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Message: <blockquote data-quote="DralonXitz" data-source="post: 1730361" data-attributes="member: 20083">Mos Eisley, TatooineStar Wars: The Baxter SituationTatooine.  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, TatooineThe 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.</blockquote>

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