"Forced Hand"
By: Laedra Vorrel - Jedi Master
Koran Darr - Jedi Master
Location: Thanatos; Jedi Temple, New Plouton
Date:
Rheudis 25, 5 ABY
***
It all began (or ended, depending on one's perspective) with a tremendous, booming impact that reverberated throughout the farthest reaches of Thanatos, to the edge of the Yallder District in New Plouton.
The powerful shock wave, too, travelled great distances at an imperceptible speed, leveling hovels in one swift blow as if sand being swept up by an arid desert breeze, and then scattered across the dunes.
For miles the wave of destruction ventured, decimating very nearly every structure in Thanatos; even The Rhack, destroyed and long forgotten beneath a blanket of sand, stirred amid the storm and its debris at once banished forever from memory in the shockwave's incendiary wake.
Thanatos was burning, the flames incinerating building, plant, animal and human alike indiscriminately.
And from far above Tae'Karada's atmosphere, hovering over the desert continent, the Jau watched dispassionately as their counterattack found its target, the epicenter of which was their slave encampment.The rebels, led by Rylaa Lyssander's men, had forced the Jau's hand, having engineered a biochemical weapon to infect the Jau with a disease so virulent those who contracted it were dead within minutes; it was also so highly contagious simply inhaling another Jau's expelled breath would mean infection. The indomitable Jau had now become vulnerable. Lyssander's rebels had only unleashed their weapon mere days before this moment, when his men approached the mines armed with bladed weapons and flechette guns loaded with pathogen-filled hypodermics.
Not accustomed to experiencing fear, the Jau posted at the mines raised an alarm to their mothership, warning of the attack. Combined with the newly designed weapon, the creatures feared they would be further undone if Lyssander could fortify his army by freeing Dargus Kandran's clones that fateful day.The clones were disciplined and deadly soldiers, genetic manipulation bestowing them with speed, strength, and an inbred skill for combat - imprisoning them in the slave camps was the Jau's way of neutralizing them without destroying the specimens, who could be studied invasively to uncover the secrets behind their very existence.
The Jau hoped to use this knowledge and adapt it for their people.
This would allow them to produce armies at a rate faster than ever before, and soldiers that would be immune to the bioweapon at the rebels' disposal.
They would be unstoppable...or would have been if the insurgents had not interfered.
It was better to destroy the clones than hand them over to Lyssander's men, even at the expense of the secrets embedded in their genetic makeup.
And the Jau did so, within a matter of seconds.The thermal bomb shredded through the sky in a shell of bright golden flame, hurtling towards Thanatos. It impaled the desert, the resultant shockwave riding the earth in a rippling wave of destruction.
Bedrock cracked, through which columns of flame propelled upwards from the ground; monumental dunes collapsed in on themselves in tremendous fountains of sand, swallowing anyone or thing unfortunate enough to have been cresting them; force and flame both shattered bone, then smoldered flesh leaving burning husks of men and women in contorted poses and mouths forever in a rictus of agony, their voiceless screams never to be heard.
Nothing in the bomb's destructive path survived, and no one was spared.
The Jau posted at the mines, too, were expendable - more could be bred within days to replace them; in one fell swoop they would also eradicate a large portion of the resistance.
Perhaps it was an unintended effect, but much of Thanatos and its population of undesirables was caught in the firestorm, gone without even a chance to flee; this was no sandstorm against which they could shelter themselves.The catastrophic annihilation of Thanatos resounded throughout the planet, shocked citizens crying out in terror, eyes fixated on the burning horizon that was once the glistening sands of their desert neighbour.
Even the Jedi, hidden deep within the forests of New Plouton emerged, summoned both by the physical tremors and those alerting them through the Force.
Each one could hear the agonized cries of souls violently ripped from their mortal shells as flames engulfed their hosts; the sudden imbalance was unbearable to many of the young Padawans, who were unable to cope with the sensation of such great suffering and could only weep or run from the Temple to seek shelter from a pain from which there was no escape.
Some of the Masters were momentarily stunned, leaning into walls for support or grasping for any handhold that might keep them upright. They were the first to recover from the shock and regain focus.
Their priority was the safety of the planet, and to restore balance.
The Jau's arrival had rung the first note of discord through the Force - the destruction of Thanatos now shattered any remaining harmony.
Inaction had thus far proven a great failing of the Jedi on Tae'Karada, but no longer could they remain idle.
They needed to act instead of waiting for a personal attack to provoke them.
The genocide of a people was personal.
***
"It is time."
Master Laedra Vorrel straightened her crisp, white tunic and adjusted the lightsaber resting against her thigh as she moved towards the large window in the Temple's conference hall, one overlooking the sea of snow dappled canopies in New Plouton's Ma'sein Forest.
She and Master Darr had been attending their weekly discussion on the state of Tae'Karada - merely unproductive chatter in the face of what the Jau had just done. Reports had swiftly reached them over the newsnet of the tragedy in Thanatos, confirming what they had already sensed through the Force.
"I know he may be an unseemly ally...but we are only a few, and he has many at his command.
We must act."
Laedra recognized the visual cues warning of Koran's disapproval.
She interrupted before he could express any dissent.
"We cannot do this alone, Koran.
Now is not the time to debate about the consequences of compromising our values.
This is not a compromise, not when it could mean the restoration of peace on this planet."
Koran still was not convinced, and Laedra would not act without his full approval.
"Koran," she explained gently, "we do not have to like the man or agree with his methods, but we do need him.
The palace is a stronghold that we cannot infiltrate without him.
Please at least consider it."
Koran sighed, nodding his head faintly. "I will think on it."
Laedra visibly relaxed.
"That is all I can ask.
But please...we must decide soon, for with or without his assistance we must strike.
The Jau must answer for this travesty."
Agreeing at least on that point, Koran departed to meditate on the matter of seeking to ally themselves with Rylaa Lyssander to facilitate in the Jau's demise.
Laedra remained behind, resolved to allow the time Koran required to explore their options - if no other remained, they must contact Mr. Lyssander else strike out on their own; the latter path would undoubtedly cause the much death among the Jedi, but if the people of Tae'Karada were saved in the process and balance restored, the sacrifice would be a foolish, yet noble one.
"Rude Awakenings”
By: Sieana Wren - Smuggler
Race Soltair - Smuggler
Location: Yallder District, New Plouton
Date: Rheudis 25, 5 ABY
***
If there had even been more a ruder awakening in all her life, Sieana couldn’t have imagined one worse than this morning’s. The walls of the ship groaned and creaked loudly, as a low rumble rolled through the edges of the Yallder District, and deafened into a loud roar that jarred her from her sleep and onto the floor of her ship in a twisted pile of blankets.
As Sieana lifted her head, stars danced in her vision and she groggily opened her eyes pushing herself to her feet.
“The frell was that?!” Holding her head gingerly, Sieana wandered over to the controls for her ship and glanced them over; the sensory readout was completely on the fritz. Had they been attacked?
Yawning she stepped down the ramp, and a quick glance around the hangar bay revealed groups of people rushing about past her, many of them no doubt as confused and panicked as the next. What happened?
He had sensed it before he had felt it. Race opened his eyes as the massive tremors shook his hangar and ship. He awoke and got dressed, strapping on his gunbelt before lowering the ramp of his ship. He stepped out into the hangar and then out into the street. Throngs of people were running about. Some screaming, some fighting and others looting. What had happened?
Sieana shot a look around the bay and over to where Race kept his own ship, the Burning Raven. Given last night’s exchange she could’ve cared less as far as what became of him but even still, a small part of her could not help but feel slightly worried. Rolling her eyes, Sieana shook her head. Forget it, he can take care of himself, not like he wants your help. She mused.
She cursed again as she spied a pair of Bothans running over to his ship and shook her head, looters most likely. If Race came back anytime soon he’d be mad to find these two attempting to dismantle his ship. Even still…
Running back inside, Sieana grabbed her blaster pistol and then cursed in Huttese as she ran down the ramp spying the Rodian and the Weequay she had faced off against in Undim’s Pit from the night before.
“Now what do you boys want? If you came back for a second round I’m not in the mood.”
“You cheated us woman and now you’ll pay.” The Rodian remarked, pointing his blaster pistol at her as the Weequay eyed her, reaching for a vibro-knife tucked into his belt.
Walking back into the hangar, Race wanted to examine his ship and check it for damage. He pulled open the door and moved to step inside when a blaster bolt impacted on the frame. Race stepped back, drawing his own weapon. He heard someone cursing inside and listened to the conversation. It was a couple of looters looking to kill him and take his ship. Race was not about to allow that.
Steadying himself, Race dove into the hanger, bolts searing the air above him. Race exhaled as he impacted on the ground, arms outstretched, pistol ready. As he landed, he steadied his aim and fired off three shots at the two looters. One of them took a hit to the shoulder, the other two shots missed. Race moved to one knee as the looters recovered.
Moving to cover, Race drew a bead on the looter's position. As he started to zero in on one of them, he had to duck another two incoming shots. Rising, he snap shot another three blasts and hit the uninjured looter twice, taking him out. The wounded looter dropped his weapon and raised his uninjured hand. Race walked up to him and blasted him again, taking him out too. A smuggler has no friends and leaves no enemies alive. He took their weapons and anything else of value off their bodies and moved to examine the rest of his hangar.
“I told you boys I’m not in the mood!” She could barely believe these two had the nerve to show up, let alone try and talk her into handing back her winnings. Sore losers or just plain looking for trouble, she had had enough of them both.
Raising her blaster pistol, Sieana fired off a shot at the Weequay as the Rodian dove off to the side, firing off shots of his own, barely allowing Sieana time to scramble behind her ship for cover. She ducked around the corner and fired twice at the Rodian, one shot caught him in the arm, the other hit nothing but dead air.
Two more shots pinged off the side of her ship as the Rodian fired back, and she in turn returned fire, failing to notice that the Weequay had crawled around her ship to her hiding position. Sieana screamed as the Weequay grabbed her arm and jerked her arm behind her back, forcing her to a kneel as he pressed the blade of the vibro-knife at her side.
“We told you you'd be crawling at our feet later, woman.” Hissed the Weequay as he held Sieana roughly.
Kneeling on the top of his vessel, Race drew a bead on the Weequay holding Wren. Why he was bothering to help her at all, again, he did not know. It really was not any of his affairs. He just could not allow it to happen. Honor could be a real frakking bother at times. He squeezed the trigger of his Power 5 and tagged the Weequay in the head.
Scrambling away, Wren looked about nervously as she spied the Weequay dead at her feet. Her lucky day or just someone’s misfire? Hazarding a glance she looked around trying to discern the origin of the shot, briefly she caught sight of a shape atop the Burning Raven from afar and her brow knitted in a frown. Race made the shot? But why?
Grabbing her blaster pistol she spied the Rodian, lying on the ground, motionless. Moving quickly, Wren walked over to where he lay and jumped back firing off a shot as he sat up, quickly silencing him.
Leaning against the side of her ship, she breathed a sigh. Too much excitement for one morning. Perhaps she should just out and out give up drinking.
Grumbling she looked back over in the direction of Race’s ship, perhaps she had been childish in her actions last night, frell that second drinking game she herself had nearly passed out, it was a wonder he didn’t find her facedown in the streets. Cursing she ran over in the direction of the Burning Raven. Perhaps she did owe him an apology. Now was not the time anyway for petty feuds.
Race sighed as he reholstered his pistol. Why did these two looters have to come to his hangar? Now he had to carry their bodies outside and dump them. Shaking his head, Race picked up the first one and carried him outside on his shoulder. He walked across the street and dropped the body of the first Bothan on a pile of debris. Turning back to the hangar, Race prepared to do the same for the next one.
Race picked up the second looter that had tried to raid his ship. This one was heavier and smelled like the back end of a Tauntaun.
"Drok it."
“Race?” Sieana called out as she approached the Burning Raven. She looked around the ship, trying to discern where he had gotten off to, and she hazarded a quick glance up the ramp of his ship and found the visible interior of the ship itself to be empty. Cautiously she walked halfway up the ramp and found that the ship itself was in disarray. Most likely the two Bothans she had spotted earlier had attempted to loot him. Either way they were gone now.
Stepping back down the ramp she spied Race approaching and raised her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not here to fight; I came to apologize for last night. You were right and I was wrong, the way I acted last night was childish…and it nearly got me killed this morning.”
Wren paused, thinking her words over carefully before speaking again, “I’m not used to company, I’ve been pretty much out on my own for as long as I can remember, and being confined together for two weeks nearly drove me mad, but at the same time I guess forgot about what it’s like to actually know someone who won’t go and turn on me, which you haven’t.”
Turning she shook her head. “I’m sorry I worried you Race.”
Race looked at Wren, his green eyes colder than a Hoth winter. He remained silent for several moments before simply offering her a shrug. He walked up past her on the ramp and eyed the interior of his vessel. It was in some disarray. His books were tossed about, flask underneath a bench, spare parts and tools on the floor. Race cursed under his breath and set about cleaning it up.
"Why did you save me?" Wren asked casting a glance in his direction.
"It's enough that I did," Race replied.
"That's hardly a reason."
Race did not offer a reply. He picked up one of his tools and found that it was broken. He tossed the pieces onto the table in the area he used as a mess hall. He would try and fix it later. After packing up all of his tools, he set them back in the cabinet. The rest of it would keep until he examined the hull for damage.
Standing up, Race made his way to the hatch that led up onto the top of his vessel.
“Hey!” Sieana followed after Race, and stopped near him as he moved to open the hatch. “You gonna give me a reason or not?”
"Get out."
Sieana threw up her arms, “Unbelievable, I come over here to apologize, thank you for saving my life and all you can come up with is get out. You must be a real winner with ladies, Race. You just kissed goodbye a good mechanic, and dare I say it a friend.”
Throwing a grease rag at him, Wren exited from his ship, shaking her head as she did. Why she bothered she didn’t even know, perhaps she’d have been better off holed up in her own ship the rest of the day.
Race stood on the top of his vessel, kicking off random pieces of flotsam. He watched as Wren walked away towards her ship. He looked at her as she went. Standing there on top of the Burning Raven, he mulled over his thoughts for a few moments and then spoke. He did not call loudly, but it seemed to carry inside the hangar. "Wren."
Sieana halted, hearing Race call out her name. Sighing heavily she turned, folding her arms as
she looked on in his direction, wondering why now he had chosen to speak up. She stared up at him silently and nodded, awaiting a response.
Kneeling down on one knee, Race picked up some smaller pieces of plaster and tossed them off his ship. He looked at her, as she looked back at him. "I am ex-Imperial Navy. I am a cold mercenary who will kill and steal to get out of a situation and get ahead. I have no attachments and many vices. This is who I am. Could I trust you if we were to work together...on an extended basis? Think it over before you answer me. Can I trust you?"
Letting his words sink in, Sieana stood silently for several long moments. He…was ex-Imperial Navy? She didn’t know whether to laugh or curse her own misfortune. “Of all the gin joints in the galaxy…” Started Sieana shaking her head as she looked away before she turned back and continued.
“I suppose it’s more of a matter of can you trust me, technically you and I should be enemies, I was with the Rebellion. And I don’t exactly like Imperial lapdogs, much either Race, it’s exactly the reason why I left home, I’m the daughter of an Imperial official and my father was all but married to the Empire.”
"There it is, Wren," said Race, still looking at her.
"You said it," She added with a shake of her head. "You still wanna take up arms with an ex-Rebel?"
"You still want to throw in with an ex-Imperial?"
"What else have I got to lose?" Wren smiled; maybe for once things would turn out alright.
"Settling of the Sands"
By: Jeron Kes-Allia
Location: Desert near Thanatos
Date: Rheudis 25, 5 ABY
***
It was impossible not to have heard it or felt it. If a capital ship had
crashed into the planet it would surely cause no more impact than what had
taken place. The booming sound, the reverberated tremor of the ground, the
powerful shockwave and the destruction caused would not be forgotten. And to
top it all off, he too had felt as if hundreds of people had cried out and
were then suddenly silenced.
It was impossible not to know, Force sensitive or not. But to see it was a
different thing, altogether...
Jeron Kes-Allia was a child of the desert. Raised as a Tusken Raider, he was
taught to survive the harshness of the blazing hot suns of Tatooine and to
find beauty in what most people perceived only as a pit of terrifying sand.
He had come a long way since his days as a Tusken. Leaving his clan to find
his true self, he had discovered he could use the Force and learn to become
a Jedi. Over the past few months he, like all Jedi, had remained in hiding.
He had used that time to learn to better control the Force, and he had come
a long way. But he still enjoyed spending time on the desert to meditate on
things.
When the destruction came, Jeron rushed to see it for himself. The sands had
lifted and settled. The households were destroyed, buildings shattered, and
vending stands had scattered all over in bits and pieces. What had once been
Thanatos was now a wasteland, covered in sand.
"By the sands!" Jeron whispered to himself.
There was a quietness to the place, as if not even the winds dared to blow
across what had once been streets. Nobody was around, and not even cries for
help were uttered. It seemed that in their wake, the Jau had made sure that
it was all obliterated, even apparently sending their own to death. What had
been the mines was now gone, prisoners, slaves and guards alike... And the
rest, like Thanatos, was just collateral damage.
Jeron Kes-Allia knew that the Jedi Masters should already have learned this
as well. If he had felt it, there was little doubt that they had not. But he
knew that he had to join them. They would know what to do. If Thanatos lay
in waste, and the mines were gone, then it was only a matter of time before
New Plouton or Arcadia suffered.
"The Masters will know what to do!" he decided. They had to! Jeron found a
speeder half buried under the sand. Focusing, he was able to lift it off the
sand. It was damaged, but it would still run. With no time to lose, he took
off.
He was still half way to reaching New Plouton when he saw something burning
in the distance. Nobody would make a fire in broad daylight in the desert,
unless they were totally crazy, so Jeron decided to go there. As he neared
the place, he found a skiff burning with what seemed like a merchant group
lying across the sand, injured. Surely they had been caught in the shockwave
and had been toppled over. Their goods were flying off to the winds or being
engulfed by the desert, and they would die without proper care.
Jumping off, Jeron rounded up as many people as he could find amidst the
wreckage and placed them on his speeder. Some seemed far worse than others,
though none were conscious enough to let him know what had happened. Without
a moment to lose, he made way to the Commerce City.
New Plouton was the largest hub in the whole planet. As he drove though the
busy streets he could tell that even the people there could tell that there
was something wrong or that at the very least something had happened. Surely
enough, destruction of that magnitude was felt there too, and people were
most likely scared of what could happen to them and whether they were next.
Jeron Kes-Allia stopped his battered speeder in the first medical unit he
could find and shouted for help. A doctor and a nurse came rushing out.
"I found them in the desert... Accident it seems..." he said, deciding not
to point out what had happened to Thanatos. Causing chaos would lead nowhere
and right now he needed the doctor to keep his wits about him.
"Nurse, take them inside. Get the ICU ready!" the doctor ordered.
He couldn't wait to find if the men and women he brought in would be ok. He
had no time to lose. He only hoped that he could at least help those people
survive the massacre. Too many people had already died that day. He left to
head back to the Jedi Temple.
The Masters would know what to do. They had to...
"Old Game, New Acquaintance"
By: Sieana Wren - Smuggler
and Race Soltair - Smuggler
Location: Yallder District, New Pluoton
Date: Rheudis 25, 5 ABY
***
The streets of the Yallder District were rife with madness as Sieana and Race navigated them on foot, in short it was chaotic, thieves and looters ran amuck, attacking storefronts and vendors caught off guard in the attack, taking advantage of the situation for their own personal benefit.
And in all likelihood, when peace was finally restored to the Yallder District, Sieana doubted anyone would really care; given this was the literal slum of New Pluoton.
Race delivered a palm-strike to the face of a thief coming to steal his Power 5. As the man attempt to run by and strip it from the holster, Race squared himself and swiftly smashed the blow into the thief. When the man fell, Race stomped down on his face and draw his weapon. Three other men with sharp-edged knives and came towards the group. Race shot the first two and the third man ran away, catching a bolt to his back. In the chaos, nobody even noticed.
"Keep your wits about you," started Race. "And stay close to me."
Sieana nodded as she trailed behind Race, “You’ll get no argument from me.” Her own SE-14r light repeating blaster rested in its holster, and her vibro-knife lay hidden in the sleeve of her jacket, if she needed it, she’d need only flick her wrist to withdraw the blade.
Trying to keep as low a profile as possible, Race reholstered and secured his blaster. He built the rig himself and had fashioned it for a quick draw. He had a knife at the ready as well, though where was anyone's guess. Making his way through some of the backstreets, Race led Wren through Yallder as they searched for usable items. It appeared to be open season on the district.
Sieana cautiously navigated through a narrow crevice after Race that led them into an equally narrow alleyway. Further ahead of them were several piles of junk, mostly old ship parts and speeders. A closer inspection revealed piles of fried circuitry and wires, likely old droid parts.
“Where exactly we going again?” Whispered Sieana.
"There is a small part of the district where people take their droids and other things to be fixed on the cheap," said Race with equal quiet. "It's not exactly well-known. Just to a few pirates and some smugglers. Kind of an invitation-only place." Race took Wren's hand and led her through a break in a fence and down another alley.
"I was at a bar on Sladient VII, place there called Mon Contain. Guy was accused of cheating at cards and this Rodian drew down on him. I knew it was the other human in the group so I interceded and saved the guy who owns this shop we're visiting. He told me who he was and clued me in to his shop. Ever since, that's where I go for repairs."
“You trying to make your mechanic jealous? I guess this means I need to step up my game.” Sieana chuckled quietly.
"Haven't know you that long, Wren," said Race. "And being a Rebel, you might try and sabotage the ship of an ex-Imperial out of spite."
“You’re leaning more towards the people I like list, rather then the people I hate list.” Replied Sieana. “Besides, I hate to say it but I think you’re growing on me.” She added in jest.
"Well, you haven't gotten me killed yet," Race replied as he peered around a corner. "Let's go."
At Race’s words, Sieana couldn’t help but muse over her current situation. Of all people, here she was working with someone who had once been an Imperial Naval Officer. Granted, Race did grate on her nerves from time to time but she had to admit there was something she liked about the guy, what though she couldn’t quite say.
He had to have some good in him though right? He did save her hide, thrice. After her drinking bout, he probably viewed her more as a thorn in his side, and she couldn’t really blame him for getting angry. She had acted foolishly that night. Maybe she should give up cantina hopping altogether…
As Sieana and Race neared the end of the alleyway, the pair drew to a halt, standing near a break in the fence. Leaning on Race’s shoulder slightly, Sieana peered through a hole in the fence and surveyed their surroundings.
“I see only one guard, and by that I mean one big, mean looking Wookiee.” Sieana commented quietly, before then casting another glance at the area. “I’d suspected this guy have some more security considering his business, you sure he’s legit?”
"There is a delicate balance with security," said Race. "Too much and you draw attention. Too little and you leave yourself open."
Walking out from behind the fence, Race walked right up to the Wookiee and slapped him on the arm. "Dregak, how have you been?"
The Wookiee grinned and replied to which Race laughed. "Careful, we have a lady present."
Turning, Race looked back to see where Wren was.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Sieana emerged from her hiding spot and walked over to where Race stood, and she nodded at him and then the Wookiee. Given their sheer height and stature it was easy to see why Race’s friend would choose to recruit Dregak as a guard, add in their immense physical strength, he’d likely drive others away rather then welcome business.
"Dregak, this is Wren," started Race. "An acquaintance. She's ok. Halin around?"
Dregak nodded and pointed in the direction of the shop. Race nodded and waved for Wren to follow him.
Nodding at the Wookiee once more, Sieana then trailed off after Race and the pair eventually came across a small shack-like structure accompanied by bins containing spare ship parts and scrap metal among other things. Sieana drew to a halt as Race approached the structure and she waited patiently.
"Wren," said Race. "Come on. You trailing behind me is making me nervous. Better showing you put forward the better your shot is at getting an invitation. You might need to come here one day and I might not always be around."
“What are you talking about Race?” Sieana asked as she approached him, suddenly confused by his statement. “I thought you and I agreed we’d be working together, partners remember?”
"Things happen in life, Wren," said Race as he patted his blaster.
Sieana forced a grim smile and nodded somberly. “So do plenty of other things.”
Halin came out from behind the back area of the building. He smiled when he saw Race and shook hands. He looked over at Wren and nodded. Race looked at Wren and then back to Halin and shrugged working through some hand signals. Halin grinned and nodded for a few seconds and then got serious in expression and pointed at Wren again. Race tapped on his chest, specifically his heart, and then drew his thumb across his throat as if with a knife. Halin raised his eyebrows and then nodded slowly. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small coin-like object and handed it to Race. Race nodded in return and turned to Wren, waving her over.
Wren nodded and followed after Race, having been only increasingly confused by the non-verbal exchange between pair, never mind Race’s cryptic musings. Either way it seemed like she was a-okay in Halin’s book.
She knew Race was a gunfighter and a gambler, both of which were equally dangerous professions, but then again so was smuggling and she had grown to accept that, so why had his statement struck such a hard nerve with her? Sieana cursed as she looked up, having walked right into Race.
Frowning she shoved his shoulder hard, “Watch where you’re going spacer.”
"This coin," Race started, holding the object up. "Is your invitation. I just vouched for you with Halin. That means I gave him my word that you're on the level. If you screw this up, I lose his friendship and my reputation feels the pain. Am I coming in loud and clear?"
“Crystal.” Sieana replied, before then moving to snatch the coin from his hand.
Race moved the coin away from her hand and looked deep into her eyes. He seemed to study her for several minutes. His green eyes reflecting his thoughts as well.
"Partner."
Sieana shifted her hand so it came to rest on Race’s shoulder and she nodded at him, not breaking his gaze, she could sense something there, a rare quality she ever found in others these days, trust. She smiled apologetically, and spoke quietly, her tone calmer.
“Partner.”
Race looked at her a moment more and then nodded. He took her hand in his, shaking it as well as passing her the coin. Halin looked on and nodded approvingly. Turning back to Halin, Race took Wren with him to the counter and introduced her. Halin nodded and smiled, offering his hand. Wren shook it and nodded.
"Ok Wren, write down what we need," said Race. "Keep in mind that this isn't a dealer shop. Halin does pretty well for himself but don't expect serial numbers and all that. Once Halin is started I'll show Dregak that you're in the family, as it were. That way if you show up next time, he won't tear your head off."
“No problem, I’ll keep things simple.” Replied Sieana as Halin handed her a paper ledger and a stubby pencil, worn rough from overuse. Sieana’s eyes lighted briefly on Race as she began to compile her list on the ledger, her thoughts growing distant if but for a brief moment. Simple. Would things always be simple between her and Race?
"Broken Landscape"
by: Sgt. Johan Eddis
and the members of Team 3212
Location: In Orbit
Date: Rheudis 25, 5 ABY
***
In a silent rotation around Chimeria, the Authority looked down on the green-blue mass of a vibrant world. From this distance, one couldn't tell that an alien force occupied the planet, One couldn't tell that the planet had seen so much violence in years past. One couldn't see the deaths and internal power struggles. From this vantage point, it looked beautiful.
Then it exploded.
Johan was just climbing out of bed when the ship shook violently, sending the stormtrooper sprawling across the floor. Regaining his footing, Johan managed to move from his bunk to the corridor beyond, climbing the brief metal staircase that led to the cockpit. Warning klaxons were going off in the cockpit as Thorgim was trying to steady the ship.
"What the hell happened?," Johan asked.
But no one needed to answer. Straight in front of them, a colossal explosion could be seen rising into the atmosphere. Johan pointed at the devastation. "What do you have for me Thorgim"?
"It's Thanatos. That little desert city. It's gone".
Thorgim was silent for a minute. He was busy mashing at the console. He turned back to Johan after a prolonged quiet. "It was the Jau. Some kind of....thermal bomb. Everything is on fire down there".
Slowly easing himself into the chair next to Thorgim, Johan considered the options. Something had pushed the Jau over the edge. Their tactics had just went from heavy-handed to genocidal. Johan didn't know the population of Thanatos, but it was no small number.
"Take us down there. I want to see it for myself".
***
At the edge of the burning desert city, Johan lowered the ramp of the Authority. Clad in his storm commando gear, Johan could smell the heavy stench of burning bodies before he slid his helmet on and closed the seal on his suit.
The other three stormtroopers did the same, and To'Makh wrapped a piece of fabric around his face to protect from the heat. The five of them swung rappel lines out over the edge, and slid down to the hell below.
Johan heard a loud crunch as his feet hit the ground and glanced downward. The top of the sand was glass, the impact from the the bomb heating the sand, and making it crack beneath their feet. In front of them, the remains of Thanatos was a bombed out war zone. The structures that hadn't been completely leveled were flaming ruins.
The team moved through what had once been roads, but were now covered in rubble. The remains of living beings lay by the wayside, the bodies blackened and contorted into positions of agony. Johan was happy that his suit meant he didn't have to deal with the horrible smell of burned flesh he knew was in the air. He felt sorry for To'Makh.
Taking in the devastation, Johan knew that Thanatos would never be resettled. The Jau had probably destroyed a large part of the resistance in the process. The stormtrooper sergeant wanted to know why.
"Thorgim, bring the ship around and pick us up. We've got work to do".
"Firebrand, Icy Heart”
By: Sieana Wren - Smuggler
Race Soltair - Smuggler
Location: Yallder District, New Pluoton
Date: Rheudis 25, 5 ABY
***
Race walked down the ramp of the Burning Raven and toweled off his face. He was covered with grease and grit from cleaning and repairing the drive systems for the ship. He had finally gotten the parts that he needed. Felt good to have a whole ship again. He was now free to blast off of this rock and get back to the stars.
Wren was probably experiencing the same feeling. Now that the environmental controls were repaired, she could stay on her own vessel. They had survived through the Jau and whatever had happened to Thanatos. Sometimes you get good fallout from a bad thing. Now they were free to go where they wished. Soltair was preparing to take off early the next morning. Time to move on. Wren got introduced to his market contact in case of future issues. She was taken care of. Opening up a canteen, Race took a long hit of water. Where to go now?
Sieana sighed as she sat down in the pilot’s chair of her ship the Crimson Wolf. For the first time in a long time the air in the ship felt normal, comfortable, and most importantly livable. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn she was on Hoth, and a bad day the volcanic planet of Mustafar.
The feeling was a strange one; on one hand she was happy to finally be able to return to her own ship, yet on the other hand she could not help but feel a sense of emptiness. The past few weeks she had spent living onboard Race’s ship and though it was a rocky start at first, she had grown accustomed to his presence. Now as she sat alone on the Crimson Wolf she could not help but notice how eerily quiet it was, save for the occasional beeps and glips from the ship itself. In a way it only seemed to add to the silence.
Race was no doubt eager to get away from the planet and most importantly the Jau. So where did that leave her? Things were bound to pick up here sooner or later…right? Casting a glance around her ship, Sieana drummed her fingers on the control panel as she sat lost in thought, before she finally stood up and walked down the ship’s ramp. She figured she should go back and make sure she didn’t leave anything behind on Race’s ship, provided he didn’t leave already, did he?
Race stood outside of his ship, using a degreasing agent to clean off. Maybe he would head to Valfor 5 and see what kind of action could be drummed up there. He had been somewhat out of the game for a while, but he could not let that get around.
A smuggler's reputation was his strongest asset and also his most fragile. A small downtime could be seen as a weakness. It could set a person back and maybe even act as blood in the water to other mercenaries. Not that his gunplay skill-set had had time to wane. Any mercenaries coming to call would not be walking away.
Quietly, Sieana approached the Burning Raven and hazarded a glance towards the ship’s ramp. Idly she wondered if Race was inside, still working on repairing the drive systems.
“Race? You in there?” Sieana called out as she peered up the ramp. No response. Shrugging her shoulders, she walked around the outside of the ship and stopped as she spied Race some ways away.
His back was turned towards her, and from where she stood she could see he was cleaning up, using some sort of degreasing agent she wagered. From where she stood she could see his back was scarred, some places more badly than others, some old and some new.
Clearing her throat, Sieana finally approached Race. “I was just stopping by to make sure I didn’t forget anything on your ship, did I come at a bad time?”
"Why would it be a bad time?" said Race as he turned to face her, putting on his shirt. "Go ahead in and look around, if you haven't already."
“Well I wasn’t sure if you were in a rush to get out of here and well…uh yeah I’ll go look inside thanks.” Back stepping, Sieana cursed as she banged her head against the wing of the ship.“Kriffing frell!” Rubbing her head, she smiled shyly at Race before moving back towards the ramp of the ship and stepped inside.
"You got something on your mind," asked Soltair as he stepped inside the Burning Raven after her.
Sieana looked up as Race approached her, and she quickly sidestepped him. “I just wanna grab my stuff and get outta here, I’m pretty sure I’ve already overstayed my welcome, besides I only cause you trouble hanging around.”
"I see," said Race. "Very well." Turning, Race walked back down the ramp to survey what he had taken off of his ship. A lot of things he had just held onto while he was stuck here. He wanted to discharge any junk before he left.
Sieana watched as Race walked back down the ramp, her heart sunk like a stone. Maybe she was right, maybe she had overstayed her welcome, so why did this feel so difficult? Biting her lip, Sieana stepped deeper inside the ship and looked around, attempting to see if there was anything she had left behind onboard and quietly began her search, albeit half-heartedly.
Eventually she came to the bunk area and stopped as she spied a pair of spiraled chopsticks resting on the pillow. Sitting down on the bunk, Sieana picked up the sticks and studied them aimlessly, recalling how she had come to be in possession of the sticks. Race had actually combed the Yallder District looking for her, only to in return have a soup cup thrown at him when he found her. Hurt vector. Was that all she was?
Hanging her head, Sieana clutched the sticks tightly, unsure of how to think or act.
Race came walking back up the ramp, two boxes of spare parts in his arms. Things he had gotten from his market contact. A few other raw materials too. He planned to build a weapons locker now that he had acquired a few more from the local thuggery. He set the boxes down on
the table in the galley area and then walked further into the ship.
Coming into the bunk area, he spied Wren sitting on the bunk she had been using, holding something. Those damn chopsticks from the night he had gone to look for her. That had definitely been a par for the course night for her. Most of the time he had known her she had been arrogant, flippant and annoying. That and she was also a rebel.
She had also gotten him into some gunfights that were not of his own issue. Lately though, she had been less troublesome. He stopped and leaned in the hatch-frame, his shadow falling across her. He cocked his head to one side as he eyed her expression. What was going on behind those eyes?
Wren dropped the chopsticks as she looked up to spy Race watching her intently. Quickly she dropped to a kneel and picked up the chopsticks, her short dark hair fell into her eyes as she did.
Shakily she stood back up tucking the sticks into her belt and quietly she moved to step past Race. Sensing that he would not move, she finally looked up at him, hoping that he would not notice she had been on the verge of crying earlier.
She was silent as she stared him down, yet offered no wise-cracks, nor any smart mouthed retort, and only finally spoke up several seconds later, her words or lack there of, short and precise.
“What?”
Reaching slowly, Race brushed a hair away from Wren's face. "Say it."
“That I’m a hurt vector, a magnet for trouble…” She started, chuckling humorlessly.
"...don't go making this any harder on me please." She finished a tear slipping past her eyes.
"I'm not trying to," said Race.
“Oh for cryin’ out loud.” Using her hands, Sieana framed Race’s face in her hands, leaned forward and kissed him. After what felt like an eternity she pulled back, then ducking under his arm, she remarked, “You try and figure that out.”
Race grabbed her wrist as she stepped by him and pulled her back close. "I need a little more time to figure it out." Race kissed Wren this time, his arms holding her close. How did she go from soup-thrower to now?
Sieana wrapped her arms around Race as he pulled her close, and she fervently returned his kiss. Pulling back she trailed kisses along his jaw line, and then softly whispered in his ear, “I don’t want you to leave, I want to stay with you, please Race.”
"I never asked you to leave," said Race.
Threading a hand through his hair, Sieana pulled Race close, kissing him again as he held her.
“There’s only one problem, all my stuff’s back on my ship.” She replied as she pulled back, her hands coming to rest on his waist. “I may wind up borrowing a few of your things again.”
"We'll talk about it later," said Race. Going inside the bunk room, Race kicked the door closed after them.