  He didn't know what to make of it then.  Now, he felt it growing stronger and stronger.  Something was down here, in all this dirt and decay.  It had a strange feeling, not like Alexi, not like his master Til-Gon, but something else.  Something he had felt before, but when he tried to fix on it, the feeling slipped out of his concious mind like a struggling fish.

"Where to next, then?" Brooke asked.  She looked over Troy's shoulder at the datadisc.  She didn't seem to be much bothered by the sewer.  Then again, she was wearing a spare set of engineer's clothes she had raided from the Bee-A.  Somehow a cocktail dress didn't seem to fit.

"I don't know," Troy said.  "I can't make this out... I think we may have taken a wrong turn."

"Great," Darius moaned.  He twiddled with his blasters, spinning them on his fingers.

"Well," Brooke said, "I guess we're not going back now.  Let's just keep moving on."

--- Star Wars ---

About half an hour passed.  It was obvious they were lost in the tunnels beneath Ploorad.  Anxiety was building up.

"-look, I don't know where to go!" Troy shouted.

"I told you we should have taken that last right," Darius said.  "Now we've got no bearings."

"Quiet," Feyd said softly.

"Whatever, Darius.  I think we're going to come back on the main passage soon."

"You think?  That's what got us into this trouble in the first place."

"Shut up, both of you," Brooke said.

"Hey, don't get uppity with me.  This isn't my idea."

A shouting match started.  Feyd was kneeling against one of the walls, trying to shut it all out.

"QUIET!" he shouted.  Everyone stopped and looked at him.

"I think we're on the right path.  To what, I don't know.  I can sense something here.  I'll be able to follow it if you just give me some peace and quiet."  He concentrated.  The feeling was strong.  He was near its source.  No... not near its source.  Near something that reached out from it.  Something like an arm grasping for him.  There was something about this junction...

Feyd walked forward a few steps.  His eyes lit up suddenly, and he drew his lightsabre in a smooth motion.  Just as he did, the floor beneath him opened up and dropped him down.

"What the -" Darius said, but the tunnel shifted to a steep angle, dumping all of them down into the chute.

The ride was quick.  They fell down hundreds of feet through the chute, sliding on and on until finally it ended.  They hit the ground with a large thump, one on top of the other.

Something was different about these tunnels.  No, everything was different.  They had been dumped out onto a dry steel grate, free of rust and grime.  They stood at the edge of a huge shaft, hundreds of feet apart.  Other chutes were dumping water into here, but it was a clean, cool water like a mountain waterfall.  From high up above, a beam of pure sunlight streamed down.  The waterfalls caught it, reflected the light into hundreds of small rainbows.  The mist sparkled, looking like jewels in the air.  The air was clean and fresh.  They were definitely somewhere else.

They untangled themselves, lost in the beauty of the waterfall.  It was a needed sight that took away the pains and anxieties that had been building up to this point.  It was an unexpected surprise, something that none of them ever had expected to see here, but here it was.  This built its beauty all the more.  There was a feeling of peace here, of tranquility, of the triumph of simple nature over the monstrous constructs that supported the metal world of Ploorad up above.

"Wow," someone said.

As they were taking in the sights, enjoying the simple pleasures of clean air and open space, a hidden door slid open.  Standing there was an old, wizened man.  He was a mix of flesh and metal, a harmonious mix of the two.  He had the same air about him that the waterfall did.  Peaceful, reserved, free of inner conflict.

"Welcome," he said.  Everyone turned and looked at him.  He looked at Feyd.  "I knew you would find your way to our home."

He led them into a small, open area filled with strange gadgets and impossible constructs.  Many other cyborgs, younger but with the same bearing as the old man, were working here.  Working on datatapes, constructing artifacts, building and shaping metal with an artistic flair.  

They nodded to the visitors, but were absorbed in their work.  Only the old man spoke with them.

"This is one of the hidden lairs of our kind," he said, taking them into a small greenery.  Somehow light filtered down here, giving life to the vines, flowers, and plants that covered the room.  There was a heavy humidity in the air, one filled with life.  "We are known across the galaxy as techno-mages."

"We've met one of your kind before," Feyd said.  He could feel the Force within this place, ebbing and flowing.  It went with the techno-mages and into their work.

"Ah, you speak of Payrd Sei de'Freet.  A wild soul.  He claims to seek only knowledge, but there is a schism within him.  An inner conflict.  This keeps him from understanding.  He seeks knowledge for simple power, power over others.  If he would only see the truth, he would not be of such a mind."

"What is that truth you speak of?" Feyd asked.  He was hungry for learning.  He had been away from his master for too long.

"That he is nothing.  You sense this yourself, Jedi Padawan Feyd.  But you have not yet accepted it.  That is why the darkness gnaws at your soul."

Feyd looked down at his feet.  He knew that he did sense that feeling, that emptyness and nothingness that the old techno-mage spoke of.  But it was elusive.  It evaded him as he searched for it.  And where it left, the anger was there.

"So you know Payrd?" Troy said.  "We've got a score to settle with him."

"All things develop as they will.  For now, enjoy your stay.  I fear it will not be long."  The old man closed his eyes, and hidden couches appeared under retreating wildlife.  A tray of drinks and food slid from out of the wall.  "Enjoy yourselves here, as our guests.  Feyd and I must speak on a great many things."

--- Star Wars ---

Feyd sat across from the old man, meditating in a large, rounded room.  It was dark light twilight.  Feyd wondered at these strange Force users, mystics binding flesh with metal.  He had been taught that metal was a corrupting influence, a stain on the continuum of the Force.  

Strange, then, that he sensed none of the Dark Side here.

Time passed unseen.  The old man opened his eyes.  "You have many questions," he said to Feyd.

"Yes."  Feyd was unsure where to begin.

"At the beginning," The old man said in response to the unasked question.

"How is it that you are able to keep the Dark Side at bay when you combine yourselves with these metal implants?"

"The Force is everything," the old man said.  

Feyd looked at him.  "I don't understand."

"You must cast away your duality.  It runs through the heart of your soul.  You must see the Force for what it is; both everything and nothing."

"But what of the Dark Side?"

"What is my name?" the old man asked.

"I don't know," Feyd said.

"Choose."

"I don't understand."

"Now you are beginning to see.  Tell me, what am I to you?"

"An old mystic."

"And 'old mystic', is this all that I am?"

"No."

"When I call you Feyd, is that all you are?"

"No."

"Why then, the name?"

"So I can tell things apart."

"And in the eyes of the Force, what are these things?"

"The Force?" Feyd asked.  The man was silent.  "The Force,"  Feyd stated.

"Even the finest teaching is not the Force itself.  Even the finest name is insufficient to define it.  Without words, the Force can be experienced, and without a name, it can be known."

Feyd began to see.

"Though words or names are not required to live one's life by the Force, to describe it, words and names are used, that we might better clarify the way of which we speak, without confusing it with other ways in which an individual might choose to live. 

"Through knowledge, intellectual thought and words, the manifestations of the Force are known, but without such intellectual intent we might experience the Force itself.

"By using the means appropriate, we extend ourselves beyond the barriers of such complexity, and so experience the Force."

Feyd felt that which he called the "Dark Side" begin to slip away from him.

--- Star Wars ---

"Sensors scanning the planet now."

Zabel Torsh had been hunting for Troy Chance, murderer of his brother, since cursed Darksun let him go and robbed him of his vengance.  He had followed the trail here, to Ploorad.  If the informant was truthful, they would find him soon.  If not... things would not go well for the informant.  Zabel Torsh was not one to be cheated.

"Coming in now," the sensors operator said.  "Many ships, but only one's broadcasting Imperial codes.  It's reading as... the IFC B-A."

Finally!  Zabel Torsh's heart leapt.

"Contact the Kalarba's Honour.  Tell Alexi Ak'Heleth that we've found them."

--- Star Wars ---

Feyd was at peace now, more than he had been in a long time.  It felt good.  More than that, it felt right.  He was able to sleep peacefully, uninterrupted with dreams or nightmares.  He woke feeling refreshed and ready for the new day, whatever it might bring.

Something was still nagging at him, though.  Was it the Dark Side?  It was like a shadow on everything here.  Something had changed during the night.  Was it Feyd, or the techno-mages?  He didn't know.  He trusted that the Force would give him an answer.

Feyd walked back into the lounge.  Troy, Brooke, and Darius were already up.  Darius was tinkering with his weapons.  Troy and Brooke sat silently together, sipping coffee.  Another cup was there for Feyd, still steaming.  It must have just been poured.

"Have a good sleep?" Troy asked.  Brooke turned to look at Feyd.

"Yes," he said.  The coffee was warm in his belly.  It woke a feeling of hunger.

"You looked tired last night, once you got back.  You guys talk about anything interesting?"

"Yes," Feyd said.

Brooke laughed.  "He's getting to be as wordy as you are, Troy," she said.  

Troy smiled.  "A chip off the old block."

"What are you working on there, Darius?" Feyd asked.  One of his blasters was open, its parts spilt all over the table.

"Upgrading this thing," he said.  "These guys have tools and  I've never seen before.  I think I might be able to get about a third more power out of this baby."

"Looks like this adventure turned out well," Troy said.

"Yep."  Darius' simple reply eased the tension between them.

The old man walked in, carrying a plate of food.  He set it down before Feyd.  Along with the food there was a strange device, something that looked like a datapad but had a strangeness in it.  It was hand-crafted and a work of art, functional yet appealing to the eye.

"This is a translator," the old man said.  "You will find it useful for decoding those data tapes you found on Criton's Point."

Feyd picked it up and looked it over.  "Thank you," he said.

"Those tapes contain valuable information.  Ancient tapes, old before the galaxy was young.  Lost records of a lost people."

Feyd looked up at him, his breakfast forgotten for the moment.  The old man continued.

"Ancient eons ago a people walked across the galaxy.  They were ancient mystics that walked among the stars without need of ships.  They commanded the power of stars, changed barren worlds into paradises, and worked with technology that is eons beyond even the our understanding.  Yet they disappeared, long ago.  The reason is lost in the mists of time.  All we have now are relics, found on desolate planets across the galaxy.  Ancient ships and constructs.  A word or phrase in some long-forgotten folk tale on a distant planet.  This is all that is left of them.  These chambers are all that is left of one of their cities, one that once spanned the entire planet."

Feyd nodded with understanding.  "My master has spoken of this before."

"A wise man.  He will find your tapes invaluable."

"Anything in those tapes on blasters?" Darius asked.  The old man approached him.

"Your work is good," he said.  "These tools will help.  You may take them for your own."

Darius smiled.  "Cool," he said.

The old man continued.  "If you cross-polarize the ion defluctuator, you will find you have solved the problem of dis-repeation."  Darius looked at the parts strewn on the table; a look of inspiration came across his face.

"Yeah... yeah, that might just work!"

"We have gifts for you all," the old man said.  He produced a vial of strange, silver liquid.  It moved around in the vial of its own accord, looking like mercury with a soul.  "This is for you, Troy Chance.  Apply this to the outer hull of your ship, and it will greatly increase its resistance to damage."  Troy accepted with a nod.

"And for you, Lady Ashby, a vial of the sweetest perfume.  It is the last of a kind made millions of years ago by a great people of deep emotion.  Apply it, and you will find that nobody can resist your suggestions."  Brooke took this and slipped it into a pocket.

"For you, Feyd, the missing parts to your damaged lightsabre.  You will be able to reconstruct your tool and weapon to its original design.  If you take care, you will be able to improve on it, making the lightsabre your own."  Feyd lit up.

"And for you, Prince Denfrey, a gift," the old man said.  Arthur had just entered the lounge, his hair scruffy and sporting a thick face of stubble.  The old man turned to face Arthur and handed him a small stone brick.  "An ancient relic of your people, lost for many generations.  

It will be of great use to you in the proper time."

Arthur looked over the stone.  Nothing of apparent value, just a square stone brick.  He looked disappointed as he looked around the room at everyone else.

"All in its time," the old man said.

--- Star Wars ---

Space ripped open and gave birth to a sleek, dark metal shape.  It was long and bristled with weapons powerful enough to level cities in a single salvo.  It banked slowly and cruised to the planet beneath it.

Alexi Ak'Heleth stood at his window, watching the planet approach in the distance.  At last, he thought, at last I have caught up with him.  

They cannot run from me now.  I will not leave this planet without Arthur.

He reached out with the Force.  Something was below him.  Arthur was with it.  

An unexpected challenge.  But I will prevail.  I must.


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## LostSoul (Jan 25, 2003)

*The web site*

The past few days I've thrown together an admittedly crappy web site.  Some RPG stuff there, this story, and another featuring Troy.

http://www.houseoflucas.com/dave/starwars/star_wars.htm


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## LostSoul (Jan 26, 2003)

Feyd felt the growing shadow overwhelm him.  Something was wrong.  He looked at the old man.  He knew it too.  Feyd left the question unasked: What do we do?  There was no answer from the old man.

A siren went off somewhere in the techno-mage complex.  Troy spun round to look at it.  Darius looked up, then down at his blaster parts, spread out piecemeal.  He began to put them back together.

One of the younger techno-mages came in.  He was holding a small holographic projector.  Without a word he turned it on.  The picture revealed the Kalarba's Honour, touching down on Ploorad, spitting out thousands and thousands of Imperial storm troopers.  At their head was Alexi, cloaked in shadow.  The hologram flickered.

"You know what he is here for," the old man said.  "He will not be long in coming."

Feyd nodded and adjusted his robes, moving his lightsabre to an easier position.  Troy looked at Brooke and Darius and then at Arthur.  The prince's face was covered with fear.

The storm troopers made their way down into the sewers, blasting holes and moving with great speed, no concerns for anything but their objective.  The hologram showed defenses springing up to stop them.  Blasters and small shield generators.  This held them.  They did not hold Alexi.

He moved through the sewers, floating on the Force.  Blasters did not stop him.  He blocked them with his dark grey lightsabre.  He cut his way through the rock and steel, down and down deeper into the catacombs beneath Ploorad.  He would be here soon.

"I think we'd better get going," Troy said.  "Got a back way out of this place?"

"Yes," the old man said.  "I will lead you to it."

A crash at the door.  The sound of a lightsabre humming with dark intensity.  Alexi had already arrived, so soon.  Sounds of combat, blasters fired and deflected away.  Screams and cries of the techno-mages against him.

They made their way through the back of the complex to a larger open area.  The old man pointed to a catwalk that led into shadows.  "Follow this path.  There is an escape pod that will send you to the surface."  He then turned back.  His cybernetic arm began to glow with an deep orange light.

Feyd watched him leave.  He felt torn.  His mission to bring Arthur to his master was the most important thing - but he couldn't just let the old man face Alexi alone.  He wanted to help.  He wanted to face down that familiar darkness and send it away.

The old man stopped at looked at Feyd.  "Let the Force guide you here.  You know what you will do."  Feyd nodded solemnly and turned back to join with the others.  Silence followed.  Soon broken by the sounds of combat fierce and intense and deadly.  And then it was over.

They arrived at a platform made of steel grating.  It had rusted out but still held.  An old escape pod, the kind seen on old ships, was somehow imbedded into the wall.  Brooke opened the pod door and stepped in.

Just as she did so, Alexi landed on the platform.  His dark lightsabre crackled with energy.

"Denfrey," he said, his voice echoing through the empty caverns.  Arthur hid his face.  "Come with me.  Return to your planet and your people.  Accept the inevitable.  Secede.  You know it is right.  You have not the will to stand against the darkness.  Accept my rule and end the pain of our people."

Darius was the first to give a response.  It came from the barrels of his blasters, quick and terse and with no mistaking its meaning.  Alexi's lightsabre flashed back and forth, blocking the blows as they came towards him.  No energy expended.  His eyes still on Arthur.

" me," Darius said.

Feyd stepped in front of Arthur.  He ignited his lightsabre.  "Turn back," he said.  "You can't have him."

Alexi looked at Feyd.  "A Jedi?" he sounded amused.  "I had thought your kind gone, extinct.  I was wrong.  Move away or face death."

"I will not let you have him."

"How do you propose to stop me?" Alexi said.  Feyd felt his will under attack, felt it crashing down.  He drew on the Force, on those reserves that he had now seen within him, and pushed it back.

"Impressive," Alexi said.

 this, Troy thought.  He pulled out his blaster and took aim.  Darius looked over at Troy and nodded.  In an instant, both were firing hard and fast at Alexi.  Bolt after bolt left their chambers, streaking through the darkness.  None found their mark.

"Then we'll see how much you have learned, Jedi," Alexi said and moved in on Feyd.

Those watching could not later describe what was happening.  The blades moved so fast, their bodies along with them, that it was all a blur of darkness and light.  Feyd blocked and parried and retreated back.  His defense did not fail.  There was a groaning beneath them now, the grate straining under the pressure.

"Get in!" Brooke screamed from the pod.  She began powering up its engines.  Arthur crawled numbly into the pod, Troy behind him.  Troy kept up fire on Alexi until his power cell went dead.  He fumbled with a new one.  Darius did the same, his blasters now glowing red at the tips.

"The Force is with me," Feyd said softly.  "It is a wall that you cannot break down."

"You are strong, but there is a weakness in you that you deny."  They continued fighting.  "You are not yet ready to accept the Force or yourself."

And then it was over.  One swift stroke was all it took in the end.  Alexi's lightsabre bore down on Feyd, breaking through his defences, striking at his wrist, severing his hand.  The Padawan cried out in pain and watched his lightsabre, still gripped by his hand, fall to the ground.

"The outcome was never in doubt," Alexi said.  Feyd still trembled on the ground, clutching the stump at the end of his arm, writhing in pain.  Alexi stood triumphant.

"I don't ing think so," Darius said.  From his belt he grabbed a thermal detonator and, arming it, threw it at Alexi.  Everyone stared aghast.  In these small confines, they would all be reduced to ash.

Alexi snatched the detonator out of the air.  "What - have you done?" he said, clutching the device tightly.  It exploded in a burst of controlled flame around the dark jedi's fist.  Alexi was thrown back into the empty space of the cavern and fell into the depths.

Darius grabbed Feyd and his disembodied hand and carried him to the escape pod.  Troy was staring at him.

"What the hell did you do that for?  We would have all been killed if he didn't - didn't take that on himself!"

"What the  else was I supposed to do?  Let's just get the  out of here."  He moved into the pod, shoving Troy out of the way.  A relieved Brooke hit the ignition and the escape pod rocketed out of the depths of Ploorad.

--- Star Wars ---

Hours later, Alexi stepped back into the open air of Ploorad.  He wore a scowl on his face.  A burnt stump was all that remained of his hand.  Zabel Torsh stood there, waiting for him.

"Did you find it, my lord?" the Imperial captain asked solemnly.

"Yes," Alexi said, "but not what I was after."  Alexi walked past him towards the Kalarba's Honour.  Zabel Torsh stood for a moment, looking at the sewer entrance, then followed Alexi back to his ship.

_[Stay tuned for Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba, Episode VI: A New Home!]_


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## LostSoul (Jan 30, 2003)

Act Two

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. . .

_A vast sea of stars serves as the backdrop for the main title.  War drums echo through the heavens as a roll-up slowly crawls into infinity._

*STAR WARS*

EPISODE VI: A New Home

Hyperspace has saved our heroes
once again.  Fleeing from Alexi,
ursurper of Kalarba and Dark Jedi,
they pass the time in the safety
of hyperspace while heading to
Jedi Knight Til-Gon's asteroid
base.

But the trip is marked by a deep
sense of anger and pain.  Feyd
nurses a grevious wound.  Troy
and Darius nearly come to blows.
Arthur seems lost in thought, and
a deep depression has overcome
Brooke.

But the future is yet unknown,
and things may turn in favour
of our heroes...


Troy was in a bad mood.  He stomped into the lounge, looking for Darius.  The bounty hunter was sitting there, on one of the new padded benches, drinking a cold dantic and smoking a heavy cigar.  Tess was nearby, polishing a shoulder plate from Darius' armour.

"What the  is this doing lying on the ground?" Troy shouted.  He was holding a bandolier full of spare energy cells.  "Pick up your goddamned mess."

Darius puffed on his cigar and blew out a big cloud of smoke.  "Didn't know you were such a neat freak.  Don't get your panties in a bind."

"Piss off."

"Make me."

Tess watched the two men square off against each other.  Darius was still leaning back on the bench, but his eyes betrayed a prediliction for violence.  Something had happened down on Ploorad, when they were exploring those sewers.  They didn't want to talk about it.  Darius had nothing to say.  The first night in hyperspace, he got drunk and passed out.  She didn't want to press the issue.  They had been good to her, and she wasn't about to rock the boat.

Troy set his jaw.  He was still miffed about the thermal detonator.  Darius threw it, not expecting Alexi to absorb the blast.  He did it expecting that they would all be caught in the inferno, blasted to nothing, reduced to ash.  He didn't have the right to play with their lives like that, not his, not Arthur's, not Brooke's.

The tension in the lounge was cut by Brooke's voice out in the hall.  "God-damned-ing-Imperial-wash-piece-of-," she was mumbling to herself.  In the past few days, since they had left Ploorad, Brooke had not been much of the lady.  She kept to herself, quiet and reserved, drinking a lot and smoking more.

"Look at what your piece of  wash did to my top," she said.  "Shrunk it right down.  I can't wear it now."

"Don't worry about it," Troy said, anger on his voice.  "It's just a top."

" you," Brooke said, and stormed out of the room.  Tess got up quietly, setting the armour plate down as gently as she could, and followed Brooke.  Troy watched her leave, stood for a moment glaring at Daruis, then poured himself a drink from the bar.

A beep went off from the new grill Darius had installed.  He opened the lid and a rich, smoky meat smell washed out.  Darius took a slab of beef and put it on a plate.

"Help yourself," he said to Troy, blowing smoke his way.

Troy downed the drink and filled a plate for himself.

--- Star Wars ---

Tess caught up with Brooke in the hall.  Brooke was still cursing under her breath.

"Hey Brooke," Tess said.

Brooke stopped and turned.  "Hmm?"

"Let's see that top of yours.  It might still fit me."

Brooke looked at the top and back at Tess.  "Sure, I don't need it any more."  She tossed it to Tess, and continued down the hall to her quarters.

Tess stood there, alone in the hall, looking at the top.  It would fit her, probably.  A little tight, but still... she felt her eyes welling up with tears.  She wiped them away with the back of her hand and cleared her throat.  

Why do they have to fight with each other? she thought.  They don't really feel this way.  What happened down there?  What was going on?  Have I done something to piss them off?  Why don't they just relax and get back to normal?  I guess this was too good to last.

She walked back to her room, eyes down at the floor, a tear making its way down her small, rounded face and onto Brooke's top.

--- Star Wars ---

Feyd lay in the dark, holding his severed arm.  He had not moved from his bunk since the Two-One-Bee droid had let him go from the med bay.  He had failed.  He could not overcome that feeling.  He let down his friends, his master, himself when he faced Alexi.  He was the only one who could have stood up against the Dark Side, and he failed.  He was struck down like he was nothing.  Had he not learned anything since he left Til-Gon?

He felt a pit of despair inside him.  What if he was not cut out to be a jedi?  What would he do then?  He had no answers to these questions.  Only a blank, empty void of despair.  He chewed on his lower lip.  He had failed, totally and completely.  He was unable to resist the lure of the Dark Side - his brutal murder of the naval trooper proved that.  He was unable to control the Force when he and Alexi fought.  He was no "jedi".  The word came out like a curse in his thoughts.  He was nothing.

And what about Arthur?  Since Feyd had known him, Arthur had become more and more of a recluse, retreating to his ship and the simple repairs he always seemed to be doing.  One problem after another.  Arthur rejected the Force, and Feyd with it.  He should have been able to show Arthur the Way and the Path.  But he couldn't.  He was a poor example of a Jedi.  

Feyd felt the plastic bacta cap on the end of his arm.  He could still feel the edges of his hand there, but there was nothing.

--- Star Wars ---

After dinner Troy had retreated to the hot tub with a cooler full of drinks.  Brooke joined him later.  She was wearing a one-piece black suit with a single shoulder strap.  They sat there in silence, drinking and smoking.  Brooke closed her eyes and laid back, the tips of her short hair touching the water.

Darius walked in with Tess.  She was wearing a two-piece bikini that fit rather snugly.  She had put on a lot of weight in the weeks since they picked her up on Berrol's Donn.  She looked more like the woman she was.  Darius ushered her into the hot tub before him.

Troy leered at Tess when she entered the water.  She felt his eyes on him and looked down at the water, burying herself up to the neck.  Troy kept leering at her and she looked away.  When Darius got in Brooke opened her eyes and looked at both of them.  Darius shot Troy a look.

"How do you like the water?" Troy asked Tess.  There was a tone in his voice, violent and threatening.  But the question wasn't aimed at Tess.  It went to Darius.

Tess didn't look at him.  "It's okay," she said.

"It's better with a drink," Troy said, and tossed one over to her.  Darius caught it in mid air and passed it to Tess.  He glared at Troy.

"What, you want one too?"

"I'll get it myself."

"I've had enough of you two," Brooke said, rising out of the water and covering herself with a towel.  "Why don't you just fight each other and get it over with.  I'm fed up with this."  She shook the excess water out of her hair and left the room.

"Yeah, what's your problem?" Darius asked.  "You've been pissy since Ploorad."

"You know damn well."

"You mean the fight."

"Yeah, the fight."

"What?  What was I supposed to do?  Just sit there and watch him carve everyone up?"

"No, you were going to do that yourself with your detonator."  Tess listened intently, not moving.  So that was what happened.

"Hey, I didn't know what would happen.  And it turned out good for all of us."

"Not Feyd," Troy said quietly.

"Yeah," Darius said.  Tess noticed that some of the tension was gone.  "I haven't seen him in days," Darius said.

"I'm sure he's okay.  He just needs some time alone."

"I guess it's a good thing we're going to see his master.  I don't know how to deal with the kid."

"He's not so difficult.  You just have to understand his point of view."

"Yeah, I guess so."  Silence followed.  Both Troy and Darius started drinking.  The building tension had been stopped and turned back.  More drinks followed.  Soon they were joking with each other about things.  Tess watched from the outside, laughing.  After a while she staggered out of the tub and passed out in her bunk.


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## LostSoul (Feb 6, 2003)

I've updated the web site with something fancy.

I'm putting together a flash animation of the galaxy map.  So far it looks pretty cool.  If I do finish it, though, it's going to be *huge*.

Here's the url: Flash Galaxy Map 

Click on the "Planets" link.


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