Ta'arran's story

Ta’arran took in a slow deep breath just before he stepped forth from the turbolift and into the administrative section of the Tyrena CorSec Branch Offices. He walked determinedly through the gaps between the individual work stations in the direction of the private office of Major Dorn Thrand. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention making him painfully aware of the scornful glares tracking him.

He had just returned from an undercover assignment in the Outer Rim, having spent the last seven standard months on the arid planet of Tatooine. He was glad to be back on his adoptive planet. Although, he would be forever haunted by what had transpired during his assignment and what it took to return alive. The memories of Tatooine would unfortunately linger on with him like the fine powdery particles of sand that had embedded themselves in the clothes he had worn and his very pores. It was there that he learned the true nature of the law. Although his work involved specific directives and regulations that were plainly stated and recorded for prosperity, the interpretations and executions of such things were rarely black and white, but mostly shades of gray. He smirked with the thought of himself already a cynic after just graduating from the CorSec Academy a mere year ago.

Major Thrand's secretary rose from her chair behind her desk and greeted him with an unexpectedly warm smile, a nice change from the cold, suspicious reception that he had been receiving from the rest of his peers since his return. "The major has been expecting you. I've let him know that you've arrived," she spoke pleasantly as she gestured for him to continue forward into his office.

Dorn Thrand stood up from his chair as the younger CorSec officer stood at attention in front of his desk. He stood about a hand width taller than Ta’arran. His light gray goatee and receding hair contrasted his dark skin. The old major's stern face softened as his eyes inspected the young man. The slight gut that he had developed with his age and added administrative responsibilities relaxed as he commanded, "At ease, son. Please have a seat." After a brief pause, he continued, "It's good to see you. It's been a while. I've heard the mission was a success."

"As well as can be expected... the Hutts now have a contract out on Jasund Sind, the cover that I used on the mission," Ta’arran replied. He then added, "It's good to see you again as well, Zhen." He used the Yawdimian word for revered uncle. "Have you heard any news from Shimay or Dagar?"

Ta’arran had known the major for some time now. Major Thrand had served at the Corellian Embassy on Coruscant prior to the Clone Wars. It was there that he had been befriended by Ta’arran's parents, Tylos and Shima. Tylos had been his people=s representative in the Republic Galactic Senate. It was the major who took Ta’arran and his two younger siblings to Corellia about 17 years ago at the request of their parents, who disappeared shortly afterwards. It was speculated that their fate was the result of repercussions from their involvement with the Coalitions Forces against the aggressions of the planet Emberlene. With their apparent loss, the major had taken them to live at his family home just outside of Tyrena. There that he and his wife, Meira, raised the three toddlers with his own daughter, Cellia.

"Shimay should be finishing her studies at the Theed Medical Academy in a few months. Cellia hopes that she'll choose to join her practice here on Corellia." The major's eyes brightened as he proudly updated Ta’arran on his sister.

The brightness of his eyes dimmed abruptly, his tone changed to disappointment, as he spoke of the youngest Ragdem," Dagar... unfortunately, we haven't heard much from him, since he joined the Imperial Army as a combat medic. I had much higher expectations for him. He knew Corellia's and my own views of the Empire. Not that I'm particularly fond of what mischief the rebels have been causing. I just hope he's happy wherever he is at this time."

"darn Imps! They're even planning on posting an ISB officer here to act as a liaison," he added.

"Dagar always had a strong will to do his own thing. I miss the times when we were all together," Ta’arran reflected.

"Ta’arran, you need to head home and get some rest. Then see Hal Horn about the details of your next assignment. Cheer up. You may get a chance to see Shimay. Youll be going to Naboo to work with their Royal Security Forces." The major announced enthusiastically

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Dagar had originally wondered who he had pissed off to be assigned to a post on the planet Tatooine. He could not think of a worse place to be stationed. The twin suns baked everything on the planet's surface. Could he have been wrong in choosing to sign up? It was not until he heard that he had been assigned to an elite unit that his outlook seemed to brighten. Although, he did not look forward to being the unit's current noob, a term endeared to new recruits. He felt the title would be much better with someone else. His only saving grace was that he was a medic and he knew combat units usually looked out for their docs.

He stepped off the shuttle in the town of Elisium as the fine blowing sand marred his recently immaculate uniform. He could make out the shape of a building just to the left of the shuttleport through the blowing sand and headed in its direction, wondering if it were just a conjuring of the desert. As he drew closer, he could see the structure more clearly. Sureal World, the sign read. He thought, 'what luck!' and stepped into the unknown within.

Dagar soon found himself in the main chamber of a dimly lit cantina. The lights had been purposely softened, except for those spotlighting the single performer dancing on the bejeweled stage. He did a quick courteous bow to the Twi'lek dancing girl on stage in respectful acknowledgement before heading towards the bar. One of the droid bartenders greeted him. Instantly, he recognized it as an older LE repair droid. "What can I get you?" Its joints emitted an irritating creaking of poor lubrication as it slowly, deliberately moved.

"A shot of Vasarian brandy," Dagar declared.

As he had just gulped down a mouthful of his drink, the chamber lit up and he became horribly aware that he was surrounded.

"Who do we have here?" demanded a helmeted stormtrooper in a white trench coat.

"Maybe he's here to join us?" queried a male Mon Calamari.

"Maybe he's here to die?" offered the white trench coated trooper.

He nervously watched as an Imperial Officer in his dress uniform proceeded to ignite his flame thrower.

The sudden pat on the back of his head by a large furry hand from a huge hooded Wookie broke his attention on the blue and white flame.
'Fark!' Dagar cursed to himself in Yawdimian, as a purely white fur covered Wookie approached him menacingly brandishing a fishing pole. 'This isn’t looking good.'

"Guys, he's the noob combat medic we've been expecting." The Twi'lek dancer announced to Dagar's relief. "Welcome to the Empire's Honorable Elite Regimental Order or HERO for short."

"Oops," sounded apologetically another Mon Calamari.

"The boys are fired up tonight," acknowledged the Twi'lek dancer.

After a brief exchange of introductions and a more amiable welcome, the assembly within the cantina took their seats before the stage. The Twi'lek dancer followed suit to let the order's current Commanding Officer take her place on the stage.

Colonel Kydia Delveceo stepped onto the stage and officially brought the meeting into session. She started with a short roll call and then moved on to current issues.

Dagar respectfully sat in the rear near the bar and listened intently to the proceedings. He was surprised to see the joviality amongst the members and informality of the proceedings, especially after learning that many of the members were officers. He was also surprised by the number of non-humans in their ranks and wondered what their stories were and how they found their place in the Empire. For now, he settled on just trying to remembering all their names.

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The cool water from the hydroshower had been much more rejuvenating than his attempt at restful sleep. Although, it did little to wash away the guilt or regret he carried so heavily. The very concept of restful sleep seemed alien to him since his return. The recollections of the mission on Tatooine plagued his dreams and now his conscious mind with images of death and betrayal.

Several CorSec officers had lost their lives to his Hutt fraction teammates on an ill-fated prisoner retrieval mission for Jabba. Ta’arran had been kept in the dark to the details of that mission, until it was already too late, and he was in the middle of the fighting onboard the corvette. In its conclusion, it had succeeded in securing the Hutt Crime Lord's trust in him. Even after an investigation of the events of that mission lead his CorSec superiors to conclude that his actions had actually minimized the CorSec casualties without prematurely blowing his cover, he and many of his fellow officers would not be so forgiving for the lost of their colleagues.

The image of the girl... the dancer, who had saved his life, also troubled his mind. Her limp form dropped into the sand, as he stood powerless to save her from a precisely aimed blaster bolt.

Ta’arran struggled with the question- 'Why me? Why had I been specifically chosen for that mission? The reasons his CorSec superiors fed to him prior to departing for Tatooine now seemed so trivial.' A recent academy graduate, it was hoped that his relative anonymity would make it easier for him to infiltrate Jabba's organization. He had also demonstrated throughout his training the ability to function well independently. That and his unarmed martial arts mastery and innate creature handling skills had secured his sole pre-selection among his class to join the Special Tactics Division of CorSec. Those abilities thought to be beneficial in his role as a solo-operative.

He stared at his misty reflection off of the transplastisteel surface of the shower door. Gazed deeply into his eyes and judged himself solely responsible for their deaths. He slammed his clenched fist against the shower wall, which reverberated in response. He had succeeded in his mission's primary objectives of disrupting Iris Snow's Corellian Slaver Guild operations from the information he had obtained from Jabba, and retrieved the captive niece of a Corellian noble, but at a high cost. His tears lost in the downpour of water. His inactions left deep unhealing wounds and the strong need for redemption.

It was a beautiful sunny midday in the Naboo city of Theed. Shimay had been busy working since dawn and had not had the opportunity to enjoy the splendor outside. She had been enjoying her autonomy on Naboo, finally removed from the over-protective eyes of both her brothers and the Thrands. Although she really missed them dearly, Shimay was anxious to finish her studies and establish her own practice. This would be her last three months and last rotation at the Medical Academy as a resident physician.

Shimay sat at a small table with her fellow colleague and friend, Dr. Ihiv Ija, a red-brown skin Twi'lek female medical resident in the Theed Medical Center dining room. They both wore the white clinical coveralls that were typically issued to the resident physicians and medics-in-training. As they sat attempting to consume their meals, they were suddenly interrupted by an overhead page.

"Drs. Ija and Ragdem, please report to the emergency department."

"So much for trying to enjoy a meal," stated Shimay. She rose from her chair grabbed the marjo melon off her food tray and hastily stuffed it into a pocket of her coveralls.

Ihiv mirrored Shimay's actions and added in Basic, "Just like clockwork. I wonder what we'll have. Cantina brawl casualties? Spitting rawl bite victim?"

"Probably a case of Zeltron venereal drip," Shimay responded jokingly.

Ihiv chuckled. She then sarcastically added, "Hey that can rot off the appendage if not treated."

Both of them disappeared into a turbolift before re-emerging from it on the ground level. There they were met by a male nurse who escorted them to their waiting patient.

"Jeb, what do we have?" queried Shimay, as they walked toward one of the isolation rooms within the emergency department.

Jeb Saasme had lived in Theed his entire life. He'd been a critical care nurse for ten of those years. Shimay and Ihiv had worked with him throughout their residency at the medical academy. He struck them as a calm and competent nurse. They had never witnessed him unfazed by anything, throughout the countless medical emergencies they handled together over the past three years.. until now.

"What they brought in isn’t salvageable. The body has been gruesomely disfigured. Liquefied in some areas. Don't know how he could still be alive, but he is. I just hope we’re not dealing with a contagent," he replied nervously.

"Don't think his own mother would be able to identify him from the extent of those injuries," noted Ihiv.

They could see the FX medical droid already running diagnostics on the body through the reinforced transplastisteel window into the isolation chamber. The data relayed to a monitor before them.

"The bio-filters and radiation detectors have found nothing. Full spectral scan not identifying any known weapon signature. We have placed the two RSF officers who brought the patient into an iso-room for observation after the decontamination process had finished."

"Good work as always, Jeb. We better contact Dr. Reijo. We'll need his help as an Infectious Disease specialist. I believe he's currently giving a lecture for the medical students and interns at the auditorium," stated Shimay.

She added, "Better get Dr. Isjasi as well from the xenopathology department."

Jeb caught the look of concerned urgency in her eyes. He replied, "I'll get a runner to get him here right away." He then disappeared into adjacent office to make some calls.

"I'll start a molecular analysis," added Ihiv.

"Good. I'll check on the two RSF officers that brought him in."

So much for making social plans, Shimay thought to herself, regretfully.

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Ta’arran caught up with Hal Horn at the Inspector's office at CorSec. Hal greeted the younger CorSec officer enthusiastically with a firm handshake, before gesturing him to have a seat. The older man was tall and muscular, which contrasted physically with his son, Corran, who would periodically rant to his father about his short stature.

Ta’arran had remembered meeting Corran Horn several years ago at a CorSec family function. The Inspector's son was even several inches shorter than himself. Corran had subsequently entered the CorSec Academy, following in the footsteps of his father. Ta’arran surmised that he was probably close to graduating.

"My son tells me that you've left quite a reputation at the Academy. Single-handedly taking on both Kallia sisters in a Teras Kasi match."

He could only smile as he recalled the memory of that day. The Kallia sisters, Seec and Dalma, were both experts in the epicantrix martial arts of Teras Kasi. Both had been personally trained by their father, who was a Teras Kasi Master. Ta’arran had challenged the pair to a friendly match on a dare given by his classmate, Terau Sungun. He had actually held them both off for about fifty seconds before he made an unscheduled visit to the Academy's infirmary. His concentration shattered when the older sister, Seec, accidentally loss her top.

"It would probably have made a better story if I'd actually won the match."

"That's not what I heard. Anyway, welcome back. Just wanted to let you know that not all of us hold you responsible for the losses during your last assignment."

"Personally, still trying to reconcile with the whole matter. Don't think anyone here will want to team with me anytime soon. Can't really blame them."

"With time my young friend. Anyway, the Naboo Royal Security Forces has asked for our help. They've experienced an increase in activity involving the cult of a rumored Sith lord. Apparently, the Sith lord had been slain around the time of the Trade Federation's invasion of Naboo. This cult has grown in strength, claiming to await the rebirth of this Sith. They are employing the use of some of the planet=s indigenous aggressive creatures in their raids of small settlements, primarily, around the city of Keren. The mayor of one of those settlements had been recently slain in one of those attacks. These cultists are well armed and organized. And after running the serial numbers of some confiscated sliced weapons used in one of those raids, Intel suspects a Corellian arms dealer connection. Incidentally, the media has dubbed these cultist as Maulers after the name of the slain Sith lord, Darth Maul. The Naboo RSF suspects that they have a stronghold somewhere in the mountains to the south of Keren. You are to aid them in their investigation, and help put an end to their current threat. We'll arrange to have Ark-One meet you there."

"To offset their use of animals with our own," interjected Ta’arran.

"Yes. If need be."

"Points of contacts?"

Hal handed Ta’arran a datapad. "Lieutenant Bazi Aetu is your contact with the RSF. She's in Keren. There is also a Corellian, named Asroth Tyrson, who might be useful to you there. He's been working with the RSF for about 6 months as part of an exchange program between Corellia and Naboo. He's with the Corellian Defense Force, trained as a sniper. Both of their contact info is on the datapad."

"I assume that I leave right away."

"Correct. Just stop by the Kennels and let Officer Sungun know which animals you want him to transport for your mission."

"Roger that," Ta’arran acknowledged, stood up, and saluted the Inspector.

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A few hours later, Ta’arran was strapped into the seat of his Vaksai fighter craft, The Nova Rasp, and was just leaving the orbit of Corellia. He would meet with Terau and the heavily modified Sorosub Luxury Yacht, Ark-One, in about three standard days. The yacht had been refitted to accommodate the shipment of animals as large as a juvenile dune kimogila. Ta’arran did not plan to need anything that large as it was more tactically logically to work with smaller creatures. For this mission, he would have Terau bring a pair of greater sludge panthers from Talus, Kaii and Zoll, and a bio-engineered gurrcat, Zass.

He brought the hyperspace map up on his HUD. After plotting the course from the Corellia to Naboo, he set the jump coordinates into the NAV computer.

No need to travel through some sun or planet along the way, he thought to himself.

Bringing up the datapad from where it attached to a magnetic strap on his right thigh for review, he then ran through the safety checklist a final time. Checking off the items on the list, he disengaged the impulse engines and flipped the switch to engage the small craft's hyperdrive.

Well, here's to a couple more hours of solitude to reflect. Not that I haven't been doing too much of that recently. Maybe, I'll be able to fit in a nap or two, he thought with sarcasm. The ship shuttered then shot forward. He watched as the points of lights from distant stars stretched into long linear lines radiating around his transplastisteel canopy.

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She had been left for dead. The fire had consumed all of what had been Mahni Valkunee's ranch home. She watched helplessly as some raiders swept down from the mountains and torched and killed everything they found, including her family and the tusk cat ranch that had been her home for her entire life.

She stumbled back up to her feet, letting out an agonizing, tearful moan in the process. Her dress shredded and barely clinging on. Her body battered, dirty, and defiled. She torn off strips of her dress to bandage the lance wound on her side. She barely felt a trickle of blood trail down her inner thigh, numbed by the vision of the charred remains of her father, mother, and brother scattered amongst the dying embers of the ranch house. The blacken skeleton of the structure defiantly stood in silence against the violet sky of twilight on Naboo

ThEre was fire still raging. One could see it clearly just by gazing into her eyes, fires of vengeance. She staggered around the remains of what was her home searching for something, until she found it under some dirt and charred timber. With some effort, she was able to pry it free and embraced it, pulling it next to her heart. Her father's rifle would her instrument for retribution.

She was deaf and blind to all else. An Imperial medic from a patrol came up to her to see if she needed assistance. She did nothing to acknowledge his presence. The astute medic noted her wounds; unsuccessfully tried to pull the rifle from her grasp, before settling on just attending to her wounds with bacta dressings and a bacta infusion into her blood.

to be continued...