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Author	Topic: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 7 posted 10/22)
Corellian_Ale Registered: Mar '08	Date Posted: 5/12 10:43am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 7 posted 10/22) - Date Edited: 10/21 10:23pm (9 edits total) Edited By: Corellian_Ale
	Title: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition Author: Corellian_Ale Timeframe: Post Return of the Jedi; several years after the original Shades of Gray: The Adventures of Vyyk Tharen. Characters Mostly OC's. Genre: Drama, Heavy Angst, Some Mature Themes, Action and Adventure Summary: An ongoing fic about a young man who stumbles to find his place in a surprisingly small galaxy. Author Notes: Technically the sequel to Shades of Gray that will help tie up some loose ends, and hopefully give new life to some of your favorite characters. You don't have to have read SoG to keep up with this story and any relevant information from its predecessor will be shared and worked into the story. Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with George Lucas or any of the makers/producers/cast of Star Wars or LFL or its partners and affiliates. This is a publishing of fiction for entertainment purposes only. Everything is copyrighted to their rightful owner(s), and will be moved upon request of its (their’) owner(s). No profit is being made from this story. Prologue The shaking was uncontrollable as he watched Vyyk’s lifeless body float among the stars. Crouched in an access tube he had used to rescue the lives of New Republic pilots, he watched as the one person he couldn’t save that day was carried away by the cosmic winds. Dapen wrestled in vain with what he could have done differently. He wasn’t a trained emergency responder, nor had he anything above rudimentary first aid training. How did one keep their loved ones from dying? What kind of prevention did it take? Dapen knew the answer. You don’t become the source, the cause. Dapen was the reason Vyyk Tharen was dead. Five Years Later… The Out-of-Order Saloon; Daka’bour II, Mining colony on the fringe of the Corporate Sector Sithspit it burned…but it was good. It was probably the most devastatingly searing pain he had ever felt. Physically anyway. Almost. It was less painful than the last one. Still burned like hell though… Taping two fingers on the bar top to signal the server for a refill, Dapen stared up at the disheveled face looking back at him, his expression dark and brooding. The look was made grimmer by the horde of thick unkempt dreadlocks covered in dust and grunge framing his face. The man’s face was worn not by time but by circumstance, giving him a prematurely gray look. His bleary and blood shot eyes glared accusingly across at him. Dapen clenched his jaw matching the other’s look of disgust. Dapen turned his attention away to wrap his hand around the glass that had materialized in front of him. He lifted the frosted and slimmed glass tube in a mock salute before tipping his head back, draining the throat burning liquid in one swig. Burned less this time… good sign. Letting the glass fall to the counter he looked down the bar at the serving droid, and motioned for another refill. He looked back up at the face that loomed across from him, regretting it immediately. For a moment he thought he saw his potential future in the man’s eyes – but then reality set in, and Dapen realized it wasn’t so much the forthcoming he saw, but the immediate. Looking away from the mirror above the bar, he became agitated when he reached out for the refill that hadn’t arrived yet. Out of experience, he was sober enough to know that it would take at least three more mynock shooters before the reflection that vexed him was too blurry to even recognize anymore. Then at least he would be able to tolerate it. “The glass is a little to your left,” prompted the figure next to him. Snarling as his head involuntarily dipped his head for a view of the bar counter, he rolled and blinked his eyes to focus as he checked to his left – unsure if he should be happy or not that the statement was accurate. “Great, thanks” Dapen mumbled as he brought the glass closer, “now you can leave me alone.” “Someone’s gotta’ carry you home when you pass out from…” Dapen clumsily waved his hand to silence the speaker. Creating a cacophony of vile table manners, Dapen blended noisy swallowing of an empty throat to his overdone licking and smacking of his lips, prepping himself for another round. Better. The burning now just felt like a violent tickle. Dapen lazy looked over at his unwanted company; half-hoping he could drive him away with a threatening look. Secretly he didn’t want him to leave at all, and was convinced the other knew this already. “Sure in Nine Hells won’t be you doin’ the carrying,” Dapen grunted, “You’d probably run out again, leaving my face in my own vomit.” Regretting the harsh words immediately, Dapen lowered his head to rest his head on his fist’s knuckles, “You still look good if I didn’t mention it already.” “I better, I went through a hell of a lot to get my mug looking this good for so long.” Dapen rolled his chin across his knuckles to meet the red-headed young man’s eyes, wondering why he hadn’t seen the famous Solo features in his face years ago when they were growing up, “Don’t lecture me tonight Vyyk, I get that enough from Loki and the fiancé.” The young man he addressed raised his hands in surrender, the gesture enforcing his resemblance to the man many once believed to be his father, Han Solo. “Fine by me Dapen, but I figure Loki should be on his way to collect you soon anyway.” Dapen sighed in dismay; he looked exactly as Dapen remembered him. Dapen rocked his head in agreement, as he ploddingly - almost inaudibly tapped two fingers on the bar signaling for another round. Jerking his thumb behind him, he indicated a section of the bar with humanoid females performing various intricate ‘dance sequences’, “I’ll be gone by then, Loxxi gets off in about ten minutes.” Vyyk leaned in, cocking an eyebrow and lowering his voice, “Loxxi hmmm? She doesn’t look like your fiancé. I’m sure they must be good friends though…” “Vyyk…” Dapen threatened. Vyyk pulled back, “Just saying. How’s your leg feeling by the way?” Dapen sighed, “Just dandy, best shape money can buy,” making his claim poignant by knocking on his knee which had a slight metallic ring against his jewel-encrusted ring. “But you still walk with a limp sometimes, why is that?” Dapen turned his head and snarled at the smaller man, “Can still use it to kick your…” “Hey Marr, listen up.” Interrupted an annoyed sounding third party. The pair turned to the bartender that had cut in front of the serving droid before it reached Dapen with his drink, “Hey Onger.” Dapen mumbled, half-heartedly wondering if someone in the bar had recognized him and requested Onger ask if he could buy them a round of ales. The aging Devaronian with trinkets hanging from his horns – making him look feminine, and vastly out of place in his own establishment - placed his clawed hand palm down in front of Dapen, fingers spread wide. Dapen groaned at the well-known signal for being shut off from being served. The silent statement forced Dapen to straighten up slightly; indignant as he was. “Ya’ better go round back if’en yer gonna’ wait fer Loxxi, Marr.” The sternness in his gravelly voice unmistakable, “Yer freaking out my other customers by takin’ to yerself again. Dapen frowned at the statement, “Wuh?” Looking back to Vyyk with a smirk as if they held a private joke between them, the man felt a sudden surge of misery, almost bursting into tears when he found the barstool next to him empty. “Myself?” The occurrence was happening more and more often these days; Vyyk had run out on him, again. Dapen tossed a handful of cred-coins onto the bar as he stood to leave, shaky for a moment before he got his footing. He looked at the barkeeper quickly before shifting his eyes away shamefully, “Sorry Onger, I didn’t mean no harm.” “Course ya’ didn’t Marr,” the Devaronian soothed unconvincingly, eyeing the lumbering human as he stumbled towards the side entrance, lowering his voice to barely a whisper, “ya' never do.” -----signature----- "An elegant weapon for more civilized times, eh?" "Well, guess what, times have changed." - "Boss"; RC-1138 Shades of Gray II - Acts of Contrition: http://boards.theforce.net/b/b1/30043243
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MsLanna Title: CR GSFF Central = Offizieller Burger Brater Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 5/13 1:04am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition
	w00t, it's back! Finally, yay! Count me in. So Dapen blames himself for Vyyk's dead and now he's seeing things when drunk. Or is he not? I am curious to see hsi fiance, I mean in his state...? -----signature----- I give up. Fett is great. Member of the waadas'dar Club. Cuyir adate jate, bal droten ori'dush Proud Master and buir'ika of Commander_Ducky. My New Title: Lords and Ladies of the Empire
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Ceillean Title: Scattergories and 20 Questions Hostess Registered: Nov '01	Date Posted: 5/13 3:17am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition
	I like this a lot. PM's when update perhaps? So Vyyk is somehow related to Han Solo, did I get that right? Dapen...the poor guy. Highly interested in how this goes on. -----signature----- I claim Kyp Durron. I'm developing this thing for Captain Kirk.
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VaderLVR64 Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 5/13 4:51am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition
	I already know that I'm going to love this! Please add me to the PM list if you can. -----signature----- R.I.P John, Alex, Jason, and Christian Never forgotten Soldiers' Angels http://soldiersangels.org/ 2114 soldiers waiting for someone to care
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Commander-DWH Title: Shiny Fan Fiction Manager Registered: Nov '03	Date Posted: 5/13 9:11am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition
	walks in, plops down, waits for more story That is to say, why the heck have I never gotten around to reading your stuff? I'm definitely intrigued, and I'll also have to go back and catch the first installment. Put me on the PM list for this one, if you please. -----signature----- Complements (KOTOR)- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/21177927/ Luminosity- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27900517/ Barefoot hippie in the OC revolution Master of the lovely and talented SoA
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amidalachick Registered: Aug '03	Date Posted: 5/19 2:28pm Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition
	Yay sequel! Awww, Dapen's not doing too good, is he? I'm definitely interested to see where this goes. Add me to the PM list, please! -----signature----- "So I can open my own can of pudding, can I? Shows what you know, Marge!"
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correllian_ale Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Jun '05	Date Posted: 5/26 7:50am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition - Chapter One - Date Edited: 6/21 7:48pm (3 edits total) Edited By: correllian_ale
	EDIT: Ooops! Used the wrong username! Don't be confused! Readers! And here I thought this would sink like a rock! To those of you who followed the original "Shades of Gray", you may find yourself bit lost and confused as to what has transpired in the years since we last saw Vyyk, and Dapen and the rest. But no worries, that just puts you on even ground with the newer readers. And before you start asking 'what happened to so-and-so?', etc.; rest assured all will be explained in good time. For clues keep an eye on the epigraphs I'll be preceeding each chapter with. Anyway, much has happened to our old comedic relief Dapen Marr in the five years since that fateful day above Neimoidia; now almost seven years as of this chapter, but hopefully the abence of past won't leave you feeling too lost. For those hoping to read a sad story of a guy in a bar, well it's about to move in a completely different direction! On with the show... MsLanna: It's great to have you back! And these characters are like a pair of my favorite old sneakers, a little banged up; but they still fit great. (no spoilers for you!) Ceillean: Yeah, ol' Han and Vyyk are like second cousins twice removed, or some such nonsense. Glad to have you aboard! Vadey: I already know that I'm going to love this! - Really?!? Really?!? How could you? You weren't even clairvoyant enough to conjur up some stolen data tapes... Thanks! Commander: Hey! Whoa! I don't go plopping around on any of your stories! Wait, I should really finish reading before I repond to stuff. amidalachick: Another friendly face I'm glad to see return! (aaaand added). Chapter 1 “Look at that Dapen, somewhere amongst all those stars Han Solo and Chewbacca are being celebrated as liberators. No wonder Wookiees call him the ‘freer of slaves’. Someday people will look at us like that. We’ll crash into the galaxy and bring people to their feet like this.” - A young Vyyk Tharen to Dapen Marr during a celebration as the news reaches Kashyyyk over the declaration of the destruction of the second Death Star, and the deaths of Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader. Jabba’s Palace, Western Dune Sea, Tatooine – 14:05:11 ABY (Almost two years after the incident in the Out-of-Order Salon) click “I don’t think this is going to work.” click click “Stow it.” click - “Thems sandraiders is coming.” “What?” “Thems sandraiders is coming,” repeated the gravelly sounding voice. “Look.” - The Jawa bounced around on the beast’s mount, clinging desperately to the Bantha he sat atop, looking as if he were trying to uproot tubers with his two handfuls of fur. The much larger being aloft behind him kept the Jawa in place with his massive thighs, but that didn’t satisfy the little creature’s lack of faith in his sense of balance. The parade of Banthas and their mummy-wrapped riders shuffled along the rocky path leading to the centuries old structure. The former monastery; now more commonly referred to as Jabba’s Palace by the locals; would be considered a masterpiece on any other planet. Unfortunately, the harshness of Tatooine life had worn down the elegance of the design, eradicating any hopes of winning architectural awards. The Tusken hunting party guided their massive steeds cautiously as they drew close enough to see the details of the monastery’s front gate. The lead Bantha boasted the apparent leader of the hunters, along with the complaining Jawa who rode in his lap like a small child with their parent. Three riders followed in single-file, typical of the beings residents had come to refer to as the Sand People. The rear trio –who’s wrapped bodies seemed to portray no uniform shape - were of various sizes for their kind, but were no less menacing than their chief was. - Pinhuk looked up towards the hole in the tower’s roof that acted as a skylight. His face was unable to display both his annoyance and jealousy at the fellow Weequay standing on lookout duty. The Tatooine suns were hot, but he would trade away the cool shade of the dark room for the scorching temperatures of the twin suns in a heartbeat. “You mean Sandpeople or Tusken Raiders?” the Weequay hollered back up towards the ceiling. His leathery skin itched in agitation at his brethren’s ignorance. It was because of him and older members of his people that gave the rest of galaxy the impression that they were a species of simpletons. Basic wasn’t that hard of a language to grasp. “What’s difference?” Chooka responded, sounding genuinely confused by the comment. “None; just stop sounding like a bumpkin is all. Do they seem like they’re hostile?” Gods help him if he asks what hostile means. “They’ve got they’re fightin’ sticks. And I think they have another one of those little stinkers with them.” - As the parade of Banthas neared the sandblasted palace, the lead rider held up the Jawa that had ridden in his lap and shook it around as if he was trying to use the little creature to coax a krayt dragon out of its cave with a treat. The Tusken’s barks and growls came through as deep and throaty as he held the twittering little Jawa out before him like a prize. Or a dare. - Pinhuk grunted as the stink of dozens of miniature-robed beings continued to make him nauseas. As a member of a race of beings that communicated mainly with pheromones; the widely unpleasant smell and hormones of the Jawas had been torturing him for days now. In frustration and disgust, he sent a hard kick into the diminutive figure at the bottom of the ladder, sending the chattering creature sailing across the room, assuredly breaking some its bones. “Now he’s shaking it like a flag, think he wants us to come and get him?” Vainly baring his blunt teeth at the terrified huddled little robes in the corner, Pinhuk found himself mumbling as he stormed up the ladder, “Great.” - click “You’re kidding me, right?” click - “Poodoo.” Pinhuk grumbled. His band of slavers had rounded up a number of the little desert scavengers called Jawas, enough volume to make the trip to Tatooine profitable. Somehow the slave market had a sudden demand for nasty little grubbers. While he didn’t mind picking up the occasional straggler that showed up at the gates of Jabba’s Palace looking to barter; he didn’t want the Sand People showing up in droves, looking to barter for the little buggers, bringing unwanted attention to his illegal operation. Even in the Outer Rim, Pinhuk wasn’t guaranteed immunity from the New Republic’s impartial brand of law and order. He cursed under his breath as he began climbing the ladder to the lookout, thinking about now he had to accept the Tusken’s offer, if only to replace the one he had just damaged out of temper. As long as his contact came through with the freighter for pickup with a cargo full of credits, the whole trip back to Tatooine will have been worth it. If he could make enough credits to fulfill his clans’ debts to the Desilijic Hutt clan, he might be able to erase the shame of indentured servitude to the late Jabba the Hutt for all those years. Of course it all hinged on him and his clan mates remaining undiscovered until the slave trade ship arrived for pick-up of the Jawa cargo. - “Scan ‘em?” Pinhuk snapped as he reached the top. His leather-skinned cohort nodded. “Last one has cybernetics, no weapons on ‘em.” He grunted. Pinhuk grunted in return. He never heard of Tusken with cybernetic parts, but then again, as far as he knew, they were some sort of cult that either absorbed you into their ranks, or eliminated you. For all he could tell the one with replacement limbs was someone they came close to eliminating. He reached into the only cargo case he brought with them, and pulled out a rifle like slugthrower. “Guddra get out there, we’ll cover you.” He ordered the third Weequay in their party, “As soon as you’ve got the little stinker, we’ll pick ‘em off.” Guddra just grunted in response, his scent betraying his displeasure at being sent out to face the Tuskens alone. He drew the blaster on his hip, quietly assuring himself that he wasn’t truly going alone. “The Jawa, if they look to barter for it?” Guddra asked. “That means they’ve seen you round up the Jawas and followed you here,” Pinhuk snarled, “which means if they’ve seen and tracked you, anyone could have!” “No, no! They’re not that smart! I swear, I’m going to get the stinker, and you kill off the Sandraiders from the tower. We’ll be gone by the time anyone realizes what we’re doing! I swear! No witnesses!” Pinhuk’s lip curled, displaying his second row of teeth, all razor sharp “You better hope so, or you’re dead.” The other Weequay snarled back in defiance. Since the death of his former master Jabba the Hutt some years earlier, he had found himself less and less willing to be subjugated by another’s will, desperate for this plan to buy out his clan's freedom. As he shouldered past the duo, he checked his side arm, only to have it snatched from his hand by the Pinhuk. The self declared leader tossed the slug-thrower rifle to the slaver, “You should know sand jams up them blasters.” - The troupe of Sand People stopped a few dozen meters short of the ominous gate, the leader continuing to shake the Jawa in his fist like a dead womp rat, all the while, his snarling intensifying as he waited with impa-tience. - The Tusken stopped braying as the massive gate began to grind slowly upwards, acknowledging that the rusted slabs of steel would drown out his cries. With noise that sounded like two speeders crashing headlong into each other, the retractions stopped only a third of the way up, its massive gears were so corroded by Tatooine’s harsh climate. A leather skinned creature emerged from the dark maw that was the mouth of Jabba’s Palace, shielding his eyes from the torture of the mid afternoon sun. “What do you want Tusken?” The creature’s voice sounded guttural even to a Tusken. He dumped his prized Jawa across the cranium of the spiral horned beast he rode, showing little regard for the creature that he would deliver into apparent slavery. Leaping off the large mount and landing in a crouch, his athleticism obviously impressing the Weequay; the Tusken leader began barking and grunting in his native language, of which Pinhuk understood nothing. Wrapped in tattered robes and various other strips of cloth to protect him from the desert’s unforgiving elements, the leader of the Sand People strode up to the Weequay, standing a good head taller than the hired thug. - click “Get ready, Tusken leader is in position.” click - Jutting an open palm towards Guddra, and stabbing the index finger of the other into it, imitating gestures he had witnessed among the other inhabitants of Tatooine, he looked to be demanding payment for the Jawa. “I don’t know what you saying. What you want in trade?” Guddra asked, suddenly feeling less brave now that he was witness to the Tusken’s mere mass. Not understanding the basics of bartering, the lead Tusken returned to jutting out his open palm, adding threatening barks to punctuate his demands. “What? What do you want for dessert rat? I can give you a cantina of water.” Guddra offered. The gesture had him convincing himself to be brilliant by bartering with the most precious commodity in the desert. He held out the water-filled bladder that hung from his belt. The Tusken didn’t seem to find the deal as appealing as Guddra thought he would as he shook his head vehemently, like a Wookiee avoiding an odd smelling garbage chute. The Weequay began to grow frustrated, despite his wariness over the other looming over him. “I don’t know what you want; I got nothing else for you!” To Guddra’s surprise, he believed he had intimidated the leader of the Sand People when the swathed hunter took a step back. They just need to be shown who’s boss, he thought. His arrogance was proven wrong as the Tusken pointed at Guddra’s rifle, braying and howling. He wanted the weapon. - click “As soon as the slugthrower is in leader’s hands.” click - Looking from above the other two Weequay waited with mild interest, blasters ready, curious to whether Guddra would be naive enough to hand over the rifle in trade for the smelly Jawa. “We shoot the riders if he hands over the slugthrower, right away” Pinhuk instructed Chooka, “Got it?” Annoyed at not even being given a response, Pinhuk looked back at him, drawing his gaze away from the scene below. “What’s the matter? Can’t even grunt any…” Irritation turned to panic as he found his partner only an arm’s length away, was tumbling backwards against the ledge of the tower; his listless frame telling a story Pinhuk already knew the end to. Time slowed to spread over an eternity as Chooka slipped backwards, falling face up to display the fatal blaster hole to the Tatooine sky. Pinhuk turned back to the scene below, knowing he was already dead by the red target lighting up his sternum, “Trap!” Punctuating his cry, Pinhuk collapsed backwards to join his comrade in the abyss of death. - Chooka wasn’t too confidant in handing over the rifle, although in the back of his mind he knew by the time the simple-minded desert nomad explored the weapon and figured out how it operated, his kin watching over him from the tower will have wiped out the Tusken party. “Trap!” Always thinking himself the most intelligent of the Weequay in the slavers band gave him only enough insight to tell him he had committed himself to death as he let the vocal distraction draw away his attention, even for the briefest of moments. As his common sense came into play, and he returned his attention back from his partner’s cries to the looming figure in sand-colored robes, he had already been stripped of the weapon and found himself with the rifle pointed at his forehead. He closed his eyes and waited for the oncoming darkness as the raider bellowed and howled. He felt more than heard the trigger cock and release. But in that brief moment before the darkness of his closed eyes became permanent, he would have sworn the Tusken’s war cry sounded oddly like basic. “Yoof were suppofed to wait until I halfed his rifle!” - Minutes later, three of the Bantha riders and the shaken Jawa filed into the small antechamber next to where the slavers had been holding the kidnapped Jawas. After dumping the Weequay bodies into the corner, they immediately they began bickering and stripping off the layers of robes and garments they had stolen from the Tusken hunting party they had ambushed several days earlier. The one that the slavers had identified as the leader struggled with the head wrap as he tried to bellow through the mouth filter that had smelled as if it had been soaked in rotten meat. “Whaf de ell waf that?” He hollered; still tugging at the head wrap that had become entangled with his long thick dreadlocks. The smallest of the group, who was actually too tall to be masquerading as a Jawa pulled his hood back, revealing a wide nostril Snivvian with thick wrinkled skin and short protruding fangs, “I could ask YOU the very same thing! I’ve got whiplash Marr!” he hollered at the taller human. Giving up on unwrapping the bandage like head wrap, the dark-skinned human leader pushed back the cloth like a hood letting the dusty cloth hang from his hair. “It’s that method acting class I’ve been taking at the community center. Just be glad I didn’t snap your neck.” “Poodoo Marr! I said this wasn’t going to work right up until the end!” the Snivvian snapped back as he balled up the Jawa robes and tossed them at the much larger human harmlessly. “Except for your whining, how didn’t work?” the human hollered, agitated by both the heat, and the Snivvian’s complaints. The Tusken nearest to the Dapen Marr let his desert garb fall to the sand carpeted floor to expose what scanners had misread as cybernetics to be a shiny metallic-black LOM protocol droid, with large insectiod-like compound eyes. “On a positive note, the transmitter installed into your filter broadcast my Tusken perfectly, with no one knowing the difference.” Dapen whipped around, jamming his finger at the bug-eyed droid, “Did you target the tower?!?!” “I’m dreadfully sorry!” The droid’s arrogant voice dripped with sarcasm, “I truly had your best interests at heart when I eradicated the snipers in the tower. You know, before your little plan got to play out for your amusement and you developed a bad case of blaster hole in the chest! Next time I’ll remind myself how detailed my human biological and medical programming is and let you be shot so I can put them to practice!” The largest of the faux-Tuskens had skipped the tedious business of un-wrapping his cumbersome disguise and just tore the clothing apart with his massive furry paws. The gigantic fur covered biped seemed to be in no mood to join in the argument, his only concern being to remove the source of his discomfort as he began scratching himself where the sand had been trapped in his sweat-matted fur, irritating his skin underneath. Marr nodded in his direction, “Krrll?” The black furred Wookiee just grumbled an ascent to the unasked question; are you good? The final rider entered the room, blaster in hand, “All clear, just us and the Jawas; and some vermin.” Tusken number four stated in female monotone fashion as she disrobed, unveiling a green-skinned Twi’lek female with a single lekku, and an ominous stump where the other would be. The hardness in her eyes contradicted her femininity regularly associated with her kind. “What are we doing with the Jawas?” She showed no modesty, or self-consciousness in the room filled with males as she hunched down in her undergarments, searching her backpack for her more traditional tunic and pants. “Shoo them back into the desert for all I care, but you can keep one to do your laundry if you want.” Dapen cracked, wiping the sweat from his face and forehead with the back of his sleeve. The Snivvian, Shukker busied himself checking the fit of his thermal flight suit not even looking up as he nonchalantly offered his opinion, “Sell ‘em.” “Oh, so we’re slave trading now?” Marr questioned, not with judgment but annoyance, “Loki, who’s dealing in a bunch of desert scavengers nowadays?” “My memory serves up no immediate names,” the droid responded, “but there’s a market for everything; even these little miscreants whose body odor offends even me.” “As far as those scavenging little excrements, I agree with the snaggletooth,” Loki continued with his tirade, making sure to letting the derogatory term used to describe Shukker’s species hang for a moment. “It doesn’t look like the Weequay – and I do mean weak - had a way to transport the Jawas off planet, otherwise they’d be gone by now. They don’t strike me as desert rat collectors, so we just sell the little poodoos to the slavers who plan on picking up the delivery, see if they have any other jobs to throw our way, and eventually find ourselves sniffing our way back to their benefactor.” “I’m pretty sure they’re tax deductable if we list them as dependants.” Shukker added sarcastically. Marr raised a bolt-pierced eyebrow at the proposition, “We keep all the payouts of course?” The droid tilted his head as if confused by the question, “Of course.” Dapen smirked and nodded, “of course.” *** I plan on updating every two weeks, so anyone else wanting to be tacked onto the PM list, let me know. -----signature----- Consider this my "throw back" jersey... I govern my life around my own personal code of ethics, and I suggest that you do the same.
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MsLanna Title: CR GSFF Central = Offizieller Burger Brater Registered: Jul '05	Date Posted: 5/30 2:19am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 1 posted 5/26)
	w00t? I can't belive I'm the first to reply, not after waiting so long. I absolutely love the style. The small bits of the transmissions that make not much sense until the end of the chapter, are wonderful, they keep you wondering what's going on without giving away anything. I can't believe Dapen's fallen so low he's doing slavery. What is he thinking? And who's that TwiLek woman? She seems tough. Looking forward to finding out what Dapen's doing on Tatooine, how come he's not working for the army any more and all that. -----signature----- I give up. Fett is great. Member of the waadas'dar Club. Cuyir adate jate, bal droten ori'dush Proud Master and buir'ika of Commander_Ducky. My New Title: Lords and Ladies of the Empire
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amidalachick Registered: Aug '03	Date Posted: 6/3 12:23pm Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 1 posted 5/26)
	Yay, Tatooine action! does happy dance The Tatooine suns were hot, but he would trade away the cool shade of the dark room for the scorching temperatures of the twin suns in a heartbeat. You and me both, Pinhuk! It's nice to see familiar faces like Loki, and the new characters are intriguing. Great update! -----signature----- "So I can open my own can of pudding, can I? Shows what you know, Marge!"
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Ceillean Title: Scattergories and 20 Questions Hostess Registered: Nov '01	Date Posted: 6/8 1:12pm Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 1 posted 5/26)
	That droid is a hoot. Loved that you named him Loki, by the way. Very interested on how this goes on now. Thanks for the PM! -----signature----- I claim Kyp Durron. I'm developing this thing for Captain Kirk.
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VaderLVR64 Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 6/12 4:33am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 1 posted 5/26)
	That droid may end up being the show-stealer! Loved it all, and this little gem really caught my eye: The Tusken didn’t seem to find the deal as appealing as Guddra thought he would as he shook his head vehemently, like a Wookiee avoiding an odd smelling garbage chute. Nice nod to the OT! -----signature----- R.I.P John, Alex, Jason, and Christian Never forgotten Soldiers' Angels http://soldiersangels.org/ 2114 soldiers waiting for someone to care
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Corellian_Ale Registered: Mar '08	Date Posted: 6/22 5:31pm Subject: RE: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 2 posted 6/22) - Date Edited: 6/23 6:36am (2 edits total) Edited By: Corellian_Ale
	Okay, I know I said every 2 weeks, but Awards have distracted me a bit (even though this has been ready to go for a while now...) MsL: I can't believe Dapen's fallen so low he's doing slavery. What is he thinking? And who's that TwiLek woman? She seems tough. Looking forward to finding out what Dapen's doing on Tatooine, how come he's not working for the army any more and all that. And how can I get a CD with and interest rate that will match the rise of inlation??? Agh... Too many questions. All in good time my dear. amidalachick: In the original SoG sequel, Loki wanted to be the headliner, but I was able to make some concessions to his contract to appease him with second billing. And I hope you enjoy the new characters as much as the old. Ceilean: You know in the first SoG, Loki garnered the majority of comments too! Great, now he's looking to renegotiate. VaderLVR64: sigh Yes, Loki is greeeeaaaaat! (there Loki, happy?) And yeah, I like to remember where we came from, from time to time. Thanks for reading everybody! Dramatis Personae: Dapen Marr; undercover New Republic Security operative (male Corellian) Estefan Sorriattai; New Republic Senator , Chairman of the New Republic Senate Anti-Crime and Security Committee (male Nubian) Krrll (Krrllarka); undercover New Republic Security operative(male Wookiee) Loki, L0-K1; undercover New Republic Security operative (masculine LOM Protocol Droid) Menos Hit’ten; undercover New Republic Security operative (female Twi'lek) Shukker; undercover New Republic Security operative (male Snivvian) ”Greppy” Grepamm Yan’sey; undercover New Republic Security operative (male Bothan) Vyyk Tharen; childhood friend of Dapen Marr, deceased (male Corellian) Kaine Reus spice dealer (male Bakuran) Prall the Hutt majority owner of PharmCorp, and criminal overlord (male Hutt) Chapter 2 Rookie All-star claims to haunt Skull Cracker fans. By Valed Arden KARFEDDION – In one of the most outrageous professional Smashball press conferences in recent history, Corellian Dreadnaught’s star rookie Dapen Marr outraged Skull Cracker fans the galaxy over with boisterous claims of ending the team’s playoff dreams prematurely. Addressing a media blitz of sports reporters and fans alike, both teams’ captains and coaches assembled for a joint press conference which was subsequently high-jacked by the Dreadnaught's high profile rookie player. The 19-Year old Marr, who had not scheduled to participate in the press junket; scoffed at the chances of the Skull Crackers, dismissing the ‘Cracker’s advantage of playing in their home stadium. When asked about the Skull Cracker’s almost miracle season, Marr compared himself to Lord Nyax, the mythical Corellian phantom that came into children’s room’s at night and stole them away. “Just like I’ll be stealin’ the dreams of all them 'Cracker fans.” (ISL FanNet / Karfeddion HoloNet News - 10:04:29 ABY) ll Avali, Druckenwell - 14:05:14 ABY Walking through the dirty overcrowded streets of II Avali’s Worker’s District, the pair walked with an air of sub-dued malice, creating an imaginary bubble of protection as the disorganized crowd of travelers gave them a wide berth. The much larger of the two portrayed the impression of an elegant thug. His ebony skin, glistened with tight muscles where untouched by tattoos. His body was powerful, and he held the posture of a violent killer, yet his movements remained graceful. A dozen or so thick dreadlocks pulled back neatly with a gold band bounced with his steps. He spoke quietly, and cautiously; much like a confidant, or bodyguard. Despite the natural intimidation of the large man’s stature, it was the smaller man that passersby found much more unsettling. His eyes told of a man that could inflict more pain and damage mentally than his companion ever could physically. His posture and speech was aristocratic, measured by a man used to piercing armor with his words. His own stride was methodical, calculating, and predatory. He showed no urgency to maintain pace with the dark skinned man beside him, and in fact, it was the larger who was matching the agonizingly shorter strides. The shorter of the two listened intently to every word of the details his escort was providing him, absorbing what was said - just as importantly - what was not said. He never stopped the other’s progress, only once or twice to ask a question of clarification. As the larger man’s report came to a close, the smaller maintained his pace, concentrating on the path ahead of him. “So what of the Jawas you found in their possession?” he inquired of the larger, “What has been done with them?” “Released ‘em back into the wild,” he responded. The smaller man stopped short, his eyes boring into the other’s face, searching. “Really?” The larger was long past the intimidation individuals felt of his benefactor’s glare. He shrugged, “Loki tried taking statements from the lot of ‘em, but we kept getting mixed up which ones we already spoke to.” The other looked up at him without any hint of discomfort at the size difference. His cold blue eyes were seperated by a pointed thin nose, reminding Dapen of a holo-character he from his childhood whose name he couldn’t quite recall. A mad scientist and cult leader whom always concocted webs of mad schemes with which to entangle those around him, and although the other characters knew the scientist was self-serving in his de-signs, they always found themselves drawn to his charismatic self-assuredness. Dapen knew that was how he had found himself tangled up with the Estefan Sorriattai to begin with. “What do you know of the slave runners?” Sorriattai asked Dapen in a manner that betrayed that he already knew the answer. “Local thugs,” Dapen responded as he pulled a data chip from his pocket, handing it over, “One of them used to be employed by Jabba the Hutt. He probably had the code to get in; which explains why they used the old slug’s digs as a hideout. The others are minor criminals, maybe clan members recruited to make a quick cred.” “Obviously they were not professionals.” “Nah, not even close.” “And do we know who they were to deliver the Jawas to?” asked the other, again sounding like he already had all the answers he needed, and was just looking for confirmation. “During the raid the crew was blasted in a shootout, had I known there was only three of them…” Dapen let the statement hang for a moment. “They had no ship of their own, so they must have been waiting for a pick-up; but after a day we had to blast out of there. After all, you’re only here for twenty-seven hours, right?” The older man stopped short, and turned to his companion, letting the entrance of the Happy’s Landing Tavern frame him like a photo, “You could have left some of your team behind to wait for the pick-up. Please don’t try to blame me for your lack of management skills.” He paused thoughtfully, “Come, join me for a drink.” Frowning at the shorter man, Dapen seemed to be almost pleading with his eyes, to which he received only a careless gaze in response. Sighing as he watched the man turn his back unconcerned and enter the tavern, Dapen took a deep breath before he followed inside. Inside they were greeted by dim artificial light, and only three or four other beings, including the female Theelin behind the bar. Dapen reluctantly followed his companion to the bar. The crimson haired female’s freckles around her neckline darkened as she watched him approach, never acknowledging his smaller companion. Dapen smiled in a way he knew most female humanoids found disarming, “Hey there.” “Hey there yourself,” responded the heavy-set woman, who obviously thought her husky bac-smoker voice to be alluring, “what are you drinking sweets?” Dapen nodded marginally as he ordered, “Elba water please,” then tipped his head towards his cohort. “Your finest Nubian merlot.” Sorriattai commanded more than requested. The barmaid snorted at the request, “Sorry, just served the last to that guy,” she spat sarcastically, jerking her spiky hair towards the drunken Aqualish at the end of the bar, a slobbering drunk surrounded by empty mugs. Dapen accepted his drink with a nod and a wink, “Just give him the finest Corellian brandy you have, trust me, he can afford it.” The other squinted in annoyance as he removed his glass of brandy from the bar top, nodding towards an empty booth at the back of the room. “You do understand that while Druckenwell may be officially neutral, there is still quite the contingent of Im-perial sympathizers.” Dapen scoffed as they passed a booth of younger males, “Look around, we’re in a blue collar bar,” Dapen stopped short in front of the two young men, pointing at his companion as he passed, “Hey guys, look! It’s Estefan Sorriattai!” Dapen walked away as they just stared back dumfounded in response, “See? Nobody cares.” “It is somewhat low brow in here;” he conceded, “all the same, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me throwing out your name to our fellow patrons.” Sorriattai retorted as he slid into the booth, facing the main door. Just to satisfy the man, Dapen lowered his tone, “So assuming you’re all set chewing my hide over the Jawas, what’s next? Someone’s gotten to collecting those little buggers; I figure you’re so irate over how we blew it, that you want me to find out why.” “Actually no, I think you’ve completed you incompetence over the situation, so I’ll just pass the intel onto someone else and see what they make of it for the time being.” Estefan turned towards the wall of the booth, activating the small holo-projector, tuning it to the Coruscant Inter-Galactic Holo News, “for now I want you to concentrate on a news story coming out of the Core.” Dapen took a long swig from the ice-cold water, watching as Sorriattai adjusted the controls. The pair turned their attention to the poorly maintained projector that flickered in hues so dark, they could barely distinct the images of the newscaster. “…Chief of State Leia Organa Solo’s office has issued a statement ‘thanking citizens for their concern and well-wishes, reminding the populace of the New Republic that should anyone have any information regarding the abduction of her children, no matter how credible, to please report it to your local law enforcement officials.’ The statement goes on to insist that the NR Intelligence is following several solid leads, and as of yet has to uncover any evidence of Imperial involvement.’ We’ll have more on this story as it develops. “We’ll be back with more headlines after the following break, thanks for choosing the CIG Nightly News.” Dapen reclined in what to him was a cramped booth, openly agitated by the news. Dapen had quite a unique situation of growing up as a Corellian, hero-worshipping Han Solo. “You need us to do some poking around general Solo’s old smuggler friends and see what they may know about this?” Sorriattai scrunched his face with disgust, “Absolutely not, that I’m sure is a political abduction, and doesn’t concern us.” Dapen raised his bolt pierced eyebrow, much as Sorriattai had done to him earlier, “Really?” “Stay away from this Marr, do you understand? None of your ‘poking around’, which is just your little euphemism for strong-arming the seedier side of the galaxy until you hear what you want to believe. We have other poodoo to concern you with.” Marr took another swig of his bottled water, “Tsk, tsk. Such language…” “Welcome back, and thank-you for staying tuned to the CIG Nightly News. “There is more disturbing news out of Coruscant this evening. Several unexplained deaths of adolescents hailing from Core System worlds have investigators puzzled as to the nature of the youths’ shocking demise. All of the deceased are offspring of dignitaries and influential figures on their homeworld, leading New Republic investigators to believe they may potentially be victims of foul play. Several of the youngsters have become public figures themselves in recent years, as media darlings in gossip holo-shows over the past few years. Of the six reported deaths, the most shocking of those named so far is sixteen-year-old Jendi Korden, daughter of Naboo Senator Arani Korden. New Republic Capitol Security reports the young woman was found dead in her mother’s hotel room by one of the senator’s aides. This report brings the tragic tally of recently found dead in the past few days up to six. As reported yesterday, Jendi Kroden’s socialite cohort, aspiring singer and granddaughter of Kuati Drive Yard’s current Kuat of Kuat, Cherrieha Fanal was also found dead under similar circumstances.” Dapen turned to Sorriattai as he turned off the projector, “Any chance this is related to the Solo kidnapping?” Estefan sighed heavily, emphasizing his irritation with Marr’s obsession with the subject, “Hardly. What hasn’t been reported yet due to my efforts to withhold it from the press is that all of the deceased autopsy reports indicate varying quantities of a previously unseen strain of spice in their blood systems. It may be in the media by now, this transmission is almost two day old by now.” Dapen lounged back in his seat, resting his elbows on the back of the chair, “So what, you want me to find out who sold the spice to the rich kids who overdosed?” “I would think you of all people would be a bit more sympathetic. After all, you know first-hand the trappings of sudden freedoms paired with a healthy bank account.” Clenching his jaw in anger at the statement, Dapen shook his head in disgust. “I know you don’t want to, but with most of the New Republic’s non-military resources tied up finding the Chief of State’s children, the last thing we need is the media concocting conspiracy theories of Imperial agents attacking the families of high profile NR personas.” “Since when are we worried about the Empire’s feelings? “ Estefan stared up into the larger Dapen’s eyes, “We’re not. We are rebuilding a government that after thou-sands of years became so corrupt that it allowed the rise of the vilest dictator in these millennia. We don’t need these sorts of distractions. Distractions like this necessitate allowing teams like yours to become a commonplace in order to maintain our government’s security.” Not for the first time in their relationship, Dapen let his annoyance at Sorriattai's degrating of the team he himself had assembled, “Hey, unless you forget, we're sanctioned by the New Republic; and were implemented by you, so stop preaching.” Sorriattai slid his still full glass of brandy aside, leaning in as his voice lowered, “May I remind you how illegal some of your activities are? I don’t report your means, just your results; but ten years ago, you’d just be a group of goons employed by COMPNOR, and your less than desirable behavior would be touted by Isard herself as heroic. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re not sanctioned by the New Republic Security Advisory Council. You’re part of a covert force – unofficially sanctioned by my office - funded by an oversight in the New Republic security budget.” “Don’t lay that poodoo on me, I just do as instructed,” Dapen retorted, ignoring how his voice was rising, looking away carelessly, “That’s exactly how Palpatine took over, by taking advantage of distractions by implementing methods such as yours. You’re the one pulling my strings remember?” “Yes, and lately I’ve been letting your strings get a little too loose,” Sorriattai snarled, “because you’ve almost got enough slack to hang your whole team with. “ Dapen let the comment hang unanswered as he glared at the man across the table. “Your own little Cuy’val Dar, huh?” The smaller man looked lazily back at him, completely unthreatened, “Unsanctioned or not, technically you and your band of merry beings belong to the New Republic. Now drop it. And I can only guess where you picked that phrase up from,” he retorted dryly. “Your pronunciation is atrocious.” The two stared at each other accusingly, before he continued speaking in a low malicious even tone, “You will drop this whole hero nonsense about chasing after the Solo brats, just so you can recapture some long lost media recognition. I need you to find out where this string of spice is coming from before it hits the common populace. Track that spice supply to its source, and eliminate it. Do we have an understanding?” Ignoring Marr’s glare, Sorriattai slid his partially consumed brandy before Dapen and rose quietly from the table, pausing next to Dapen before walking away. Never looking Dapen’s way, Sorriattai whispered ominously, “I suggest that next time you pay for the drinks, trust me, you can still afford it.” For a while afterwards, Dapen continued to sit quietly staring at the spot Sorriattai had occupied, forcing himself to ignore the brandy glass before him. ***** I may hold off on the nex chapter for an extra week or two due to the awards... -----signature----- "An elegant weapon for more civilized times, eh?" "Well, guess what, times have changed." - "Boss"; RC-1138 Shades of Gray II - Acts of Contrition: http://boards.theforce.net/b/b1/30043243
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amidalachick Registered: Aug '03	Date Posted: 6/27 3:17pm Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 2 posted 6/22) - Date Edited: 6/27 3:22pm (1 edits total) Edited By: amidalachick
	Ah, the plot thickens... So Dapen used to be a big sports star, and now he's a...semi-legal undercover agent? Very interesting. Sorriattai is another intriguing new character. Hmmm, sounds like a bit of a conspiracy with the deaths and the spice...somehow, I don't think it'll be just a routine investigation for Dapen and his team. Anyway, excellent update, and I'm very much looking forward to the next one! -----signature----- "So I can open my own can of pudding, can I? Shows what you know, Marge!"
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VaderLVR64 Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Feb '04	Date Posted: 7/8 5:03am Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 2 posted 6/22)
	Not for the first time in their relationship, Dapen let his annoyance at Sorriattai's degrating of the team he himself had assembled, “Hey, unless you forget, we're sanctioned by the New Republic; and were implemented by you, so stop preaching.” Sorriattai slid his still full glass of brandy aside, leaning in as his voice lowered, “May I remind you how illegal some of your activities are? I don’t report your means, just your results; but ten years ago, you’d just be a group of goons employed by COMPNOR, and your less than desirable behavior would be touted by Isard herself as heroic. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re not sanctioned by the New Republic Security Advisory Council. You’re part of a covert force – unofficially sanctioned by my office - funded by an oversight in the New Republic security budget.” “Don’t lay that poodoo on me, I just do as instructed,” Dapen retorted, ignoring how his voice was rising, looking away carelessly, “That’s exactly how Palpatine took over, by taking advantage of distractions by implementing methods such as yours. You’re the one pulling my strings remember?” “Yes, and lately I’ve been letting your strings get a little too loose,” Sorriattai snarled, “because you’ve almost got enough slack to hang your whole team with. “ As always, your characters are so rich and real and complex. It makes your stories a pleasure to read! -----signature----- R.I.P John, Alex, Jason, and Christian Never forgotten Soldiers' Angels http://soldiersangels.org/ 2114 soldiers waiting for someone to care
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Commander-DWH Title: Shiny Fan Fiction Manager Registered: Nov '03	Date Posted: 7/8 12:14pm Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 2 posted 6/22)
	Woo hoo, catching up! This is all very intriguing. One might even say mysterious. I am still a slacker and haven't read the first act, so I'm trying to figure Dapen out, here. Not sure what his motivations are, but he doesn't seem terribly intimidated by The Man. Also, I think I love Loki a little. Looking forward to the next installment! -----signature----- Complements (KOTOR)- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/21177927/ Luminosity- http://boards.theforce.net/before_the_saga/b10475/27900517/ Barefoot hippie in the OC revolution Master of the lovely and talented SoA
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Ceillean Title: Scattergories and 20 Questions Hostess Registered: Nov '01	Date Posted: 7/8 12:30pm Subject: Shades of Gray II: Acts of Contrition (Chapter 2 posted 6/22)
	Sorry it's taken me so long to comment. Excellent post, though. I wonder if Dapen will really turn his back on the Solo kids? Or maybe this is all intertwined somehow? Looking forward to more! -----signature----- I claim Kyp Durron. I'm developing this thing for Captain Kirk.
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