LostSoul
Adventurer
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!]
"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!]
