# The Baxter Situation-A Star Wars Story Hour



## DralonXitz (Aug 29, 2004)

Hey all, this is a campaign that ran about 3 and a half months long with some of my friends.  I hope you all like it, this is my first attempt at a Story Hour so bear with me.  Also, any feedback is greatly appreciated.  Thanks a ton.


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## DralonXitz (Aug 29, 2004)

*Mos Eisley, Tatooine*

Star Wars: The Baxter Situation


Tatooine.  The bleakest, most desolate wasteland in the Empire.  That was the thought of 95% of the people stuck on this sand-pit, Bounty Hunters, Outlaws, slaves, and the men of the Empire who for some reason or another, got stuck with this post instead of beautiful Corellia.

But not everyone thought that way, in fact, a slight few enjoyed this planet.  It was home to them, a place not yet scarred by the cruelty of the Empire.  In truth, while they owned the planet, Bestine was really the only place they had any power.  In every other despot on this sandy ocean, the might of the Emperor didn’t mean anything to the ones who had nothing left to lose.  But if you didn’t stand against their Iron Fist successfully, you could find the life you knew turned into a hell you never thought possible, all in the blink of an eye.

This situation would never be as truly expressed as it is here, for two men.  Praxis and Korban, officers in the Imperial Navy.  


Mos Eisley, Tatooine

The sun was harsh today, glaring down upon Praxis like a demon in the sky, angry at him for some unforgivable sin he had committed.  Combined with the heat of the air, and the constant waves of blowing sand, it was not a pleasant day in Mos Eisley.  Known across the galaxy as a sanctuary for Smugglers and Outlaws, it wasn’t exactly a welcomed duty to be posted here.  Bestine would have been much nicer, being the Capital of Tatooine.  But this was his duty, and he had no choice but to follow it. 

 He had been assigned as a Chief Guard at the Imperial Embassy in Mos Eisley.  He was the commander of 10 Stormtroopers, all under the watch of Colonel Baxter.  He wasn’t the friendliest guy, or for that matter, the most pleasing on the eye, but he was a Colonel, and Ensigns don’t question Colonels.

As he opened his eyes, Praxis gazed upon the usual sight he saw every day.  The same boring merchants and low lives who camped outside the gates of the Embassy, selling their strange and exotic foods that Praxis wouldn’t touch, even if the alternative was a duel with a rancor.  Well, maybe then, but it wasn’t likely.

“Jeez, how did we ever find ourselves here Prax?  I thought we did good personally, I mean, we graduated top of our class at the Academy.”

Praxis over to the origin of the sound.  It was his best friend, Korban Dustmonter, a fellow Officer.  They had been standing in front of these gates, every day, for 6 months now, and nothing really ever happened.  There was the occasional fight here and there, but nothing worthy of the attention of Praxis Halefaller, top of his class at the Imperial Naval Academy.

He looked back at the street, a bit amused with Korban’s humor even in this situation.  

“I know Korb, but Baxter requested us straight out of the nest, and we might as well do our best to make a good impression.  You never know, he might even give us a promotion, and you can get yourself one of those shiny Imperial Shuttles.”

Suddenly excited by the tone of his voice, Korban replied, “You really think so Prax?”

Laughing softly, Praxis grinning told him, “Maybe.  It all depends on Baxter man.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

So, time passed on, and the day began to wind down, their shift drawing closer to an end as the sun began to fold down over the horizon and release it’s array of pastel colors into the evening.  Praxis was relieved, the heat was actually starting to die down a little bit.  Hopefully nothing was going to happen in his last hour of his shift.  That would spoil the rest of his night.

Everything was fine, calm, tranquil, as tranquil as Mos Eisley could be, but then something odd happened, something that made Praxis intrigued.  

As they continued their shift, the faint sound of engines came from the distance, Speederbikes from the high pitch of them.  It grew louder and louder, eventually right in front of them.  4 bikes, each with a rider on them.  Nothing completely unusual in that, but it was their attire that was odd.  They all wore pure black clothes, with Blaster Rifles strapped across their backs, and jet black veils covering all their face except their eyes.  It was the eyes, his red, piercing eyes that alarmed Praxis.  The man glared at the Officer and then turned his attention back to the road, speeding along down the sandy street.

“Did you see those guys Prax?  Pretty freaky, they looked like smugglers maybe,” Korban told his friend.  Praxis remained silent, running thoughts and possibilities through his head as he responded, “Yeah, maybe.  Whoever they were, they didn’t look right.  We better tell Baxter, maybe he knows something.”

Korban shrugged, “We could, it’s up to you man.”

Praxis nodded slowly, agreeing.  It was up to him.


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## DralonXitz (Aug 30, 2004)

The next morning, the twin Suns rose over the horizon and gave birth to the intense heat that was Tatooine.  Praxis was well used to it by now, but it wasn’t something he could get completely comfortable with.  After all, what’s comfortable about Two Glaring Suns?

Before his shift began, he decided that it was best to go tell Baxter about what he saw.  Once he got all dressed in his pure black clothing, he put on his Stormtrooper Helmet and left the Officer’s Barracks, heading for the Embassy Building where Baxter’s office was.  It wasn’t a trip he made often, noone really liked Baxter, but not reporting this kind of thing could potentially lead to bad things.

As he walked briskly across the grass in the courtyard, a Stormtrooper walked up to him and said, “Ensign Halefaller.”

A bit surprised, Praxis stopped walking and looked over at the young Trooper, “Yes Sergeant?”

“Sorry to alarm you Sir.  Colonel Baxter ordered me to tell you and Ensign Dustmonter to immediately report to his office.  He says it’s urgent.”

This was not what Praxis was expecting.  Maybe he had already heard the news.  At this point, it didn’t matter to the young Officer.  

“Very well, thank you Sergeant.  Go tell Dustmonter to meet me at the office.”

“Very well sir.”  The trooper delivered a tall salute and continued on his way to the barrack’s where Korban was. Trusting in the sergeant, Praxis continued his way down to the Embassy.  This had to be important, for Baxter himself to call upon the two of them.  

A few minutes later, Praxis found himself outside of his commanding officer’s office, a large wooden door reading, BAXTER across it.  He wasn’t answering right now, probably busy with some Warrant Officer in Bestine.  As he sat back in the red plush chair outside of the office, Korban ran into the waiting room, full of his usual energy.

“Hey Prax,  I heard the news.  I guess the big man wants something with us.  Maybe my promotion…”, Korban said, his mind full of optimism, dreaming of Space, and all the mysteries that came with it.

 “Snap out of it bro, this is Baxter we’re talking about.   I bet you something went wrong, the old sloth always has a problem.”, Praxis said, obviously worried about the whole situation.  

“An old sloth eh?  Not exactly the kind of conduct I’d expect out of Ensign Halefoller.”

Shocked, Praxis looked over to see Colonel Baxter standing in the doorway, a stern look across his face.  The man was more ugly than Praxis remembered.  He weighed about 500 pounds, with a Uniform much too tight for his build.  He had short, blonde hair and constantly coughed, very grotesquely.  He was not appealing to the eye, not at all. 

Nevertheless, Praxis immediately came to attention and saluted him, his left hand balled in a fist, furious at himself for what he said.

“A thousand apologies sir.  I don’t know what came over me.  I can assure you it will never happen again.”

Baxter continued to glare at him and then spoke, his voice echoing through the young officer’s mind like a bellow from the thunder god.

“It better not, or I can assure you, you’ll take a visit to Dumont Prison in the Dune Sea.  Not a pleasant experience, I can guarantee you that.”  He turned around and waddled into his office, dragging his feet as he stumbled nearly every step, collapsing into his massive leather chair.  Korban got up and walked into the office as well, slapping Praxis on the back as he laughed lightheartedly.  Praxis sighed and walked inside, closing the door behind him.


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## DralonXitz (Aug 31, 2004)

“Sit down gentlemen, sit down.”  

Praxis and Korban looked down, at two extremely small, wooden chairs.  They weren’t very comfortable from the looks of them, and once they sat down in them, they agreed they weren’t very comfortable from the feel of them either.  

Baxter shifted in his seat a little bit and pulled out a small manila envelope, ripping the end off and pulling out two white papers.  He read them for a moment, and then sat them down, rubbing his nose as he spoke.

“Gentlemen, I have some orders for you.  They come directly from Warrant Officer Patroy in Bestine.”

Praxis looked Baxter in the eye and asked, “What are they sir?”

“Yesterday at 0900, a YT-1300 landed at Mos Eisley Starport.  The pilot had 3 passengers with him, and some cargo he bribed the customs officer to ignore.  We now have been given information from a local source that the content of those containers was a very illegal, potent spice, Gold Muon.  Our source also has told us that they are setting up shop somewhere downtown, in the old Slave District.  We don’t know exactly where, so I want you to go to the local cantina there and ask around.  Grease some palms if you have to, I just want that information.  Once you have the location, go to where they are and arrest them.”

Praxis nodded, relieved that the whole thing was just a spice dealer.  From all the suspense that had been built up, Praxis half expected this to be a terrorist plot of some kind, some Rebel scheme.  

“Just one more thing Ensign.  Whatever you do, do not, I repeat do not destroy the containers, do not harm them, don’t even mishandle them.  There contents are very dangerous, and if the spice were ignited, it could start a very powerful flame that could consume the entire slave district.  Be careful, your lives are residing on it.”

“Yes sir.  We’ll move out now”, Praxis said, his temporary state of relief completely vanished.  Baxter waived his hand and the two of them left the office, Korban still smiling as they exited the building.

“What is up with you Korb?  Didn’t you hear him, this could be worse than we thought.”

Korban laughed, rubbing the back of his helmet as he spoke, “Nah man, it’s just his usual stuff.  This will be a simple mission, nothing more than that.  And then maybe, I’ll get my shuttle…”

“What is with you Korban?  I mean, every other guy on this planet has high dreams, Money, fame, adventure, the Life of an Outlaw.  But you, all you want is a Shuttle, to be an Imperial shuttle pilot.  Why not think big?”

Korban shrugged, “I don’t want any of that.  Those things don’t matter to me Prax.  I just want to be a shuttle pilot, fly across space, deliver important people to important places.  I’d be happy with that.”

Praxis sighed as they continued to walk down the long streets of Mos Eisley.  They walked for what seemed forever, passing all kinds of aliens, shops, speeders, and various other things.  About an hour later, they finally turned the corner and came to their destination, the slave district.  It was a gloomy place, long abandoned by slaves and now only inhabited by the lowest forms of low lives on the planet.  Beggars, thieves, homeless children, suffering forever in their prison.  A prison without bars or guards, their only oppressor their own poverty.   

“So Prax, where’s this cantina we’re looking for?” Korban asked, interested in a dead Jawa hanging upside down by his feet off of a Bantha tusk.  

Praxis stooped and looked around a little bit, his keen eyes searching for anything that looked remotely like a cantina.  He then saw it, a medium sized building, pretty poor from the looks of it called, “The Shadow Plane”.

“That’s it over there Korb, the Shadow Plane.  Be careful while inside, these people aren’t exactly friendly towards Imperials.”

Korban nodded and unsheathed his DL44 Blaster Pistol, gripping it firmly as they walked across the street to the front door of the cantina.  When they reached it, they looked down and saw a ragged looking Human, wearing torn rags plucking at a guitar-like instrument.  

The stranger looked up at Praxis and nodded to him, giving him a pathetic smile.

“Hello son, I’m the lonely one.  Would you like to hear a tune?”
Praxis shook his head, “Sorry sir, we’re on official Imperial business.  Please vacate the premises, this is a dangerous place.”

The homeless man just laughed and folded his body over and began to sleep, snoring loudly as Praxis rolled his eyes and continued inside the cantina.  

As the doors behind the two men closed, a musky odor filled their nostrils, a pungent stench, something of a mix of smoke and garbage.  Korban smiled as he walked down the entrance hallway, looking at the pictures on the wall, showing various creatures of Tatooine.

“Look at this one Prax, it’s a Jawa!  I think the little buggers are adorable don’t you?”

Praxis shrugged, not really knowing what to say to his friend.

“They are alright.  I mean, kind of creepy, but very friendly guys from what I’ve seen of them.  Once you get your shuttle, we can visit new species, maybe even more cuddly ones Korb.”  Praxis was trying to make up for his attitude earlier, he knew that he was more than a bit out of line.  Korban was his best friend, and he would look out for nobody like he would for him.

Korban patted Praxis on the back, now stepping into the main area of the Cantina, just above the small 3 steps leading down into the bar itself.

“Thank Prax, I’m glad you believe it too.  You just watch, someday we’ll have a…”, but just then, a large sound rang through the bar, a bolt screaming through the air, smashing into Korban’s helmet, sending him against the wall.  Praxis looked down, astonished at what happened.  Then, a half a second later, he dropped to the floor, a blaster bolt barely missing his body as he fell down onto his best friend’s body.  

“I’m…I’m so sorry Korb…I promise, whoever did this to you will pay, I swear that..”

Praxis’s attitude then shifted, from a state of sorrow to anger, his blood boiling, his anger rising at an alarming speed.  He gripped his DL44 and stood up, like a statue stretching out his arm, focusing on a Rodian chest, ducking down gripping a small blaster.  His eyes narrowed, all attention focusing on that one object, everything into that one shot.  The millisecond he stood up, Praxis clicked the trigger, dropping the alien to the ground like a boulder.  Once he was done, Praxis walked into the silent cantina, blaster in hand, shifting his glance around the cantina.

“I am Ensign Halefoller of the Imperial Navy, but you people can just call me death.  For that is what I am to you all at this point, and be very convinced, if I do not get exactly what I am looking for, I shall execute my wrath upon every being in this room.  I will turn this entire cantina into a graveyard if anyone so much as reaches into their holster, so remain very silent, and very still.”  Noone moved, noone breathed, it was like a photograph.  Not even the droids moved, it was just, motionless.  

“Very good.  Now, who here can tell me the location of some smugglers who are in this quarter.  They are moving Muon Gold, so they shouldn’t be very hard to choose from your assorted list of gangs.”

Noone did anything for a moment, then, a Quermian stood up, shaking profusely as he spoke, “Si…sir, I do..do.”

Praxis looked over and nodded to him.

“They, they are called the Shade Riders, they are from the old slums of Coronet.  They are located two blocks from here, in Deja’s Cloth Shop.  That’s where they’re based at, I swear it.”  After he finished, the alien just stood there, closing his eyes as he shook, awaiting his judgment by the dark figure in the room.  Praxis raised his gun and aimed it at the man, as tears began to flow from the Quermian’s eyes, mumbling prayers to his god as he tried to keep his stance.  Time stood still as Praxis aimed, noone daring to do anything to provoke the officer.  Praxis grinned and clicked the safety on his blaster, leaving the cantina briskly.  As soon as the door closed, the man opened his eyes, as everyone in the room sighed in relief.


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