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Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba
- Thread starter LostSoul
- Start date
LostSoul
Adventurer
[Two installations today...]
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.
--- Star Wars ---
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.]
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.
--- Star Wars ---
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.]
LostSoul
Adventurer
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.
--- Star Wars ---
[Stay tuned for Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba, Episode III: Criton's Point]
"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.
--- Star Wars ---
[Stay tuned for Star Wars: Heroes of Kalarba, Episode III: Criton's Point]
LostSoul
Adventurer
Act One, Part Two: Enemies and Allies
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 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."
--- Star Wars ---
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 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."
--- Star Wars ---
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LostSoul
Adventurer
wherein the crap hits the fan
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 ofing 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 stupiding 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 says. Feyd isn't listening. Feyd raises his lightsabre and thrusts it down into the trooper. The trooper's 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. He reaches the scene of the battle with his two heavy blaster pistols drawn and fully-charged.
"What'd I miss?"
--- Star Wars ---
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, covering Troy's pants with a fine layer of blood.
"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 Dark Side is a GM's friend.]
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 says. Feyd isn't listening. Feyd raises his lightsabre and thrusts it down into the trooper. The trooper's 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. He reaches the scene of the battle with his two heavy blaster pistols drawn and fully-charged.
"What'd I miss?"
--- Star Wars ---
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, covering Troy's pants with a fine layer of blood.
"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 Dark Side is a GM's friend.]
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