The Fate of the 47th -Mycher

[Originally posted by Mycher] Here is a bit more and thanks for the kind responses. ****** The whine of the speeder bike was a joy to hear. Bikes such as the one he was on were Mycher’s first love; hours spent tinkering with them with his brother in the family garage. It became the small business he had all those years ago, before that dark day that changed his life forever. He opened up throttle more and sped across the plains to the east of the ruined base, the whine like a fond lost memory. There he had seen some more buildings when scouting from the ridge to the south, ones he did not remember and it was possible they had been associated with the 47th and its activities. As he closed the distance he passed through what had been some kind of industrial sector, the broken remains of auto-factories lined up like squat soldiers in formation. They were all ruined now, damaged in the attack and later stripped by some one. What ever purpose they served was now forgotten as they were left to rust away in the northern plains of Naboo. Quickly he was through them and Mycher saw his destination rise from the tall grasses. On a slight rise was another compound, eerily similar to the old IACC. As he slowed down the bike he could take in that it was mostly all pre-fabricated Imperial stuff, modular buildings designed for quick set up and use. He had seen it all across the galaxy, good for short missions but tough enough for long duration deployments. He slowed the bike down and moved cautiously through the compound toward the center. The buildings here were in deed less damaged though by there missing doors and smashed windows he guessed that it was just as empty as every thing else he had seen. The orientation was different though where as IACC was like a great square, this place seemed to be more linear, running north-south. Some thing else was different though; there was some thing here as he felt a tickling deep in his mind. Ever since the Old Man, ever since Dantooine he had become different. One of the few times in his life Mycher had been afraid and had struggled with his demons but now, with all that had happened he did not care and he did not have to hide. In the center of the compound, three large buildings formed an open courtyard. They were of the more traditional Naboo style and had received some heavy fire, mortars or perhaps some kind of artillery. The signs of heavy combat were all around as he spied blast marks peppering virtually every wall around. The building to the west is what interested him the most; it was there the tickling in his mind was strongest. He secured the bike and began to prepare himself with the contents of its storage compartments. A small pack with a few basics, a glow rod and his blaster would be all he needed. With a press of the remote on his wrist the bike shut down completely and all of its compartments locked. Going up the steps Mycher could see the building was mostly intact and accessible unlike the command bunker he had stood atop. As he ducked inside there was a haunting familiarity about the place even though he had never set foot in it prior to today. He swung around the right of the entrance and into the first main room and there to his left was a turbo-shaft that he half knew would be there. It was down he wanted to go, it was where the tickling was pulling him to. The doors were open and the car was gone, down at the bottom of the shaft he supposed but no matter. From the pack he pulled a heavy magnetic grapple and micro-line. Depressing the power stud brought the grapple to life and he placed it with a loud thud against the metal casing of the shaft. Mycher secured a safety line to his belt then let fall fifty meters of line into the dark. He double checked the grapple and then turned to his descent, carefully lowering himself on to the shafts built in ladder way. Maybe he was being overly cautious but he did not want to get part way down and suddenly find himself in trouble without a back up plan. With the cold bluish light to guide him, Mycher began his climb down to what ever was waiting below and maybe the first answers he needed.

[Originally posted by Mycher] The shaft was deeper than he was expecting and there was just enough line to reach the bottom. Through the course of his descent he had to navigate through tumbled support beams and other obstacles. The car was indeed there, a crumpled mass deformed by the long fall from above. The braking system for the car must have some how failed during the attack or it was also possible it was by design. The tickle in his mind was stronger now, a familiar brush he new very well. Looking down at the top of the car he noted that is was of a heavier construction than normal. He gave the emergency hatch a tug but it was firmly stuck, no doubt by the now deformed nature of the car. For a second he thought about blowing the hatch but quickly dismissed the idea. That would involve setting the charges, climbing out and hoping any explosion would not cause the all ready damaged shaft to collapse. No, he had a much better breaching tool in mind. He pulled from his pack what looked like a small glow rod and thumbed the power stud. With a snap-hiss a small crimson energy blade sprung to life. Less than half a meter long it was the perfect cutting tool, powerful, compact and controlled. Mycher plunged the blade into the hatch and proceeded to cut out an opening. The blade passed through the metal with little resistance and with a loud clang what had been the hatch cover fell into the car. Deactivating the mini-saber and securing it to his belt, Mycher waited for the metal to cool. He crouched and with the glow rod could see that the car had crumpled so that it was now half its normal height. Through the crushed car doors he could see what looked like a hall or room of some sort. He checked the cut metal and though hot it was safe enough for him to pass through the cut hatch and into the car. Half crouching he did not even bother to try and pry the doors open. Again the mini-saber was out and the blade was cutting through car doors. As he finished the cut he shoved the doors away from himself and into the hallway beyond. Mycher was more than a little surprised as emergency lighting popped on casting the hall in a faint and eerie red light. The motion sensors still worked and some where an emergency power source was still functional. He secured the mini-saber and brought out his pistol. He had to be cautious now, there could be active security measures running and bobby traps but he also had to be aware of time. He did not want to linger too long on the off chance that the RSF or Rebel agents were monitoring the site. With his blaster at the ready, Mycher reached out with his senses and began to make his way down the dimly lit hallway.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Mycher had no doubt that he was now in what could almost pass for a copy of the company’s original command bunker. Room for room, hall for hall it was almost an exact duplicate. Almost because the place had a feel about it, like it was a shadow image. Though the halls were the same, they seemed darker, colder than what he remembered from the HQ. Lighting continued to pop on as he made his way deeper into the complex. Debris and litter lay scattered about the floor and the signs pointed to a hasty exit by those who may have been here. He could smell death, those for whom the bunker had become their tomb. The one corpse he had found so far was unrecognizable and bore no rank or name but was dressed in simple dark robes. As he closed on what he believed to be a large conference room there were sounds of movement. From alcoves in the wall stepped four obsidian droids. Mycher was already firing his blaster pistol at them when they opened fire with their own weapons. Running and firing, Mycher threw himself through a nearby door as their weapons fire crashed down the hall. Shots peppered around the opening sending broken chunks of ferrocrete flying. Mycher shielded his eyes then aimed around the corner, squeezing off as many rounds as he could before he knew he had to pull back. He was sure one of the droids went down but he did not want to fight a protracted battle, his gut was telling him he had to move quickly and now. He could hear their metallic feet as they began to advance towards his position, still firing and trying to keep him pinned down. The years of training kicked in as the former Imperial commando fished a heavy concussion grenade from his pack. With a practiced ease he pulled the pin and tossed the deadly grenade down the hall. There was a mighty blast that rocked the hall and sent smoke and dust flying. Mycher peaked around the door and could see one droid was down, one crippled and the other blasted back down the hall. He let loose a couple of well placed rounds from his heavy blaster pistol and the crippled droid’s chest exploded in a mess of metal and wires. He held his position for a few more heartbeats waiting to hear any sounds of movement from the hall. He could hear the one droid that had been blasted back was moving around, getting back to its feet. A quick glance and he could see that it was setting itself to attack once more. As soon as it could, the droid opened up on him. Mycher pulled back and muttered a curse as blaster impacts again began to pepper around the door opening. Soon the approaching droid would swing the arc around the door and have him in his sights. As reluctant as he was to do so, Mycher reached out with the force, raising up and old desk top. With his blaster ready, he sent the top hurtling out into the hall although a bit shakily. As he had hoped, the droid followed it, blasting away with the abandon of a new recruit. Mycher swung around the door way and fired two shots into the droid’s head. The last of the guard droids feel over in a heap as Mycher rolled back against the wall. He blew out a big puff as air as he calmed himself down. It was getting easier and easier to do things with his new found abilities but still it sometimes took toil on him as some things were easier than others. Like any exercise, it was getting easier to do the more you did it and he could feel his strength growing. Once more with his blaster ready, he set off down the hall. The dust had settled and he could get a good look at his assailants. They looked like old Trade Federation battle droids but these were newly built. There were slight differences from the originals that he had seen, these here being of a heavier grade in their construction and their dark bodies unlike any other. He noted the ‘Torchwood’ logo on their chests plates and hoped that their maker, where ever she was, held no grudge against him now. He entered into the conference room and the ticking in his head did not change to alert him to any danger. He was close to what was calling him but his feelings were and imprecise thing. Looking about the room he could see little in the ways of clues. The large table was no smashed as were most of the chairs. A large chunk of the ceiling had given way and done that deed, a testament to the ferocity of the battle that had been waged above. Mycher holstered his pistol and began to search the room looking for any thing that could help him. There were no secret buttons under the table, no false compartments behind any of the ruined pictures on the wall or any pressure on the floor. He tried to clear his mind as the sense of urgency he had was growing, his time was running out. Looking up to the ceiling he closed his eyes and shook his head. He brought his head down and when he opened his eyes he saw it, he saw his clue. The walls to the chamber were all ferrocrete, dull and gray, but there, behind the chair at the head of the table, there was a section of wall that was stone. He did not know how, but Mycher knew that this was his clue.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Alana Duree was not the least bit happy with the last minute detour her patrol had taken. She, Jase, Hecks and Turk had been assigned to patrol some of the towns north of Theed. The orders had been simple, investigate reports of possible Imperial agents, gather as much information as possible and return to RSF Command in Theed. Though it had been some time since the Empire had been any threat to Naboo or the rest of the sector, Imps still occasionally popped up, involved in some criminal activity or another, some playing spy and others turned to a life of a mercenary. She knew a lot of former Imperials still called Naboo home, even after the battles that had been waged across the planet. When faced with the reality of the Empire’s fall, most had simply given up and been absorbed back into the daily life of Naboo. Such was the way of her people, despite all that had happened, to accept those tempted by the evil of the Empire back into society. Still, there were those who clung to the perversions of Palpatine and the wickedness his ilk had spread across the galaxy for a generation. “Where are we going again?” she asked the driver. “To one of the old Imp bases,” Jase told her. “One of the remote sensors picked some thing up, a speeder probably. It may be nothing but a lot of these places still have not been thoroughly de-militarized.” “Yeah,” the hulking Turk added,” and we need to keep as much hardware out the hands of the crooks, gangs, and hutts as possible.” “Well why us, that is not out job? What about the sweep teams?” Alana pressed. “This place is flagged Priority Alpha and we are the closest. This place was the command center for the north plains region and the higher-ups want it checked out,” Jase replied. Alana sat silently in her seat, watching the grasslands pass by. Jase was busy following the nav beacon while Turk was eating, again. Hecks just sat there stone faced and silent, but Alana could read his mood by the way he clutched his blaster. Still, she could not get over the feeling that some thing was very wrong; she just had a bad feeling about their new mission. **** Mycher searched all around the stone, searching for a hidden activation stud, a pressure plate, any thing to move his task along. He found nothing. For all intents and purposes, the stone was just that, a decorative stone in a wall. He tried pushing and pulling but the stone was immovable and large. It was more than just a thin appliqué; it went deep into the wall. The stone was tough too; he had shot it just to see and had to dodge out of the way as his blaster bolt ricocheted back at him. His mini-saber proved just as useless, the crimson blade doing little to mar the stones surface. Blasting would not do the job; he did not have enough to do what was needed and even if he did there was a good chance any blast that large could bring the whole place down on his head. No, there was another answer, a simpler one, that he needed to find, and he had to hurry. The little clock in his head was ticking down and he knew he had to hurry. He flipped over the chair that in front of the stone and sat down, looking at it. Calling upon the few things he had learned, Mycher began to calm himself down, concentrating on his breathing, and reaching out to his surroundings. The technique he was trying was remarkably similar to the mediation methods of teras-kasi. As he found his center, his point of power, Mycher could sense his surroundings. In his mind, the stone stood out, and like an exploded view he could see what he needed. It was really quite clever and clear that the puzzle that the stone was could only be properly solved by some who could call upon the force. Buried in the wall behind the stone, two great metal pins held it firmly in place, untouched by any mechanism or device. Concentrating and focused on his task, Mycher reached out and began to slide them back, out from the stone. It was difficult and barely within his ability to do so, but slowly and deliberately, the two locks were pushed clear of the stone. The effort left him drained and dizzy and it was all he could do to keep from falling from the chair. It took a few minutes to compose himself before he could turn to his next task. He stood, he knees buckling only slightly, and moved to the giant stone. He found his footing, leaned forward, and began to push against the multi-ton stone. Any onlooker would have thought him crazy in his task but none of them could know his power. The force worked strangely for him, where it was just the mind it was difficult. Throwing the table top and moving the metal bolts were just such examples, where he had to reach out. But now, moving the stone itself was a physical thing, some thing he could touch and with that he was stronger. That same onlooker who thought him crazy would be astonished as the stone began to move. Slightly at first but faster as he gained momentum, the stone was pushed back. Triumph bloomed in heart and with a snarl Mycher gave one last push with all the force he could muster. The cursed stone hurtled back with a thud that reverberated through out the complex. Subtle he was not, but for Mycher the job was done. There in the floor the stone had covered lay a stairway and hopefully some of the answers he needed.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Just a small addition, I'll work up a larger piece for the holiday weekend. And keep writing, every one is doing a fantastic job. The light of the glow rod seemed to weaken as he descended the stairs. If it was the power cells failing or some thing else Mycher did not care. He was nearing the end of his journey; he could sense it with all his being. What ever was pulling him was near and he had a very good idea of what it was. As the stairs continued on he noted that the masonry had changed. The relatively new walls and stairs had given way to some thing very different and much older. Mycher was no expert, that had been Selectus’ strength, but he knew he had crossed the threshold of a place that was a relic of the past that had been forgotten until recently. Maybe that was why the building above had been placed here, to make use of the moldering cellars Mycher now found himself in. The stairs had ended and he was now in long hall with a low ceiling. A few emergency lights sprang to life, their power couplings crudely attached to the ancient walls like ugly decorations. Along the corridors length were various alcoves, some of which appeared to burial crypts for those long dead. In others he could see crates of supplies; some were food and water while others seemed to be clothing and assorted weapons. Mycher ignored these as that which he sought lay at the end of the hall. It was there that he could feel a tremor in the world around him. Mycher was cautious as he entered the last chamber even though he felt no danger. He cast about with his glow rod searching for what he knew was there and there it was. In what looked like someone’s personal stash he found a small, carved wooden box. The glyphs were unknown to him but he had seen some thing similar years ago, on Dantooine. There was some thing else though, almost a familiarity about the thing which called to his memories.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Alana hung back away from the turbo shaft entrance with Turk standing just off to her left. Jase and Hecks were closer to the open doors, waiting for the would be looter to make his way up and into their custody. It had been a few minutes since the line first moved and the two had shouted down to the who ever it was. “Be careful when they come up.” She cautioned. Jase turned from the shaft and gave that ever so annoying ‘I have it covered’ look. Hecks stood by impatiently, his blaster carbine ever ready in his hands. “Don’t worry Alana,” Turk said to her in a hushed voice so the other two men could not hear,” those two know what they are doing.” “I know Turk, but I just have a bad….”Alana’s words trailed off, “...he is coming up” She looked over to the shaft and could see the grapple line had started to move. “Heads up,” Hecks announced,” the perp is coming up.” Jase went over to the shaft to look down and indeed a dark figure was slowly climbing up. The chemical glow sticks they had thrown down were weak but enough to illuminate the looter’s form. “Come up nice and easy. Don’t do anything stupid and keep your hands clear once you get to the top,” Jase yelled down. As the figure got closer to the top Jase and Hecks moved back away from the shaft’s edge, their weapons trained on the opening. Alana had found herself moving back and away as well, the sense of danger growing the closer the looter got to the top. Turk was moving toward the other two men when she called to him. “Turk, stop!” she hissed, “Something is not right.” The big man did so, their was a tone to the woman’s voice he had never heard before, a note of fear and for some reason he knew she was right. Alana was a well trained agent, perhaps more so than he and right now she looked more tense and edgy than he had ever seen her. Turk stopped his advance and instead moved to the left, swinging a wide arc to cover Jase. Alana moved to her right with her pistol out to cover Hecks back. Turk did notice she had a curious looking glow rod in her hand but she was not using it in the dim chamber. “He is almost up, be ready” Jase shouted over his shoulder. The sense of danger Alan felt did not lessen and in fact grew as the looter pulled him self clear of the car shaft. He was tall, taller than average and of an athletic build. She could feel him, all tension and readiness, like a spring ready to be released. What worried her most though was the fact he was staring at her and her alone. He had not even given the slightest hint that he had recognized her companions. “Slowly and I mean slowly, undo your belt and drop your weapon,” Hecks said through clenched teeth. His blaster was aimed at the looters head and Alana doubted he had it on its stun setting. Kath Hecks dislike, no hate, for Imperials was well know throughout the RSF special agents division and the sense of that rolled of the looter like water off a swamp birds back. “Drop your weapon scumbag!” Jase told the looter,” You are coming with us. Do it! Now!” For a second longer than she would have liked, the looter held her eyes before finally turning to recognize that somebody else was in the chamber with them. He paused for a moment as if trying to read the situation before him, his hands up and away from his sides, too far to make any grab for his holstered pistol. He tilted his head slightly and looked to Jase. “I am sorry,” the looter said in cold flat tones,” you won’t be going any where with me.” The low din that had been in the back of Alan’s mind warning her of danger turned into a roar the same time the explosives went off. She had no time to warn the others as the building shook and the sound of moving stone began to fill the chamber. A gout of flame erupted from the shaft and out into the chamber. She thought for sure the looter would be immolated but he was on the move and fast. Hecks fired off a shot blindly as he covered his face from the flame and debris but missed. The looter was on him after that, a series of blows that quickly crumpled Hecks into a pile, before running off to Alana’s left, towards Turk. She followed the man slack jawed as he hurtled over fallen rubble and launched himself in a tumble over the head of the big man and dashing for the rear of the chamber. Turk took off after the man, his feet pounding the floor as he did his best to at least keep his eyes on him. Alana turned back to see Jase had grabbed the unconscious Hecks and was dragging him away from the front of the chamber. There was a loud groan as the front of the building began to sag from the damage done by the blast. “Alana,” Jase screamed, “go with Turk, I have him! Go!” She turned and took off after her other partner and the looter. She hurled herself over fallen columns and rubble. She did not have to look for her quarry as she could feel him through the force. Around the back and down a corridor she ran, faster than she had ever run before. Turk was in grave danger and she was the only one who really knew how much so. Around another corner she ran, her senses telling her she was getting closer to Turk and the looter. Lights were coming on in the building now, the explosion having caused some still active emergency system to activate. Further ahead she could see Turk’s back as a security door slid into place. Her concern grew as who knew what else was still active in the building. Alana reached the door and looked through the transparisteel view port. Turk and the looter were inside of some security chamber, a door much like the one she stood at was closed on the other side, trapping them together. The sense of danger she had felt was dropping but still she could feel her fear. “Turk! Turk I am going to get you out!” The big man turned to her and smiled. “Don’t worry Alana, my friend and I are going to have a little talk.” With that, he turned from her and began to move toward the looter. “Turk, no, Turk, no!” She franticly began pressing the door release but nothing happened. She hammered away at the keys, the override, but nothing was working. A noise from her side pulled her attention for a second; Jase was coming down the hall, half dragging a semi-conscious Hecks. “Jase, hurry, Turk is locked in here with that nut!” Jase Balmor slowly sat Hecks down and peered through the view port. In the room he could see his friend facing off with the suspect they had been waiting for. He felt stupid for having not anticipating the man for doing what he did, planting explosives as a distraction to make his escape. He felt better now knowing that he was trapped in a room with a man he felt was arguably the last person any one in their right mind would ever want to get into a fight with. “Go easy on him Turk, I’ll have the door open in a sec.” Alana gave him a worried look as he ripped the control plate off for the door and began to try to re-wire it. “Don’t worry,” he said,” if any one can handle himself it is Oden Turkmoon. I would be more worried for that other guy.”

[Originally posted by Mycher] Mycher turned from the closed security door and looked over his shoulder at his pursuer. The man was a giant and the two of them were now trapped in the security room together. He was saying something to the girl on the other side, her face a mask of panic. The big man was calm, a sense of assuredness about him as he turned to face Mycher. “Just take it easy little man and when my friends open the door we can all take a nice little ride together, see the countryside.” Mycher slowly reached down and un-did the claps to his pistol belt and let it fall to the ground. The big man, Turk he knew from the girls screaming, offered him a smile with that. It was brief as Mycher then slid off his pack and cracked his knuckles. The big man frowned, almost like he was disappointed with him. With a flex of his knees, the teras-kasi master launched himself at Oden Turkmoon who had no idea he was about to be in the fight of and for his life. **** The danger sense flared again as the looter launched himself at her friend Turk. Hecks had come around some more and was with her watching through the view port. Fast, faster than any one had a right to be, the looter was across the room and delivering a kick to Turk’s chest, sending the big man backwards. Two quick blows to the midsection and Alana could feel the pain her friend was in. He already had two broken ribs when the looter came around in a reverse leg sweep and sent him crashing to the floor. What was worse, she could feel him the looter calling upon the force, adding to his strength, his speed. In seconds, Turk was going to be a dead man, if she did not do some thing about it. “Holy sith spawn!” Hecks cursed. Jase looked up from the control panel and his eyes grew wide as he watched Turk being lifted up and hurled across the room and against the wall. “Hurry the feth up!” Hecks yelled and Jase turned back to the panel, franticly trying to re-wire the controls. Alana was paralyzed with a mix of awe and concern. She knew what the force was and could do a few tricks but she had never met anyone else like her before. And now, here, on the other side of durasteel door was some one like her who was doing some thing amazing and at the same time killing her friend. She was torn, she wanted to talk to this man and at the same time she knew she had to stop him any way she could. Time was slowing, a choice was coming. She looked down and could see Jase was getting no where with the panel, Hecks was yelling at him to hurry up but she could feel the growing desperation in her superior’s mind. Turning back to the room she saw Turk duck from one blow only to see the wall where his head had been cave and crumple from the blow, the impression of a fist left in a steel wall. Alana Duree stopped thinking and acted, she let the force guide her and hopefully she could save their lives. Jase was working on the panel when he heard Hecks let out a shout of surprise at a strange snap-hiss sound. Suddenly he was flying backward, some force pushing away from the door. He was confused, he did not know what had happened, he had not felt any one touch him, and he had just suddenly been flung away from the door. As he looked up his confusion only grew. Alana stood in front of the door, a blazing energy sword in her hand. Hecks was looking at her like she was an alien thing from another planet. She pulled back and drove the blue-white blade into the door and began to cut out the lock mechanism. The durasteel melted and flowed like water under the blade as she forced it through the door and then into and through the wall where the panel was. The door was cut free and she made a left to right motion with her free hand. Untouched, the door slammed back into it wall pocket and the way through was now clear. He was still confused, startled, as he got to his feet and began to move to the door where Alana stood. **** The sound of the door slamming open brought Mycher’s attention around. There, in the door, the girl stood with a blue lightsaber in hand. She had cut her way through and was getting ready to rush in. He did not think, he did not hesitate; he grabbed the big man, who remarkably was still alive and on his feet, and gave him and over the shoulder toss. He called upon the force and sent him hurtling at the saber armed girl. Here eyes widened as the man came flying across the room at her. She turned off her saber just in time so as to not impale him but was unable to move out of the way. He crashed into her and the other two men who stood behind her bringing them all to floor in a heap. Mycher snatched up his pack and holster and made his way to the door. He thought about trying to force it but had an inspiration; he keyed in his personal id code and the status light went from red to green. With a whoosh, the door slid open and he was on the move again. Once he was through, he slapped the emergency stud and the door slammed shut once more. It was not much, but it would buy him more time than he would normally have. The RSF agents were untangling themselves and would be on his heels again. He did not want to kill them but he would if had to, if they kept after him. Slipping his pack on, he continued to make his way to the rear and hopefully an exit out of the building. **** Alana pulled herself from the pile and took stock of the situation. Turk was a mess and in great pain and Hecks was still dazed from the explosion and probably had a concussion. Jase was pulling himself up with a look of confusion and growing frustration. “Turk is down and Hecks is not much better.” She told him. He paused for a minute then said “Hecks, stay with him, Alana and I will go get that fething pile of shit!” The dazed man could only offer a nod as he tried to collect himself. Turk was in agony but there was little Alana could do for him, especially if the looter came back. There would no way that her two companions could be any match for him, she and Jase had to catch him and stop him. “Let’s go.” Jase ordered her. Together they crossed the security room and to the closed door. “I saw him open this with a code, he’s been here…served here maybe.” “Then lets give him a homecoming he deserves.” Alana replied and then drove her saber into the door. Again the metal flowed like water and in seconds the two were through. The way was lit with intermittent light, emergency wall sconces were lit here and there. “We need to be careful, he knows this place and probably knows where to ambush us.” Alana nodded and kept her saber out in a guard position. She could see out of the corner of her eye Jase glancing at her and could sense the confusion he felt. “We’ll talk later, after this.” She assured him. “Yes we will, count on it.” **** Mycher’s guess had been right, the building was a near copy of the old HQ. The rear turned into a mechanical/storage space and there had to be a access point, an exit, some where. It was poorly lit and debris lay every where. Shelves lay fallen across the floor making it difficult to move about but he was sure he was headed in the right direction. When he heard the hum, he knew his pursuers had caught up with him. He pulled his pistol and wheeled around, peppering the direction the sound came from with blaster fire. The saber girl and the dark haired man took cover behind chunks of ferrocrete. “Go back and take care of your friends!” he shouted at the two agents. “I have no quarrel with you and I don’t feel like having to kill you today.” “The only place you are going is to jail!” dark hair yelled back. Mycher sighed and shook his head. He could have killed them all back in the first chamber, should have killed them, but did not and was now regretting it. He went to look from his cover but had to duck back a blaster fire ringed the piece of durasteel he had taken shelter behind. Dark hair had picked up his friend’s carbine and seemed to be pretty handy with it. Saber girl had her pistol out and was adding even more fire to his position. With a muttered curse to what ever gods may listen, Mycher set himself to make a break when a nearby canister caught his eye, one he was intimately familiar with. It was in arms reach and he pulled it over to himself as a plan formed in his mind. It would be a bit easier, he was in battle and he was really getting pissed at the idiots who were chasing him. He reached into the force to give him the strength and hurled the canister up and over his cover and toward the RSF agents. He heard them shout to each other words of warning which meant they were not watching him. Mycher popped up and unleashed a hail of fire at the canister. It was the third one that tagged it and an explosion ripped through the room. Liquid flame from the flamethrower supply tank flew about the room and he could hear cries of surprise and pain from the other side. Busting from cover and dodging the pools of liquid flame, Mycher headed to the rear of the building, impatient to find the way out. The sounds behind him left no doubt that saber girl and dark hair were still intent on chasing him. He cursed again knowing that he was going to have to stop playing around and kill them as much as he did not want to. **** Alana had finished patting herself out and winced from the pain. Her awareness had in no way prepared her for the explosion or the rain of fire that followed. She could see Jase and noted that his hair appeared to be smoldering. He was angry now, she could feel that through the force and could sense as much in herself. The looter was on the move again, moving deeper into the storage room. She could only wonder what else may be lying around back here that he would be able to utilize as a weapon. She was also certain that he was more experienced than either herself or Jase, a trained soldier who probably was stationed at one time or another at the base they were in. Who ever he was, they needed to stop and catch him. He had assaulted agents of the Queen and possibly acquired dangerous materials from this base. Alana also had her own reasons now to apprehend him, she needed to find out what he knew about the force and if he knew anything of the lost Jedi Order. “Are you all right?” Jase shouted over too her. She nodded and pointed in the direction the looter went. “We need to stop him and soon.” He nodded back and began to pick his way forward using what cover he could find. She did much the same, being sure to keep a good distance between themselves. There was every chance the looter may have set booby traps or could he could pin one of them down with blaster fire. She could here various noises all around now, the creak of damaged walls, the crackle of flame and odd bangs from all around. The off and on lighting was creating so many pools of shadow, their opponent could be hiding in a dozen different spots. Her saber was off but ready in her hand, her other held a blaster pistol, ready to take a shot should a target present itself. “Please, just go back now, while you can.” A voice called out from the shadows ahead of them. Alana did not know who the looter was but there was an honesty about his voice. He really did not want to be here confronting them but she could sense a growing resolve within him to deal with them. “I don’t want to kill you but you really are pushing the limits of my benevolence.” “Just surrender then.” she offered the darkness. There was a cold chuckle in response to her offer and Jase gave her an angry scowl. From the sound, she was sure he was in front of them, maybe twenty meters or so. She had a slight advantage over Jase, she could sense him in the force. It was nothing pinpoint, just a sense that he was nearby and watching them. Alana closed her eyes and felt forward of her position in the force. Like a bubble slowly pushing out, she reached with her awareness. She could almost see it in her minds eye, like an ever expanding blue sphere of he conciseness. She touched him, a slight brush, and she could feel the looters presence. She pushed forward and the brush became…more. He let her in and she could see what he saw, she could see how he was looking at Jase and could feel the slight resistance as he pulled the trigger… “Jase!” she screamed as her eyes flew open. She did not think, she simply reacted to what she had seen. Alana grabbed Jase through the force and sent him flying. He hurtled through the air and smashed headlong into a wall but was clear of the concussion missile that exploded where he had been only seconds before. The blast wave caught Alana in the chest and sent her tumbling backwards, the air forced out by the blow. She landed in a pile and pain lanced up her leg and through her back. She was gasping for air, her head fuzzy; something warm and wet was filling her mouth. Wincing she pulled her self up and looked around, dazed. Smoke filled the room and there were again a few small fires. Jase, she had to find Jase. She cast about when she heard the sound of blaster fire, two shots and then silence. Heedless, she ran, reaching out with the force for Jase, searching for him. Alana found him crumbled on the floor, bruised, battered and alive. She feel down next to him and wiped away the blood from a nasty cut on his head. Her reaction to save him had been too much, almost as deadly as the missile itself. Her inexperience had almost cost him his life and now they were all hurt and all doomed. She tried to stifle a cry as she held his head when she felt him. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder and there in the smoke and shadow he stood, watching her. He still had the rocket launcher on his shoulder, at the ready but she sensed no intent from him, only sadness. Some thing flew through the gloom and landed next to her; a med kit. A second later her lightsaber landed next to it. “Take care of your friends girl, go home and forget what I looked like.” Alana reached out with trembling fingers and brought the kit to herself. “I’ll… get you, you bastard.” She told him. He let out a snort and she could feel his sadness turn to disappointment. “Get me for what, not killing you? Not turning your boyfriend to paste?” he chided her. “ I let you in Alana, I let you see what I saw and did exactly what I wanted. Humph, the force works both ways, a lesson you have just learned.” He tossed some thing else at her, a scroll, a very old one. “Take that, learn what you can from it but be warned, some times getting what you want leads you down a path you never dreamed.” He turned away from her and aimed the rocket launcher down another hall and fired. The missile took off and down the hall followed by another explosion. As she looked up from the crumbled form she had covered she could see the faint tendrils of daylight from the hole the looter had blasted in the wall. He dropped the launcher like so much garbage, gave her a nod and was gone. She stared at the space he had been in for a minute before she finally passed out.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Nothing on tv tonight so I did a bit more, a wee bit slow but it supposed to be setting the stage. I hope I got some of the backround right in order to place my story a bit better in the time line. Chapter 2: The sanistream was a godsend, a means of washing away his troubles if even for only a little while. It helped relieve the tension he felt in his neck and soothed the aches acquired through years of battle. He would stay in longer if he could but there were matters to be attended to. He turned off the soothing waters and donning his robe went down to the main level. Though his home in IACC had been destroyed by the rebel assault, his family’s estate was over 25 kilometers away and safe from the orbital bombardment. From high atop the cliffs he could look out from balcony at a magnificent view of the north plains and the River Sorre. To the west he could see the sun setting, a blaze of orange and reds across the sky. Naboo, his planet of birth, had been a true jewel in the universe. It was why he had joined the Imperial Army, to protect it from a universe gone mad in his eyes. No, that was not the only reason and he quickly buried those thoughts. He sighed and sipping his caf made his way back inside and to his main office. The rooms he passed were comfortably furnished and decorated but empty to him, the tired trappings of a past life, of another time, another place. The great house was empty save for him and the droids who cleaned it and maintained the grounds. While he was away the estate manager saw to the place’s upkeep, a monument to those now gone. It had survived the various battles that had raged across Naboo, from the fall of Queen Apailana, the uprisings following the death of Palaptine and the subsequent crackdown by Imperial troops afterwards. For a time the planet was held by one faction of the Empire or another until the New Republic brought her might to bear. Queen Kylantha, the Queen-in-Exile as she became know, marshaled enough support amongst the re-named Rebellion to re-take her home world from what ever would be Warlord who held Naboo but the price was high. The planet’s great cities were devastated; vast stretches of the countryside were littered with the ruins of small abandoned communities and her people pushed almost to the breaking point. It was almost six years since the fateful events that took place over distant Endor had brought down the Galactic Empire and only recently the failure of one of her Grand Admirals, the last, to undo those events. From what Mycher had heard he failed, betrayed by a mad Jedi and his bodyguards. It did not matter to him anymore, the time had passed, and the Empire was dead. Even if the Emperor himself was to some how rise from the dead, Mycher doubted he would care, especially now. It would be hard to imagine that he would be able to hide his abilities for long and then what, death at the hands of some crazed Inquisitor he had once served. He was no jedi, he was no sith and he had no desire to join their ranks. For him the force was a tool, no different than using a hydrospanner or a field knife and no one was going to tell him any different. He did not need anyone putting a label on him and then trying to do their damnedest to bury him, like he had done to so many others. He gave a disgusted sigh and put aside the caf he had been drinking to examine his new treasures. The first was a data core, a back up copy of what had been on the IACC’s main frame computer. He held the metal cylinder in his hand, a potential clue as to the whereabouts of the 47th. It had been sitting there in the dank and forgotten cellars for years and probably would have remained there for decades had he not come along. He sat it down only to page through the moldering scrolls he found, valuable and potentially useful but they paled compared to what was left. His last treasure was something far more precious and possibly far more valuable. It had been in the box, a small ornate six sided pyramid, a holocron. Force users had created them through the centuries as repositories of knowledge and teaching aides. Intricate carvings and geometric shapes covered its slopes, a sense of anger in their design and placement. Mycher took the dark red crystal and held it in his hands and felt a flicker in the force, a sense of familiarity and a name; Acario. **** Alana Duree wished she could stay in the sanistream forever. Her body ached every where, it was not very often you had a concussion missile go off five meters from you and live. She limped to her bed and as gently as she could eased under the sheets. She took a mouthful of water to wash down the pain meds her doctor had given her. The chase and fight with the looter had left her and her friends beaten and battered but thankfully alive. Hecks had only a concussion while Turk had been beaten severely and Jase; he had been burned and smashed into a wall but was alive and recovering. She shook her head and still could not believe it. They were all special agents of the reconstituted Royal Security Forces of Naboo, supposedly among the best to found. They had tackled all sorts of criminal scum; smugglers, drug dealers, slavers, renegade bounty hunters, mercenaries and more. Yesterday they were made to look like amateurs, unskilled novices who were overcome by one man. What she could not tell them, what they would not believe was that it was never a fair fight. He had used the force throughout their battle and had overcome them and their combined skills. What was worse was the envy she felt, to see a window of possibilities open up to what could be and watch it vanish into the shadows. The scroll next to her bed was something though, a puzzle. Why did the looter give it to her, why did he not kill them like he claimed he could, no, which he clearly could? She sat back in her bed, rubbing her temples and wishing for an answer but nothing came. She had more questions now and no answers, no idea what to do and a growing sense of guilt. She had hid from her friends her growing abilities out of fear. She had hid from the man she loved her greatest secret and could sense the pain he felt from that. They still had not talked but Jase would soon be released from the med-center and she had no doubt their little talk would follow. He had barely spoken to her when she visited him and could tell that there would be painful days ahead. Alana felt guilty for having hidden the scroll and her lightsaber when she came to afterwards, for playing off Hecks’ ramblings as those of a man not in command of his faculties, and even now staring at the rolled parchment sitting the nearby table. She had only glanced at it earlier but had recognized the writing as an older dialect of her people. The translation would tedious and understanding the content difficult but she would take any knowledge she could how ever she had to. As she began to drift off into sleep she thought of the looter. She needed to find him and anything he might possess that could help grow in the force and maybe, just maybe, he could be persuaded to teach her what he knew. One way or another, Alana was going to be a jedi like her uncle and a guardian of her world. She had to; it was the only way to stop the dark man who haunted her dreams.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Well at home with the electricians working on the house and with time on my hands have a bit more. Mycher placed the holocron on his desk and focused on the thing. It continued to stir and slowly a holographic image began to take shape. The rough image of a man swathed in robes rose above the small pyramid, washed in a red tint. As the form coalesced the robes became those of an inquisitor and the face could be clearly seen and was who he suspected, Acario Genteel. “What would you know?” the image asked sounding too much his lost friend. Mycher broke his connection and pushed the cursed holocron away from him causing the image to flicker and die. A mix of rage and confusion swelled up with in him. Acario had known the force, could clearly use it and had joined the ranks of the Emperor’s inquisitors. Turning from his desk he kneeled before his window and began to mediate. He had to; it was one of the only ways to calm himself before he flew off in a wild rage. Just as he had done so many times, he called upon his martial arts training and the knowledge of the force he had learned through the years. He focused on his breathing and channeling away his anger, releasing it. He kept his meditative state going, clearing his mind and sorting through the growing questions he had. The fate of his friends, the base, the girl, the force, the future the past, it was all a tumultuous jumble that was tearing away at his sanity. His thoughts turned to Acario, to the fact he had been like him, that all along there had been some one he could have talked to and he never knew it. Mycher pulled himself deeper into the calm of his mind, to his memories, to the past, to Talus. Elements of the 47th had been assigned to Talus to help the local garrison deal with a growing rebel presence. It would be a couple days before more forces had arrived for the campaign and the Commander, Jaxx, had made sure there had been enough time for training for every one. They had been near the river, not far from the main Imperial base. The landing fields were not far off and one could watch the Sentinels and Lambdas ferrying more troops and supplies for the coming effort and even the dimmest gungan spy would know some thing big was about to happen. Stormtrooper squads and units of the regular army were marching off the shuttles and off to their respective bunks. A training session covering unarmed combat had been set up and as masters he and Dingo had helped Acario run it. The more veteran troops had spared more amongst themselves to practice leaving the three to focus on the rest. It had gone well, the newer recruits appreciated the guidance they had but probably not the bruises or aches they felt afterwards. It was getting late and the sky was all ready tinged with reds and oranges as the troops dispersed and made their way back for their evening meal. “Hey Mych, you got a sec?” Acario asked as he went through the training gear. “Sure, what’s up?” “Mych, I have been working on some new combat techniques and I do not want to ask just anyone. I need a pro, some one who knows how to handle themselves.” “Okay, “Mycher responded, his interest piqued” what do you need? Acario smiled and pulled from the pile of gear a full protective helmet, the kind used in full contact training. This one however was different, the face plate had been blacked out which would blind who ever wore it. He also brought out two meter long training blades and tossed one to Mycher. He put the helmet on and brought the blade up to a guard position in front of himself. “Attack me. Pretend you are a half-assed rebel wanna-be-hero and attack me.” “Are you sure?” Mycher asked looking back and forth between the blade and his friend. “Trust me, just do it” Acario assured him. Mycher looked at him for a minute trying to figure out what he would put in the report to explain this to their superiors. Acario was of a higher rank and depending on the out come things could get difficult. “Stop worrying about my rank; attack me…that’s an order.” “All right.” Mycher sighed and attacked. Three quick strikes and three times Acario blocked his blade. Mycher paused for a moment to look closer at the helmet for any signs of a vid feed before Acario waved him onto attack. Three more strikes and three more times Mycher’s blade was blocked. “Okay, let me see that helmet.” “Here.” Acario said tossing it to him. Mycher pulled at the padding looking for some kind of optics and even tried the helmet on to see if the face plate was truly blacked out. He could find nothing out of order; the helmet was what it appeared to be. His face was a mask of puzzlement when he looked back up to Acario. “How…what…all right, how did you do that?” Acario only chuckled before answering,” I have been trying to develop my other senses you could say. Try again and don’t swing three times.” He took the helmet from Mycher’s hands, put it back on and again brought his blade up into a guard position. This time Mycher did not hesitate and attacked just as he would any target. Each blow was blocked, each thrust parried and he even had to duck back when Acario lashed out at him. After ten minutes he had to stop, amazed at what Acario had done. “I can’t believe it, its, its…I don’t know what to say.” “It is amazing what you can do when you put your mind to it Mych.” Acario turned away to look off at the setting sun and added,” Maybe you could learn how to do it?” “That would be incredible, when can we start?” “Now,” he said tossing the helmet to Mycher. “And I don’t think you are going to have a problem with this,” he added with a knowing smile. **** Mycher slowly opened his eyes while fighting to maintain his calm. Acario knew and had always known even before Mycher himself did that he had been touched by the force. He could sense it now and knew it was true and it was all he could do to smother the anger. All those years of suppressing himself, hiding what he was for fear of what would happen should he be found out. “What a waste,” he said to no one. He wanted to smash some thing, to turn a continent to ash but he would still be where he was. Mycher needed answers and he needed, no, wanted them, and now. This is just a small tribute to the hours we spent before the nge grinding our toons on Talus to unlock before the day. I think we both did it with just days to spare if I remember correctly.

[Originally posted by Mycher] I have a bit more. Apologies if I stray from cannon and get things wrong but this is really for fun. The trip into Theed was uneventful, the grasslands and the ruins of war passing by unnoticed by the flash speeders driver. The great city was now a shadow of its former glory. Though the streets had been cleaned and some semblance or normalcy had returned there was no hiding the scars of war. Here and there ruined buildings still stood, in other places droids were busy tearing down those that could not be saved. Entire blocks now stood empty, cleared of the rubble yet empty, stark reminders of what had passed. The new regent of Theed was trying hard to save every building they could, doing every thing in his power to restore the city to the way it was before the war. It was a noble effort but a fruitless one Mycher felt. All ready, offworlders had bought up vacant land at depressed prices and new buildings; ones more at home in the sky line of Talus or Corellia, were beginning to rise. It was a sign that recovery had begun and that the city had entered a new era. There were only a few security check points for him to go through and he had no troubles. Though the authorities frowned on weapons his pistol it was completely legal, a harsh reminder of the times they now lived in. With the departure of the Imperials and the general disorder left in their wake, crime had risen to new heights on peaceful Naboo. The Royal Security Forces were at their very limit dealing with the problems of an economy pushed to the edge of ruin. Pulling into the area of the star port, he drove the speeder down into the garage levels. He needed a parking berth for the flash while he took the shuttle to Keren. There were numerous guards and security measures in place to keep the peace, the star port was an import part of restoring Theed and no chances were going to be taken with the trade and traffic which passed through. As he made his way to the shuttle bays he could see that a large ship had landed. Hundreds of people were exiting, refugees from some war torn corner of the galaxy. They were tired, hungry and dirty but the Naboo would do what they could for them. Mycher only wondered how many more they could take before their numbers overwhelmed the generosity of the Naboo and pushed a planet on the brink over the edge. With the data core safely secured in his travel pack, he hoped his trip would be one more step to finding the answers he was searching for. **** The view from the Inspector’s office was particularly painful for Alana. She had an unobstructed view of the Royal Palace, some thing that was once highly coveted. Today it was a painful reminder of tragedies of the past few years. The great dome was gone, collapsed under the weight of fire from Imperial forces in their re-taking of the city years ago. The once majestic building was a ruined hulk, its exterior pockmarked with holes from weapons fire. If one were to look down the length of the plaza they could imagine the wonder it once held. They could have pretended that the great arch and it monumental horses still stood but that would be a dream. That great monument to the kings of old was gone, more rubble cleared away to open the streets back up to traffic. One horse had been saved, mostly, and now stood in a new park memorializing those who had fallen. “Agent Duree, would you like to join us?” Inspector Herm asked her, the sarcasm not lost. Alana turned from the window to face one of her least favorite people in the galaxy, her boss, Inspector Roschell Herm. She could imagine that if Palaptine had a younger and angrier sister it would be the bitter woman before her. Inwardly she sighed, but it was one of the burdens of her service to be here. “I am sorry Inspector, I am still feeling unwell.” The older woman just glared at Alana over her optics, her face tight like a drum. Alana did not need any special gifts to know the woman did not much care for her, even less so now. “Your report leaves much to be desired as do those of the rest of your team.” The inspector said while flipping through the papers in front of her. “You did not follow procedure, you did not apprehend the man who attacked you, you can not identify him and you can not tell me what, if anything he may have taken from that place.” “No.” “He blew a building up, knocked out one man, beat another to within an inch of his life and shot a rocket launcher at you and the team captain and nearly killed you and all you can say is no?” Herm took off her optics and threw them disgustedly onto the pile of papers. “Inspector, if I may?” Jase asked. When she waved him on he continued. “Ma’am, we faced some one who was clearly a highly trained combat specialist, undoubtedly some one familiar with that installation. He had every element in his favor and luck as well. We are basically a police force; we do not have the experience for this work. It is why I have consistently asked for more training for situations like this as noted in my personal files.” “I know Captain, I know, but we are stretched so thin right now, we don’t have any allowances for the advanced training you have requested. I agree it is needed but it will not be coming any time soon. Also, as you were the senior officer there and in command I am afraid a permanent reprimand will be going into your file.” Jase Balmor almost flinched at the words; it was almost a slap in the face. If anything, he tried to stand straighter but the back brace he wore prevented that. “I am tired of this,” the inspector went on,” go check with the duty captain…tomorrow, for your next assignment. Get out of my office.” The two agents saluted and marched out and down to the courtyard. The silence between Alana and Jase was a tangible thing but words would have to wait until they were away from prying ears. They walked for a bit through the light foot traffic until the reached the Royal Café. Alana was surprised when Turk waved them over to a table. Hecks was there as well though he looked less than thrilled at seeing them. “You two are looking better,” she told them. “Heh, you would be amazed at what a little bacta and pain meds can do for a man. How did it go with the boss?” Turk asked as they took their seats. Almost immediately a small serving droid came over to take their orders. “As well as to be expected, she thinks we are all morons.” Jase explained while the others made their selections, “The good news is they are so short handed they need to keep even us around.” “Jase, stop, it was…” Alana began. “It was what, a disaster? That guy kicked our ass, he made us look like a bunch of chumps and don’t get me started on the sword thing.” Alana looked around as a few heads turned as Jase’s voice got louder. “Easy man,” Turk said looking to his captain, “getting mad is not going to change a thing. I am just glad to be alive, that guy didn’t punch you.” “No, he just shot a missile at me and threw me into a wall.” Jase glanced sideways at Alana and asked, “When were you going to tell us…tell me?” Alana waited while the droid brought them their orders and spoke once it was well away. “I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I was afraid, my whole life they hunted down people like me. I heard stories about what the Empire did to the jedi…I just did not know how to.” “How long have you been like this Alana?” Turk asked. “Always I guess. It is not like I have a disease or something, I just started getting better at doing stuff, and now that the Empire is gone I could practice at it more.” “Where did you get the energy sword?” Hecks asked, staring out the window. “It was my Uncle’s; he hid it when the purge started. I found it years ago, by accident really, that and some writings he left behind. That is what I used to practice; it is how I learned to do a few tricks. I had to keep it a secret, you have to understand.” “A lot of good it did you.” “A lot better than shooting a wall and getting my lights punched out!” she shot back. Hecks’ cold stare was his only reply. “You said that guy was like you, he could do stuff?” Turk asked trying to shift the conversation. “Yes, I guess you could say I could feel him, I knew when he was doing stuff. It was…I can’t describe it…” “I can describe it, he tried to kill us!” “Hecks, stop, this is hard for all of us!” Jase snapped, “I don’t like this any more than you but it is done with, there is nothing you or I can do about it. It is my fault, I should have done a better job as your commander so don’t blame her, blame me and lets just move on.” “Well I want to know more about Alana,” Turk said between mouthfuls of food, “like what can you, what is it like?” “I can sense things, that I could always do, I just did not know how or why. I can get a feel from the people around me and I just know things some times.” Alana explained, “I can also move things, push them. I lifted a speeder once but some thing that big is hard and it takes time to move. I just wish I was better at it. I could do so much more if I were just stronger.” “Can you get stronger, better at it?” Jase asked her. “I think so. The more I do stuff, the more I practice it gets easier to do, say move things. It is certainly easier now; I don’t have to worry about a squad of stormtroopers kicking my door in on any given night.” They ate some more and talked about Alana and her not secret abilities. Even Hecks grew a little more curious as she told them all a bit more about their meeting with the looter at the old Imp base. What they did not know were a few of the details she left out, about the looter and the ancient scroll of force lore he had given her. Even Alana Duree knew every one had to keep a few secrets, even from friends and even a lover. **** Keren was a busy city, spared the most part by the tides of war that had swept across the face of Naboo. It had already been the busiest starport on the planet before hand and was more so now in the aftermath of so much destruction being done to the other major starports. The busy port also had something else; it was still the closest one could come to finding a seedy underworld anywhere on the planet. If you were looking for something exotic and not necessarily legal, Keren would be the place to look. It was not a bad place, a lot safer and cleaner than the streets of a place like Mos Eisley on Tatooine. If Mycher ever turned to a life of a smuggler or pirate, he could think of few places more comfortable to set up shop. The streets were busy, a good sign he thought in light of how tough things were across the sector. There were plenty of people about and the bars were full of spacers taking a break from their cargo runs and mining tours. It was in just such a bar he had hoped to find some one who could help him with a couple matters he need attended. He found it not far from the shadow of Keren’s starport, The Comet’s Tail, the stereotypical type of place he had seen in all of his travels. Change the name and it could be the same dingy dive of a bar he had been in on Corellia, Eriadu, Ord Mantell or a dozen other planets. For being just past mid-day the place seemed busy. A few aliens were mixed in the crowd going about their business; eating, drinking, working a business deal or a potential swindle. Miners, pilots, crew, starport personnel and travelers were all doing what billions of other’s were doing across the galaxy; the still raging war between the New Republic and the fragments of the Galactic Empire a secondary thing compared to the hundreds of little problems they all faced. Mycher did not have to search through the sea of faces long to find his quarry. He was sitting at a both, data sheets spread out before him, a businessman to pre-occupied to notice any one approach his table. He was older, hell they would all be older now; his hair still combed back but receding. The gray was starting to show a bit but over all Calagar Hoersch looked pretty good and none the worse for wear. “Hi Cal.” Mycher said after the other man failed to notice him. He looked up and squinted and Mycher noticed the crow’s feet and furrows of the other man’s brow. “Mych, Mycher Keeas, good to see you.” The older man responded rising from his seat to embrace his old friend. “How are you, I can’t tell you how surprised I was to hear from you after all this time.” “I am good Cal, good as I can be. How about yourself?” “It has been rough but I think things are getting better. I won’t lie to you Mych, the past few years have been hard on every one but I think I am finally getting some where. Come on, sit down.” Mycher eased into the booth and pressed the call stud on the table. “What happened Cal, what can you tell me about the 47th?” Mycher asked. Calagar looked down to the pile of data sheets in front of him as if trying to organize his thoughts and his recollection of events that had passed. “I don’t know if I can help much Mych, I was just a civilian contractor but I will tell you everything I do know. You know that after Endor the people on Naboo rose up against the occupation. They did pretty good at first, they really surprised the Imperials. It was just like it had been when they beat the Trade Federation before the war, at least for awhile.” Calagar took a sip from his drink while Mycher placed his order before continuing. “They had some help from the Rebels, that is who hit IACC. The orbital strikes were like some thing out of a dream, like angry gods smiting their foes. It was ugly Mych, whole units were vaporized, the city, the base, they were obliterated. Some of the intel the Rebs had must have been old because they missed to new expansion east of the command center. That is where the 47th rallied after the attack, where Surface Marshall Jaxx organized the defense.” “The Rebels though, they came in and did their hit on the base, helped the Naboo a bit and then bugged out. I guess they figured they had done enough and the Naboo would be able to handle things from there. They were wrong obviously.” “Once the reinforcements stated to arrive things really went bad for the Naboo. I can put it only one way; the Imperials were brutally efficient in their jobs. The 47th was right there Mych, leading the way, those who were left any way. The Naboo tried to fight but this was the Emperor’s homeworld, dead or not, and the Empire was going to take it back. The fighting was brutal and they came down hard on the whole place.” “I was lucky, I was known as an Imperial Sympathizer, I worked for the Empire and nothing much changed for me. If anything I was busier than before. But I have got to tell you Mych, I saw some things that really bothered me…it was tough there for a couple years.” “Tell me about when the Alliance came, what happened at IACC?” “I don’t know for sure,” Calagar began, “It seemed like everyone was spread out across the planet. The whole Imperial defense was a mess, I don’t know what happened. Some how the Queen convinced the Alliance to come and free the planet and they came in…like… I did not know the Rebels could be like that. The fighting was brutal, I am sure you have seen Theed, the whole planet was devastated.” “I know Cal, I have been to the base, and I have seen the cities I know what they did.” Mycher too a long swig of his ale before continuing, “Have you seen any one from the 47th , anyone at all?” “No, not really. A face here, a face there but then they are gone.” Calagar answered. He was looking into the bottom of his empty glass, and Mycher could see memories playing out across his face. Maybe it was the lighting but the wrinkles seemed deeper and Calagar Hoersch suddenly looked very tired. The man put down the glass like he was putting away those memories, things he did not want to trouble. “Let’s get out of here Mych. Let me show you the shop and we can talk business there,” Calagar offered as he began to gather his data sheets. “Lead on.” Mycher replied knowing that his old friend did not want to talk about the past anymore. He drained what was left of his drink and threw a few credcoins on the table to cover the bill. “Tell me a little more about what you have been up to.” “Well let me tell you, trying to build a business in this economy is tough..” Calagar began as the two made their way out of the dark cantina and into the light of Keren’s streets.

[Originally posted by Mycher] The two men made small talk as they wound their way through the streets of Keren. Spared the worst of the damage done by war, the city was a bustling and busy place, the heart of Naboo’s recovery. Away from the starport and south they went until they reached Calagar’s hangar facility. The older man took obvious delight in showing Mycher what he had built despite obvious difficulties. Mycher was impressed, Calagar had taken what had been a small and run down hangar bay and enlarged and improved it. The central bay reminded him of those found on Tatooine and was large enough to handle some thing as big as an AEG-77 or several smaller ships. Adjoining the main hangar were three smaller ones meant for ships more like a light freighter. Calagar was indeed busy as his work crews and droids went about repairing one large freighter and another smaller one. He did not recognize either make but he did know the small space tug that sat in one bay, a Cygnus T-70 Space Tug. The small squat craft was roughly the size of a YT-1300 and was in common use in sector all across the galaxy. They moved into the offices where Calagar brought out Berry Wine and poured the two of them some to drink. Calagar sat back into his over sized chair and turned their conversation back to business. “Other than old times, what is it I can do for you Mych? You came here for some thing.” “I need a retrieval; I need a ship picked up.” Mycher told him as he handed over a data chip, “I knew if you could not do it you may know some one who could, some one discreet.” “Whew, Dantooine.” Calagar said as he viewed the navigational data. “What is it?” “My fighter, that where it has been for the past five years.” “Well I can certainly get it for you, I’ll even cut you a break on the towing but why did you leave it on Dantooine?” “I did not leave it on that backwater; that is where I was shot down, it is where I crashed.” **** The ship was a mess and it was a wonder it is was still space worthy. The Imperial-I Star Destroyer Herald had come out the worse of it in a clash with a Rebel battle line. Though she had made a good account for herself she had been alone, out numbered and out gunned. Precision strikes by rebel bombers had destroyed her bridge and shields leaving the great ship vulnerable to the concentrated fire of two Mon Cal star cruisers and their escorts. It had been a testament to the skill and training of the crew as she had recovered most of what was left of her fighters before making an emergency jump to escape the rebel forces. Mycher had not seen too much more of the ship but he had seen enough. The crew, what was left of it, was lucky to be alive and they knew it, he could see it in their faces as they raced to make repairs to their shattered ship. He was following a young lieutenant deep in to the bowels of the Havoc where her auxiliary bridge lay. Lights flickered and groans could be heard coming from the tortured hull of the ship but she was holding together. They entered into the bridge, a hive of activity and shouted orders as the crew was working at an unbelievable pace. All the activity seemed centered on another Lieutenant in the middle of the command well. “Sir,” the first said saluting, “Here is the pilot of the fighter we picked up.” The young man turned and Mycher offered him a salute as well, his official rank being well below that of the man. “Lt. Orvum Navash, acting Captain of the Herald,” the young man said returning the salute and then offering his hand. “Specialist Mycher Keeas, 47th IEF. Sorry to meet you like this Lieutenant.” Navash eyed him wearily when they shook hands before he responded. “You know what has happened, you know about Endor?” “Yes sir, I was returning to my base in the Chommell Sector, Naboo, when I just happened to catch your transmission in system. The other lieutenant, Jueggers, has brought me up to speed on your situation. What can I do for you?” “I need time Keeas and I need eyes out in the system. I won’t lie to you same as I won’t lie to any of my men, the Herald is in no shape to fight, not any more,” the young commander told him. “We need ten hours, maybe twelve to finish repairs and to make a jump coreward to one of the big yards.” “What do you have left of your fighter wing?” “The bombers are gone and all that is left are a handful of Interceptors and 35 standard TIEs. I have half of them deployed along with my shuttles as pickets.” “Have you heard from the base on Dant itself?” Mycher asked. “Yes and the commander is demanding I evacuate him and a his personal staff. Needless to say I am bit busy to be taking on more passengers.” Mycher only offered a nod as he took in the information on the tactical display they were all looking at. “I can stay until you make the jump but I have to get back to my command.” The acting captain nodded but the other officer was taken aback. “You’ll stay as long as you are ordered to Specialist, you do not tell an officer of the fleet how long you feel like serving,” the other man said, his nostrils flaring with rising indignation. It was loud enough that other bridge staff had stopped their tasks to take note of the conversation. “Spanse, don’t be a fool,” Navash said with out looking up from his tactical display. “Command just doesn’t hand out Royal Guard Interceptors to just any one and just like all of us, Specialist Keeas has his duties.” “Orvum…” “That is Captain right now Spanse and Keeas will be our Flight Leader for the next twelve hours. That is all we need, we all have our own battles ahead, let them be with the rebels.” Spanse took in what his commanding officer said and pushed down any reservations ha may have had. “If I may Sir,” Mycher offered, his mind on the task at hand, “I have spent time in the local area. The rebels have had a token presence here and scouts pass through on a regular basis. I would assume the rebels already know you are here. It is now just a question of when they strike.” Navash took a moment to try and rub away the fatigue and stress he felt from his new command. He had always dreamed of reaching that high point in his career, command of one of the Emperor’s star destroyers but not like this and certainly not with events no unfolding around him. “Spanse, go down to the engineering deck. I need you to personally over see the repairs to the hyperdrive. Do what ever you need to, pull as many men as you need off the other systems. This ship has to be out of this system as soon as possible.” With his assignment and a new sense of purpose, Lt. Spanse snapped to attention and saluted his commanding officer. “Lieutenant, before you go, Captain.” Mycher said, “I promise I’ll fight for the Herald like she was my own. I’ll do every thing I can for you until you are safely off. If there is nothing else, I’ll be heading down to the bays. Good luck.” He saluted and the two men who responded in kind before began to make his way to the launch bay. Mycher had to hurry for there was a sense of urgency in the air. He had a bad feeling; his gut was telling him that he and the crew of the Herald were going to be out of time sooner than any of them knew.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Small update. He set himself up in the hangar bay command room where he could watch the tactical displays and listen in on any comm chatter. Some of the other fighter pilots were there with him reviewing the last engagement. Others were in there prep room either grabbing some sleep or eating while they could. The rest were out on the catwalk looking over his fighter along with the deck crew. They had never seen one of the rare Royal Guard Interceptors before and it was doubtful any of them would see one again. The sense of pending dread was building in Mycher, it did before every battle. A hundred scenarios ran through his head, a hundred possibilities all ending badly for him and the crew of the Herald. It did not help that they were near Dantooine. Mycher hated the planet and the closer he got the more so. He would never be able to explain it to any one but it felt like the place wanted to pull him to it. Of the few times he had sat foot on the wretched place he had never been happier to leave for the comfort of Naboo. One of the little clocks he had in the back of his head was telling him he needed to get back to his homeworld. The others all ticked away as well, how long until his time in the military ended, how long to he had until he was never going to marry and another on how long it would take him to build his dream bike. There were others but the most pressing was the one telling him how much time he and the rest of the crew had; not much. He caught a bit of a conversation between two of the sensor techs. Some thing in their tone struck him as wrong as he moved over to their station. “Every thing all right?” he asked the one man. “Yes sir,” the light skinned man replied, “just a glitch with one of the arrays. We can only monitor what the bridge does but we do this to keep the pilots updated. I notified the bridge sensor officer but as busy as they are I don’t think he has adjusted it yet and with all the damage I don’t think it’s a priority.” “Glitch? Show me.” “Here, astern, negative 25 degree down angle. I am getting bad readings, phantom contacts.” “You need to explain better than that, quickly.” The other tech was paying more attention now and as others turned to listen. The young man suddenly was nervous and there was a noted moment of hesitation in his voice. “Well it is the damage to the ship sir; we are trailing radioactive debris as we move. The solar wind and the planets magnetic fields are pushing it out behind us and down. It is really quite…” Mycher ignored what the man had left to stay as he moved hurriedly over to the comm officer. The hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to rise and he knew his heart rate was rising. “Do we have any pickets in that area?” he asked. The officer picked up on the urgency in Mycher’s voice as he quickly looked up to his status board. “Recon 4 is there sir, a lambda.” he reported going through his flight information, “They are due to check in…in ten minutes.” “Raise them, now.” Mycher ordered the man. He turned to another who stood in the door. “You, Deck Officer, put all fighters on standby; I want pilots in their ships.” The man only nodded as a warning chime began to sound throughout the hangar deck. Immediately the deck broke out into a mad rush of activity as his voice boomed out across the hangar ordering all personnel to their stations and pilots to their craft. Mycher began to double check his flight suit making sure it was properly sealed when he heard the Captain’s voice crackle over the ships internal comm. “Keeas, the flight status board has changed?” Navash asked, an anxious tone creeping in, “What is happening?” “There may be a hole in the picket screen I am waiting to hear from…” Mycher’s voice trailed off as he looked to the comm officer. He looked up and simply shook his head, Recon 4 was not answering. “I think your time is up Captain. Launching all fighters, recall all pickets ahead Captain, have them regroup on the Herald. Send every thing else astern to my IFF.” If the Captain said anything Mycher did not hear him as he pounded down the catwalk to his fighter. He was shouting orders as he went ordering the men there to prepare for combat and to prep the deck for recovery and possible injured in the next few moments, the warning chiming at a new tone all the while. A young deck hand, so young as to look out of place was waiting for him at his ship to help him with his helmet. As soon as it was on he opened up a channel to the ships waiting in the hangar bay, what remained of the interceptors, five of them, and fifteen standard TIE fighters. The deck hand was still helping him as he slipped into the cockpit and began strapping himself in. “This is Flight Leader to Alpha Flight, check in now.” Mycher nodded to the young man as the hatch slid closed. He was in his fighter, a place where he felt safe, even comfortable. He took the yoke into his hands and gave a look over his board as the members of the flight checked in. Twenty one fighters, twenty one plus who ever else could meet them were all the Herald had now. “All units, this is Alpha Leader, launch by numbers, all units on my vector once you clear the bay. Alpha 2 you are on my wing, keep up.” He hit the release stud and his ship was free from the support cradle. The dread was gone as he brought his fighter around and punched the throttle. The sleek red ship rocketed from the star destroyer’s hangar bay and out into the cold vacuum of space and what ever lay there.

[Originally posted by Mycher] The y-wing disappeared in a fiery blast or oranges and reds, what was left of it spiraling out into space to drift for millennia to come. The rebel strike force which had intended to surprise the Herald and it crew by hiding in the great ship’s debris wake had them selves been surprised. Mycher had led the bulk of what was left of the Herald’s fighter wing to intercept what would be a deadly attack on the all ready damaged star destroyer. “Flight command, this is Alpha Leader, designate ships that are rendezvousing on the Herald as Bravo Flight and order them to stand by to intercept anything that gets past us,” Mycher ordered over the comm. The command was acknowledged but he had little time to digest it as heavy fire began to flash around him. He rolled and pulled up while decelerating and his pursuer roared up into his sites. With out hesitation he fired and his heavy blaster cannons found their mark. The x-wing exploded, its wings shearing off and what was left of the hull a tumbling away into space. He continued the roll and drove his fighter down and away from the dead pilot’s wingman he knew was there. Mycher slammed the throttle forward and the ship responded with out hesitation leaving any would be pursuer behind. His Royal Guard Interceptor was one of the fastest and deadliest ships in the galaxy and he had taken the time to further customize and improve its performance making it tougher and faster than anything the rebel pilots had. He had cut his wingman loose as there would be no way the pilot was going to be capable of keeping up with him or matching his maneuvers. Alpha 2 had rejoined the other interceptors and formed a devastating wedge that had severely diminished the number of y-wing bombers that had been heading toward the Herald. The edge they had with their surprise strike was gone now as the greater numbers and fire power of the rebel ships began to take their toll. While fast and maneuverable the TIE fighters had no shields and were vulnerable to the massed fire they now faced. Slowly the battle was moving closer and closer to the wounded star destroyer. He and the other fighters were blunting the rebel assault but it would only be a matter of time before they reached the Herald. Mycher managed a glance out his cockpit and could see the great ship off to his right. Its engines, all three of the main drives and the four auxiliary thrusters were aglow and at full thrust. The ship was leaving orbit and that could mean one of only two things. “Alpha Leader to Herald, what is your status?” “Keeas,” it was Navash, “Keeas, the hyperdrive is repaired. I am going to order Bravo Flight to land. We’ll be clear of the gravity well in minutes and we’ll begin recovery of your group.” Mycher could feel the relief in the man’s voice but he was still guarded. There were still too many rebel fighters here for his likes and still a lot of time for things to go wrong. There was no need to let the rest of his flight know of the pending recall so he heeled his ship over and around and began to hunt for another target. Fate must have been listening to Navash’s last transmission and decided to test the Imperials further. Mycher’s sensor suite began to wail as it detected new mass alerts, more ships were dropping out of hyperspace right on top of their position and he doubted that out here it would be anything friendly. He did not think he had to shout out a warning to the dwindling numbers of TIE fighters but he did so anyways. A stray shot from some one caught his ship on the starboard side and sent him sliding off from his course. His shields had helped but there were a lot of reds lights on his status board, foremost among them the hyperdrive’s. The flight computer was wailing in his ears along with the increasingly desperate chatter from his flight. Proximity alerts began to wail adding to the growing cacophony of sound assaulting his senses. A rebel squadron had dropped out of hyperspace, a small fleet of ships; a couple X-4 gunships, a Corellian CR-90 corvette, and a Nebulon-B frigate. As soon as the ships had settled back into realspace they began to bring their guns to bear and fire on the escaping Herald. More alerts went off as additional fighters began to drop into the battle, more X-wings and new players, the heavy B-wings and the ever fast A-wings. Mycher pushed his damaged ship to the limit and fired off his booster to rocket through the rebel formation. He fired wildly and flew as close to the big ships as he could, trying to stay under their guns and out harms way. The ships raced by as he struggled to control his ship and keep from becoming a blackened pockmark on the frigates drive section. He flew until his booster was depleted and brought himself around to bring the stern of the rebel capital ships into his view. They were exchanging fire now with the larger star destroyer most of which seemed to be concentrated on the aft quarter and her drives. The comm crackled as Navash’s voice broke through, his orders clear and understandable. “All craft, this is the Herald. Can not recover you at this time; make for the Imperial Base on Dantooine. Good luck, Herald out.” He understood and even agreed with the captain. Normally the rebel battle line they faced would be no match for an Imperial I-class star destroyer in full fighting trim but that was not the case. The Herald in her present state would barely be a match for the rebels, less so with her already diminished fighter wing. Navash’s greatest responsibility now was getting his crew and ship to safety. To lose such an asset as his ship to something as childish as bravado would be a disservice to the sacrifice his crew had made. “All fighters break and scatter, head for the planet,” Mycher repeated over the comm, “and lets see what I can do to annoy them,” he added to himself. The stern of the frigate loomed in his view port and he fired off his small load out of concussion missiles. Explosions bloomed across the ship’s drives as he passed over it’s ventral spine. He dipped and weaved all the while his finger depressing the firing stud and his blasters spitting a deadly hail of fire. He caught a glimpse from his left side of the Herald making the jump to lightspeed and away from the fight. Enemy fighters were swarming now as they sought out him and the remaining imperial fighters. Mycher cut power to his weapon systems and dumped it all into what was left of his meager shields. He had to pass through a gauntlet of rebel fire and he was going to need everything his ship could give him. Dantooine now dominated is view port as he serpentined his way through a web of crisscrossing weapons fire. He caught a hit on his aft quarter and more lights flashed yellow and red than green. His hyperdrive was long gone but he could little afford to begin losing more systems. He again pushed his ship to the limit and there was an odd vibration as she maxed out her thrust. He could not worry about the others; it was now all about survival. They were hopelessly out numbered and the only chance was to make for the planet’s surface and possible refuge. He was bobbing and weaving as he cleared through the scrum least he get caught by a stray shot. He completely shut down the forward shield and put everything into the aft ones and punched the recharged booster. The fighter leapt forward again shooting him away from the rebels. More noises came from some where and the flashing lights were a constant reminder that he was far from safe. There was another bang and the controls began to feel heavy and sluggish in his hands and he had to fight to keep on course. He then lurched forward against his crash webbing as the ship bucked from behind; he’d been shot, hit from behind. His head was ringing from where it had struck the side of the cabin and he began to roll right. Mycher wrestled with the controls to bring the ship back. It was hard to concentrate as something wet began to run into his left eye and his vision blurred. His intermittent sensors showed a lone a-wing that was now dropping behind him, one that had gotten just close enough to deal a near fatal blow to his ship. He scowled, more angry with himself than anything else. He continued to struggle with the controls of his badly damaged fighter as Dantooine swelled in his vision, the gravity turning his ship into some thing less than that and more akin to a plummeting missile.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Slight edit, this is the end of chapter 2, thought it fit better here than at the beginning of 3. “Crashed, huh? How long were you on Dantooine?” Calagar asked. “Too long Cal and I don’t plan on ever going back. The ship should be at those coordinates.” Mycher drained what was left in his glass of the berry wine and brought out a small case from his pack. “What is that?” “The rest of my business.” Mycher responded, “I need this opened up for me. I thought maybe Washuu could take a crack at it.” He slid the data core he had discovered at the IACC ruins across the table to his friend. Calagar picked it up and examined it for a moment before setting it down. “Washuu died Mych but my wife Wendi can probably take care of this for you.” “I…I am sorry Cal, I didn’t know,” Mycher offered. “How could you, so much has happened.” The man seemed to turn cold and Mycher did not push further. “She’ll have this thing cracked open by the time I get back with your ship. We’ll talk fee then if you don’t mind, I don’t know how much trouble I’ll have getting it back through the system customs pickets.” “What ever you charge won’t be a problem Cal. I need to get going if I am going to catch the next shuttle back to Theed.” Mycher rose and shook his hand. As they said their goodbyes and agreed to meet as soon as Calagar returned from Dantooine. Walking back to the shuttle port Mycher could only feel tired. He did not know why but he could feel the weariness in him and he longed to be back home. Along journey was before him but how long and to where it lead he did not know. The only thing that was for certain was that he knew it was going to hard and test him to his very core. Just a factoid: Calagar was my shipwright alt and Washuu was my seldom seen armorer alt, mostly used for mining.

Originally posted by Mycher] Small update and the opening to Ch. 3. Still in the process of laying the ground work and feels a little bogged down but just need to keep pressing on. Should pickup soon I hope. Chapter 3: Research Alana sat her desk bored and trapped in her own personal hell; desk duty. It would be her assignment over the next few days as the rest of her team recovered from their injuries. She and Hecks were fine but both Turk and Jase were in need of a few more days of rest before they could return to service. She wondered if the Inspector secretly knew of her profound dislike of such work when she assigned Alana to it. Any doubt as to how much she disliked Alana had been removed that morning and the relish Herm took in seeing to the small mountain of files delivered to Alana’s desk. Jase and Turk were no doubt resting at home and Hecks had requested a few days leave to visit family to the south leaving her alone and bored, condemned to hours of mindless data entry and follow up to cases no one cared about. The tapping of her fingers across the tablet board became a soulless rhythm, a song of frustration and trapped desire. She sighed inwardly as she closed the latest file she had to review. Grabbing the next one from the large stack on her desk she turned to face the terminal and the data screen before her. The winking cursor was waiting for her data input, her query to the RSF main frame computer. She was about to begin inputting the information from the file when a thought struck her. She was sitting alone, not a soul around, with unfettered access to the main frame computer network. Putting her head up just enough to look around the office cube she could see only two other officers at work and both seemed oblivious to her existence. A protocol droid worked away on the other side doing what ever task it had been assigned and another, a cleaning unit, was moving from desk to desk emptying the waste receptacles. She was effectively alone in her own little universe. Looking at her chrono it was close enough to call it lunch and she decided it was going to be spent doing a little research for herself. A vendor droid would be making the rounds soon and she could grab some thing they called food to satisfy her hunger then. She began doing searches through reams of data looking for information about the base they had been at as she new next to nothing about it. That was the easy part, common information to be had by just about anybody. It was known as the Imperial Army Command Center and had been the primary center for Imperial might for the northern hemisphere of the planet. The unit assigned to the base had been the 47th Imperial Expeditionary Force and it was after that her detective work became more difficult. The further she pried into the unit and its base, the more and more information was classified or unavailable. Some folders she would find would simply be empty, any relevant data gone to gods know where. Some documents were there but it was obvious that vast portions of them had been lost or perhaps more worrying, deleted while others turned into a miss-mash of gibberish. She could only gleam a few general facts, notes on some events the unit participated in on Naboo and the surrounding sector and a few names here and there but nothing significant. There were a few holoimages for various public events and ceremonies but nothing that was useful. She learned that the unit was formed some time during the Clone Wars or shortly after and based on Naboo as it was the Emperor’s homeworld and a likely target of agitators. It was note worthy that many of its members were volunteers from Naboo itself who chose to serve the Empire rather than the local RSF. In general it looked on the surface of things that the 47th had a long and distinguished record of service on Naboo. One thing Alana did find that piqued her interest was on the 47th’s organization. From what she could tell every member was cross trained in a variety of disciplines. Every member of the 47th was not only a trained soldier; they were adept with everything in the Imperial arsenal, from the most common speeder up to the giant AT-ATs and they were all certified pilots. She was not sure what it meant but instinct told her that she had scratched the surface of some thing and she had to keep picking away at it.

[Originally posted by Mycher] More of Ch. 3. Kath Hecks was by nature a nervous and paranoid individual so it would be no surprise to any one who knew him that he constantly was looking around, surveying his surroundings and scrutinizing people. Many times his nervous habits had saved the lives of RSF members and innocent beings caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and had helped to in the investigation of a case. To his coworkers and peers it made him an asset at a time when they were being overwhelmed by spiraling crime and pressure to control it. He could also be distant and removed from those around him, an observer to the world around him and not a participant. It made getting to know him difficult and had left him with few people he could call friend. Only a few would characterize themselves as such, most being more comfortable as an associate of his. He had lost touch with his family years ago, those that were left any ways. That would leave one word to describe him; loner. Here on the mist shrouded streets of Moeina he made his way through the back alleys and avoided the bulk of the crowds. The shuttle ride had been nerve racking for him as he had never been a fan of sub-orbital flights made all the worse by the many changes he had made. He was sure that if any one had been following him he had lost them several transfers back, if any one was that is. His head swiveled around quickly as he doubled back and moved down a puddle filled alley. Only the sound of his own feet could be heard and he paused to listen, to see if any one was following and betrayed by the splashes of their feet. There was no sound of pursuit, only the din of traffic from the nearby street. Again he was off and weaving through the back ways of the city to his destination. It was an unremarkable building, a warehouse of sorts it looked to him. He had been in many before busting a spice ring here or illicit arms traders there; plain, boring buildings that did not draw the eye or give one any reason to suspect any kind of illegal activity. There were few windows and those that he did see were closed and blocked from within. He ignored all the obvious doors and made his way to the rear of the building and far from any peering eyes. The door was just as he was told; plain and unassuming, and at the bottom of a short run of stairs. Kath was breathing faster now, he could hear his rushing blood in his head as a nervousness gripped him. He was about to make a bold step, one that bring him closer to his calling, one that bring him the comfort he sought. He rapped the door with his knuckles and waited. A brutish thug of a man opened the door, his face ravaged by some disease or disorder and looking decidedly unpleasant. The way behind him was dark and unknowable but Kath was sure there were others behind the door man; he could almost sense their malevolence. “Are you a Believer?” the thug asked him, his voice a coarse rasp. “I believe,” he responded. “What is your path?” “The way of the Believer,” Kath intoned, bowing his head. With a grunt the thug opened the door enough to allow him to pass. There were indeed others there, grim men who looked like they would have no qualms removing Kath’s head from his shoulders should they feel so inclined. “Follow the path,” a woman’s voice told him from the shadows. A line of over head lights came to life, a thin ribbon leading him through the darkness that was the warehouse. He moved on and as he went the light went out behind him. His paranoia was ratcheted up to new heights but there was no going back now, no other way to duck down. He was surrounded by shadow and only the path before him would be his salvation. It went for quite a bit and at one point he knew he was going deeper underground by the incline of the path. He could see nothing except that which was lit for him though he was sure he could hear things around him, things he could not see but surely could see him. So the path went until it ended in a large pool of light, the end of his journey. He stopped in the center and the last guide light winked out and he was surrounded by darkness and silence. Kath Hecks dropped to his knees, bowed his head and held his hands out with the palms up in supplication. “I follow the way of the Believer,” he offered the darkness. “Why did you come here Kath Hecks?” a deep voice asked him from the darkness. “I have found what was sought; I have found one who is touched by the force.” There was a pause for moment before the voice spoke again. “Be sure you chose your words carefully Brother Kath, this is not an issue to be taken lightly,” the voice responded with an edge to it, an unspoken threat. “I know what I know to be true. Her name is Alana Duree and she serves beside me in the Royal Security Forces and she knows the ways of the force. I have seen it with my own eyes.” The space on the floor Kath Hecks was looking at was suddenly occupied by the hem of dark robes. Two powerful hands gripped him by the shoulders and pulled him gently to his feet. He dared to glance up but only saw a hooded figure, it’s face hidden by a pool of shadow. “Tell me every thing you know Kath Hecks,” the dark figure commanded him. “I will Master, but there is more, there is another.”

[Originally posted by Mycher] The end of chapter 3. Also, I need to know what happened in the other stories, what are J, Obi, Acario and the rest up too and how are they making out? Alana was still managing to sneak in her private research time while doing the menial task assigned to her by Inspector Herm but the end was coming. Jase and Turk had been given a clean bill of health and Hecks leave was coming to an end. They would all be returned to field duty the beginning next week. The one bad thing would be her limited time to access the mainframe with out any one looking over her shoulder and she had decided to make the most of the time left. Her search was providing her with fewer clues though and she doubted it was going to get any better. She rubbed her temples while staring down at the caf stained notes she had gathered over the past few days. Nothing stood out to her, no red flags to alert her to some thing she should pay attention to. With a sigh she stuffed her notes away and turned back to the task she was supposed to be doing, closing old files. She pulled out the next of an ever endless stack and began to scan over another mind dulling document. It was another dead end case, seven years old with no updates, no leads. Alana went through the notes, more of the routine that she had developed over the week to get her trough the task. She updated the file on the main frame and moved it to the closed file. All she had to do was put in a note to update the office the case was tied to and the officer assigned to should that person still be there. It was then she found her clue, some thing she never knew. The case had been filed by a Lieutenant Sundria Khartoor who served in the violent crimes division. It was not that which caught her eye but a note to forward copies to an office she never heard of, the RSF/Imperial Liaison Office. She got up from her desk and went to see the head clerk, an older man who had been with the RSF for years. Down the hall she found him in his office, buried behind a desk covered with papers, data pads and empty caf cups. She could hear him tapping away and mumbling to himself, some thing she did herself when writing. A gentle knock on the frame of his door and he looked up and around his data screen to she her. “Have a seat Duree, what can I do for you?” the older man asked her. He never took his eyes off the tablet as he continued to type away on what ever he was working on. “Just a question about one of the files I am working on. It is something I have never seen before.” She said sliding into the one chair that was not filled with files. “The RSF/Imperial Liaison Office, what is that?” “Ah, that old thing. Oh that was before your time of course,” the clerk told her. He had stopped working and was now sitting back in his chair, his eyes toward the ceiling as he reached into his memory. “That office was created beck when the Empire was around. It coordinated and kept track of all the joint operations we undertook with the Imps.” “Was there a lot of that?” “Oh yeah.” he said. “The Imps actually did a lot back then; we had a lot of work with them. I tell you, they knew how to get to the heart of the matter, none of this dancing around we do now.” “Is that data on the main frame, I need to reference some thing for a case. I need to finish up you know, I won’t be here next week.” “Hmm, I don’t think so, not any more. They removed those files as part of the housekeeping of the system.” Alana felt defeat, her last chance to find anything snatched away. She got up and began to make her way out and a thank you on her lips when the clerk saved her. “You could try the old archives; the old backup files are probably there.” “Ah, thank you very much. That’s where I’ll be then; need to keep the paper work right.” The clerk smiled at her as she left with a happy wave, completely unaware as to how much he just made Alana’s day. He filed it away as a curiosity, another public servant happy in doing her duties. It did not take long for her to make her way to the archives. It was a forgotten room in a forgotten part of the building. An old protocol droid was the lone occupant, the sole keeper of knowledge deemed insignificant enough to just box up and put away and it was more than happy to retrieve the relevant data files she requested. The droid talked to her mindlessly as she began to search through the files. Her searches kept coming up with simply too much data and she had to spend a few minutes refining and narrowing the parameters. After that it did not take long for her to generate a list of names, personnel from the 47th IEF who at some point participated in some activity with the RSF. There were over four hundred names, some listings all most twenty years old. She narrowed the search for the last six years the Empire was on Naboo and she got one hundred and thirty two names. It was barely a lead but the only thing she had to go on. Alana tried another search, a cross reference for any files about individuals who were human males. There were twenty seven hits on her search. She could feel a building excitement as she narrowed down those files to those that had images of the subjects. It was a false hope, a wild bantha chase more than likely but she had to try. Ten, that was how many files had images and it was the seventh one when she found him and she could not believe it. Alana had no problem remembering his face. He was older now, seven years older if the date on the file was to be trusted. There was youthfulness about him, a look of optimism that she did not see when he threw the med kit to her in the old base. The man she saw then was angry and bitter, but that did not matter. “Hello Mycher Keeas,” Alana said as she copied the file to her data pad.

[Originally posted by Mycher] The start of chapter 4 and we start to learn about Mycher's time on Dantooine Chapter 4: Development What he had learned form Acario’s holocron seemed fantastical to him, even unbelievable. If what he had learned was true, even remotely possible, then it would seem his old friend had indeed become quite powerful in the ways of the force; in ways Mycher could never conceive of. Either way, success or failure, he was sure he would never see his old friend ever again, one more face lost to history. There was still more on the holocron that was useful to him though and he had tried to focus on strengthening the skills he all ready knew. It had always been Mycher’s way of doing things, master what you knew and then use that knowledge to expand your abilities. It was also a way for him to keep some aspect of Acario in the present, to take what knowledge he could and turn it to his own ends. What that was Mycher still did not know. He had found out little about the fate of the 47th and the whereabouts of any survivors. There were rumors but nothing concrete had turned up. He had only found Calagar because he never went into hiding and had stayed on Naboo. He had been listed in the services directory but that had been the only one he had found. The growing question for him was what was he going to do with his life, what could a former Imperial commando and half-trained force user do. It was not a question of credits; he could sit in his empty mansion for the rest of his life and not worry about wealth or comfort. The growing question for him was what to do? There was no interest in throwing his life away for some would-be Warlord and there was certainly no way he was ever going to work for the New Republic, they had more than enough in the way of useful idiots. Mycher knew he could do anything in the galaxy he wanted to, but he was directionless; he had no purpose anymore. He finished the task at hand and secured the last piece to the cylindrical object in his hand. One final look over and he depressed the activation stud and a dark purple blade sprung from the lightsaber’s emitter array. The hum of the blade was almost soothing to him, a distraction for the thoughts he had. A few experimental swings and he knew this was the best saber he had built to date. It had become a hobby for him, tinkering away and trying to make the perfect blade for himself. All the others had been progressively better than the last. This one, his latest, was perfect, the right weight, the right size, the right every thing. He began to work through his stances, an odd mixture of teras-kasi, his swordsman skills and the lightsaber techniques he had learned. He used a two handed grip style and brought the blade around in wide powerful sweeps. It was natural to him, the only difference between the lightsaber and a true sword being the faster pace and quicker strikes he could perform. The routine turned into a dance of sorts as he practiced; a solo choreography that put all he knew into one form. The attack forms were mostly from the martial skills he learned in his youth but one knowledgeable in the ways of lightsaber combat would recognize the shien form that formed the core of his defensive moves. As he moved he picked up the speed and it was not long before he was calling upon the force to further enhance his abilities and turn his movements into a blur. He stopped, his stance a defensive one, ready to block any attack and then deliver a counter blow. His attention was forward and focused on the old suit of armor his friend Xain had crafted for him years ago but slowly his eyes came to rest on the small blue cube that rested in a chest below the armor and his thoughts turned unbidden to Dantooine, to Drakka Judarrl. ****** Awareness came to him slowly in fits and flashes. He alive no doubt, the pain told him that, arcing pain through his legs and back. His left arm did not seem to want to work right and felt restrained. He was lying down but he had to move, he had no idea where he was. It took considerable effort but he managed to swing his legs around and felt uneven ground beneath him; a wave of dizziness and nausea struck him as he sat up and what little was left in his stomach was soon on the ground and down the front of his flight suit. His vision was swimming as he tried to focus and take in his surroundings. It was dark but a flickering light beckoned from beyond. It was cold and there was a distant sound of rushing water; confusion and a concussion were making it hard for him to think straight. He struggled to his feet and the pain rose to a new pitch as darkness swam around the edges of his vision. His first step left him staggering to his right and into a wall; he felt the gritty texture of rough stone. He used his good arm to prop himself up as he forced himself to walk down the uneven floor towards the light. His breathing was coming to him in labored breaths and the dizziness was growing worse but still he pushed on. He was almost to the light, a fire it seemed, but he could no longer hear the sound of water as the pounding of his own heart and rushing blood had drowned it out. There was a presence nearby and Mycher looked to his left. There, sitting before the fire was an older woman, a zabrak. She looked at him with concerned eyes that were tinged with a hint of sadness. She said something to him but the words were loss as the darkness claimed him once more and he tumbled forward into oblivion. ****** Mycher did not know how much time had passed from when he had passed out before the fire but he did not care when he woke once more. The zabrak was there and helped him to sitting position. He could not speak as his throat was dry and his voice would not come. Coughing wracked his body and caused him to winch in pain. The woman reached to her side and offered him a cup; cool water washed down and a small comfort came from that. She gave him more as he was dehydrated and his body craved the much needed fluid. “Not to much young one,” the woman said, “too much and you’ll make yourself sick.” “Thank you,” Mycher said to her as he wiped water from his chin, his voice a raspy whisper. He sat back and closed his eyes to catch his breath, a hundred questions swirling around his head. “Don’t think too much right now, eat.” The woman placed a small bowl before him, a meaty broth with some kind of vegetable mixed in. Hunger directed his next action as he took the bowl and began to eat, shoveling the food into his mouth. “Slowly Mycher Keeas, eat slowly.” He purposefully slowed his pace, the woman was right, too much too fast and he would make himself ill. He had no idea how many days had passed since his least meal but his hunger told him it had been many. The woman had also known his name which caused him to look at her curiously. Her back was to him as she tidied up a few things on a nearby shelf. “I checked your ID when I found you, that is how I know who you are.” She told him as if she was reading his mind. “I saw your ship crash and found you still inside, you are quite lucky to be alive. I did not think they made those ships quiet that tough.” “That one has had a little personal attention, Ms. ...?” “Drakka, my name is Drakka Judarrl and it is a pleasure to meet you,” she told him with a slight bow of the head. “You’ll have to forgive my humble home but I live simply.” “Where am I, how far from the nearest port?” “Oh, I would say on foot we are at least a months travel from any kind of place you could get passage of Dantooine. There are some settlements a week away but you are not going any where for a while. You need to rest and when you are ready I can help you.” Mycher knew she was right; he was in no shape to travel through the wilderness. He wasn’t sure if he could trust his apparent rescuer but he did not have much of a choice. Until he recovered enough of his strength to travel, Dantooine was going to be his home for a couple weeks at best, longer if there were difficulties finding transport off world. Distracted by his own thoughts, he never noticed that his host had left the chamber. When she returned she had with her a familiar back pack. “I’ll fetch some clean water while you get yourself out of that flight suit. You’ll be smelling like an over ripe bol soon.” Mycher snorted as he looked down at himself; he was indeed a mess and he wasn’t going to be flying anywhere anytime soon. ****** The days passed and Mycher did regain his strength but he was still to unwell to travel. He learned much about his host, how she was an academic who had chosen to live a simple life and study the native tribes of the planet. In fact some had come to her small camp to talk and trade with her. Drakka had studied the local fauna and had developed medicinal treatments for common ailments and these she gave to the Dantari in exchange for hides and native carvings. It was these things along with her treatments she then traded with the local settlements when she needed items from civilization. They also kept her informed on local happenings and the goings on in the galaxy at large. That was the story Drakka had told him and he believed it but he knew there was more, that she was holding back about some thing important. His first real clue was the day he found her going through a martial routine. In a small clearing not far from the cave, the zabrak was going through a series of movements armed only with a sturdy stick. To Mycher’s knowing eyes there was no disguising one swordsman from another. She was fluid and graceful though he did not recognize her technique. Her footing was precise and her movements sharp. She stopped, facing him in a defensive stance, ready to block any attack and then deliver a counter blow. “Very good Drakka, I am very impressed. There is more to you than meets the eyes.” “Is not there more to everyone than what the eyes see?” “I suppose.” Mycher replied, “I don’t recognize the style, what is it?” The woman hesitated for a moment before answering him, “It is called ‘Shien’ and I learned it a long time ago. You know some thing of sword play?” Mycher nodded and she seemed to consider this for a moment. Drakka walked over and picked up another stick like the one she had and approached him. “Take this and I’ll show you some of the shien style. It would be good for you as well to work your body some.” Mycher did not hesitate; he always hungered for more knowledge. It would also be a challenge and that was some thing else he would never be afraid of.

[Originally posted by Mycher] I was working on the next bit but really started to dislike the end of the last chapter, I think it moved to fast and got away from the main story so I did a re-write. Also, I am trying to keep the chapters shorter, smaller chunks to try and write and easier to read. So enjoy the edited end of chapter 4: The sound of wood striking wood echoed through the clearing, the sharp sounds a stark contrast to the quiet peace that normally permeated the forests of Dantooine. The two combatants stalked each other through the leaf covered ground, testing and probing the others defenses, each looking to exploit any hole or weakness displayed by the other. Feints and misdirection were employed to tease out an opening but the two dueling in the crisp morning air were evenly matched. The male, younger and stronger, made broad and powerful swings with his weapon hoping to batter his way through his opponents defenses. He was slow though, hampered by an injury, and his opponent always seemed to be just ahead of him, prepared for his moves. She was fast, quick on her feet and always counter-attacking. Where he was brash and aggressive, she was patient and poised, deflecting his attacks with precision then looking to exploit his weaknesses. He came at her with a series of slashes, high and low, a spinning dervish and all she could do was yield ground to him. It was a frantic pace he maintained, focused on the foe before him and ignoring the pain from his injuries. Suddenly, she was gone, flipping up and over him. He tried to move and block her but he was too slow, he had been unprepared for her jump and could not stop her wooden blade. Pain flared in his shoulder as it came down and across his back, staggering him and dropping him to his knees. “I am sorry Mycher, I did not mean to catch you on your injured side,” Drakka apologized between gulps of air. He rolled over onto his back and offered her his mock surrender, a weariness settling over him. She offered her hand and when he grasped it she pulled him to his feet. “Come, something cool to drink would do you well.” As the two walked over to the base of a large tree where Drakka had a large bucket of water Mycher experimentally moved his shoulder trying to work out the pain. He took the cup she offered him and drank back the cool water, trying to relax and ignore the aches he felt. He looked out across the clearing and into the shadows of the forest, not focused on any one thing when he noticed some thing was different. He scanned the dark shadows of the surrounding woods, looking about for what ever that something was. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a sense of uneasiness overcame him. Mycher quickly strapped on his pistol belt and made sure to check the readiness of his blaster. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Drakka looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and knowing. “What is wrong Mycher?’ she asked him though there was some thing to the tone of her voice. “I don’t know, I just suddenly had the feeling we were being watched. I felt…uneasy.” “Your senses serve you well. There was another nearby though he is gone now.” The zabrak turned and began to walk back to her home. “Come, I think you are now well enough to travel. It is time I help you to be on your way, you have already been here longer than you needed.” “Who was it?” Mycher asked, not moving to follow her. Drakka stopped and looked off into the woods for a moment, perhaps trying to sense if the one who had been watching was still near. When she satisfied she turned to look at him, her face suddenly serious. “His name is Luthic Uwyr and he has been my unwanted companion for many years now.” “I don’t understand,” Mycher replied but he did have a growing suspicion. “For over two decades now we have coexisted here out of necessity, one that was needed for our mutual survival. Like opposites, I positive and negative, we canceled each other out; we were invisible to those who would seek us out. As much as I loathe him and he despises me, we needed each other. That need is over with and there is nothing to keep his hate in check.” “I really don’t…” “Do not be coy with me Mycher Keeas.” Drakka said to him, her tones stern and strong. From her hip bag she pulled a metal cylinder and with a familiar snap-hiss the green blade of a lightsaber issued forth. “I know the ways of the force, I am a jedi knight. Luthic to knows the force though twisted by evil and so do you but you are as raw as a padawan. The mere fact that you are not surprised by this is all the more proof.” “Yes.” “Yes to what,” she demanded. Mycher could feel the woman drawing the force about her, preparing to strike at him should she need to. “Yes, I know what the force is and yes, I suspected you had knowledge of it as well.” He slowly planted his feet into the earth, digging in for as much purchase from the soil should he need to act. “You have nothing to fear from me Drakka Judarrl, I am not your enemy.” She regarded him for a minute, perhaps weighing his words or doing some trick through the force to know if she should trust him. Slowly Mycher eased his stance and carefully undid his pistol belt. He held the holstered weapon in front of him and then softly tossed it to her feet. “You saved my life Drakka and I think of you as a friend. You have nothing to fear from me but my unending thanks.” The woman relaxed and slowly lowered her guard. She deactivated the lightsaber and hooked it to her belt and then looked down to his pistol lying in the dirt before her. Slowly, untouched by any hand, the pistol and its holster rose from the ground and floated over to him. “I do trust you Mycher, but I must always be cautious. Those who would blindly destroy that which they do not understand are many and caution has saved my life many times in my exile.” He slowly took the pistol from the nothingness that held it and put it back on. “Perhaps it is time we both take our leave of this place Drakka.” The woman who moments ago projected such strength now looked tired and drawn thin. “Perhaps,” she said and motioned for him to follow her back to the cave. ****** Mycher’s thoughts were brought back to the present by the chirp of his comm link. The unit chirped again and the voice of his protocol droid rang through. “Master, there is some one here to see you,” the droid informed him. “Who is it Javes?” “It would appear to be a member of the local security forces. Apparently some criminal activity has occurred nearby and they are interviewing anyone who lives nearby for information.” “I’ll be right up,” Mycher told the droid. He closed the chest and could here the mag-lock snap into place. The lightsaber he kept and hooked it on to his belt before taking the lift up to the main floor. As the car made its way up he noted that the status board indicate the security system had set the bunker located deep beneath his home would be secure. He emerged from the secret lift and walked from the kitchen storage room to the main hall. He could hear a conversation going on; his droid was always a good host and if anything was making Mycher’s unwanted guest entirely too welcomed. As he came into the room it was just as he feared, Javes was chatting away with abandon about the one of the sculptures and the young woman was sipping from a fluted glass. “Ah, Master Keeas is here. Master may I introduce to you Special Agent Duree.” The young woman turned to face him and Mycher could feel the beginnings of a tension headache instantly start to form as he clenched his teeth. She brushed aside a strand of her brown hair and offered her hand to him. “Nice to meet you Mr. Keeas.” “Like wise,” he said as he shook her hand. “How may I help you today?” She smiled at him the same way a gambler would when he held a winning sabacc hand. “Just a few routine questions about some criminal activity, nothing special.” Mycher knew how this would probably go and tried to figure out where the rest of her team would be making their entry points and how best to evade them. “Can we sit Mr. Keeas?” Alana asked. Though the man wore a neutral mask she could feel the turmoil within and she noted the way he kept looking at the windows. It gave her just a bit of satisfaction that despite his apparent calm he was squirming on the inside. “Of course. Javes, some more drink for the young lady. We’ll be in the lounge.” The droid gave a slight nod and left for the kitchen as Mycher lead his guest away. The room off the hall was small corner room but two walls had many windows and a door to an outside terrace. Alana took a seat on an overstuffed chair that forced Mycher to sit with his back to one window wall. “How long?” he asked her. “How long …will this take?” “How long until more agents swarm all over this place?” “No one else is here, I came by myself,” she told him. “But I am not foolish, should I not return home every one who needs to know will know who and where you are.” He sighed and slumped back into the chair, his eyes closed. “What do you want then? Why are you here?” The woman put down the glass and leaned forward in her seat. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the force. I want you to show me anything you can do and teach me. If you do this no one will ever know who you are or where you live.” Mycher looked the woman over for a moment while he considered her words. She was younger than him, maybe twenty five and he could feel her eagerness and desire. “What is your name?” “Alana Duree.” “And you are absolutely sure that this is what you want? Positive?” Alana looked down to the carpeted floor and nodded. “More than anything else, it is something I must do.” There was silence in the room when the droid entered with a tray and their drinks. He placed them on the table and went to wait for more orders when Mycher shooed him away. “I do not think this is a good idea but you leave me little choice. I will teach you ever thing I know and then you will leave me alone. Agreed.” “Yes.” “Once a week, Sundays.” “Yes.” “Then I’ll see you here, early. Now if you don’t mind I have business to attend to.” Mycher rose from his seat and moved to show Alana out. She followed him and turned to face him before she left. “Thank you Mr. Keeas. Think of this as your penance for the other day.” “I pay a penance everyday I wake up. And it is Mycher, Mr. Keeas was my father,” he said as he closed the door. Alana turned to say something but the door was closed and he was gone. She went to her speeder and looked back to the house. She was not sure if what she was doing was right but she buried those doubts deep down inside herself; she needed what he had and nothing was going to stand in her way. Mycher watched the speeder and its driver disappear from his view, slipping into the woods that surrounded his home. It was unsettling for her to find him so easily but then again he really had not tried to hide. Still, it would be wise to be cautious least his plans we derailed by the action of one girl. “I should have killed them,” he said to the empty room.

[Originally posted by Mycher] Here is the start of Ch 5 and if you have been reading this please re-read the end of Ch 4. It started to bother me so that ending was re-written. Hope you are enjoying this and forgive my fanboy writing. Chapter 5 The shuttle ride to Keren had proved to be no distraction from the things which now troubled Mycher. He now regretted leaving the RSF agents he encountered at the ruins of IACC alive and that regret had now doubled with the arrangement he had come to with one of the survivors. The girl, Alana, was going to be trouble, he knew it to his very core, but what else could he do now. She had him and he had little choice but to give her what she wanted and hope she would go away. He paid little mind to those around him as he made his way from the shuttle port through the crowded streets to Calagar’s shop. He had been unable to find out anything on the 47th and the whereabouts of any of it members. It was a dying hope that he would find anything and ones of his last clues would be the data core he had retrieved from beneath the ruins of the old base and only if Calagar’s wife had managed to crack open its security protocols. His mood only darkened more as the gray clouds overhead began to pelt him with rain. He stalked into the offices of his friend soaking wet, his cloak hanging heavily about his frame. A young receptionist looked up from her data tablet and eyed him the same way she would if a common vagrant had just walked into the place. “Can I help you?” she asked in a whiny voice. “I have an appointment to see Mr. Hoersch, it is about some work.” The girl looked down to her tablet and scrolled through the entries. “Should be under Keeas, K-e-e-a-s.” With an ‘a-ha’ expression she found the note and pressed the page button on her desk display. She then tilted her head, listening to the voice that no doubt came through her earpiece. “You can go right in sir.” “Thank you.” Mycher took of the cloak and hung it by the main door and walked into the office. Calagar Hoersch looked up from his desk and an easy smile came to him. “Mych, welcome. Boy, you are soaked.” “Yeah, wonderful weather today.” “Well I have some thing that might cheer you up. Follow me.” Calagar led Mycher through another door and out into the small complex. It was into one of the small bays he had seen on his earlier trip that Calagar took him and in the back covered by a large tarp he could see a large ball shape. Calagar walked over and with a big tug pulled back the covering to reveal a battered and scarred red TIE fighter ball. The two wing pylons still jutted out the sides but the starboard one was twisted and bent while the other was pushed into the hull. Mycher walked around and began to check out the remains of his beloved fighter and could feel a pain of remorse for the sorry state of it. He stepped over a pile, remains of the dagger like panels that once adorned the fighter. “She sure took a beating Mych. You are lucky to be alive from what I can tell.” “I can pretty much thank you Cal. You cast that strange alloy into the new hull plates and I think that is what saved me,” Mycher explained. “I think if the ship had been stock I would have been a greasy stain and a memory.” The shipwright just chuckled as he watched the ships pilot take it all in. “You know how we never knew what that stuff was right. Well I kept a small sample and though it took a few years I found out what it was.” Mycher stopped and turned around to look at him, clearly curious to hear what he had to say. “It was beskar Mych, mandalorian iron. You can’t get it any more; the Empire virtually stripped all they could from Mandalore and then pretty much ruined it because they did not know how to refine it.” Mycher turned around and looked at ship once more and gave the hull a sound slap. “Thanks Cal, thanks a lot. What do I owe you?” “Depends. Do you mind if I poke around in that thing for a bit. There was some tech in there that might be useful to my own little projects and I don’t see any reason why I can’t make it space worthy again.” “You think she can fly again?” “No reason she can’t. The hull is sound, just needs some tweaks. A lot of the systems can be replaced and the more exotic ones I can probably replicate with time. Of course I would not be in a rush to slap on the same panel configuration. I can guarantee it will be better than before the crash if you can pony up the cash.” “Let me think about it Cal. It is not that I don’t think you can do it, I am just not sure if it is a good idea,” Mycher told him. He looked over at his friend and saw that he was leaning against another tarp covered shape. Calagar followed his eyes and looked down at it and Mycher could see a twinkle come to his eye. “Want to see my little project?” Calagar asked. Mycher nodded and helped the older man pull back the large tarp and reveal what it hid. The rough form of a fighter came into view, one that Mycher did not recognize from any manufacturer. It was not too big, maybe the size of an old Z-95 Headhunter but the wings looked very aerodynamic giving the craft the appearance of an airspeeder. “What is it?” Mycher asked. Calagar again chuckled and then pulled himself up and onto the wing. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me present to you the future of Hoersch Drive Yards,” Calagar said in his best over the top impersonation of a salesman. “This is the H-35 Tusk Cat, the premier multi-role star fighter to be found in this sector. For those of you seeking to rebuild your planetary defense forces look no further. Tough, reliable and affordable, the Tusk Cat is the answer to your defense needs.” “Very nice, “ Mycher said applauding the intro and Calagar gave a flamboyant bow. “Really, you want to get into the ship business?” “It was always my dream Mych and I know I can sell this. All the big boys are tied up with supplying the New Republic, the Empire and the Core Worlds. There is enough of a market for a small company, one that can supply a couple sectors. I just need to finish the prototype, work out some details and acquire the rights to a few parts. Oh, did I leave out the money part, I just need some backers and HDY will be back in business again.” Calagar looked to his friend and could see the wheels turning, looking out past him. “How much do you need?” Mycher asked him. “Heh, twenty million credits at least, more if I could get a loan but with things the way they are no one is lending.” “I can get you that and more.” Calagar looked into the somber eyes and then gave out a laugh. “You almost had me there Mych, I almost believed you.” “I can get you what you need Cal, more if you fix the fighter, more if your wife sliced open the data core.” Calagar stopped laughing as he sensed a change in their conversation. Mycher looked at him stone faced, his eyes were two lasers burrowing into his very being, very unlike the man he knew five years ago. “You are serious. Your not fething with me are you?” “If you rebuild my ship, the core is sliced and you write up a contract making me a silent partner, I’ll get you every thing you need and more. Just promise you’ll build those things here on Naboo.” Calagar was taken back a bit by what was happening, it was almost unbelievable. “I should probably give you that data core then and I can have a contract tomorrow.” “Do that,” Mycher told him, “and plan on taking a little trip later this week.” Note: for those of you who remember, the whole part of the story about the hull is based on a piece of awesome space loot I got and re'ed into a truly impressive piece of armor. Good protection but the low weight was epic and let me build one excellent RGI.