Tales From The Fringe: Relentless Entanglements
By RZion


-- Chapter 1 --

“Unidentified vessel, this is the Imperial Star Destroyer Abdicator. You have entered a restricted area. Please lower your shields, halt your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

Worried faces glanced back and forth as the announcement echoed over the comm system, each unsure of how to proceed.

“Alright crew, pop quiz time,” the captain said as he worked furiously at the ship’s controls. “An Imperial Star Destroyer is on your tail and ready to take down your ship, what do you do?”

“Stay far enough ahead to avoid their tractor beams, look for a free opening and jump to hyperspace?”

The captain, a Duro, thingyed his head to the side and looked quickly to the corridor behind him where his Rodian comm officer sat. “Logical, Crae, but no good at this point. We’re already within tractor range. Anyone else?”

“We could turn about, charge forward full speed with canons flaring. Of course, that would be…”

“…suicide, absolute suicide. You’re right, Abras. Next?”

From the captain’s left, a pale Quarren rotated around from his console, but just enough that he could keep within quick reach if need be. “Perhaps we could let the ship get pulled in by their tractor beams close enough to be within their shields and fire a torpedo straight into the projector.”

“Well, then…that’s quite a risky maneuver there.” The captain paused, cupping a blue hand over his chin. “Chance of success is….”

“…minimal at best,” the Quarren remarked.

“But still better than getting ‘vaped or facing a blizzard of stormies. Craeldo, open a channel to the Imps, audio only.”

“Channel open, Captain Marikk.”

“Abdicator, this is Captain Danar on board the cruiser,” he paused a moment, trying to get the right amount of hopelessness to sound in his voice, “I sincerely apologize for entering the region, merely a mistake of navigation, I assure you. Seeing as we are left with no options in light of your great power, and are at your mercy, we submit to your requests. Powering down now.”

With a motion of the hand, Marikk had his crewmen lower their shields while he cut power to the engines. Within seconds, the old Republic cruiser buckled a bit as they were snatched into the clutches of the tractor beams and slowly towed towards the destroyer’s docking bay. Anxiously, he watched as the destroyer grew ever closer with the passing seconds, the tension mounting as the crew stood ready to pounce. 500 meters….400 meters…..300….200….

“Now, Sillek, fire torpedoes!”

With a flash, the twin orbs of light fired from the cruiser’s forward batteries, those closest to the projectors, and detonated against the twin orbs embedded just outside the bay. The Star Destroyer shook at the impact as a great blaze filled the stern side and inside of the bottom cavity, sending debris flying away at an incredible speed and rolling the mercenary cruiser into a descent, causing it to drift away at an awkward angle.

“Now, shields up! Let’s get outta here!” With fingers flying, the captain moved across the navigation board, moving the ship out of their plummet and accelerating forward, opposite the way they had been traveling. Almost immediately, the Imperials responded as their turbolaser batteries blazed to life and filled the area with the sizzling green bolts of energy. “Everybody hold on to something, I don’t have time for neatness. We’re gonna have to make a blind jump.”

Though there were some protests coming over the comms, the captain knew that either way could mean certain death, but this was their best chance. Anyway, better to let a star or a planet have their deaths if it must happen than to give the Imps the pleasure.

Reaching over, he pulled down the activator lever on the boards and watched as the stars began to wrap around them, launching the crew of the Nova Hound into the unknown void.

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Leaning back in his chair, Marikk could do nothing but sigh happily and close his eyes in rest. It had been at least an hour since they reverted back to real space just off the Rima Trade Route, near Sullust. Such trips into heavily guarded territories, such as they had just had, he tried to keep at a minimum, unless whoever was paying them was paying them BIG or something special was involved, and this prize was most special.

When he finally opened his eye once more, he smiled as he saw that great expanse of stars through the front viewport, the peace and utter quiet as they drifted there. Of course, they really couldn’t do anything but drift until repairs were made to the engines. Despite what he had previously thought, the Hound had taken a bit more damage than any of them wanted.

“I guess we really should be happy we didn’t come apart when I made that jump,” he muttered quietly under his breath, drifting in his rested daze.

“Captain Danar!” The sounds of the voice, breaking his wonderful silence, nearly made him jump out of his seat, but knowing to whom the voice belonged and most likely what was coming made him want to cringe.

Spinning his seat around, he looked up into the crimson Neimoidian Duros eyes of his cousin, the crew’s financial advisor, and flashed a coy smile to try and disarm him.

“Why, Loon, to what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Are you out of your little blue mind, Marikk!? Do you realize the danger you put me through back there!?” His eyes flared with that last comment, a fire which seemed to remain throughout his whole tirade. “It’s a capital offense to traipse about restricted Imperial space like that! You know prison is not a hospitable place. What would I do!?”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re concerned about everyone’s well-being, Loon. Truly, heart-warming.” He couldn’t help but grin as he watched Loon pace and flail about before him, spouting off every concern that seemed to enter his head. His grin, however, was the pseudo-grin of one who desperately wanted out of his present situation. “Last I checked, though, Cousin, mercenaries weren’t exactly always the most law abiding people in the galaxy, not to mention that we have been in worse straights then that. And anyway, we are alive aren’t we?”

“And what about repairs? Our finances are getting awfully thin. We haven’t had a good job in weeks. I hope this...whatever it was… we picked was worth the expenditure.”

“Oh, indeed it was…300-year-old Vhasarian ale is not something you can get just anywhere, you know. It was at a great expense that I was able to get this for myse….for the crew.”

The half-Nimoidian’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when he heard what they had taken on board and were nearly killed for.

Leaning into the captain’s face, he let all fly loose what he felt. “Ale…ale…you mean to say that we risked life and limb for some stupid? We SPENT money on a trip into Imperial territory and had some serious damage inflicted on this already crumbling cruiser for some alcohol! Have you….I mean, do you……Agggh! We’re getting down to our last reserves, financially speaking, Marikk! You dragged me on this little pleasure trip saying we’d be rolling in credits.”

With a brief pause, He reached into his robe and withdrew a datapad from a hidden pocket, and nearly shoved it into his cousin’s face. “Well, where are they!? I don’t see credits, do you see credits? Where are they, Marikk? What are we going to do!?”

Pushing the pad from his face, Captain Danar stood, wrapped an arm around his taller cousin’s shoulder and led them both down the bridge’s corridor to the lift tube.

“Listen, Loo, you’re looking at things a little too grimly. Yes, our funds are running low, but I have Craeldo checkin’ the nets as we speak and searchin’ his contacts. He’s a crafty guy, he’ll get something good. Now look, you’re doing a great job as our financier, as I knew you would, but leave the worrying to the big guys. We’ll be fine, I assure you. Trust me.”

And with that note hanging in the air, Marikk slipped his arm away from Loon, jumped into the open lift and disappeared, leaving his companion standing there in silence.

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In a huff of exasperation, Loon gathered his green and crimson robes around him, and marched off the lift, bounding into the crew lounge. Several other of his crewmates sat around at the scattered table, taking advantage of their brief freedom before they had to get back to their work.

Abras Seaskimmer, a human jack-of-all-trades, and Shalla Zarr, the Twi’lek medic, sat huddled in the far corner table from him, quietly chatting. Dormanin, the Vurk chief mechanic, sat overflowing on two seats, reading from a datapad dwarfed in his hand. Sillek, the white-skinned Quarren weapon’s master, was there as well and sat at the table closest the Neimoidan half-breed, his two pale hands reaching out from under his consuming cloak and lifting up the glass of steaming tea to his lips. All watched cautiously as Loon entered and dropped heavily down on his seat.

“That bubble-headed conman!” he steamed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He thinks I can’t see through this charade of his. He’s got nothing planned for us. We’re just drifting, physically and metaphorically. I knew this was a mistake….”

“I’ll take a shot in the dark and say that you’re conversation with the Captain didn’t go well,” Shalla called, turning slightly in her seat to face towards Loon.

“He says he’s working on it. He says he’s looking for work. He says to not worry about it, but these so-called promises of his are neither repairing the ship nor filling our accounts with credits.”

A few slithering words and barks echoed from Dormanin at the room’s center, quickly translated into understandable basic by the small unit hooked onto his hip. “I trust, Captain Marrick,” it stated in its crackling mechanical voice. “He has not lied to us yet. He has always come through when it counts.”

“Blind faith. I say he was just trying to save face so that he could run back to his quarters to hide. He’s so irresponsible sometimes, always has been. I knew it was a mistake to come on this little ‘adventure’ of his….”

“I happen to know for a fact that Craeldo is off in his quarters getting in touch with his contacts, as per the Captain’s request.” Sillek raised his head from his glass momentarily and let his ice blue eyes lock onto the Neimoidian. “Thus I suggest you quit your meaningless grumbling and either quiet down, change the subject, or leave, lest you ruin the tea and the peaceful atmosphere any further. I would have thought you, as family, would have tried to have exercised the most faith in, or at the most restraint towards, your cousin, at least around the crew, but what can I say, then. Neimoidians shall be Neimoidians.”

With lower lip extended, Loon said nothing in response to the Quarren’s rebuke, merely glanced off to the side, sulking. “Well, anyway…..Obbeo, where are you!? I hope you’ve got my dinner near ready! I sent down the order nearly half an hour ago.”

“Yes, yes, keep your pants on.” Almost at beck and call, a squat blue Ortolon waddled his way through the side entranceway, serving tray pressed up against his red silk chef’s outfit. Wrinkling his trunk, he dropped the plate down in front of the accountant, a bit of food splashing onto the table as he then placed down a mug of Corellian cider and the utensils. “May my fine food hang in your gullet, you unthankful grub.”

With an obscure wave of his hand under his trunk, Obbeo turned on heal and disappeared the way he came, mumbling under his breath as he returned to the galley.

Sighing, Loon picked up his fork, pierced a piece of bantha meat and lifted it to his mouth. “What in the world have I gotten myself into?”

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Marrik slipped the heavy blue jacket from his shoulders and laid it gently across his bed, rubbing his temples and turning on some soft Jizz music to calm his nerves. He never liked these confrontations with his cousin, and sadly they seemed to be increasing as their time together progressed.

He knew Loon had grown accustomed to a steady income from his accounting practice on Muunilist, and that the credits weren’t exactly rolling in for them now. A greater income of credits was the number one reason his half-Neimoidian cousin had agreed to come on board to begin with; besides the fact that he knew deep down Loon was showing a rare expression of familial compassion in joining the Mercs so that start Marikk could start a new life for himself.

A sullen look upon his face, the Duro pulled out a glass from his cabinet, poured himself a glass of his newly acquired ale and dropped onto the couch, sitting and facing the sealed doorway. He would be the first to agree with Loon that business was far from what he had envisioned it to be.

With the war between the Rebellion and the Empire, he figured the needs for more ‘unregulated’ business would be booming, whether smuggling or body guarding or whatever they might be needed for. Instead, it seemed to be quite the opposite, at least in his regard. Were people simply too afraid of the wrath of the Empire to deal with the likes of mercenaries? From what his own connections would tell him, others seemed to be doing quite well for themselves. But his crew …

His crew. They were a fine assembly from all walks of life and from all corners of the galaxy. Each was either a personal acquaintance or the friend thereof, all excellent in their respective fields. In his opinion he had formed one of the best groups he knew of navigating the stars. “Marrick’s Mercs”, second to none. If ever there was a motivation to do the best job he could, his crew was it. Each had their own lives and their own obligations, but had laid them down to follow him on what was quickly becoming a fool’s errand.

His eyes scanned the amber liquid in his hands and then narrowed them in disgust. Even if it was fine liquor, was it REALLY worth the cost, of both their dwindling credits and the potential loss of life, to stare down the Empire in order to obtain it?

“Blast it all,” he muttered, reaching over and pouring his liquor back into its flask.

The last drop had just fallen into the pool beneath it when a voice called for the Captain in the midst of his melancholy meditations. “Marikk, you there? Cap’?”

“Ahh, Crae, yours is a voice for sore ears,” the captain quipped, unclasping the comlink device from his belt and raising it to his mouth. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“Yes, yes, indeed I do, oh my captain. I came up with a lot of bad turns in my search, but at last I’ve finally found us something. It’s not much, just a ferrying job.”

Marrik could only chuckle under his breath. “Hey, as long as it brings in some credits, I don’t care what it is at this point, my Rodian friend. What can ya’ tell me?”

“Well, have you ever been to Brentaal?”

-- Chapter 2 --

The crimson sun was low on the horizon as the city of Oradin came into view, shadows heavy in the details of the city as people still bustled about the street. All landing procedures complete, the Nova Hound began to slow as it lowered closer to the docking bay. Steam hissed from its body as the ship finally touched ground and moaned slightly as it came to a rest, a small piece of the black with blue trimmed hull plating dropping to the ground with a loud clatter that scared away a few vermin creeping in the shadows. The inner machinations of the craft began to whir and steam puffed out once more as the landing ramp achingly descended and three silhouettes appeared from the lighted interior and exited. It was Captain Marikk who took the lead, hands tucked away in the pockets of his jacket, with Sillek and Craeldo closely in tow.

Marikk glanced about from side to side and then reached an arm behind his neck and stretched. “Well then, where to, Crae?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” The Rodian scanned the flimsiplast printout he had been carrying and studied his notes. “Villie didn’t tell me much, only that the contact would meet us at a tapcafe next to the docking bay’s admin office. Apparently our friend has made trouble with the local authorities and needs emergency passage off Brentaal to Tatooine, no questions asked.”

“And as for our payment?”

“Will be transferred to our account as soon as we reach Tat.”

With a broad smile, the captain patted Craeldo on the shoulder of his leathery, scale-like long coat and waved them all on. “Well then gentlemen, what say we get a drink and see what becomes of our friend, whoever it is.”

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Night came not long after the trio had departed, leaving the area now bathed in the bright luminescence given off by the city’s buildings. The Lonely Chuba tapcafe was bustling with activity, and with the blaring sounds of some unidentifiable music and the cheers and jeers of blastball fans inside, Crae, Sillek and Marikk decided to take to a small, umbrella-shielded table on the front patio. A lone ebony MixRMastR bartender waded through the air out of the bar’s main entrance, photoreceptors glowing in the dark as it made its way and finally came to rest upon their table. A compartment in the droid’s chest slid open and a small tray extended, the three drinks resting upon it, not a drop spilled.

“Here you go, sirs,” the droid warbled in a deep, monotone voice. “One Chandrilan Herb Tea, one Elshandruu Pica Thundercloud, and one Jargridian Brandy. Thank you very much, sirs.”

Reaching into his pocket, Marikk withdrew a few credchips from his pocket and placed it on the droid’s tray before taking the drinks and dispersing them accordingly. The droid seemed to perform a brief bow upon its receipt of the credits and then returned back into the cafe. Glass in hand, the Duro lifted it into the air, quickly being joined by Sillek’s tea and Craeldo’s Thundercloud, brief illuminations of red and blue appearing at random in the thick foam of the drink. “Down the hatch, boys!”

“Do we have any idea when our guest will be arriving?” Sillek inquired, lifting the tea up through his high collar and sipping it slowly.

“No, not really,” Craeldo replied. “He knows who to look for, so once he finds us we’ll know.”

“Well then, guess we best get comfortable, since we don’t know how long we shall be waiting.”

Craeldo eased back in his seat, slipping the jacket off his shoulders, and dived snout first into his drink, much to the humor of the captain. “Whoa there, boy, slow down. I’d like you at least half sober in case some trouble goes down.”

With a nod he withdrew his mouth from the brew and wiped a flashing mustache from his snout. Almost simultaneously, an older looking human came running into the area and crashing into their table, sending the Thundercloud flying. The old man, a rather clean-cut looking fellow with stark white hair, neat looking tan dress and a small wooden box under his arm, jumped to his feet and quickly grabbed onto Crae’s shoulder. “My pardon, sir, but please, you must help me! There are men pursuing me and I must get as far away from here as quickly as I can.”

Wrenching free of the old man’s grasp, he slipped his jacket back on as he and his compatriots stood to their feet. “Ah, you must be our man. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Craeldo, Villie’s contact, and these gentlemen are Sillek, our unofficial chief of security, and Captain Marikk Danar, our group’s lead.”

Sillek bowed his head curtly as Marikk stretched out his hand and took the gentleman’s hand in greeting. “Yes indeed, a pleasure, really, mister…..”

“Professor….Professor Constantin Ardina.” He looked quickly from side to side, checking out the area, seeming rather agitated as he spoke. “It is a pleasure to meet you all, truly, but we mustn’t tarry too much longer or we may be…”

“You there! Halt!”

With a cringe, all four of them turned to see a stern faced Imperial officer come running up the avenue between the caf and the docking bay, followed close behind by a contingent of twenty stormtroopers.

“…caught by the Imperials.”

The crowd that had congregated both inside and outside the Lonely Chuba quickly dispersed upon the appearance of the Imperial troopers, leaving but the professor and the three mercenaries as the center of their attention. Marikk slapped his hand upon his forehead and shook his head, “Not the Imperials AGAIN!”

“Stay where you are! By Imperial decree, I place you all under arrest. Lay down your weapons, step forward with your hands up and no one will be hurt.”

“Well then, sir, with all due respect to Imperial law, sir,” Marikk began, a wry grin upon his face as he raised one hand above his head, unholstered his blaster and went to lower it upon the ground. However, at the last moment, he jerked his pistol up, shot and blasted down two of the umbrellas on the other tables between them and the troopers providing some cover to escape, “I’m afraid we can’t stay for your little party. Sorry.”

A flurry of crimson bolts ripped through the area, quickly leaving the fallen umbrellas and anything else they came in contact with in shreds, as Marikk and company broke away at full speed for the docking bay, returning fire as they ran.

“Man!” Captain Marikk yelled, diving in through the bay’s entranceway. “What is it with us and Imperials lately?”

Craeldo smiled, taking the opposite side of the doorway from Marikk as the Quarren and the professor made their way through and sprinted for the ship. “Guess we’re just lucky.”

“Yeah, well let’s see how our luck holds out.” Shooting off a few more blasts, the Duro backed up from his position and sprinted towards the landing ramp. “Now let’s get outta here!”

Racing to the lift tube and up the ship’s four levels, Captain Marikk ran as quickly as he could down the bridge corridor and almost literally leapt into his seat. His fingers flew from switch to button across the control board, and, with his natural piloting skill as a Duro, making a job that would have originally taken two into a job for one. Holding down the main button upon the comlink, he pulled back on the controls and activated the engines. “Everybody hold on to something,” Marikk called out, still working away. “We’re gonna have to make a quick exit.”

The ship’s engines whirred to life as the ship slowly began to take off, but within a few gut wrenching seconds, they dropped back down from what little altitude they had gained and impacted with the ground, a resounding crash echoing both inside and outside the ship. The hull let out a moan as it protested the sudden stress put upon it as smoke began to fill the bridge. The captain’s heart sank. “Dorm, what’s going on down there!? What happened!?”

“I am working on it,” the translator came back over the speaker moments later, the clanging of tools and parts dropping to the deck plating echoing in the background. “I am afraid my former repairs were quite slipshod before, for I was just trying to get us going. Apparently we are paying the price for that mistake now.”

“Great,” Marikk muttered, dropping back from the controls into his seat with despair. “Well, is everyone else fine?”

“Physically, yes,” came Sillek next, his tone sounding dire, “but we now have a bigger problem.”

All he could do was laugh in self-defeat as the captain watched the smoke billow around him. “Well, what’s problem number two?”

“I am in the doorway to the lower lounge. We’ve got Stormtroopers coming up the entry ramp and into the vestibule. There’s about six thus far.”

“I’m gonna need you to handle them, Sillek. We gotta give Dormanin as much time as he needs to get the engines repaired.”

“I will do as you say, Captain.”

Standing back to his feet, Marikk leaned over the control console and peered out the front viewport. To his sadness, the contingent that had followed them from the tapcafe now looked to have been joined at least ten more troopers, all of which were now surrounding the ship. “Well, let’s just hope we have long enough.”

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From the shadows of the lounge entranceway, the Quarren peered out, his face mostly covered by the high collar of his cloak as he watched the incoming invaders.

“Fan out across the ship,” the voice of the Imperial officer called out from below the entry ramp. “Find Professor Ardina. Take those who come peaceably into custody. Kill any who resist.”

The trooper closest to the ramp saluted, rifle in hand, giving a brisk “Yes, sir” and then turned to pass on orders to the rest of his compatriots. Sillek’s blue eyes narrowed as he observed the crowd and listened intently to their plans. He knew he had to stop them before they entered the lift, for it would only complicate matters if they actually made it to the rest of the ship. Therefore, there was only one course of action left for him to take.

Silently he strode out of the entranceway, as if materializing from the shadows. His evergreen cloak flowed down over his body, leaving only his head and the bottom of his legs visible as he moved forward. The suddenness of his appearance caught the stormtroopers completely by surprise as all six snapped to attention and readied their weapons.

“You there, raise your hands into the air and lay down any weapons.”

Sillek said nothing, merely continued forward to the center of the chamber in which they stood and froze. The lead trooper, obviously growing agitated, motioned his troopers in as they formed a tight circle around him.

“I’ll say it again, raise your hands in the air and lay down your weapons!”

Again, Sillek said or did nothing, merely observed the white armored soldiers around him with his ice-blue eyes. The tenseness of the situation was near tangible as the leader once more spoke up.

“This is your last warning! Raise your hands, lay down your weapons and you will not be harm- -”

Before the stormtrooper captain could complete his statement, the Quarren mercenary made his move. With a motion as quick as lightning and as fluid as water, his cloak flew open and the sword which had been hidden at his side was unsheathed in a gleaming flash. The stormtrooper immediately in front of him was at a loss as the barrel of his rifle dropped to the ground, resounding like thunder in the silence as it impacted with the deck plating. Then, almost as quickly, the room erupted into blaster fire at the command of the leader.

In the initial chaos, two troopers found themselves at the wrong end of their allies’ assaults as they crumpled to the ground, blast marks smoking upon their chest plates, as Sillek took to the air. Landing behind the first trooper he had disarmed, back to back, he flipped his sword backwards in his hand and stabbed under his own arm, piercing the trooper at the back base of his ribs. He then, in a continuously fluid motion, spun around and slashed perpendicularly against the soldier’s lower back. The sickening crack of the blade against the arm seemed to drown out the sounds of incoming blasts as they impacted with this trooper’s chest as well. Making the most of the moment, Sillek used the falling trooper as a springboard; split kicked two other troopers in front of opposite walls while in the air, and landed staring face to face with their captain.

It was a tense situation as the two warriors circled each other, ready to strike at any second. Then, without moment’s notice, three almost simultaneous blaster bolts rang from his rifle barrel but were quickly deflected by the near invisible maneuvers of the Quarren’s blade. Sillek then did something unexpected, which sent a chill through the Stormtrooper’s body. Eyes examining the blade momentarily as wisps of smoke rose from small scorch marks, he returned his gaze to his opponent, lowered his sword with both hands to his right side, parallel to the ground, and gave a ghastly grin, as best he could, as he curled his tentacles up. Shifting his feet, ready to charge forward, his stance was thwarted as the entire ship began to move, the engines humming to life as she began to take altitude once more.

“That is it! I have got it!”

Captain Marikk almost squealed with delight over the comm, coming on only seconds later after Dorm. “Hold on, everyone, we’re gonna try this again!”

Those gathered in the vestibule were thrown about, the bodies of those who couldn’t hold on to anything sliding out the entryway and down to the ever distancing docking bay. The leader and his two remaining compatriots, those two still dazed, grasped onto whatever they could on the wall, the same as Sillek, as the ship took an almost a completely vertical ascent into the Brentaal sky. When one of the two tried to raise his blaster, the weight of both armor and equipment caused him to loose his grip and he fell into the air, a well timed kick from Sillek making sure that he too would promptly exit their ship.

As they finally leveled out, the one remaining trooper besides the captain dropped to his feet and charged forward almost immediately, swinging his rifle to club the Quarren over the head, but, aware of his approach, Sillek quickly ducked, tripped him and sent the trooper over his back to slam into his commander and into the wall beside the opening, slowly being pulled by the pressure out by the vacuum. Seeing his chance, Sillek reached down and grabbed his comlink. “Captain! Pull the ship into a vertical ascent one more time!”

Nearly immediately, the perspective of the room changed once more and the merc flew backwards, pounding against the wall closest the lounge entranceway. His was a better fate as, at the same time, both troopers slid from their place and out the entryway, resigned to their fate far, far below.

The ship, again, returned to normal within a minute or so and Sillek stood from his crumpled position and stretched, cracking his back slightly before, with feet firmly against the ground, he made his way over and slammed his fist into the door controls, sealing the entry hatch. A pleased sigh escaped his mouth as the pressure in the vestibule returned to normal. Picking his sword up from the ground, he slowly re-sheathed it, closed his cloak around him once more and made his way to the lift tube. For now, at least, the trouble was over.

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The air held an icy chill deep within the shadowy, cavernous chamber. The boot- clicks echoed in the stark silence as a lone figure, draped in black, made her way down the central pathway to where rose a central black dais high into the air. She lowered herself and kneeled at the bottom step of the platform, a single lock of copper hair falling from beneath her hood.

“You have summoned me, Master?”

“Yes.” The cold rasp echoed through the chamber as the throne planted upon the center of the dais rotated around without motion from its occupant, framed against the nighttime expanse of Imperial Center through the viewport behind it. From the darkness, the deathly pale face of the Emperor stared down at her, his yellow eyes piercing her very soul from their aged receptacles.

“Word has reached me that a scientist from the University of Coruscant has discovered something long buried on the world of Brentaal that would be of great value to me. I would like you to go and retrieve this from him for me… Mara Jade.”

Two emerald eyes stared up from beneath her cowl and locked with those of her master. “And the life of the professor?”

“Let his fate be the same as that of his home of Alderaan,” the Emperor responded, matter-of-factly as his throne shifted around once more to its previous position. “Imperial Security has erased all knowledge of his discovery from the University’s systems and those there who know already have been taken into custody. This professor is the last link in the chain that needs to be undone. Now go.”

Bowing her head down to her knee in respect, she rose quickly; cloak molding and shifting to her form as she then turned on heal and departed. Whatever her master required of her, she would do with all her devotion. Thus was the life of the Emperor’s Hand. So it has been said, and so it shall be done.

to be continued...