The Story So Far:
"Dropping out of hyperspace."
Those were the last words of the helmsman before the ship shuddered and the blue glow of faster-than-light travel fell away to the streaks of stars skewing back into familiar pinpricks as the ship returned to realspace. Captain Piett gazed down at the city-planet below, disapproving frown giving way to a sneer as he looked over his shoulder and issued his next order.
"Take us into orbit and prepare a shuttle to head to the surface."
"Yes, sir."
Piett turned his eyes back to the surface. He hated that planet. Some people said that Mos Eisley Space Port was the galaxy's darkest blotch. Those people had never been to Axxila. The whole planet was a nest of corruption and crime...and now, apparently, double-crossing sludge. Fitting, really, he mused, for a traitor to hide amongst the dredges of society. No matter, he wouldn't be there for long. He let a long sigh out through his nose. He dreaded the thought of hitting the surface of that planet again. He would rather work directly under Lord Vader than step out onto that planet again...and today he had the pleasure of doing both. His mouth twitched into a smirk at the thought. Joy.
He took one last breath and steeled himself for it. That shuttle would be ready soon. All there was to do now was wait for Vader's orders...or his presence. The captain suppressed a shiver. There was a chance, however small, that Vader would come and get him personally....He could be nontraditional that way on occasion. When it came to the Dark Lord, he had only one wish, and it echoed through his head as he raised his sights from the planet to the galaxy above.
'Stars, let him be in a good mood.'
XXX
Nathan's eyes were blindfolded. A cold breeze hit his neck as he held his golden light-sabe in his hands. Somewhere behind him he sensed a movement. I got you now Nessia, he thought as he swung his lightsaber towards the movement, but it was no longer there. He knew his twin was also blindfolded, but she was going for an offensive stratagy. Suddenly something knocked him to the ground, and warmth flooded over his face. He opened his eyes to a purple light, the saber of his twin sister.
"Ok Nassia I get it, you win. You're better," the teen called out. He heard the sound of the light-saber retracting, and soon retracted his. He took off his blindfold to see his sister. She was shorter than him, around 5' 6" with the same dark brown hair and green eyes. She was beautiful definitely. She'd already been proposed to several times on Kabray. Oh, how he hated that planet. Now they were on a strange planet, Alc, a mostly uninhabited jungle planet
"Nathan have you ever thought of leaving?" Nassia asked.
"No, why would we?"
"I don't know. Maybe we could make some sort of difference in the world or something," she muttered before retreating back to their little hut near a small swamp.
'Maybe we should...'
XXX
There was an air of uneasiness floating around the bar today. For some odd reason, the patrons stopped their usual bickering to look at whomever crossed its doors. But instead of their usual hostility, they stared in tense silence, as if Darth Vader himself were about to step in. Then they would go back to their ruckus as soon as they realized this wasn't the case.
Something wrong was happening here. Amida had tried to eavesdrop around the bar to try to realize what was going on, but the others just huddled away from him so he desisted.
He'd been on Axxila for almost a year, and yet he still hadn't earned himself a place on this godforsaken planet. You had to either have strong bonds with the local scumbags or have an awful reputation, both of which he lacked. He thought he'd run into any old acquaintances of his, but he hadn't had such luck yet.
The raven huffed, glaring into his empty glass. This isolation was going to be the death of him – especially when there was something huge happening and he had no way of knowing.
A cough from above him took him away from his thoughts. He glanced up to find a hand extended towards him. Well, there was one way of knowing. Smirking, he took what little change he had in his pocket and gave it to the bartender.
"Imperial spaceships," the bartender said, sliding him a glass of ale. "Big ones."
"Really? What in the stars would the Imperium want here, of all planets?" he asked after taking a few sips. It was surprisingly decent.
"'Tis not a what, but a who," the other continued. "Rebel. Recently arrived here. No one knows who it is, or what they did."
Amida could only arch his eyebrows in surprise. Well, this someone had to be very important if the Imperium itself was hunting them down. Well, this was certainly something – nothing this interesting had happened ever since he arrived here, and he was not going to miss this one out. He would leave after a few drinks to see if he could catch some of the debacle.
XXX
Darth Vader walked into the main control room. He knew that Piett was waiting for a signal, and he intended to give it to him."What are you waiting for? Send the shuttle now!" Thundered Darth Vader.
XXX
Konner Garrik barreled through Axxila's alleyways, splashing through the grimy puddles and panting hard. He had to get as far away from that shuttle as possible. He skidded around a corner, blue eyes wide, before he skittered to a halt on the slick pavement. A realization hit him.
He stared down at his uniform. That was going to get him spotted very quickly. Running a hand through his short black hair in panic, he looked to the hat in his other hand and whipped it back toward the ship. His jacket too, he realized, would be painfully obvious. Stuffing his code cylinders safely into his pants pockets, he struggled out of it quickly, leaving him with only the undershirt beneath. He gave himself another once-over. Not great, but it would have to do.
Starting to take off again, he only made it a few steps before looking back at the pile of discarded clothes and shaking his head. No good. That looked like a trail. Bouncing on his feet in a moment of indecision, he looked between the alleyway he'd been headed down and then back the direction he'd come.
That was it.
At top speed, he raced back the way he'd come. Let them have the trail. If it was going to send them in the wrong direction, then let it. He carried himself as fast as possible down the streets and back roads until he couldn't breath, and even then, leaning heavily on the wall of one of the towering skyscrapers packed claustrophobically around him, he checked constantly over his shoulder. He also watched the skies. He didn't know precisely how long he had to hide himself, but if he knew the Empire, it wouldn't be long. He made quick work of examining the shops around as he caught his breath. A few grimy clubs, a greasy spoon and-
His eyes widened. "Perfect."
Across the way from him was a cheap-looking clothing shop. Checking to see he wouldn't be run over, the former-captain darted across the street and ducked inside.
Ten minutes later he reemerged, nearly broke (having only what he always carried in his pockets to begin with), but disguised. Dark-blue pants replaced the steel-gray trousers of the Imperial uniform, and a pale-green collared shirt covered the undershirt he'd arrived in. He pulled a dark-green cloak over his shoulders as he stepped out of the building, checking the skies again.
Three ships. He cursed under his breath. Kriff, they were fast. Checking about one last time, he wrapped the cloak around himself tightly, half for disguise, and half to keep out the chill that was already seeping into his skin through his thinner clothes. As he walked, he also pulled the hood over his head. Those strong features that had done him so well in school were going to be a strong disadvantage now. Gritting his teeth, he headed for the only place he could think to hide on a planet like this: the same place everyone else did. As casually as he could manage, Garrik ducked into the nearest bar.
XXX
The captain started at the bellowed order, cursing in is head as he whipped around to face the oncoming Sith Lord. "Yes, sir," The reply was automatic. Internally, the captain was putting all of his attention on forcing his shoulders back and his face to to stay neutral in spite of his racing pulse.
'Of course he'd come in person,' he thought, no small bit of terror in the sentiment. It was just his luck today to have Vader show up to fetch him in person. He wasted no time in following the order though.
"Ensign?"
"Hanger 18, sir. Shuttle Pastillion is prepared and ready to launch."
"Excellent." He looked back to the Dark Lord, devoting every spare ounce of concentration to not shaking in his boots as he silently cursed the planet below one last time. He glanced briefly to the door and bent down to pick up the small package that had been resting at his feet. "After you then, M'lord."
Darth Vader grinned behind his mask "Heh, people are so weak..." he said, walking towards the shuttle.
Piett glanced up at the back of the man's head at the mumbled amusement and mentally cursed himself, feeling a rush of embarrassment at his poor reaction. He should have heard him coming. He should have expected the order, and he shouldn't have jumped. Some captain, spooked by an order he knew was coming. Truly inspiring. Well...at least Vader was in a good mood.
Piett scanned the room once as they at last entered the hangar bay and again as they stepped into the shuttle. Everything looked to be in order. The pilot was already in his seat; the gunner was in place, and the small band of troopers assigned to be their muscle was strapping in presently. Good. The captain, then, settled himself into the second auxiliary chair and gave the order for take off.
Then he glanced over to the Sith Lord. He chewed over his next words carefully. Good mood or no, if what he'd heard was correct (and he had no reason or inclination to believe it wasn't), communication with Vader required a touch of...delicacy. Once he had it, he took one last steadying breath and pushed himself back to his feet.
"Lord Vader, a word, if I may?"
"Speak...." breathed Darth Vader. He then stared at the stars, thinking.
He wasn't dead yet. Off to a good start. The captain gestured with his arm to the soldiers sitting patiently in back of the shuttle. "My Lord, the troops will do very nicely for reinforcements...but if I may, sir..." He swallowed: no backing out now. "If I may, sir, I don't believe leading with them will gain us any ground." He let that sit for a moment. If Vader wanted to hear more, he'd say so, but he was safer, he hoped, taking the matter one step at a time. He would rather not press Vader into silencing him on his own.
"Why is that?!" thundered Darth Vader, thinking about strangling him, but he stopped himself and waited for his respond.
Right then! Sweet and to the point it was.
'Quickly, you dolt.'
Piett forced himself not to let his face display that panic, but he did speak at a noticeably quicker pace. "My lord, Captain Garrik will more likely than not be taking refuge down on the planet's surface. The lower levels of Axxila are full of smugglers, M'Lord. They have the numerical advantage: simply trying to cow them may steel them into silence. A bit of subtlety may do us better. A quiet infiltration, sir – sending someone in to gather information – could get us information on Garrik's location faster than going in with the troops in tow."
Oh, stars, what was he doing? Just because he knew the planet, he thought he'd try this? Ten minutes working directly under Vader, and he was going to get himself murdered! Genius. Absolute genius. How many years building his career, reshaping his reputation, and for this?
'Lunatic!'
XXX
The pilot was on his fourth drink (This will surely be the last one, he thought to himself, choosing to ignore the fact he'd said the same two drinks ago.) when another customer barged through the doors. A human, to his surprise. Well, no, that's not surprising at all, he realized after a quick look around; the bartender and a quite few other patrons were human-looking, too – why the hell did he even think that? Was his only eye failing him already?
Hopefully not, he realized, as he pushed away his empty mug. Hopefully it was just his alcohol-induced stupor kicking in again.
Amida stood up from his stool and went over this new stranger, deciding that talking to him would be more entertaining (and significantly cheaper) than getting coaxed into drinking another four mugs of ale. Human newcomers were always glad to have some company to ignore the death stares from the regulars. He clumsily dropped onto the stool next to the guy, and leaned closer.
"'Ey, didya know a bunch of imperial ships are goin' round the planet right now?" He half-whispered, wanting to be discreet even though probably the whole planet knew at this point. "If we're lucky – or rather, unlucky – enough we'll get to see Darth Buckethead himself in the flesh. Does he even have flesh?"
He wasn't particularly keen on pursuing that rather disturbing train of thought so instead he cocked his head and stared at the guy some more, reaching out to grab a corner from his cloak. It was green. He liked green.
"Damn, man, that's a nice cloak."
XXX
Nathan sat in the cockpit of the SR56, a two-seater fighter ship.
"Nassia, we good to go into lightspeed?" He asked, he flipped the visor down on his black helmet as his twin responded.
"I think we're good. I mean, we're 2,000 somethin' miles away from the closest planet," she responded, "which, in the scheme of things, isn't really that faaaaAARR!!!" she screamed as she flew back into her seat.
Nathan smirked, the stars looked like colorful stripes as they flew past thousands of miles per hour.
"So, where exactly are we going?" Nathan asked his sister, who was gripping the sides of the ship so hard her hands were white.
"Forwards," she mumbled. Although you could not feel the impossible speed inside the ship, Nassia hated lightspeed.
"Smarta-" Nathan started.
The ship made a strange noise. The ship slowed to a halt in front of a large planet.
"Fuel's out," she had stated.
Nathan began to press various buttons and flipped a couple levers. He turned back to see his sister in the seat directly behind him.
"Initiate the back up system," he said.
She quickly pressed a button, and the ship started to make its way to the large planet.
XXX
All that Garrik wanted to do was take a seat at the bar and blend in, but he hardly had the chance to find a seat before someone flopped down onto the seat next to him and promptly engaged him in pungent conversation. Garrik blinked as the ale on the man's breath overtook him. He tried not to cough as he turned his face away. He curled a hand into a fist under his nose, trying to block the scent as he listened to this man speculate on the Empire's presence. "Yeah...I noticed...."
Lord Vader. A wave of nausea overtook him, entirely separate from his companion's breath. He hadn't even thought of the Sith Lord.... They wouldn't send Lord Vader after him...would they? He had a captain's code cylinders, but that was all – surely that wasn't enough to warrant Vader's involvement.... He supposed he also knew the ins and outs of a Star Destroyer...and there was a solid number of imperial battle tactics tucked away in his head.
He whipped his gaze over to the other man. "Where did you hear Vader was up there?" He'd looked over to the other man just in time for him to comment on Vader's possible lack of flesh and his his new cloak. He glanced to the corner of cloth in the man's fingers. "Ah...thank you...."
'Ah, yes, very smooth,' Amida thought, quite pleased with himself. Progress! Someone had actually responded him for once, rather than punch or threaten their way out of the conversation! To think people said you couldn't socialize on this sewer of a planet. They clearly didn't try (or drink) enough.
He leaned back against the bar and continued to fiddle with the stranger's cloak, occasionally glancing towards him. The man was deep in thought, seemingly worried sick about something; that much he could tell despite his own intoxicated state. Following his common sense for once, he let him be. Amida knew it was best to mind his own business in these kinds of places. He caught himself staring though he couldn't help it; he'd rather much look at this guy than at any of the scum gathered in the bar.
The raven blinked at the question, taken away from his own thoughts. "Eh, I dunno. T'was just an assumption. I mean. Darth Breathing-Machine needs an entire fleet just t'fit his ego. Why else would there be so many ships here, of all planets?" He shrugged. "They must be lookin' for something – or someone – pretty darn important, if you ask me. Or who knows. Maybe it's just the alcohol makin' me paranoid. Either way, I'm kinda curious, to be honest. Aren't you?"
Garrik watched the other man as he replied, forcing himself not to let his fingers drum nervously on the bar (There was nothing he could do about the bouncing knee; he'd already tried.) He looked away at that last statement though. "Curiosity is dangerous," he said gruffly, but he continued in spite of himself. "You think so? I think it's just the Empire making a show of it.... After all, Vader can't be the only one with an ego...." There were so many names he could think of besides Vader it wasn't even remotely amusing, but he decided on someone safe. "You remember Tarkin?"
Garrik let himself wonder briefly why he was continuing to talk, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Maybe somewhere in the back of his head it was his instinct telling him that chatting looked more normal than sitting alone, or maybe it was just the mortal terror of having Lord Vader and his fleet on his tail and the thought of whatever fate worse than death a Sith Lord could cook up, but he was in the conversation now.
Amida burst out laughing at the comment. "Tell me one thing that ain't dangerous over here," He said. "I'm pretty sure there are deadlier things in this bar than a little curiosity. 'Sides, a bit of danger makes life much more entertaining, I think"
He had noticed the other man reacting at any mention of the Empire or Darth Vader; much more so than any local he'd talk to before. He shrugged it off, figuring the man wasn't from around here. Or at least that's what he thought, looking at his well-kept appearance and demeanor. That only raised more questions as to why would a man like him be in the Rim, but he dismissed them. He certainly wouldn't be the first, nor the strangest case here.
The raven chuckled bitterly at the mention of Tarkin. "Ah, man, and I was startin' to forget that *******." He sighed. "Yeah, he was obviously pretty well-known around here. I wasn't the only one to celebrate his death; that's for sure. I'd like to think the galaxy's better without him, but I bet there are a hundred more like him in the Empire."
"Still think Vader takes the prize, though." He raised a hand towards the bartender, and then looked at the other. "Anyways, you look a little tense there, and this conversation is pretty depressing, so how about we have a drink to cheer ourselves up? Let's drink to Vader's death!"
XXX
The moment Piett finished hurriedly explaining his plan, an alarm burst from the ship's console.
"Sir!" snapped the pilot. "An unauthorized ship has jumped into the area. Requesting orders, sir."
The captain turned quickly to the main viewport and peered out, taking in Nathan's ship in the distance. "Hail them," he said quickly. Now was not the time for the rebels to be showing up to get their new recruit. "Unidentified Craft, this is Shuttle Pastillion of the Imperial Navy. Identify yourself and state your business at once."
XXX
Garrik shook his head slowly. "Oh...I'm not sure about that. You think about what happens if you start acting on that curiosity...You're from here, right? I'm sure you know what happens to people who ask too many questions." His words, he hoped, would not come off as a threat because they weren't supposed to, and he grinned just a touch to try and show that. Actually, he was, if a little slowly, starting to warm up to this man. It was sort of gratifying to speak to someone who believed a few of the same things he did for once, even if his volume was terrifying. Imperials on the same street would probably hear that laugh.
'Let's drink to Vader's death!'
Forget the laugh: bigger problems! Garrik almost went to slap a hand over his mouth at the treacherous toast, but someone across the room (someone possibly just as drunk) seconded him.
"Yeah! Death to the Cyborg Tyrant! And his prune-of-a-master too!"
Garrik's eyes widened for a moment, but he seemed to relax. Apparently, the man next to him was right: the Empire was not well liked down here at all. Slowly, very slowly, he placed a credit on the counter, picked up the mug as it skidded into his hand and raised it. "Death to the Empire," he said, still sort of dully amazed.