Star Wars OPEN Elite League Limmie

IC: Vesper Lynd
275 Pre-Season, University of Ryell Clemency
One week after the 275 ELL Draft

The first day of training camp was an eye opening experience. Romo and Setarcos may have been teammates and good friends, but they definitely had separate and distinct coaching styles. Like last season all 30 players from the Monarchs and Red Wings were invited to the camp and competed for the 15 open Elite positions. But unlike last season, the Red Wings’ coaching staff was also present for camp. Romo explained to everyone that he wanted a universal coaching philosophy throughout the organization, so the best way to do that was to have the Red Wings learn directly from him.

Looking at the joint coaching staffs it felt like a reunion of sorts. They almost had enough old timers to field a Monarchs Legends squad, all they needed was one more on the offensive side of the field and they would be all set. This observation prompted her to do a headcount of the players. There were two goalkeepers and four midfielders, which worked out evenly. What was odd was that they had 11 backs and 13 forwards.

“Hey Biedo, what the kark is going on? You planning on playing with only 5 backs this season?”

The Red Wings Half Back coach, who was back to the same physical condition he was in his rookie year, just shook his head, “Naw, we figured out what’s been Greenly’s problem over the past few weeks.”

“Yeah?” Vesper queried with a raised brow, “What’s that?”

“She’s been aching to be able to hit someone,” Laura answered with a sly grin, “Legally that is.”

So, after eight seasons of playing offense, the Red Wings Captain was moving to the opposite side of the field. It was yet another striking similarity between the Romo Regime and the Setarcos Era: a willingness to try anything to win. Another change was their training camp location. In years past they would stay at the refurbished dorms near the stadium that had all the amenities of a five star hotel.

Now Romo had acquired the rights to the old, abandoned limmie field that was the former home to the Ryell Titans. The school had disbanded the limmie squad long before the Monarchs brought the sport back to popularity. The dorms they were now staying in had been former military barracks that Romo had moved to the site of the old limmie pitch. They weren’t run down or dilapidated, but they offered no privacy to the players.

Each was two stories tall and identical in shape. The players stayed in one building that had an open bay on each floor. Each bay had seven bunks, with wall lockers towards the inner aisle way, a communal restroom and showers at one end of the building, and one private room at the other end. The private rooms were large enough to hold a bed, a wall locker, a desk and chair. Vesper was not sure that the Coaches’ barracks looked like, as players were not allowed inside. The speculation was that each had their own separate dorm room split between the two floors. In between the two buildings was a one story dining facility that also acted as the team conference room.

As the weeks past, things started to get more intense. The new players were starting to realize that even though they were told they had a shot at bumping a 274 Monarch from the starting roster, that the reality was vastly different. They all knew, despite their record last season, that the Monarchs were a talented team on both sides of the ball. About the only player who was in danger of losing their starting position was Clair Oswin.

---

275 Byblos-Rydonni Prime Friendly

By the time the battle for the Adrimar-K’ntarr Shield rolled around, the two squads had scrimmaged each other a handful of times. It was to the point where this match felt like yet another one, but this time they were doing it in the Grande Villa with a crowd of screaming limmie fans. The night before the match the coaches announced who was going to be on each squad. For the most part, the Monarchs’ lineup was the same as in 274, but with three changes. Clair Oswin, Lana Ping, Aley Helios, and Sugnok Umanh swapped places with Ozzie, Niles Razyr, Pasla Tesh, and Rean Facin.

The result was the Red Wings carrying the shield back to Byblos for the next year. The back four, on both squads played their hearts out, knowing that it could mean the difference between playing in the ELL or the LFL. Fortunately Rew and Vesper were playing like they had been on the same team for years. However the Monarchs were not displaying that same sense of cohesion.

After the match had ended and the Shield traded hands from Queen Variise to Lady Thara, both squads gathered for the traditional post-match cocktail party. Vesper arrived to the party, made the usual rounds of shaking people’s hands, and found a quiet, semi-secluded couch to sit by herself. She gazed absent-mindedly out of the giant window that looked out onto the city.



A familiar voice brought her out of her daydream, “Vesper? Why are you sitting over here by yourself?” She turned and found the kind eyes of Lady Thara looking down at her.

“Oh, I’m waiting for Arden to arrive. I haven’t seen him since the draft. Between training camp, all the work that he’s been doing to help set up the new government here, and with the transfer to Balmorra, neither of us have had the time. I haven’t even talked to him on the holo.”

Thara’s kind eyes told her that Vesper was not going to like what she heard next, “I’m sorry Vesper, but Arden didn’t make the trip. The new starfighter line from K’ntarr Enterprises as developed a peculiar quirk and he is personally overseeing the overhaul of the line.”

Vesper’s face falls and she stares at the black patent leather high heels she was wearing just for Arden, “I see. Well at least it’s for an important reason.”

“I’m sure you’ll see each other in a few weeks when the team travels to Balmorra for The Match,” Thara placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and then walked away.

There Vesper remained, looking at her feet, when a second pair of shoes joined hers. She looked up to find her Right Corner Forward looking down at her. “What are you doing, Cap?”

A small smile crept across her lips, “Hey, Rook, I’m just thinking about the match, that’s all.”

“Well let me take your mind off of it, let’s dance?” He extended a hand down to her.

“What?”

“You know, you put your one hand in mine, I put my hand on your waist, and you put your other hand on my shoulder. We then move in time to the music that is playing.”

“I know what dancing is, but why are you asking me?”

Rew just shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, you just look like you could do with a reason to get up and move.”

“Thanks Rook, but I’ll pass,” She stood up and started to walk away, only to pause and look back, “Seriously, thank you,” Vesper turned back around and walked out.

---

Gesco City, Bakura
Several weeks later

Vesper received the news that her little brother, Cillian, joined the Bakuran Marines and was being shipped out to fight the Ssi-Ruuk. Romo granted her special permission to leave camp for the trip. This surprised Vesper, especially since she would be missing the annual match against the Blasters. Romo told her it was the perfect opportunity to see what the Monarchs would do in her absence.

After the Lynds saw Cillian off at Camp Edel they ventured back home. Vesper knew that if she sat around the house she would just start feeling sorry for herself. So after a failed attempt at contacting Arden, now Baron of Balmorra, she decided to use her connection to the Noble House. She ventured to the private sports club that was only open to the members of the Houses of Bakura.

She had developed an interest in archery, but rarely had time to practice. She struggled to hit her target, she even put an arrow in the target two lanes over. “Thank you,” a voice rang out from over her shoulder, “I was hoping someone would hit my bull’s eye today.” When Vesper turned to look who was talking to her she discovered a young gentleman about her own age.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I guess I’m having troubles today.”

“Well I never thought that someone so adept at scoring limmie goals would be so poor a shot.”

“So I guess my secret is out,” Vesper could feel her cheeks redden, “But you seem to have me at a disadvantage, you know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot you haven’t been to hardly any of the House events,” the young man bowed slightly, “Nicholas Arden at your service.” Nicholas stood back up, “So are you here to let off some steam after the Monarchs lost the Old Cannon for the second season in a row, or because they only scored 2 points without you?”

“The game is already over?” Vesper had forgotten about the time difference between Bakura and Balmorra.

“I thought you already knew and that’s why you were here.”

Frustrated, Vesper knocked another arrow and drew it back.

“Whoa, easy there killer, are you trying to skewer old lady Captison in her lounge over there?” he put his left hand on the bow, “Let me help you,” he then put his right hand on her.



“Just relax,” he said quietly in her ear, “take a breath, hold it, then loose the arrow, and let your breath out.” Vesper did as instructed and scored her first hit on her own target. “See, all you have to do is relax next time and should hit it dead center.”

How am I supposed to relax with your arms around me like that? Vesper could not believe that thought just ran through her mind. She really needed to see Arden and not Nicholas Arden. Although he isn’t bad to look at… “Arg, get out of my head!”

Nicholas gave her a sideways look, “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I said that out loud. I’m going to slink away now in embarrassment. Thanks for the help.” She slung the bow over her shoulder and walked towards the exit.

“My pleasure. Perhaps we could get together for another lesson when the Monarchs come to Bakura in week 6?” Nicholas called out to her.

Vesper just waved to him over her shoulder.

---

The Grande Villa, Rydonni Prime
Monarchs vs. Packers, Week 1 ELL

Upon Vesper’s return to Rydonni Prime, the roster was finalized, and as she suspected the team was the same as last season. The only change was the addition of Rew Ileo in Corrie Andersen’s old corner slot. Also the team was allowed to move out of the old barracks at URC. But they were not allowed to go to their private residences. Instead they moved back to their old practice facilities close to the stadium. According to Romo, they had yet to earn the privilege to sleep in their posh laps of luxury.

Unfortunately, despite all the changes, the results were the same as last year, an opening day loss. On top of that it was a 1 point opening day loss. Vesper watched with horror as the Packers ridiculous tactic of taking punt shots from the back three caused the match winning goal to soar high over the crossbar as time expired.

She watched helplessly as Sugnok leveled one of the Packer forwards well after the whistle had sounded. Later on she would find out that he had held back his frustration for most of the second half, but the losing point pushed him over the edge. Seeing as the officials could not penalize him after the match, Vesper was sure that she would be reading about him getting a fine from the league office.

Vesper wanted nothing more than to vent her own frustrations, but as team captain she needed to maintain a calm level-headedness that could inspire the rest of the team. So she went about her business in the locker room, changed into her street clothes, and walked out after everyone else. As the team headed down the exit tunnel to their hoverbus, Vesper noticed a familiar, yet unwelcome, face.

“Vesper? Vesper?”

Reluctantly she walked over to the reporter, “What can I do for you, Ms O’Shane?”



“I was wondering if all the political upheaval surrounding the team affected your play today?”

Vesper couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “Seriously Erika, isn’t this bit tired?” Vesper took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “Fine… No I don’t believe that any outside force influenced our play today, we simply got beat.”

“So you don’t think that the lack of new blood in the backfield had anything to do with the loss?”

“I don’t know why you’re still here. I thought you had gotten all you needed to write a novel on me last season.”

Erika grinned a devious grin, “It’s not all about you princess, I’m here on official business. So are you going to answer the question?”

“I’m not the person to talk to about personnel decisions. Perhaps you should try Mr. Rhemes for that.”

The grin on Erika’s seemed to spread wider, “I already talked to dad about it and he said that Romo was the one making the calls this year.”

Vesper shook her head, “Wait a minute, did you just say dad?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard? It turns out that Setarcos is my father. Apparently he and my mom hooked up back in college and 9 months later I came along.”

“Well, if you knew that Romo was the one in charge of the draft, why did you ask me?”

“I was seeing if you had an opinion. I am the official team reporter after all.”

Vesper had grown tired and the team was waiting on her, “Listen the bus is waiting for me can we finish this later?”

“Just one last question,” Erika reached into her satchel and pulled out a small holoprojector, “What do you know about this woman?”



Vesper studied the image of the young woman, “I have no clue who that is, should I?”

Erika turned it off and put it away, “If she was my boyfriend’s personal assistant, I would at least know her name is Cathrine Dawson. Especially since they spend many hours together… alone.”

Vesper didn't say anything as she walked towards the team bus. She had a lot to think about.

A lot.

TAG: Trieste (League Business & Bakura references) Tim Battershell (Game Action)

 

IC: Fenton

The customers were getting ugly and Fenton didn’t blame them. The Starkillers were losing for the fourth time in a row. The first loss had been the last game of the regular season a year ago; no one thought much of it. The team had still won their division and hadn’t been playing for anything at the time. The next loss had come in the play-offs and had hurt a lot. It had been forgotten though, same as the pre-season friendly game that was mostly just a ploy to sell tickets to Limmie hungry fans than anything else. But this was getting out of hand. This game counted and it was to a team that finished second to overall last a season ago. Somehow the Starkillers looked just as bad if not worse than the Rebels. They were lucky at half time to be down by only 4 points.

Usually when your team was down 9 to 5 at that half, there was no reason to despair. There was an entire half left to turn things around and only a few scores to make up the difference. But this was more serious than just winning today. The play on the field was downright disturbing. Marmu was back to her old strategy of trying to make every play herself. Newcomer Flarn was walking up and down the field, no sense of urgency and Jul actually stopped to pick mud out of her cleat, twice. The defense was making an effort, but what were their chances with the ball on their end of the field so often? Shortly after the second half began Fenton wished they would turn the holovision by the concession stand off.

Fenton served two patrons nachos just as the Rebels went up 12 to 5 only to see the entire basket of chips and cheese hurled at that very holovision. Great Fenton thought with a sigh, more clean up before we can leave tonight. Security rushed in and ushered the gentlemen who had caused the commotion out. Starkillers fans headed towards the exits in masses. By the time the game ended most of the seats were vacant. Since there hadn’t been many people to serve towards the end of the game clean up went quickly and Fenton slowly made his way back to the public transport tube for the long ride home.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




To Fenton it was becoming plainly obvious why skinny people were skinny. He had come to the conclusion that skinny people didn’t eat much of anything. He didn’t blame them either. Just about every food product labeled light, healthy or diet was disgusting by his standards. Anything that tasted good was in such a small portion size that Fenton finished it in five bites or less. There was something to look forward to though, Fenton was scheduling one cheat day per week. It was obvious which day to schedule his cheat day this week. It would be the day of the Starkillers Mercs game. It was an away game so he wouldn’t be working. Besides if the Starkillers played as bad as they had last week Fenton would need the comfort of his favorite foods.

So on game day Fenton went shopping. The nerf steaks were calling Fenton’s name. He grabbed a package of four, two for himself and since he was going to be barbequing why not make one for his mom and one for her boyfriend. That’s how good a nerf steak sounded, so good that he didn’t mind doing something nice for his mother’s boyfriend. He also picked up hubba chips and custard.

Fenton presented a plate to his mother and one to her boyfriend. Then he turned to watch the game in his room. “Why don’t you watch the game with us?” His mother invited.

“No thanks” Fenton replied as politely as possible. He didn’t want his mother to be in his presence if the Starkillers played like they had last week. She didn’t need to hear his colorful language or see him throw objects at the holovision in anger. It was best if he watched the game alone.

He turned on the set just in time to see the Merc faithful hold a moment of silence for their men and women who had died in battle. It was nice to see a human side to the Mandos. Fenton set down his plate and took off his own hat. Then the stadium went dark followed by the usual fanfare of fireworks and lights that preceded the announcing of the home teams line up. Before Fenton was able to pick up his plate and start eating his nerf steak he noticed something unusual. A speeder circling the stadium and then a man in full beskar’gam jumped off and jet packed his way down to the field.

Crazy Mandos Fenton thought, every last one of them. The stunt was cool though he had to admit, not to mention the armor it was both spectacular and intimidating. Somehow the Starkillers dance team paled in comparison. The crowd was so loud, Fenton could hear a chant begin to form but it took a while for it to be clear what they were all saying. Mand’alor. The leader of their nation made a speech about the war effort and then to Fenton’s great surprise the leader of the Ssi-Ruuk was marched onto the field and be-headed! He heard his mother shriek from the other side of the house and sadly pushed away his nerf steak his appetite gone.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Ava Killenger
Bar, Coruscant

Ava sat at the bar counter alone, taking another shot of whiskey. This was the second consecutive day she had spent on the proverbial lam from the team. Both practices she had now skipped, with no good reason as to why she had walked out. Maybe it was her bad play last week, but no one else had exactly done so hot either. Or maybe it was her drug addiction, which was only a few weeks old but already consuming her mind. Or perhaps it was just her angst-driven self who just couldn’t handle the pressure. So drink she did, to forget, to leave things alone, to hopefully drink herself into oblivion and not have to worry about a thing.

As she sat there drinking, she picked up a piece of conversation from a couple of middle-aged men at a nearby table. As expected, they were talking about Limmie, most notably the Senators.

“ . . . terrible, simply terrible,” one said. “That offense is atrocious. And yet they never schedule a friendly to iron out those kinks.”

“But don’t you know that they get to sit around a pool for a whole month in what counts as ‘training camp’?” another one asked. “They obviously didn’t work on anything over the offseason. Dreadful start to the season. This one’s in the tank already before it even really begins.”

“Too many damn rookies,” said a third. “None of them can play to save their hide. I mean, really, letting a rookie commit six turnovers in one game? Where did they find that Killen-something, anyways? Never though the team would stoop as low as to bring on inexperienced crap to fill out roster spots.”

Ava slammed her glass down on the counter when she heard her name being slandered. Who did these men think they were, anyways? The men didn’t seem to notice, but the bartender certainly did. “Eh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” he said to Ava. “We’ve had rough seasons around these parts before. There are still eight games left, mind you, so don’t get too upset. The Magic Bothan’ll get things turned around, just you wait and see.”

“I hope he does. We’ll need it,” Ava said, paying her tab and then walking out onto the street alone. Perhaps the Bothan himself wasn’t enough to save the team. Perhaps this team was in the proverbial drink. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

When Ava boarded the team shuttle to Ylesia the next day, she didn’t say much to her teammates, who really didn’t care that she was there. Everyone was still stewing over the loss last week, one that never should have happened. This team was better than that. But Ava was even more depressed about things. To her, it was all on her shoulders; Barney’s death, her addiction, her skipping practices, failing to help the team when it needed her the most, her dad’s lost job. Why did life have to be so complicated?

---

IC: Gark S’rily
Day of Game vs. Ylesia

Gark looked over his roster and sighed. The game last week had been a complete disaster. What had looked like a team that could contend this season if everything fell into the right places was now in shambles. Jerek was down with a torn MCL that would keep him out until the middle of conference play, and to make matters worse, two more players had succumbed to injuries in practice. Myles Tormera, the Zeltron half back whose claim to fame was being one of the three pieces in the three-way trade with Bakura and Euceron in 270, had gone down with a broken elbow, which would take several weeks to heal. Also, Rhyric Loayen, the team’s only reserve corner back with second-year man Reid Livingstone now starting, had been gimpy in practice with a hamstring problem. Dr. Trenos diagnosed him as questionable for this week’s game, but added a caveat that it was likely the veteran would miss the game. That left the Bothan with just two healthy corners for the upcoming tilt against Ylesia, something he didn’t want to have to deal with this early in the season. Veteran full back Abbey Waters, who had played at corner in her time with the Miners, was now going to have to fill in there for spells, leaving fellow full back Doon’sun, the effective Weequay, to play most of the time at full. It was well-known that he couldn’t keep up the intensity for 60 minutes, and that he faded late in games. These weaknesses were masked with team Hall-of-Famer Shev Fil’yer’s presence at the position, but last season’s backup hadn’t been anything to write home about. What a predicament.

Then there was the debacle on offense. How in the hell could this team have failed so spectacularly? They had weapons to score points, so why did the offense grind to a halt almost immediately? The Storm weren’t that good on defense, were they? Yes they had a solid bunch, but was it possible to shut down the Senator attack so thoroughly like that, where even the bar points looked like strokes of luck? Or was it bad execution of the gameplan? All of this thinking gave Gark a headache, so he pushed the roster aside and stared at the wall for several minutes. Things were not looking up at the moment.

Then a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Gark said. Hamlin Trenos, the Iktochi trainer, came into the small office.

“I need to tell you something,” Hamlin said, not wavering in the grim expression on his face and in his voice.

“What? Another injury?” Gark asked. How many more injuries could his defense sustain at this point? He was already going to be missing two starters and depth this next week. What more could the galaxy do to his defensive corps?

“Worse, I’m afraid,” Hamlin replied. “It’s about the team drug testing.”

“What about it?” Gark asked, now completely lost.

“We’ve had a positive test,” was all Hamlin said.

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels (for gameday stuff)

 

(Broad stroke game details approved by Rebecca_Daniels)

IC: Falene Trieste
Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura



“Come on!” Niskat yelled further up the field from Falene.

Urdaaza had stopped yet another shot on goal. She was putting in a perfect effort today. The Miners had been hammering away, but not a single bolo-ball had gotten behind her. After a lackluster second half of 274, Urdaaza seemed to be out to remind the galaxy why she’d won the 273 Numifolis Award. At the half Rodders and the rest of the front three had been more than frustrated.

“She is frigging everywhere!” Will Detra groaned.

“Keep hammering away,” Valerii said, “And when in doubt, go for the bar point. We’re keeping the score down—it’s never a bad idea to just punch it over in a game like this. Defense—keep holding. You’re keeping us in this one.”

That they were. As frustrated as Deenver and the Miner forwards were, the Lightning defense had to be even more so. Despite the fact that the Miners’ back seven had an average age of just over 24 years old they were shutting down a starting line up that had two years ago won a Galactic Cup. Falene was well familiar with Zoa Vra and the Zabrak had lost none of her fight. She and Falene were bumping and jockeying with each other every time the ball came anywhere close to the Miners’ defensive zone. Unlike last season when Vra had smoked the center half back, this time Falene was getting the better of the play. Though Zoa was able to break free from Falene, she often found herself face-to-face with another Miner defender who didn’t let her get much further.

The Miner rookies were having a good day. The Glencross-Pic midfield had gelled perfectly together. There had been a lot of concern in the media that Glencross wouldn’t do well having to adjust to a new midfield partner, but Jolla and Alana were playing beautifully together today. For this first game they were giving a conservative, defensive look, which was probably why the Miners were doing so well. Alana’s few jumps into the offensive zone were brief. From Falene’s perspective, it showed that there actually was an adjustment for Alana now that she was playing with Jolla. With Everett, Alana never hesitated to join the attack, knowing that Everett had her back. The fact that Alana was hanging back and supporting Jolla in a united pairing looked to Falene’s eyes that Alana didn’t quite trust Jolla with her back yet. It also probably meant that she was unwilling to hang Pic out to cover the entire midfield on her own. Either way, the Miners had things very nicely locked down in the middle of the pitch.

Ponie Ternardiel was playing with all the fierceness that had been her reputation at VCU. Every time that Zenro Ta touched the ball, he was absolutely taken out by Ternardiel. Ponie was not just walking the line when it came to play, she was playing jump rope with it. She received a couple of talking tos by the referees. Falene overheard the second one.

“That’s just this side of unnecessary roughness,” the Duro referee said, “I see that again and there are going to be penalty kicks. You’re on notice.”

Ponie looked like she wanted to say something, but she just nodded her head with her hands on her hips. Falene wondered if she was literally biting her tongue to keep from making some reply.

But the rookie standout for the day on the Miners side of the ball was Lizbit Comstock. She wasn’t the biggest goalkeeper, but damn she was fast. Her reaction times were ridiculously quick. She tracked the ball incredibly well and her lateral movement was impeccable. Lizbit had the front three for Ylesia absolutely stymied. Every time they went for the net, she locked onto the ball and hauled it in. Every time she would put the ball into play the Miners heard the same thing.

“Alana, catch!”

“Falene, catch!”

“Nelly, catch!”

It might have given Ylesia a little more heads up than they should have had about where the ball was going, but it also meant that no one ever got caught flat footed with the bolo-ball coming up the field. That enabled the Miners to make some nifty route plays to catch the bolo-ball on the run and evade the Ylesian offense headed in the reverse direction.

It was, in all, an impressive day for the much-maligned Bakuran defense. When the game was over, the Miner defense gathered together in front of the goal as the fans roared their approval. It hadn’t been a dominating win for the Miners—the game had never seen either team lead by more than a score. Even so, only letting in three points all day was a big win for Falene and her squad in the backfield.

But something more important had happened in the game: Lizbit Comstock hadn’t let in a single goal. All of the points—in fact every point on both side of the game—had been over the bar. Both goalkeepers notched what was officially called a “no goal game,” but was colloquially known as a “shutdown.” In the Kayl’hen Era, there had only been seven previous shutdowns for Miner goalkeepers plus one shutout—the even rarer act of holding your opponent completely scoreless. For a goalkeeper to play a shutdown was no small feat.

To do it in your first professional limmie game was nothing short of amazing.

As soon as the final buzzer sounded the Gardens, which had been growing steadily in noise as the clock ticked off each passing second, exploded and the Miners on the field raced down to their own defensive end. By the time Falene got there, the corner backs were already jumping up and down with Lizbit in their center. Falene gladly joined the throng and was soon crushed into it by the arrival of Glencross and Pic.

“Shutdown! Shutdown!” Alana was shouting.

Ponie was next to Falene and the two were wedged next to each other in the press of their teammates. “Way to go Ponie!” Falene said, pulling a hand free to pull Ternardiel’s head close affectionately.

“Woo hoo!” was all Ponie said with a giant grin on her face.

Somewhere in the middle of the Miner players Bengi Zire had lifted Comstock up by the waist and lifted her above the heads of her teammates. Falene could see that she had a huge grin on her face as she raised her hands over her head in celebration. The galaxy had found out who Lizbit Comstock was at the Elite League Draft—but now they knew what she was made of.

“COM-STOCK! COM-STOCK! COM-STOCK!” the Miner fans down in the defensive end chanted.

It was one of the cruel twists of fate—one might even say a twist of the vibroknife—that the goalkeeper at the other end of the field had pulled off the same accomplishment, but there would likely be no such fanfare for her on Ylesia with her team walking away from a loss.


The Miners left the field and headed back to the locker room with much of the crowd still on hand to see them off. A shutdown was the sort of thing you stuck around for, the sort of game you felt good about. Falene was sure there were going to be a lot of beings who were going to talk about how they were there when…

As the Miners crossed the concourse again, security was having their arms full keeping the fans on the right side of the rope line to either side of the blue carpet that led to the Miners dressing room. Some of the players put their hands out to high five the fans. Falene didn’t—not because she didn’t want to do so, but she knew it increased the Senatorial Guard’s blood pressure when she did so. It was dangerous enough when she played limmie and couldn’t be immediately protected by them. She tried not to make their lives harder.

When the team was back in the locker room, Valerii called the team to attention. “That was a gutsy win today,” the head coach said, “We put the League on notice today that the Miners are here to play.” The locker room clapped. “We got some big performances out of our rooks today, so it’s only appropriate that our game ball goes to the breakout star of Week 1—Lizbit.” Valerii underhanded the bolo-ball to Comstock, who caught it with a smile.

“Even stopped that one!” she said and the room laughed as everyone clapped.

“Heck of a game, Fae,” Niskat said as the players broke up to get undressed. She bumped heads with Falene.

“Ow!” Trieste said, “I knew you were hard-headed, but damn woman.”

“You’re the one with the hard head. You gutted it out back there today. You play like that every week and I don’t care if we’ve got a sieve in goal for us. We’re going to win some limmie games,” Niskat said.

“Thanks,” Falene said appreciatively.

“No, I’m serious. That shutdown’s just as much yours as it is Lizzie’s,” Niskat said, “And don’t forget it.”

Falene wasn’t going to. But it was just one game. The Miners had won their first game last season.

And look how that went… Falene thought.

Next up was Agamar.

And look how that went…

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels Tim Battershell

 

GM Post
Elite League offices, Coruscant

"Good afternoon, gentlebeings," the Commissioner said to the press, "Well, I'd say we had an...interesting first week. Interesting because I'm standing here with quite a bit to talk about.

"Let's get started at the top, shall we?" Kayl'hen said, consulting her notes, "In Game 5 of this season, Zen Keisel of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers performed a clothesline tackle on Avano Koobis of the Chandrila Patriots. Keisel clearly targeted the head of Koobis when making this hit. As a result, the Elite League is suspending Zen Keisel for one game and forfeiting his pay for this game to the Elite League Player Safety Fund.

"As a side note, all fines announced today will go towards the Player Safety Fund," Kayl'hen said, "And yes, spoiler alert, that means there will be more fines announced in this press conference.

"Additionally in Game 5 after the conclusion of the game, Kaitlyn Vehn, owner of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers, punched Reina Kether, head coach of the Chandrila Patriots. This resulted in fisticuffs between members of the Smugglers and the Patriots. These actions go against the spirit of sportsmanship that the Elite League embodies. The Elite League considered all aspects of this situation in considering whether supplemental discipline was necessary. This incident was instigated by Ms. Vehn when she struck Ms. Kether. As a result, Ms. Vehn has been personally fined 25,000 credits. Additionally, Ms. Vehn has been banned from the sideline of Elite League games for the next three games. Though Ms. Vehn's actions were unacceptable, they do not justify the actions of the Patriots. For responding to Ms. Vehn's actions by beginning a team-wide fight, the Chandrila Patriots organization has been fined 100,000 credits. The Smugglers, for their part in responding to the Patriots, have been fined 50,000 credits as an organization.

"In Game 3 between, Sugnok Umanh of the Rydonni Prime Monarchs delivered a late hit on a member of the Agamar Packers. After reviewing the footage from the game, the Elite League has determined that Umanh deliberately delivered a late hit after the whistle had clearly blown. Mr. Umanh has been fined 50,000 credits for his hit."

"Commissioner, why is Keisel suspended and Umanh fined?" a reporter called out.

"Targeting. Keisel clearly went for the head of Koobis whereas Umanh's hit did not target the head. While we approve neither action, Keisel's hit clearly goes against specific criteria we have in place to protect players," Kayl'hen said, "Thank you very much. Hopefully we won't have to do this again."

---

A few days later, during Week 2

Kayl'hen watched the pregame "ceremonies" at Keldabe.

"We're going to have to do this again," she said putting her head in her hands.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik (who will find out what happens to Taab after Week 2 scores are released) CPL_Macja Vehn

 

Many thanks to Trieste for providing the POVs and dialogue from the Miners and Noble House.


IC: Tim Dodd - Spaceport, Calna Muun, Agamar.

Tim stood at the space-side gates to the terminal with the long stretch of red carpet to his left. The 'Red Runner' (as the carpet was officially called) led to the VIP landing pad where the Supreme Chancellor's ship would shortly be setting down. Everything was ready, or so everyone involved devoutly hoped!

It was nice to have started this Season with a win, if only a narrow win, against the Monarchs. They still hadn't, apparently, figured out how to overcome the Packers' 'Bombardment' tactics. They had, however, managed to cut last year's margin down from six points to this year's one (in a 29-28 Point-fest) - but it hadn't been quite enough. He hadn't seen the after-time incident himself, a boundary-line seating position had its drawbacks, after all, but had been told that getting 'pounced' by Morto or Mezgraf was a good deal worse. If the League made an issue of it, that was the League's right? Duty? But so far as the Packers were concerned; no injury, no report - as the saying went.

The Miners had also started their Season with a win (albeit a low-scoring match against Ylesia Lighting). The C-Bucs, the Rebels, the Smugglers and the Storm had also recorded opening-day wins. In the case of the Storm, their victim had been the Senators, and by a large margin too. The Senators had not had any luck at all with Storms this year!

On top of the gateway behind Tim was one of the Big Screens from the old Stadium. With the background alternating between blue and gold between sequences, it was showing (in large letters of the opposite colour) "Welcome to Agamar, Supreme Chancellor Trieste!", then clearing to read "Welcome to Agamar, Bakura Miners!" and a final time to display "Welcome to Agamar, People of Bakura!" before beginning the next sequence.

Angling out from the terminal, in a broad V shape defined by temporary (but quite immovable) barriers, were a mass of Agamarians in their go-to-Big-City best, all of them waving either Bakuran or Miners flags, which gave them the appearance of a rippling blue and gold sea. The spectators were present because they wanted to be there, and their evident enthusiasm was natural, not scripted. However, unknown to any of them, each and every being had been thoroughly (but fruitlessly) scanned, scoped and sniffed for the slightest trace of weapons or explosives. Despite the popularity of Bakura, the Miners, the Noble House (and, by extension, the Supreme Chancellor and the Republic she led) after the airing of the Holo-documentaries - and the circulation of the 'messages home' reports praising the welcome extended by the Bakurans to the Task Force's personnel; nobody in ASF was taking any chances!

Lining the 'Red Runner' was the ASF Drill Company in Full Dress Uniform, complete with (deactivated) Longblasters. Standing halfway along it were a dozen children; two six-year-old girls (all in white and carrying posies of Edelweiss, whose task was to be the Supreme Chancellor's 'First Greeters', and their ten-year-old escort of five boys (all in blue) and five girls (dressed entirely in gold).

---

Two shuttles landed in the provided space, the first (and curiously the smaller of the two), was the one carrying the Chancellor, who exited first, all smiles and waves to the assembled crowd. She smartly saluted the ASF honor guard, a well practiced motion from 23 years as a commander in chief on Bakura and Coruscant. Trieste took the time to greet the Agamarian children who were there to perform the initial welcome. She bent to shake their hands and thank them for the warm welcome.

The larger shuttle was the Miners' team shuttle and naturally Alana Glencross was first down the ramp. The word had come from the Chancellor's office down to Cundertol to Valerii to the players that since they would be attached to the Chancellor for the arrival and parts of the trip that a dress code would be mandated. The usual team-issued athletic jackets were not deemed acceptable and professional attire was the expected norm.

"We sure we're not still on Bakura?" Alana asked as she touched Agamarian soil. Falene was following a few people back.

"I think they like us better than Bakura does," Rodders said.

"Hey Cundertol! Trade me to these guys!" Niskat called from further back in line. If the general manager had a response to this Falene didn't hear it.

The crowd welcome was certainly overwhelming. The Miners were almost never welcomed like this on planets they traveled to. It was a far cry from what they'd seen in Peace City on Ylesia last year...but then again things might have been better had Cundertol not poked the vornskr during their trip to the planet.

Falene waved to the crowd and smiled as she walked down the red carpet. She'd been told that this was not going to be an average road trip. It certainly wasn't starting out like the usual road game, that was for sure.

---

The children bowed or curtseyed to Dodd (who bowed to them in thanks before they rejoined their proud, waiting, parents) and made another bow to greet the Supreme Chancellor herself, followed by a handshake: before guiding her in the direction of a (fortunately much abbreviated - all four-hundred of the Agamarian Council had originally wanted to be introduced) reception line. As it was, largely due to the 'Clerk of the Roll' frequently reminding the Councillors that the Supreme Chancellor's actual reason for visiting Agamar was to watch a Limmie match and voluntarily declining to be part of the reception line herself, the actual number had been reduced to five. It would be an incautious Councillor who ever got on the wrong side of any 'Clerk of the Roll' as the holder of that Office decided when proposals should be presented for debate!

In turn, Tim presented 'Speaker' Eli Desh (Leader of the Council), 'Deputy Speaker' Per Brace, 'Grandfather of the Chamber' Renn Banks (the oldest Councillor by age), 'Father of the Chamber' Dac Korr (longest continuously serving Councillor) and Jeanette Till (both the newest Councillor and also the youngest - having taken her seat two months previously at the ripe-old-age of twenty, the lowest age allowed!) to the Supreme Chancellor, then guided the party through the terminal to where transportation awaited.

Old-fashioned stretched ground-cars! A whole convoy of them! Owned by the third (and youngest) Sturm brother, Mitri (known as 'Mits' to the family). Unlike Oleg and Erich, Mitri had pursued a career in finance on Muunilinst, and had done so well for himself in Fund Management that he was now retired (although still 'keeping his hand in', as he put it, from time to time). Old-fashioned the cars might be, but each had been painstakingly restored to mint, manufacturer-fresh, condition and sat eight in considerable comfort. The drivers were, of course, all ASF.

Mitri couldn't usually run his collection around (the 'roads' outside Calna Muun just weren't suitable, and traffic in the 'Big City' itself was too likely to cause damage) but today was different. All Calna Muun's streets had been cleared, and thoroughly cleaned to an even higher than the normal high degree for the period of the visit) so he was perfectly happy for his collection to be utilised.

Ushers helped direct the visitors into the selected cars and Tim took his place in the lead vehicle together with the Supreme Chancellor, her son Declan, Ms Dormingale and with Ronan Trieste, Mandy Syfred Trieste (Ronan's wife) plus two members of the Senatorial Guard filling the other four seats. This car was equipped with a Packers' flag on one wing, a Miners' flag on the other and a Republic Standard on the roof. The remaining visiting members of the Noble House, Regan Eldred, her husband Atticus, their three children and Ronan and Mandy's children Trixie and Quentin were shown into the following car.

"First stop is the Council Centre;" Tim said "we think that it's an example of Agamarian craftsmanship at its best. Then we'll be travelling out to "Packers' Island" in the Bil Da'Gari where we've set up some accommodation for all of you the night, unfortunately the hotels in Calna Muun aren't suitable either from a comfort or a Security point of view, according to the Senatorial Guard Advance Team! There's a swimming pool there for anyone who wishes to indulge in that activity and it's right by where we'll take the evening meal together, a popular fair-weather activity called a 'Barbecue'.

Then the Tactical Assault Unit have a show-and-tell set up - a hostage rescue scenario - so the Noble House and the Senatorial Guard can see exactly how well they perform. Any adventurous members of the Noble House who want to volunteer to be 'hostages' will be most welcome! Oleg would like at least one member of the Senatorial Guard to volunteer as a 'hostage' too, so he gets a professional rating from right at the epicentre of the action! TAU won't be using real weapons, just eye-safe lasers; and the breaching charges and stun-dazzle grenades will be simulated by pyrotechnics, plus some special-effects to get the 'breached' doors and windows out of the way! It's all as safe as anyone can make it.

Tomorrow, the Miners can use the old Stadium for any pre-match private practice that's normally done, the Packers will be doing the same at the Academicals' facilities; while the rest of us travel to the new Stadium for luncheon in the Board Room. The Stadium itself is almost entirely finished, just the 'flying arch' to go up; but the area around it, the rest of the complex, is still under construction so please excuse any visible mess!

Just before the Anthems, we've got a new one for use in the new Stadium, the 'Academicals' will demonstrate what Miles, Asyr, Dorf and I call 'Circuit Training', but most of the team call 'torture'! It's valuable, so I hope your Coach takes note!

Ms Dormingale, congratulations on your election victory and very many thanks for making sure that our personnel are being looked after so well. That's been mentioned in a great many 'messages home' and has gone viral around the planet!"

---

"That all sounds lovely," Kerry said pleasantly after hearing Tim detail the particulars of the agenda. It had naturally been discussed by proxies in advance of the trip--the schedule of a Chancellor did not come together at the last minute, after all--but Kerry appreciated the level of detail that Tim now provided them. "I heard about this tactical scenario...I look forward to the demonstration. I'm sure that the Senatorial Guard will be equally intrigued to see its execution up close."

Her eyes flicked over to one of the members of the Guard in the speeder with them, a smile not on her lips but very much in her eyes. The Senatorial Guard had been part of her life for nearly nine years now. She was well familiar with them and their ways, and that meant that she was aware of the fact that when she was away from Coruscant or the great house at Kilmainham Brook in Prytis on Bakura that the members of the Guard received very little rest. The risk of an adverse event taking place against the Chancellor went up exponentially. Even though a world like Agamar posed less threat than if Kerry were to take a stroll on the lower levels of Coruscant, they had to treat the situations exactly the same. It meant that whoever would be participating in the demonstration would have his or her time to rest cut significantly short. The Chancellor would see to it that whoever took this extra duty on would receive a proper show of appreciation on her behalf.

"I'm glad that the Packers had a fine time of it on Bakura last year," Declan was now saying, "Otherwise we'd feel rather bad that you've put together such a thoughtful program of events, including accommodations and meals. It's much more than we did for you."

"I think that Mr. Dodd is trying to shame us into giving the Packers another 38 point victory," Ayn said teasingly, "It's all a ploy I have no doubt." She laughed. "You outdo us all, Mr. Dodd. It is only right that I could do what I was able to repay that in small measure. The very fact that Agamar would send its brave beings across the entire galaxy to defend a planet to which they had no claim nor loyalty is noble indeed. It was only proper that those of us who benefit from their protection should show their thanks as best we could."

---

In the following speeder that carried the Miners, the schedule of events was being passed around.

"Coach, is this a vacation or a road game?" Stormborn asked, "We're doing more sightseeing than a bunch of Gamorreans on the Gold Beaches of Corellia."

"Look, I know it's not ideal," Valerii said, "I'd like a little more true rest between practices, but we have to be good guests."

"So you mean the Chancellor's making us do all this," Grap said from the back of the speeder, "No offense, Falene."

"None taken," Falene said. The truth was that she agreed with Grap more than she did her mother. Didn't she know how important the routine was? This was throwing that off.

"Look, I know this is an imposition," Alana said, standing up at the front of the speeder, "but let's just put on a good face, okay?" The team gave its assent, in some quarters more begrudgingly than others. "Hey, come on now, there are worse things than free food in the galaxy."

"She has a point," Ponie said.

"Well if a lunch is provided..." Becki Morlan said, warming to the idea.

---

"Very kind and gracious words, Ms Dormingale!", Tim replied, "But we believe our peoples aren't actually so different at heart. More similarities than differences, I'd say; and no Agamarian would want to be considered a mere fair-weather friend! And", turning to address the Supreme Chancellor, "we could do with friends, given what the aftermath of our poisoning case revealed. If the Jedi haven't given you a briefing yet, Ma'am, we have a functioning example of an 'instant-elsewhere' device on our hands, almost certainly Rakatan, and the chamber it gives access to houses a Holo-Comm unit that produces an image of Palpatine when triggered! It's thought that the appearances are merely automated, but there's a complete cloning-cylinder down there too, so the Jedi are worried that there might be one at the other end as well - and no one wants that Sith back among the living! The Jedi are trying to trace the signal, but whoever set the system up was very skilled about avoiding easily traceable pathways! Ah, we're at the Council Centre! Please alight and follow me!"

---

The truth was that Kerry was no scientist. She didn't understand the particulars of such a device, but she'd seen preliminary reports provided by the Jedi Order as a courtesy. The device sounded quite powerful and powerful things could shift the balance of power very quickly, especially when they were unknowns.

"The Jedi have given me some small briefing," Kerry said to Tim as they headed into the Council building, "They are, as you know, independent of the Republic. One of the reforms of their resurgence, as it should be. I have full trust in their expertise in this matter. If anyone will find a productive use for this device, I am sure it is them." Or have the wisdom to bury the thing in a vault to never be found again, Kerry thought to herself. She wouldn't object if that were the case.

Tim led the way into the Council Centre, an airy and spacious building fabricated entirely of the ubiquitous Binka wood, past holographic artworks depicting Agamarian history and culture and into the Council Chamber itself. Once fully inside, he stopped and turned to observe his guests' reactions to the decor, and was gratified to see that some of them stopped dead in their tracks for an instant at the sight of the interior.

Crossing to one of the Councillors' desks (called a 'carrel' locally) Tim pressed a certain patch of decoration as he had been shown, causing the desktop to slide forward a couple of centimetres, then lift to reveal a computer screen attached to the underside and all the necessary paraphernalia in the compartment below. "Not as backwoods'y as some would like to believe; but I can quite see games of Dejaric being played during the longer and duller debates!".

---

The Council Centre was as impressive as any seat of government on a planet should be. Falene, who entered with the team looked around appreciatively. She'd spent a lot of time in official government buildings courtesy of her mother's profession. Such grandeur was beautiful...yet to Falene almost routine. She'd grown up in the Executive Mansion at Marian Square. That was like growing up in an art museum. She almost knew the Bakuran Senate Building like the back of her hand. Beautiful, yes, but the building failed to cause any great awe in her mind. It was no fault of the building's...just that of Falene's own upbringing. Even so, she could appreciate good architecture. She still had that in her, if nothing else.

Inside the Council Chamber itself, Falene looked around with her teammates. Alana whistled. "Nice digs," she said softly. Falene knew from experience that large spaces tended to cause people to speak in soft voices and even the outspoken redhead seemed to be prey to this tendency.

As Tim demonstrated the hidden screen inside one of the carrels, Ayn, who was closer to the front of the group smirked. "How very clever," she said, "And here I just bring my datapad with me to play Fruit Jedi for the boring sessions..."

Alana, Aron, and Nanchecka sniggered together in a bunch. Falene shot a look at them. "Inside joke," Alana said with a sly grin, "Has to do with a Cathar." Falene was pretty sure it had something to do with Uncia, the one time assistant captain of the Miners.

"I trust that debate here is rather civil?" Falene's brother was asking Tim, "Some legislative bodies are more...combative than others."

"Figuratively or literally?" Ayn asked pointedly.

"Some one, others another," Declan said, "There are plenty of accounts in history of scuffles on the legislative floor. But in parliamentary terms, the Bakuran Senate has weekly sessions of Prime Minister's Questions where the executive is called to account on issues of the day by the legislature. Not every political system has such a check built into it."

"We leave Battle-Circles to the Mandos," Tim said with a chuckle, "Our 'system' is peculiar to say the least, no telling if it would work anywhere but on Agamar. To begin with, to be a 'Big-City fella' is to be looked down upon (to varying degrees) by all the traditionalist farmers out in the 'Camp' - our name for the interior. We quip that the farming community only sends representatives to sit on the Council to be sure us 'Big-City fellas' don't sell the planet out from under them!

We don't have political parties here, just four hundred highly independent Councillors directly representing, and accountable to, their communities. Sounds like a recipe for a chamber heading in four hundred different directions at the same time, doesn't it? However, an Agamarian farmer's life was so hard early on that they learned that the only way to survive was by cooperating with one another. Farming is still long hours of back-breaking work even today, although machinery has made it easier - no Droids though, the farmers don't trust them (a holdover attitude from the Clone Wars) and have better things to spend their money on. Or not! The two truthful parts of the Agamarian stereotype are that we are careful with (that is, know the value of) our Credits; and that we can be eopie-stubborn when the mood takes us!

So things do get done, even with the requirement that new laws (or amendments to existing provisions) must have sixty percent of the vote, or more, to pass. Conversely, repeals only require forty percent of the votes cast. The idea is that it new laws should be popular and that those that have become unpopular should be fairly easy to get rid of. If a measure is both considered to be necessary, and has become hopelessly deadlocked, then the Speaker can exercise his one and only real power; that of referring it to the planetary population as a body - obviously with the same regulations.

As to an executive, you're looking at what executive there is for Sport and related matters (like the construction of the Stadium complex). Oleg performs that function for ASF, the University's Chancellor for that and various other individuals for other things. We can, and do, get called before the Council to be closely questioned, although I prefer to voluntarily go before them regularly to make my report for each period, rather than letting things build up."

Just then, an ASF Officer appeared at the doorway and signalled. Raising his voice slightly to be heard by all the group, Tim said; "Gentlebeings, I see our transport out to "Packers' Island" is now ready for us, so if you would please follow me again.... Also, if you happen to spot anything that look similar to large birds during the journey, please don't be alarmed, they're not birds but ASF Officers flying "Thrust Sailers";

there to make sure nobody's about that shouldn't be."


To Be Continued.... (Part 1 of ????)

TAG: Trieste, CPL_Macja (for the Packers' Opening Match).

 

GM Post

What We Learned: Week 1

Do you know what we learned this week? These interns aren’t any better than the last group. Seriously, we expect our money’s worth out of you all! I’m sure that college credit is worth something.

Agamar Packers: The Bombardment strategy seems to really be able to hammer away at a team. Sure, the Packers give up just about as much as they score when they use it, but who cares? Goals! Goals! Goals!

Bakura Miners: Who the heck is Lizbit Comstock? That’s what we were basically asking at the Draft. Apparently the answer is “the goalkeeper that the Miners have been searching for since the beginning of time.” Clearly after one game we know where this girl’s entire career is headed.

Chandrila Patriots: We’d say we learned that Reina Kether really hates anything having to do with the Smugglers, but that’d be lying. We already knew that. We learned that Reina Kether just fell off our list of people we want to be stranded on an unknown planet with because if getting cold cocked drops her like that, then she’s not worth our time.

Corellia Rebels: This is a public service announcement to let you know that the Corellia Rebels are still playing Elite League Limmie. Given the mood at Bankers Mansion this last week, they can apparently undo an entire season worth of progress for the Starkillers in a single afternoon. So you hear that? The Rebels have evolved. Now they’re destroying the hopes and dreams of other limmie fans.

Coruscant Senators: You’ve heard of coming off the bench cold? Apparently coming out of the GM’s box is like going from Tatooine to Hoth given what Gark S’rily’s defense looked like this last week.

Euceron Storm: We learned that apparently the Storm are just a teensy bit mad about losing last year’s Final to Chandrila. Didn’t they know that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, which makes the Senators their friends? But, more interestingly, we learned that apparently we shouldn’t have given Yan’ii the Salbukk because apparently the Storm are just fine without him. Frigging anchor on that team, I tell you.

Hapes Consortium Buccaneers: Moira Mallory pulled out a gutsy win against the Mercs and has beings talking about the C-Bucs being a contender. So what we learned is that apparently we’ve learned nothing about the C-Bucs after an entire season of limmie.

Mando’ade Mercs: Looks like that Rosterpocalypse might not have been just hype. This crew of Mercs hasn’t geled yet. Given the way Merc seasons have gone recently, they might want to get on that.

Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: Kaitlyn Vehn has an awesome right hook. That is all.

Ralltiir Starkillers: What did the Starkillers eat before this game? Given how poorly everyone played, I think that they must have been Galaxy Defender’s nachos. Seriously Unanimous: leave it to the professionals. Theirs are way better.

Rydonni Prime Monarchs: Has anyone put Setarcos on suicide watch yet? Seriously. No, really. We mean it. Ordinary beings cannot handle this level of heartbreak week in and week out.

Ylesia Lightning: If a goalkeeper shuts the other team down and still loses the game, does it still make a sound? Yes it does when Kasin Urdaaza does it. Don’t worry Kasin, we’re not going to let that Comstock girl displace you from our hearts. Unless she puts in a shutout against Agamar. If so…well, we’re sure you’re going to meet some really nice sportswriters soon that you’ll really click with.


TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

IC: Lejique Beiron
Post-game at Bakura

"The good news is that our new defense is looking strong, and we kept the point differential low, so if it comes to that in playoffs again we've got a decent start for a loss." Coach Zan's skin reddened slightly in frustration. "If the defense, if Urdaaza plays this way all season, I'll be a happy coach. Our offense needs some work, and I'll be trying new lineups in practices between now and the home opener. This league has some incredibly talented goalkeepers, and we need to figure out a way to get the ball past them. No one can win a season on bar points alone."

Lejique nodded once as she turned off her microphone. "Thanks, coach." She glanced over at Favin. "I think we're done here, run this over to Asca, will you? I'd like to get this sent back to Ylesia before we leave." Bakura was far enough that they wanted to leave as soon as possible in order to get practices in back in Peace City. There were worse travel days, but she didn't envy the Miners their travel - once again she wondered who had thought it was a good idea to stick a Limmie team on the edge of known space.

Looking down at her datapad, she was pretty sure she had enough quotes to write up a quick game recap before they left - Urdaaza, Vra, and the rookies playing their first ELL games in addition to the coach's comments. Not all of their rookies had played, Zan clearly not wanting to break up the defensive lines that had been working so well this game.

She passed some of the team stretching out post-game as she headed out to help oversee the team's transition to their shuttle home. It wasn't a de facto part of her job, but with limited staff and little to do until the team was cleaned up and ready to leave she could at least make sure none of their gear went missing while they tossed it into the hold. And it wasn't mentally consuming, so she could write up her article at the same time, jotting down shorthand when she found the right words.

"Hey beautiful, did you see me out there today?"

Arren Cosh again. He was already changed out of his uniform and leaning against the wall in a team jacket. Worse, he looked like he wasn't occupied, and Lejique had no good excuse to shoo him off.

"You mean did I watch you sitting on the bench?" She raised an eyebrow. "I had a Limmie game to watch, maybe you should have too. Might give you a better chance of actually playing." That was harsh Beiron, don't piss off the players or you'll end up floating home, she told herself. Luckily he didn't seem to take it too personally, though she thought she saw the corners of his smile drop for a second.

"Coach said I'm playing next game, she's gonna sub me and Fanal in at half time, give us a chance, y'know? Then you'll see." His smile widened at the end, then faded a bit as he pushed himself off the wall. "You heading out?" She nodded reluctantly. "Mind if I... accompany you?"

"I have an article to write, Cosh," Lejique said, hoping he'd get the hint.

"Then I won't disturb you," he smiled, hands held up in front like he was trying to calm a predator. "I'll wait for the others here, then. See you on the shuttle, Lejique."

It wasn't until she was sending off her article that she realised that he'd used her name for the first time.

----

Game day (morning)

Practices were never terribly exciting things, but she went to all of them anyway. The players tended to be more relaxed, more willing to sit down after for a longer interview or give her information when she was supposed to run profile pieces. They were also more likely to play pranks.

Despite the loss last week to Bakura, the mood was light at Peace City Gardens that morning during pre-game practice. Someone had left a surprise for Kasin Urdaaza as a reward for her shutdown, who had to run the practice with her backup pair of gloves thanks to the shaving cream in her usual pair, though the equipment manager swore he'd have them clean by game start. Once it was traced to the Kuna sisters, Kasin very pointedly stopped every one of their shots and, spotting Favin's holocam floating around the sidelines, waved it over and very carefully and clearly promised her own revenge when they least expected it. This season was promising to be a lot more fun than last year.

However, there was a lot of hype for the first home game of the season. Tensions had cooled in the city, and tickets to the home opener had quickly finished selling out after their solid showing on Bakura, despite the loss. It was a good sign, and there was even talk behind the scenes of Otta making an appearance, something the Hutt hadn't done since their Galactic Cup win. That meant extra preparation in her box, scheduling in private player introductions to the owner, and making sure there was nothing breakable on hand should the Lightning lose; their owner had been known to throw tantrums when things didn't go her way. At least Otta was clearly a devoted Lightning fan, rather than using the team as a money-making scheme... well, at least not only as a money-making scheme.

"Ylesia to Lejique."

She started, but it was only their team commentators, grinning at her lack of attention. Jong Ranrak, their Devaronian play-by-play commentator, and Jong Marson, Chagrian former Lightning goalkeeper turned colour commentator. They were a good-natured pair, with the team since before their ELL days, and enjoyed bickering about who had the name "Jong" first... usually while on-air. It made for entertaining broadcasts, at the very least.

"Sorry, did you need something?" she asked.

"No one seems to be able to get us a confirmed updated roster for the Senators," Marson explained. "And I don't trust the holonet. Never know what lies these pesky reporters are coming up with." His grin softened the jab.

"I'd rather not be using last year's lineup and end up calling someone the wrong name, it'd make me look bad," Ranrak added. Marson looked like he wanted to say something, but refrained from doing so. Probably saving it for the game.

"I've got this year's roster information here." Lejique sent the information from her datapad to theirs. "If you want to know starting lineup, you'll have to go find out yourselves, I'm afraid. I don't even have ours confirmed yet."

Ranrak shrugged. "I can always figure that out when they get out there. Thanks."

The commentators went to leave, but Marson turned back. "Oh, forgot to mention: you should try the popcorn, whoever's making it is excellent this season!" Lejique smiled and shook her head, waving them off.

----

Game start



Player introductions were always the most boring part of the season, but they had to be done. At least they'd picked reasonable music this time. The cheers from the crowd made it obvious who their favourites were: the scoring Kunas, team Captain Vra, the solid midfielder Tung Nabb, the young Prya Tiin who'd had an excellent if understated showing the last two seasons, and to absolutely no one's surprise, goalkeeper Kasin Urdaaza. The planet's love for their team's goalkeeper was borderline obsessive, in Lejique's opinion, and the (amusing) idiots who ran the What We Learned column were helping spread the Urdaaza love, and so they too were loved on Ylesia. She'd even overheard a couple loud fans talking about sending those sportswriters some Urdaaza posters so they could decorate their office.

Once all the starting players were on the field, the announcer directed their attention to the owner's box, where Otta waved to the crowd and spoke briefly to the assembled stadium, with a translation droid repeating her for those that didn't understand Huttese.

"Otta the Hutt welcomes you all to the first Ylesia Lightning home game of 275, against the esteemed Coruscant Senators! Let the Limmie begin!"

Short and to the point, which was a lot better than the expected speech while their players stood around on the field. Lejique settled in with her datapad and made a note to follow the substitutions at half time in particular - if two more rookies were to play tonight, she'd have more to write about this week. And she'd have to check out the popcorn, of course.

TAG: Jedi Gunny (for the game) Trieste (for those great guys at What We Learned)

 

OOC/OOG: Once again, thanks to Trieste for the Bakuran viewpoint and dialogue!

IC: Tim Dodd - Calna Muun, Agamar.

Leaving the Council Centre, the party boarded Passenger Airspeeders (Cargo Airspeeders containing the luggage had already made the trip and been offloaded by a combination of Senatorial Guard and Packers players into the prefabricated, wood-built, accommodations erected to one side of the practice pitch). For once, the Speeders headed directly for the island; being assured by the ASF 'air cover' that no Media were around to track them to exactly where it was located. On arrival, the group found the full Packers' squad, Asyr and Dorf (all neatly clad in Packers' Blazers) assembled to greet and welcome them.

---

Falene and the team stepped out of the speeder and saw the assembled Packers team in their blazers, showing that they too had planned ahead for a slightly more formal affair. The two teams shook hands all around, though considering the prodigious height of some of the Packers players (Hohass Vesh the Thakwaash in particular) it was a slightly awkward exchange given the differential in height. Even the tall players like Pic had to crane their necks up to look them in the eye.

"Now I'm beginning to see why you guys lost 36-0 last year," Ponie mumbled to Falene discreetly when the pleasantries were concluded, "They're huge."

"We lost because we let them use their size against us," Falene responded just as quietly. Her eyes came up on Abrams, who had given her no end of trouble last season. "We're not going to do it again."

Ponie nodded. "Their goalkeeper has more claim to being the Beautiful Stallion than Morgan does," she observed.

"We'll just see about that," Falene said.

---

Next to the pool, an elderly, white haired, human was tending spit-roasts of Roba and Nerf suspended over adjacent barbecue 'pits' (although these were brick-built and stood a metre plus above ground level; mouth-watering aromas were periodically wafting into the arrival area on a gentle, fitful, breeze. There wasn't much in the way of ceremony (just applause, cheering and sissing from the four Barabel) before Tim conducted the Noble House members to their 'house' (actually a minor mansion) and Dorf and Asyr performed that duty regarding the Miners' team and Team Staff, respectively. The schedule called for a one hour break for unpacking, organisation and checking out the beds (the Senatorial Guard had, discretely, clued the Agamarian Council in about everyone's preferred mattress type and degree of firmness) but they would be welcome at the barbecue earlier, if they so wished. The Miners and Staff (not the Noble House, as it was a meal option for the pre-game Banquet Lunch) were also told that no one should miss the chance to try 'SeaEmperor', commonly known as 'pinkfish', from the colour of its flesh when cooked; a local delicacy almost wiped out by the Extragalactics' ocean-dwelling biots but which had now just started to be reintroduced into the wild; and that the Packers invariably went out for a team-run at dawn each day, the Miners were cordially invited to take part if they so chose!

The meal was of the leisurely type and seemed to meet with everyone's approval both as to quality and quantity; although the stocks of wine (both local and imported) had taken something of a hammering! Tim noted that the Miners' players, like the Packers, stuck to low alcohol or no alcohol drinks - as he did himself. Just as well there was an additional stock of wine on hand at the Stadium for the pre-game meal, though, as well as a little something that definitely shouldn't be knocked back as if it was water - the 'extra' was far too rare for that! The only concern was that it might have degraded over time, but best opinion (from sacrificing another bottle) said that it hadn't. That said, the taster probably didn't have the refined palate Tim thought the Noble House members possessed; the taster was only the Head Wine Waiter of Calna Muun's best hotel, after all, notwithstanding that he'd served his apprenticeship in one of Coruscant's better restaurants!

Then it was time for the demonstration. Technicians moved in communications equipment to let the diners hear the tactical comlink transmissions and fitted the volunteer 'hostages' (Trixie Eldred and the person Tim thought was the Guard Detail's 2 i/c) with goggles and combined ear-defenders/comm-receivers set to the TAU frequency. The lead technician explained that the 'kidnappers' would not be able to hear TAU transmissions (although everyone else would) and that 'kidnappers' and TAU outside the 'typical Agamarian dwelling', which was now being slid out into the centre of the practice pitch on repulsors, were wearing goggles that turned daylight into an average Agamarian night. That was also true of the windows in the 'dwelling'. These arrangements were, in fact, standard for TAU training, especially for conditioning new TAU Officers into the existing teams; and Oleg, despite this being a mere demonstration with 'play' weapons, had decided to treat it as a full-scale training exercise.

The 'hostages' were taken out to the 'house' by landspeeder, where they were put into the care of the Senior ASF Cadets playing the part of the 'kidnappers'. These included Georg's younger brother, Igor Sturm, who was pleased as anything to be one of the actual 'hostage room' guards. Two or three years older than Trixie Eldred, he was later to relate that he'd responded to her teasing comment that she thought she was coming down with 'kidnap-victim syndrome' by saying "Our mission for today is to 'die', Miss; hope you don't mind if I do that at your feet!", With the roof area populated by three 'kidnapper' sentries (who had been wearing their goggles for two or thee hours to become light-adapted, Oleg gave the order for the exercise to begin from his usual Command Centre in ASF HQ.

First in were the sensor teams. Their task was to establish how many 'kidnappers' the TAU would be facing, to attempt to locate whereabouts in the 'dwelling' the 'hostages' were being held and to monitor everyone's movements - the 'kidnappers' had been instructed to behave (within limits) as real abductors would, which meant that they could switch position at will, gossip, or even play a few hands of Sabbac! The sensor readouts were (for today) also being displayed on portable screens where the diners could see them.

After the reconnaissance teams reported back there was a pause for a few minutes while the TAU carried out a final briefing and part of it took to the air. While civilian 'Thrust Sailers' were only rated as 'daylight capable' those used by TAU could (and almost exclusively did) fly at night. Expensive helmets, mimicking reported capabilities of Mandalorian 'buckets', contained Infra-red and Light-amplification vision systems as well as a fully computer-generated view which tied in with their on-board navigation instrumentation. Given a closely scanned, three dimensional, computer map of the terrain and obstacles, they were capable of getting their pilots safely to the chosen destination even in pitch black conditions. Such scanning, begun as soon as "Thrust Sailers" had been chosen for airborne insertion duties due to their almost total lack of visual and audible signatures had long been completed for the whole of Agamar's land surface, and was kept regularly updated.

The "Thrust Sailers" (four of them, each tandem-rigged to carry two TAU Officers and fitted with night-camouflage pattern 'sails') came in unannounced from the left, the end of the 'dwelling' with almost no windows. The yellow strobe-flashes of the sentries' kill-lights being followed a second later by the comm-gear coming alive with "Roof neutralised - three subjects down! Ground team move in!". The "Thrust Sailers" job wasn't finished, though, one-by-one they made perfect soft touchdowns on the roof, pilots and passengers first securing that area against additional intrusion, then making preparations for their assault.

On the ground, and overwatched by snipers (although these weren't visible to those viewing the unfolding events) more TAU Officers moved in at angles calculated to give the 'kidnappers' little to no chance of spotting them. Dispersing in trios at doors and windows, they prepared simulated breaching charges and commenced placing them into position. Overhead, the roof team deployed ropes to the sides of their selected window entry points and moved carefully down them to start setting simulated breaching charges themselves. When completed, the two teams signalled 'go' condition to the on-scene commander, now kneeling beside the Supreme Chancellor and closely watching the sensor output. As requested, the Supreme Chancellor waited for his signal, and spoke just two words into his active comlink: "Knock-knock!"

The quick-fire ripple of explosions made a number of the watchers jump at the noise, despite being (as arranged) merely fireworks, and the doors and windows realistically vanished (actually performed by cunning special effects mechanisms). One of the Officers by each entry-point was seen to toss something (an impact-activated remote detonator) through each newly-created aperture, creating a further chorus of bangs and flashes from the pre-positioned fireworks (standing in for the normal dose of stun-dazzle grenades) inside. Hard upon these, the entry teams moved smoothly into their assault routine.

The doorways were easy enough to negotiate, all the Officers there had to do was simply storm inside, shooting any 'subjects' that were, or came into, sight. Ground-floor windows were little harder; the third members of those teams boosting both colleagues through by a foot placed in the 'stirrup' of their hands, before scrambling inside themselves. Naturally, the easiest forced entries to get wrong were those through the upper-floor window apertures; that is why TAU practised those time and time again to get the insertions clean and the timing down to milliseconds. As the (simulated) stun-dazzle grenades went in, the other Officer pushed off from the wall and pendulum-swung on an arc straight through the aperture, releasing the rope when just inside the room to permit the other team member to follow a second or so later.

Now the operation passed entirely into the hands of those inside the 'dwelling', with those outside limited to nervously listening to the comlink chatter. Almost immediately, the team that had entered through the front door took 'casualties', a 'kidnapper' (a rather inventive one) had wrapped herself in IR blocking material and shoehorned herself into a tiny hall cupboard, emerging to spray the front door team from behind, resulting in two 'dead' Officers. The 'corpse' of the team leader thought to itself "Kriff it, now we have to buy those pimple-faced nuggets a couple of rounds; and in the 'O' Club, yet!". The corpse's mood lightened slightly as its surviving teammate's reaction snapshot lit up the cheeky Cadet's kill-indicators like the lights on a Gift-day tree! Everywhere else though, the operation was going smooth as shimmersilk, as the clipped remarks over the tactical comlink indicated. Then what everyone had been waiting for "Hostages located - hostages safe - three subjects neutralised - extraction team move Now!".

Instantly, a dozen more Officers each carrying two Blaster-proof shields moved to and into the house, taking the stairs to the upper-floor (guided by the TAU team that had found the hostages), while a heavily-armoured landspeeder moved into position near the front door. Then the 'hostages' reappeared, surrounded and roofed-over by shields (in what the ASF Manuals called the 'Tortoise' manoeuvre) and were conducted to the armoured landspeeder for return to the dining area.

---

As the exercise concluded, it seemed that Trixie Eldred was enjoying her newly-developed syndrome. "No! He's dead! My lover is dead!" she cried melodramatically as she was moved along by the TAU extraction team, "Kill me now! I can't go on without him!"

Falene rolled her eyes. Trixie enjoyed being a nuisance like this and always had. Why her Aunt Regan hadn't drowned her daughter in a river by this point in her life was beyond Falene. Even so, it was typical Trixie. Falene did what she usually did and ignored her cousin altogether, though her teammates were finding it amusing. That was only going to encourage her.

The Senatorial Guard participant shook the hand of the on-scene commander. "Nicely done, sir. Given the conditions, very well done. Wish your men had picked up the one in the cupboard, but I think that's more a reflection of her inventiveness than the performance of your teams."

"Indeed, a very masterful display of skill," Kerry said to both Tim and the commander, "No wonder Agamar remains so at peace. With deterrents like this, who would even think of performing a kidnapping here?"

---

"Thank you, Supreme Chancellor, and Sir! Yes, I can see us building that sort of surprise appearance into our training routines in future! A very worthwhile exercise!"; the TAU man replied.

"I'll pass your kind comments on to Oleg, Ma'am, maybe he'll release some footage for broadcast. It's a balance, though, between scaring possible perpetrators away from criminal activity (although we're fortunate, here, not to get too much in the way of serious crime) and opening up ASF's tactics to analysis.

Seeing Asyr, Dorf and the Miners' Coaching Staff starting to gather up their respective charges and usher them away to their various accommodations, and hearing the Supreme Chancellor suggesting the to the Noble House also retire for the night, Tim walked them to the door of their 'house' and bade them goodnight before seeking his own resting place.

In the morning, the teams took off early for their respective last-minute training and team briefings, while Tim and the Noble House waited until almost lunchtime to head for the new Stadium by Airspeeder. Knowing (from advance sales - the Stadium's increased capacity had permitted a drop in prices - and enquiries) that there would be an absolute capacity crowd in for today's match, no matter the number of the visiting supporters from Bakura, Tim wondered how both teams would react to half a million beings roaring them on! It was traditional that the, mostly University, walk-ins would cheer for the visiting side; however some Packers' supporters had let it be known that they would be cheering good plays no matter which side made them; Tim thought and hoped that the atmosphere would resemble a TenGate, rather than a Limmie match, for a change!

Luncheon was served by a team of waiters from Agamar's best restaurant; the menu options being Poached "SeaEmperor", Grilled Nerf Fillets, and some vegetarian dishes - one of which recreated the "Dex's Diner" Meatless Slider from Old Republic Coruscant.


TAG Trieste

 

GM Post

Week 2, where we find out if the League will tend towards parity or runaway leaders. Bonus rolls to Agamar, Bakura, Coruscant, Mando'ade Mercs, Nar Shaddaa, Ralltiir, Rydonni Prime, and Ylesia.

Week 2 Results

Rydonni Prime Monarchs at Corellia Rebels (7-14)
Chandrila Patriots at Euceron Storm (26-14)
Coruscant Senators at Ylesia Lightning (33-12)
Hapes Consortium Buccaneers at Nar Shaddaa Smugglers (25-8)
Ralltiir Starkillers at Mando’ade Mercs (20-30)
Bakura Miners at Agamar Packers (39-29)

And the answer to parity vs. runaway leaders is...a little bit of this, a little bit of that as the Solo Conference gets back on the eopie and puts in a 4-2 week after the Skywalker Conference did the same last week.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

IC: Fenton

The game itself was only slightly more tolerable than the event that preceded it. Fenton watched in dismay as the Starkillers allowed the Mercs to score on them twice in the opening 5 minutes. Had getting married made Ty Allin soft? He dropped a ball that could have easily been intercepted only to have the Mercs recover and put the first 3 points on the board. Just a few minutes later Dev Poletin made a fantastic stop just to turn the ball over on the most poorly thrown ball Fenton had ever seen and allowing the Mercs to put another point on the board.

There were moments when the Starkillers shined on offense though. They managed to put 20 points on the board Jul and Marmu were working together and putting forth a tremendous effort, but they just could not keep up with the pitiful performance of the defense. Fenton almost shut the set off as soon as the final play ended, but was caught by surprise when reporters swarmed Galaxy Defender, he usually refused question after a loss. Fenton increased the volume as he stopped and answered the most pressing question on the mind of all Starkillers fans. “You have opened the season with two consecutive losses. How do you plan to turn the season around?”

“That’s obvious,” he retorted “we score more and get scored on less.”

“How do you plan to accomplish these goals and salvage your season?” Another anxious reporter asked.

“This is no time to lose our heads, we go back home and concentrate on the upcoming match against the Smugglers.” Before another question could be fired at him he jogged off the field towards the locker room. The answers didn’t make Fenton feel any better about the loss he went to bed miserable.

His foul mood was lifted slightly when he woke up to the smell of his favorite breakfast the next morning. He saw the discarded steak from the previous evening and remembered that he hadn’t only witnessed another Starkillers loss he’d also missed dinner. So he quickly dressed and headed to the kitchen.

“You made breakfast?” Fenton asked as he entered the room and grabbed himself a plate.

“Good morning” his mother greeted.

“Well I wouldn’t call it good, the Starkillers lost again and I have to work today. But breakfast should help, thanks for making it.” Fenton poured himself some juice and sat down at the table.

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about work” his mother began. Suddenly Fenton got a sinking feeling. This sounded just like the talk he had received when he was told to get the job, in the first place. But he had gotten the job, what was wrong now he wondered. “You see, I am very proud that you have gone out and found work, but I was really hoping for you to find more lucrative work. This job you found is only a few days a week at most and not many hours. I was really hoping you would start paying your own bills once you found work.”

Fenton had lost his appetite again. “Isn’t anything ever enough for you?” He asked angrily.

From there the conversation went downhill, his mother had her mind made up she wanted Fenton to start paying rent and the figure she had in mind was more than he could bring home from Bankers Mansion. Still he had to go to work today, so he promised her he would start looking tomorrow and left the house.

BankersMansion was the home to many, many events. Today Fenton would be serving nachos at a Rodian Heritage festival. It was pointless the nacho stand wasn’t busy; most people were more interested in the authentic Rodian fair cooked at the booths. Fenton was in a lousy mood since his mother had spoken to him about getting another job. He wandered around the festival on his break and returned with a heaping plate of Rodian cuisine, not caring how bad it was for him.

He was surprised when his supervisor joined him at the table. “I actually thought you weren’t eating so much these days. Guess I was wrong?”

Fenton usually didn’t say much of anything at work. He had barely spoken to his supervisor at all and now the kid was commenting on his eating habits. Fenton was becoming more furious by the moment. Fenton stabbed his fork into as many pieces of food as possible and stuffed them into his mouth. When he was done chewing he asked “What do you care?”

“I don’t” the young man replied. “Just thought something may be bothering you, that’s all” he said with a shrug.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Fenton stated.

“I may not, but it’s slow today so I do have time to listen.”

“It’s just that my family is pressing me to get a more, steady job.” Fenton said cautiously. It seemed like his supervisor took this job very seriously and he didn’t want to seem critical of it.

“Actually, I might be able to help you with that, if you don’t mind getting your hands dirty.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a job washing speeders and another washing dishes at a restaurant. Both are hard work and neither pay well, but I could probably get you in the door if you need.”

Fenton looked at the young man. He was young, tall, but young Fenton was sure of it. “Do you mind if I ask why you have so many jobs?”

“It’s a long story,” he said with a glazed look in his eyes.

Inside his supervisors mind he relives the events that got him here:

Bat eavesdropped from the top of the steps as his brothers begged their father to buy snacks for this evening’s ELL draft. He knew it wouldn’t be long now before his father caved. He raced back to his room, found his jacket and slipped it on. By the time he got back his father was headed out the door to his speeder; once the vehicle was out of sight Bat made his way downstairs towards the door.

“Where are you going?” His older brother barked.

“None of your business” he retorted as he rushed out of the house. He made his way to the far side of the driveway where his mother’s older speeder was kept. His mother had a newer one so this one had all but been handed down for the older children to drive. Of course he wasn’t supposed to take it without permission. But what was the point of asking for permission when you knew you wouldn’t get it. He took note that Richard hadn’t chased him out of the house to try and stop him. It was a little surprising. Richard always did the right thing. He knew his brother would report the incident to his father, not that it would be necessary. When his father got home and found him and the speeder missing he would be able to put the pieces together.

He could deal with his father later. What mattered now was getting to The Wet Ground. The Wet Ground was a bar of sorts. Bat wasn’t old enough to get in but he had obtained a false identification card that had allowed him into similar establishments in the past. He was meeting a group of friends there. They weren’t really his friends, but they had taken him in and he believed they thought they had earned his trust. He knew they were a bad crowd. Bat and a good friend he had known since childhood had started to hang with the crowd before they knew how bad they were. In the beginning they had been asked to steal petty objects from teachers or fellow classmates as an initiation to the group. Shortly after they had been given the fake identification cards and asked to hang out in clubs they were too young to be in. Bat was going to leave the group. But then he discovered his sister was involved with one of their more senior members.

Justyne was 18 but she didn’t always make the best of decisions. Bat had seen her hurt too many times. He was determined to out this guy as a jerk before he hurt his sister. Of course, he really had no idea how he was going to do that. Hopefully an opportunity would present itself soon because sneaking out of the house to break the law by getting into a bar while under age was definitely not doing him any favors. His hands felt clammy and sweaty as he turned into a part of town he would rather not be in. Homeless folk gathered on a corner and a stripped speeder could be seen parked in the alley.

Thankfully all the vehicles parked outside of The Wet Ground looked intact. Bat was blessed with an intimidating figure. He was well over 6 feet in height and had a broad build. This made it much easier to get by as older than his 16 years and often kept most people from attempting to anger or mess with him. He quickly made his way into the bar and to a table in the back of the establishment where his acquaintances were gathered. “Glad you are here.” Patten said in greeting.

Patten was the guy that was dating his sister. Bat took a seat across from him. “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to hang out with friends.” He returned.

“Oh, we have come here with more in mind than just hanging out” Patten informed him. “We have business to attend to.”

“Business?” Bat asked.

Grant, the guy sitting next to Patten got up and walked around the table stopping directly behind Bat. “We need you to sell this.” He said producing a container with a powdered substance.

Bat felt his draw drop. He had never seen spice before but he was certain that’s what this was. “Why me?” He inquired as calmly as possible.

“You need to get your feet wet, rookie,” Patten taunted from the other side of the table. “Besides with your stature we can probably get more for the product. People don’t mess with you kid and we’ll give you part of the profit.” He offered.

More than anything Bat wanted to get up and run. He had what he needed now. If he told Justyne that Patten was dealing spice she would get out of the relationship. She had to be at least that smart. “What if I refuse?” Bat asked in his most intimidating voice.

“We turn you in for entering a bar under age.” Grant said slipping the spice into the front pocket of Bat’s jacket “and possession of spice”.

“Who do you want me to sell it to?” Bat asked defeated.

Grant pointed to an individual just a few tables away. “We want you to ask for 600 credits. That’s 200 more than our usual price, so he’s going to refuse. Your job is to get as close to the 600 as possible. Got it?”

Bat nodded, he backed up his chair and headed towards the designated individual. He hoped to get this over with quickly. So he could return home to relative safety of his angered father. “I hear you are interested in buying a product.” Bat stated coolly as he sat down across from the man.

“You aren’t my usual seller” he replied.

“No, and I’m afraid I have bad news, the price has gone up.” Bat pressed forward. “It’s going to cost you 600 credits.”

“That’s a steep increase in price.” The man stated. He was too casual, Bat wasn’t familiar with these types of transactions but he expected a much worse reaction. “Let me see the product.”

Bat figured that if he produced the spice the man would snatch it and run without paying at all. That wouldn’t be so bad he decided. So he reached into his pocket and handed it over. To his surprise the man didn’t get up to leave, instead he reached into his pocket. Bat froze with fear, sure the man was about to pull out a weapon. But it wasn’t a weapon the man flashed it was a badge.

“I’m Sam Mills I’m with Cambrielle law enforcement. I need you to put both hands on the table where I can see them.”

No sooner did Bat place his hands on the table before they were grabbed by another officer who had seemingly come out of nowhere who quickly cuffed them behind his back. There was a lot of commotion as several other officers came in the front door and headed towards the table Bat had been sitting at. Bat didn’t have time to see what else went down. He was ushered outside as his rights were dictated to him by the officer who had cuffed him. Then he was pushed into the back seat of a speeder. Another officer was sitting in the front seat. He turned to look at Bat. “You have some identification on you?” he grumbled.

Bat nodded, the officer got out of the speeder and opened the back door. “Which pocket?”

“Back left.” The officer grabbed the wallet and began to open it. “The one on top is a fake.” Bat stated.

The officer took both cards and tossed the wallet on the seat next to Bat before closing the door and heading back to the front seat. “This identicard was stolen.” The officer stated after scanning it with his data pad. “So now we add theft to your list of infractions this evening.” He scanned the other identification Bat’s actual identity and paused. “You’re 16?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yes sir”

The officer got out of the speeder and consulted a few other officers for a moment. When he returned he informed Bat that they were headed for a juvenile detention center and took off. The speeder ride was a blur. Bat wondered how he would be treated in a detention center for half of the ride. The other half of the ride he contemplated how disappointed his father would be. They arrived at their destination long before Bat was ready.

“When we get inside I want you to call your folks” the officer said as he landed the speeder. “That’s if you have parents to call.”

Bat was given a device that resembled a comlink to call his parents with. He gave the officer his father’s number and waited nervously for him to pick up. “Martin Vigo speaking.”

“Dad”

“Bat, where are you?”

“Dad, I’m…” Bat felt his lip quivering “…I’m at the Juvenile Detention center on the far end of town. Dad, I was arrested.”

“Arrested?” There was anger in his voice, but there was concern too, Bat was sure of it. “How serious is this? Can I come pick you up?”

“It’s serious. You’ll have to pay 100,000 credits to take me home.”

“100,000 credits.” His father repeated. “Bartholomew, what did you do?”

There was no easy way to say it “I was caught selling spice.”

Bat heard a loud sound on the other end; as if his father broke something or perhaps threw an object in anger. A long pause followed, “I’m coming” he finally said and with that he ended the call.

The officer who had been listening in led Bat to a chair next to a desk. “Sit here and wait” the man said. He took a seat at the desk and began to type furiously. Bat sat in that chair for over an hour. His hands still cuffed behind his back, waiting for his father to arrive. It was the longest hour of his life. Finally the officer received a call, when he hung up he stood and walked over to Bat. “Stand up” he ordered. Bat did as he was told, the officer removed the cuffs. “You are damned lucky” he told Bat. “You should be wearing a jumpsuit and getting to know your cellmate.”

Unconsciously Bat rubbed his sore wrists as he was led into the next room where his father was waiting. Even in casual clothing his father looked important. He was slightly taller than Bat and his presence was always intimidating, but never so much so as it was right now at this moment. “Let’s go” he said with a motion of his head as he turned and headed towards the door.

Bat followed keeping a two foot distance between himself and his father. Once they were seated in his father’s speeder his father started talking. “100,000 credits.” He began. “Your entire University fund swallowed in one evening. And this won’t be our only expense. You’ll need a lawyer, those don’t come cheap.” He turned at looked at Bat. “What about re-hab, do I need to look into re-hab for you?”

“Re-hab?” Too much had happened in such a short amount of time for Bat to keep up anymore.

“You were caught selling spice, Bartholomew, have you been using spice? Or just selling it?”

The realization of all this was going to take a while to sink in, Bat decided; would his father even believe him if he told the truth. He hoped so. “I never even laid eyes on the stuff until today, Dad, I swear.”

To Bat’s surprise his father dropped the subject. “Where’s your mother’s speeder?” He asked.

“At The Wet Ground” this really isn’t going to go over well, Bat thought miserably.

“That’s what I was afraid of” his father grumbled. “Richard and I will have to go get it in the morning. Your mother is not feeling well so I’m going to put off telling her about this as well.” His father finally started the speeder.

“Mom’s been ill since Lucie left.” Bat stated sadly.

“Does your behavior this evening have anything to do with your mother?” His father asked.

“No.” Bat answered honestly. Sure he could have blamed his problems on his mother, maybe if she had been around more this wouldn’t have happened. But the blame didn’t lie with his mother or Lucie. There were easier ways to help Justyne as well. He should have never gone into a bar under age or even left the house without permission. If Bat was honest with himself part of him had enjoyed seeing how much he could get away with. That’s why he hadn’t refused to meet his friends. I guess I discovered my limit he mused.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Richard and Spencer were watching the draft when they got home. His littlest brother Tomas was asleep on the sofa in his Starkiller pajamas. Richard was holding a datapad. He looked up as they walked in “Were you arrested for selling spice?” His brother asked before he even had a chance to take his jacket off.

“Spencer, take Tomas upstairs” his father ordered.

“But Dad, the draft is on.” Spencer protested.

“You can watch the draft upstairs. Now go.”

Spencer shook Tomas to wake him enough to make it upstairs and retreated without further argument. Richard waited for the two younger boys to be out of earshot and turned around his datapad. “You made the news” he told Bat as he showed him a picture of The Wet Ground surrounded by authorities his mother’s speeder clearly in the background.

So his father had found a reason to contact Lucie. Bat really didn’t know why his father contacted Lucie after all this time; maybe to try and bring his mother back from her illness or perhaps to try and repair more than just that. To Bat’s surprise Lucie came back and even though he avoided her for as long as he could eventually she caught up to him. It was through her that he got the job at BankersMansion. She had given Bat an opportunity. He didn’t care how small it was, he proved himself by being promoted to supervisor in just over a month on the job. When he got his first paycheck he thought about all the credits his dad had spent to save his behind. He had changed a lot in the past year. Somehow he would pay his father back. He vowed he would.

“I owe someone a lot of money.” He said getting up and clearing his plate. “If you would like me to get you a job I know they always need help at the restaurant and you aren’t half bad at scrubbing pots.”

TAG: Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Memorial Stadium, Calna Munn, Agaamar

“Falene, catch!”

Trieste ran her reception route and caught the pass up from the rookie goalkeeper, who had a slightly rougher go of this game than the last time out. The Bombardment offense that the Packers played used a lot of power and physicality that the Miner defense wasn’t containing. The big bodies of the Packer attack got up a large head of speed and when Falene tried to tackle likes of Abrams, there wasn’t much that she could do to slow him down once he got moving, but she was doing her best to make life difficult for him by being a pest and hacking at the bolo-ball.

Comstock, to her credit, wasn’t rolling over. She was small but fast and though the Packers were scoring on her, she was making some clutch saves too. She’d then kick the ball up the field with accuracy to one of her defenders, often in the half back line. The Hulu defense then used a short pass to put the bolo-ball in the hands of one of the two midfielders.

That was exactly what Falene did as she took the ball on the run and popped it off her foot into the hands of an in-motion Pic. For her efforts, Falene got brought to the ground from behind by one of the Packers. The hit drove her face into the grass, but Falene was happy. She’d done her job—the ball was out of the Miners’ zone and Falene could just see above the even blades of grass that Pic had run an reverse end-around with Glencross that caught the Noghri midfielders for the Packers off guard. Glencross cut to the now-open inside as the Packer got off of Falene’s back and allowed her to get to her feet. Glencross with time to spare made a long, straight pass up the middle over Deenever and into the hands of Rodders, who shrugged his Yuzzem defender off, pump faked for the goal, freezing the big Thakwaash, and then turned and passed to Stormborn. Vesh scrambled to cover the right side of his goal and he was on his win when the Echani put the ball back to the middle and to a ready and waiting Deenver who headered the ball into the far side of the net. It was her third goal on the day and just another in a line of dominating Miner scores from all over the field. Niskat high fived Alesh with a roar to celebrate her score.

Down the field, Falene pumped a fist for her best friend as she spit grass out of her mouth. It was a grinding day, but they were hanging in there.

---

Home team owners’ box

The Trieste family applauded the goal by their team. There’d been plenty on both sides for the day. It was certainly a more enjoyable experience than the meeting of these last two teams a year prior.

The Chancellor was about to make a comment to Tim when Saldor Kann, her personal secretary, shuffled his large body down the row of seats behind her. He bent down and spoke extremely softly in the Chancellor’s ear. Kerry turned abruptly.

“What.”

The single word was spoken with all the ice of Hoth. The entire box turned to look at her.

“You’re not serious,” Kerry said.

“I’m afraid I am,” Kann said.

“What’s happened?” Declan asked with concern.

“Taab just declared victory in the war against the Ssi-Ruuk and killed their leader on the field at the Mercs game,” Kerry said.

“What?” just about every member of the Triestes shouted.

---

Field level

The team was blissfully unaware of anything that was taking place on Mandalore. They were focused on the game, one in which the Miner offense had regained its old form. Rodders was humming along in his usual form and Deenever was providing the 2 in the 1-2 punch up the middle of the field.

The two of them had combined for nine goals on the day, over half the Miners points. After no goals last week against Ylesia, the Miners had gone nuts, especially Deenever who’d put in four goals against the Packers.

When the dust settled, it was 39-29 Miners. Falene gave Abrams a slap on the back—his very muscled and tough back. “Nicely done,” she said, “Hard game. No easy plays. Good luck with the rest of the season.”

Not many Miner fans had come to the game all the way in Agamar, but the few who had were clustered around the visitor’s tunnel to applaud and cheer for their team that had come so far across the galaxy to go 2-0 on the season. Falene and the other Miners applauded with their hands over their head as they came off the field to show their appreciation to these most devoted fans.

The Packers’ stadium sat far above the amount that Bakura Gardens did (only Stoney End was smaller than the Gardens) and though the Packer fans had been loud and into the game. Of course, Mesh’la Vhetin still sat millions of people, far dwarfing this stadium. Falene had played there last season and won. The Miners knew how to handle a lot of opposing fans, that was for sure.

Inside the locker room, the Miners were upbeat. They’d won a defensive battle. They’d won an offensive shootout. Right now, they felt like they could do anything. When it came time to award the game ball, Valerii held it up over her head.

“Big day for the offense today,” the head coach said, “Really complete effort from our Front Six today. Aron—five goals, way to go. But it’s got to go to the other Golden Bear in the middle—Niskat with four.” Valerii tossed the ball overhand to Deenever, who hauled it in one handed.

“This one’s on behalf of everybody up front,” Niskat said.

“There’s one other piece of business we have to deal with,” Valerii said, “During this game, Beskaryc Taab announced that the war against the Ssi-Ruuk is over. Their leader was captured and killed on Mandalore before the game. You’re probably going to get questions from the media. It’s up to you what you want to say.”

Falene took a deep breath. She knew she was going to get questions about this. She was the Chancellor’s daughter. Sure enough, when she was changed and the media was allowed into the locker room, the largest number of reporters came to her.

“Falene, Falene, thoughts about the end of the war?” one of the reporters asked her.

She paused before she said anything. “You know what? I kick a bolo-ball for a living. My opinion on anything other than that doesn’t matter. So if you want to talk about the war, go talk to somebody else. Now, does anyone have any questions about limmie?”

TAG: Bardan_Jusik Tim Battershell

 

IC: Kaitlyn Vehn
Tesserone, Roon


Kaitlyn would never admit this to anyone but the fines that the league had levied against her for putting Reina Kether in her place hurt. Her pockets were already feeling a little shallow after investing a great deal of her family income into a new stadium for the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. Sure, she’d made up some of her loss by scoring some nice advertising deals and helping out the Valor Foundation but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. To add insult to injury she’d been banned from attending the next three ELL games. Okay, that wasn’t quite true. She just couldn’t be on the sidelines but it might as well have been the same. But things were getting worse, not better. Something was real wrong here.

Now, looming on the horizon, were divorce proceedings with her husband to determine who got what and whether or not there would be joint-custody. Kaitlyn hoped that Jack would stay with her full time but she knew the law. She knew the law never guaranteed anything but expensive fees and broken hearts. So she hoped the upcoming trial would go well. She hoped that if Liam really wanted to be a part of Jack’s life he would help make that transition as easy as possible. But she really just needed to clear her head. So she had gone to Tesserone, the Vehn family dwelling that her ex-sister-in-law Verity Vehn and her husband Oisin Trieste called home.

The first thing Kaitlyn experienced when she stepped out of the air-speeder was how quiet everything was out here in the country. The quiet was a little unnerving at first and a little threatening. She’d only ever lived in the heavily populated cities of II Avali, the Vertical City, where noise and pollution and distractions were everywhere. Where deeper thoughts that contemplated the meaning of life weren’t allowed or couldn’t be heard in the hub-bub of what so many people thought of as reality. For her, it was reality.

That was where her life was, in that maelstrom of lies and deceit, subterfuge and violence, of sports, of noise, of an infinitesimal amount of distractions. But out here in the country with the smells of the land, of the animals, of the great wild, she actually found herself at a loss, suddenly wondered if she really knew who she was after all.

So she thought about who she was.

She was the owner and general manager of the Nar Shaddaa Smugglers. She was the soon to be ex-wife of Liam Vehn. She was the mother of Jack Vehn who had every bit the leanings of a troublemaker. But that was all right with her. She didn’t mind. She was just thankful to see him after her year long hiatus of 274. All she wanted now was to provide him with a home that was stable and would help him grow up into a fine young man.

Kaitlyn dropped her bags off on the covered porch that wrapped around the exterior of the house and looked out at the magnificent view of the high-prairie off in the distance. The sky was an orangish-yellowish-purple splendor of rich color and Kaitlyn stared and let the sights take her away to a peaceful place. Her peace didn’t last long as she felt slender arms wrap around her leg and pull. She looked down and with wide-eyes picked up her boy and spun him around. He laughed, she laughed, and Kaitlyn allowed herself to relax and enjoy the moment.

Out of the corner of her eye Kaitlyn saw Verity leaning against a wooden support, arms folded across her chest. There was a knowing smile in the country girl who had taken over the estate and made a name for herself in the local medical community years ago. Verity had raised her own family here. Austin Trieste was still at home. May Trieste had gone off to Theed to pursue a medical career and Eleanor Vehn was now representing Naboo and the rest of the Chommel Sector as a Senator in the Galactic Senate. So, all in all, things had gone well for the Vehn family and all of that could be contributed by the grounding influence of hard work, peace, and a sense of being that kids in the country developed in the right environment.

“Thank you, Verity,” Kaitlyn said as she squeezed her boy in a bear hug.

Verity nodded her head in response. “Dinner’s ready when you are. Oh, and the game against Hapes is on…”

Kaitlyn sent Jack off to the kitchen and shoved her hands in her pockets. How she wanted to be there today with the team enjoying every minute of the game. But she needed some time away, time to physically heal from the pop heard round the galaxy and time to mentally heal for the trying road ahead. Slipping into a chair at the dinner table, Kaitlyn glanced past Verity to check the score.

Hapes 20, Nar Shaddaa 8. Not good.

From the living room, she heard Jack playing with his action figures, yelling, “Take that Reina Ketter, take that!”

Kaitlyn poked her head into the living room and saw Jack using a Meredith Chambers action figure, complete with fist-pumping action, to beat up on a disfigured brunette Limmie figure of unidentifiable origin.

Nice work, Kaitlyn, setting a positive example for all the little kids out there….

“Jack, put the toys down. Dinner is ready,” Kaitlyn said.

“Ah, come on, Mom, just a few more minutes!”

“Now,” Kaitlyn re-iterated.

Jack ran to the dinner table and Kaitlyn picked up the action figures to examine them a little more closely. She gave a little chuckle. The designers at Husbro Action Figures had clearly been generous in the physical proportions they allotted to Meredith
Chambers the action figure. The exaggerations made to her chest size and hourglass figure made Kaitlyn laugh. The real Meredith Chambers was good looking but she wasn’t a super-model and any Limmie athlete with proportions like that wouldn’t last long in the league. She saw upon further examination that Meredith had a smirk on her face. So, they’d at least gotten the attitude right.

Her eyes wandered to the disfigured brunette. One look at the package on the ground gave the mysterious figure away. She wasn’t Reina Kether, which was too bad, it was her own likeness. Somewhere, somehow, must have been during one of her many meetings with some business executive, Kaitlyn had given her permission to be used in a series of action figure releases by Husbro. Oops! She was sure that there were some really impressionable kids out there recreating her fight with Reina Kether using the appropriate pieces. Instead of playing the next wonderful game of Elite League Limmie, the kids were playing the next horrible version of kick the **** out of your worst enemy.

Maker, I made a mistake, Kaitlyn thought as she tossed the toys in a nearby bin.

She sat down at the dinner table and watched the Smugglers lose to the C-Bucs 25-8. That was embarrassing. Their official home opener and they’d lost. Great. The fans were booing and many of them had left early. She couldn’t blame them. Kaitlyn looked at Verity who promptly turned the screen off.

“Hey, Mom?” Jack asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do the Smugglers play the Mercs this year?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“My friends and I were wondering,” his voice trailed off.

“Wondering what?”

“Who would win in a fight: You, or Beskaa, Beskarc….Beska..” Jack got impatient and stopped trying.

“Beskaryc Taab?” Kaitlyn asked.

Jack nodded eagerly. His eyes lit up.

“We wouldn’t get in a fight,” Kaitlyn responded.

“But my friends were saying that they heard that he killed some lizard on the field in front of everyone and there was lots of blood and guts and stuff like that!”

“Your friends have vivid imaginations,” Kaitlyn lied.

Between the two of us, Taab, we’re ruining ELL for future generations…. Kaitlyn thought.

“But what if Beska, Beska-whatever, what if he kills you?” Jack asked, fear leaking into his voice.

“It would take a lot for Beskarc Taab to kill me, Jack.”

“Really? Like what?”

Hell freezing over to start with Kaitlyn wanted to say.

“I have lots of people who protect me and keep me safe. Taab can’t get to me. Nobody can. Nothing is going to happen to me. Eat your dinner, please,” Kaitlyn said.

“Fine,” Jack grumbled and stabbed at his spaghetti.

Verity exchanged a knowing look with Kaitlyn. The look was: ‘Take care of yourself, girl.’

Kaitlyn briefly smiled, took a sip of water, and mouthed,

I know.

Tag:Bardan_Jusik (mention of Taab stuff)

 

GM Post

After considering all of your thoughts, here are the details of the ELL 275 All Star Game:

Date: Wednesday, November 20 (between Weeks 5 and 6)
Location: Solo Stadium, Coronet City, Corellia
Your team nominations due on: November 10
Voting takes place on: November 11 – November 17
Rosters announced: November 18

By the end of the day on November 10, send me a ballot for only your players using this format:

Goalkeeper:
Defender:
Defender:
Midfielder:
Forward:
Forward:

Just as a clarification, you do not have to send this to me right now. You can wait until after Week 4 scores if you like.

On November 11 I will post a full ballot, divided by conference, in which you will not be able to vote for your own players. We’ll see if that works better this time.

And yes, I realize that you are all anxiously awaiting a different GM post. Don't worry...it's coming.

 

IC: Falene Trieste
West Salis D’aar, Bakura

After one season at the formal Trieste residence with her Aunt Regan’s family, Falene knew she had to get out. She was 24 years old and honestly after four years at college she needed her own place. Alana Glencross had recently moved to a new pad in the west part of the capital (apparently it was one she was sharing with Niall Kirt these days) so Falene decided it probably wasn’t that bad of a place to hang out.

Also, the Trieste home was in Southeast Salis D’aar so this place put plenty of distance between Falene and any of her relatives. She loved her family, but she didn’t love them popping over unexpectedly. Sure, they could still do that, but coming all the way across the city made that a lot less likely.

Falene had gotten her place after training camp, which meant that she hadn’t really had much time in it with practice and the season already underway. For the most part, that meant she hadn’t gotten a lot of furniture and most of what possessions she had (she’d lived out of one room for pretty much her entire life) was still in a few boxes. This offseason she was going to actually make this into an apartment that she would want people to visit. Right now her most impressive piece of furniture was the view of downtown Salis D’aar and the government district that the transparisteel windows lay out before her to the east. It had been a large selling point when Falene had bought the apartment.

One of the few things that Falene actually owned and had working in her apartment (other than the kitchen, which had come with the apartment, though Falene did need to actually buy things to cook with) was her large vidscreen, which she’d mounted on one wall of her living room. She had it turned on to what she assumed was the only thing on any Bakuran channel right now: the Prime Minister’s public appearance at Camp Edel. It was his first since Taab’s announcement of victory.

Falene shuddered thinking of it. Valerii had understated things when she’d told the team. Taab had beheaded the Ssi-Ruuk leader. It had been gory, unnecessary as far as Falene was concerned. But the truth was that a large segment of the Bakuran population, perhaps even most of them, had greeted the event like the Mandalorians at Mesh’la Vhetin had. There were spontaneous crowds of people gathered in public places all over the planet to celebrate not the war’s end, but the death of Shreeftut. This was victory. This was vindication. This was the playing out of old scores that were 270 years old.

The Prime Minister was all smiles in front of his audience of Bakuran Marines who were applauding the commander in chief. Unlike most of the PM’s adoring crowds, this one actually took their seats and resumed their silence when asked. After all, it was technically an order.

Behind the Prime Minister was a giant banner that had been erected for the purpose of this address. It read simply “OBJECTIVE COMPLETED.”

“My fellow Bakurans, today, on the heels of the recently announcement made by our most esteemed ally and friend of Bakura, Manda’lor Beskaryc Taab, I am proud to declare that the Mandalorian-Bakuran Coalition forces have achieved all their strategic objectives in our war against the Ssi-Ruuk.”

The Marines applauded again.

“We did not ask for this war. Nay, there were those who thought that we should fight this war. But let me say here and now that this galaxy is a safer place for freedom because Shreeftut is dead and the Ssi-Ruuk’s ability to terrorize the civilized galaxy has been smashed.”

Further applause. Falene leaned against her kitchen counter as she watched.

“My fellow Bakurans, there were those who say that this war was started out of vengeance—that this war was fought not because of imminent danger to the beings of Bakura, but because we wanted blood. Sadly, we have had blood. Many of our brave servicebeings have given their lives for this conflict. Today we rejoice not just because the Ssi-Ruuk are defeated, but because the loss of life shall stop and we shall bring our troops home.”

Even greater applause.

“Because this war was not born of vengeance but of a necessary and proper proactive defense of our homeworld, Bakura will not seek to keep any of the territory that has been gained in this war. This is consistent with the war resolution passed by the Senate which disclaimed any territorial gains at the outset of the war. Instead, Bakura will, alongside the Mandalorians, help to establish a peaceful society amongst the Ssi-Ruuk so that their society can resume a stable course that does not threaten the rest of the galaxy. These efforts will take some time, but I am confident that we shall be able to bring our troops home soon. To those who demand an immediate withdrawal now that we have completed our combat objectives, I say that is the true sign of vengeance. It is a responsible victor that ensures that the ravages of war are repaired and that we leave behind us a battlefield marked not by scars, but one that gives the survivors the ability to resume a peaceful place in the galaxy.

“Additionally, I am pleased to announce that with the Ssi-Ruuk force definitively smashed and their capital ship fleet decimated, Bakura now releases the ASF defense fleet to return to Agamar. They came selflessly to defend a land and a people that was not their own across the span of a galaxy. They now leave with great honor and great respect from all of us here.”

Falene turned it off after that. The war being over was good and all, but she had an undefeated Corellia Rebels team to worry about.

For Falene, her war was nowhere near done.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik Tim Battershell and the other war watchers

 

IC: Gark S’rily
Peace City Gardens, Ylesia



Coaching was literally like living in the fast lane. It had a certain edge to it that you couldn’t experience otherwise, a synergy developing between you and your players that seemed to drive them onwards. And today that synergy was working to perfection. The Senator defense was grinding it out against the Ylesia Lightning, the team that had bounced the Senators in that painful 7-3 Galactic Cup Final two seasons earlier. Many of the Senator players and coaches had been here for that loss, and every time they could take it to the Lightning as revenge, they would relish it. Today was no different.

Gark’s defense was squeezing the Ylesia forwards in this one. Reid Livingstone, coming off the bench to start at corner for the injured Jerek Deter, was making his presence felt, making a great 1-2 tandem at the corner spots with rookie Christine Gamble to shut down the corner game. Ylesia had to push the ball up the middle of the Senator zone, where the half and full backs made life difficult. Myles Tormera was out for this one, so Evis Kunat, the “super sub” as he was known, was making the start. The Zabrak usually wasn’t that good of a starter, but with his experience, he made up for that with ease. Zumarooroo, now affectionately known to the Senator faithful as “Zoom”, was using his size to keep the Lightning forwards on the turf, and whoever he didn’t send sprawling had to contend with the smarts of de facto defensive captain Ortho Dyhon. The Twi’lek wasn’t particularly strong or fast compared to most players his size, but what he had was the brain that kept everything together. There was a reason pam had spoken so glowingly about him from Day One back in 269 when she had needed someone to command her defensive unit. In goal, Jayla Leed was getting a ton of help from her defenders, a complete turnaround from the last week’s debacle against Euceron where she had surrendered a ton of points to a team without their top scorer.

Reserve half back Tank Bratter made a nice hit, causing a forced fumble that sent both teams down into a scrum to retrieve. Somehow, the Senator defenders looked hungry today even after 45 minutes of play, and Gamble came up with the ball.

“Swing it! Swing it!” Gark yelled at his rookie d-back. However, Gamble didn’t take the hint. Instead, she checked the safety valve option, captain Alysha Romax, and instead drop-kicked the ball as hard as she could. The ball sailed in a high arc and somehow slipped over the bar for a point. The rookie was in complete shock, but her teammates loved it. Gark didn’t like that she had been showboating a little bit . . . but it had been a nice play. Defenders rarely scored points, so for her to put that ball over the bar, that was something. Maybe he could secure her that ball for her mantle, as most forwards would do for their first point, or goal, scored. It was quite an honor to say that you played defense and scored, nevermind it being only your second game.

Finally, Pam called a timeout, and the team came over to the sideline. Gark could see the elation on his player’s faces; Gamble, Dyhon, Leed, Waters, Livingstone, Zoom, Kunat, they all looked satisfied. Gark then made sure to switch out his starters, pulling Gamble over for a minute. The rookie was still excited about her point. “One hell of a play out there, rook,” Gark commented. “Never do that again.”

“Oh come on, Coach, I got us a point,” Gamble said, smiling.

“Nice job today,” Gark said, slapping her on the back as she walked to the bench. Her day was over unless he needed to pull someone for an injury; without a backup corner on the roster active for today’s game, he wanted to keep her protected for the duration of this one by moving pieces around. Kapp Pyston went out to replace Jayla, and Christine was replaced by Reena Wyley.

“Not a bad game today,” Pam said as she came over. The offense was also subbing players, so there was a lull in the action.

“Not at all,” Gark replied. “Nice to get back in the win column. Especially since my last two coached games were such disasters.”

“I can understand that,” the Zeltron said. “Now, let’s finish this one off.”

And finish the Senators did. They kept cracking down Ylesia until the final horn sounded, and the players could finally celebrate. It was something they could be proud of, a complete game on all sides f the ball. The offense had been sparked today behind the efforts of Riff Persnor’s 8 points and Cord McKerty, who was making his first career start, scoring 2 goals on his way to 7 points on the day to help lead the attack. Max Qorbus, the first-option on offense, had been held to three bar points, but he had helped direct traffic and played the decoy to keep the Lightning off-balance and to open up his teammates. Second-year field general Dauza Chary had looked great, dishing out assist after assist and running the offense like it was drawn up in the playbook. On defense, everyone had done their part. Zoom had been a terror in the middle of the field, Ortho had made plays, and the corner tandem had been lights-out. This was what a complete game felt like.

Up in the visiting team box, the Senator team brass looked down on the field approvingly. Me’lin S’rily watched her husband fist-pump, yell, and generally be joyous on the sidelines.

“This isn’t like last week,” Adanna Inviere, the assistant GM, commented. “Much better D today.”

“Speaking of defense, I haven’t seen Gark this elated in months,” Me’lin said.

“Rough times?” Adanna asked.

“He’s a busy man,” the Twi’lek replied. “But it’s nice to see him this full of energy down there. I can see now that he feels like he belongs down there. And I couldn’t stop him from enjoying his passion like this.”

“Reminds me of those great D units we had here way back in ’68 and ’69,” Adanna said. “This unit has the potential to be all that, even without the star power we had. But I think Dirxx can whip that group into shape when they get out of whack, like he did for us when we played back then. Can’t ask for much more from an assistant coach than that presence and knowledge of the game.”

The team was joyous as it returned to the locker room, the players relishing in their win. The Senator fans who made the trip cheered as the players left the field, showing that no matter where in the galaxy they were, Senator Nation was there to cheer them on. Sure Patriot Nation was bigger, and probably better-known, Senator Nation was still faithful to their team, and that was all that mattered to the beings in black and orange.

In the locker room, Pam went over her post-game thoughts, which didn’t include that many negatives, and then handed out a gameball. “This game ball could go to a bunch of people in this room today,” she said. “However, I think that this one goes to the defense today. They got the rust out this past week, and got the job done today. This goes to you, Coach,” she said, tossing the ball to Gark. The Bothan looked at everyone on his defensive unit. It was a thing of beauty; the rookies and young players were getting along well with the veterans. Not a bad start to the road schedule.

And then he saw Hamlin Trenos, the team doctor, and things spiraled downward from there. Gark finally remembered what the Iktochi said about the drug test, and he knew that needed to be addressed. He retreated to his office, letting the defense celebrate their win today. Christine had been able to get the ball that she had punched over the upright, and was hamming it up with Reid as she held it in her hands like it would never leave her side again.

---

IC: Ava Killenger[/i]
[i[Locker Room, Ylesia[/i]

Ava wanted to throw something at the wall. She had been absolutely pathetic out on the field there today, a complete non-factor in what otherwise had been a banner day for the offense. She was only two games into her first Elite League season, but it felt like an eternity already. What was happening to that quick rookie season, where you were too caught in the lights to really be able to keep accurate track of time? No, this was going to be a long one, and Ava was not one bit happy about it.

Finally, she dropped her cleats in the locker with a loud thump! Some of the others in the room looked at her amidst their celebrations, but realized that she was having a terrible season thus far, and were leaving her alone.

Then attention turned to her once again, and not for the right reasons. Over the din of the team, she could hear the words that would make real ice run through her veins. But this was not a compliment. “Killenger!” Pamila Korthe yelled across the room. “The boss wants to see you!”

Not good, Ava knew. The boss meant the GM, the “owner”, the seemingly-omnipotent being that helmed this team. And, if Korthe’s expression was anything to draw off of, it certainly wasn’t going to be a nice conversation over tea and cookies. No, something was up, and Ava knew right away that this was going to be quite a stern lecturing. But why did Gark S’rily want to see her? She could be playing on defense, yes, but shouldn’t she be talking to Korthe instead, or at least Coach Orchetrada, the offensive coordinator? Something big was up.

Ava slowly rose from her seat, the eyes of death coming from a now-silent Senators locker room. The ruckus of the celebrations had died down immediately. Everyone seemed to be looking at her, the veterans assured that this was not going to be pretty for the rookie half back/half forward. Sometimes this would happen for call-downs, but typically then it would be a bit more discreet out of respect for the player. This was a major call-out.

“Nice job, Rook,” Jerek Deter said snidely. He was still on crutches from his injury the previous week. “You screw up out there on the field, and the coaches give you an earful. No one to blame but yourself.”

“Don’t be so hard on her, Jerek,” Alysha reprimanded her injured assistant captain from her nearby locker. “You weren’t exactly perfect in your first few games either.”

Ava slowly walked past her teammates and into the coaches’ office. Behind the table sat Gark S’rily, the Bothan GM, defensive coordinator, superhero, whatever you wanted to call him. The Bothan was obviously not amused. Ava entered the room and swallowed hard as Korthe then came in behind her and shut the door behind them.

“Sit,” Gark ordered. Ava quickly sat down in the seat in front of her. Pam moved over to the side of the desk, leaning against the wall. She shared the Bothan’s sentiment on her face, a stern, unwavering look. A bead of sweat started to roll down Ava’s face. What had she done now?



“I intend to get to the bottom of this,” Gark continued.

“Of what?” Ava asked quizzically.

“That’s what I want to find out,” the Bothan replied. “Tell me, Killenger, what excuses do you have for your play today? Any words to say about that crap performance?”

“No,” Ava said quietly, looking down to avoid making eye contact. Gark was a nice guy on the HoloNet and in the media, but he could certainly be terrifying to deal with if you rubbed him the wrong way. Obviously this was how he had survived all of those close brushes with death, rugged determination and a dynamite attitude.

“Speak up, because I didn’t hear you,” Gark said.

“No,” Ava replied louder. She still didn’t make eye contact when she said this.

“Who are you speaking to, a bug on the floor?” Gark asked. “Look at me. Look at me!” he demanded. Ava moved her head up dutifully, but she really didn’t want to look at the Bothan directly. As soon as he made eye contact, it felt like his stare was burning a hole in the back of her skull.

“Now, I want to know. Why did you fail so badly today? What would make it difficult to be ready for gameday, I wonder?” Gark asked.

“I didn’t play well,” Ava replied quietly.

“Damn right you didn’t play well,” Pam commented angrily. “I’ve seen middle school kids try harder than you did today.”

“I’ll take care of this,” Gark said, cutting off the head coach with a gesture. “And why did you not play well today, Killenger? Anything come to mind?”

“I wasn’t prepared . . . for today . . .”

“Damn well right!” Gark said sternly. “It’s because you skipped three practices this past week! Where in the hell were you those three days, hm? You have no right to skip practices on a whim, Killenger. This isn’t college anymore, and you certainly don’t have a hall pass to skip practices without a damn good reason.”

“I didn’t feel so good,” Ava offered.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Gark commented, sitting back in his chair. “Where in the hell were you?”

“Home, not feeling well,” Ava lied.

“What, did you have a case of the rumbly-tumbly?” Gark asked, making a special babying sound on the last two words. “Cut the crap, Killenger. Where in the hell were you those three days?”

“I . . . I . . .” Ava started, but then she fell silent. She knew where she had been.

“Going silent on me, eh?” Gark asked. “Well, let’s find out, shall we?” He opened up a file on his datapad, and then scrolled down the list. “Ah, here it is,” he said. “Sitting at a local bar, I see. Drinking heavily . . . drunken behavior . . . not good at all. So instead of being at mandatory team practice, you were out getting drunk, having a grand old time, while your teammates were working their asses off in practice like they were supposed to!”

Ava maintained her silence the whole time. She knew that both coaches were watching her every movement with intense scrutiny. The report they had was right; she had been at a bar instead of at practice. But did they know what else she had been dabbling in?

“Oh, and that’s not all, apparently,” Gark said with disgust, continuing to flip down the screen on his datapad. “Dr. Trenos always does a random drug test every now and then for team purposes. Keeps us in the loop about the health of our players, and hopefully before the League finds out . . . but, isn’t this funny . . . your last drug test, taken just a few days ago . . . came up positive . . . hm, isn’t that funny? According to reports, it’s some drug called Rush 405 . . . moniker aside, also known as ‘Quervian Rave Weed’. Now, how does something like that end up in your system, I wonder? Taking drugs and drinking, are we? To cover something up, I suppose? To make yourself feel justified in skipping three practices in one week?”

“Sorry,” Ava said as quietly as possible.

“What? I didn’t hear you, you’ll need to speak up,” Gark said.

“I . . . I’m sorry . . .”

“You really think I’ll accept that load of crap response?” Gark asked angrily. Ava was shocked by how forcefully the Bothan had rejected that apology. It had been weak, yes, but Gark was incensed now. Ava just hoped that she would leave this whole thing in one piece. “We signed you to a contract because we believed that you could play ball. We’ve seen video of you dominating out on the pitch . . . the talent is there. But it’s obvious to me, as well as the other coaches, that you just aren’t quite getting it out there. Yes you are a rookie, and growing pains are acceptable. That’s why we didn’t play you much today . . . but to skip practice? But to willingly go get smashed at a bar? But to be taking drugs, even when they are against our strict team policies, not to mention the League’s rules? It’s obvious to Pam and I that you don’t really want to be here. Instead, you’d rather be sitting at home, smoking dope, sitting in front of the HoloNet and watching aimlessly with glassy eyes and let down the rest of your teammates. You’re not doing a good job of convincing us that you want to be a part of this team, Killenger. You’re doing the exact opposite. Now, I’m going to ask you this one, and only once. And I will expect a truthful answer, not some load of crap that you’ve been feeding us here. Why are you skipping practices? Why are you drinking excessively? Why are you smoking, or otherwise ingesting, a very addictive weed or a byproduct of said weed?”

Ava swallowed. She knew exactly why she had skipped those practices, why she had been drinking . . . why she was doing Rush 405. “I . . . I . . .”

“Go on.”

“It’s because . . . my home life . . . has been . . . bad,” Ava finally gutted out.

“How so?” Gark inquired, the anger in his mind still simmering behind his expression.

“My brother was killed about a month ago . . . and my dad . . . lost his job . . .”

“Rough life, eh?” Gark asked snidely.

Ava was shocked by the callousness with which the Bothan was treating her. How dare he act so unsympathetic to her plight! How would he know about anything remotely near this? He was rich, he was influential, and he, most importantly, cheated death itself. Could he not sympathize?

“You don’t understand what I’m going through!” Ava finally blurted out without meaning to.

“Oh really?” Gark asked. “Try me.”

“What would you know about losing a family member you cared for? What would you know about being in a dark place where you can’t get out?” Ava challenged. As soon as she finished, she knew she had gone one step too far.

Gark was enraged now. So much, in fact, that he got out of his chair. “You don’t think I know a damn thing about losing someone very close to me?” he roared. Even Pam looked shocked that the Bothan was getting so nasty to one of his players, someone he himself had green-lit the signing of during the offseason.

Outside the office, the Senator players, startled by the commotion going on in the office, began to huddle around to hear what in the hell was going on inside. They knew that when Gark got angry, he could get downright terrifying. It rarely happened, though, so mostly they were spared this kind of rage. And the rookie was going to bear the brunt of it. Jerek just smirked; he knew that Ava was going to get the full barrel of flak that she deserved.

“Tell me, Killenger, did your brother mean that much to you?” Gark asked.

“A lot!” Ava replied loudly. “He was my best friend! But how would you know? You never lost a damn thing in your life!”

“Gark,” Pam said as a word of caution, but this had just been the tipping point for the Bothan.

“You think I never lost a single thing in my life?!” Gark yelled. “How feeble-minded are you to think that I’ve been able to live my life completely unscathed! What kind of rock have you been living under, Killenger? What kind of half-ass do you think you are, hm? Trying to be a comedian, or a whiner? All I hear from you is that you can’t do it, because your brother died. Well that’s tough. Try losing both your parents in one instant. Try losing everything you ever had from your childhood stripped away from you in one blink of an eye. They cared for me, they fed me, clothed me, got me through school, they helped me get to college . . . and then gone like that. You have no idea what it’s like to lose that support system. It stings. But the worst part is to not be there, to hear about it after the fact, to not be with them when they pass on. That’s where it really stings.

But you know what else? I’ve lost quite a bit more in my day. I was disowned by my own sibling . . . at least your brother didn’t do that before he died . . . oh no, that’s a fate worse than death . . . try almost losing everyone you’ve ever cared for, time and time again. My wife was at the brink of death, and I was a witness, to wallow in my misery as I watched her life almost slip away completely. I lost the team once, and hoped that they weren’t lost for good when they were taken captive. Wait, not just once, but twice. When I had to sacrifice myself, stare down the barrel of a blaster to save my team. Could you sacrifice yourself for the greater good. Probably not; you’re too scared, too self-centered, too egotistical. Lost my very identity . . . my very soul . . . crushed into a fine powder . . . imagine being thrown down a well and not being able to even see the slightest speck of light at the top. Try losing everything you ever worked for, everything you ever stood for . . . everything you ever believed in. Try having the whole galaxy hate you for something you didn’t do. Try to keep your head above water when you know that life is not worth living anymore . . . I don’t think you could hold on for one day like that. You would self-destruct in an hour.

So don’t tell me that I don’t understand what it’s like to lose. Because I think you’ll find that it is you who doesn’t get it.”

Ava sat in her chair in complete shock. She couldn’t move her body, her mind whipped so thoroughly that she didn’t dare move. It was almost like Gark was going to turn into some fearsome creature and then strike her down here on the spot. The Bothan was in terrible pain speaking about all the things he had once lost . . . and he was rightfully letting her have it. What kind of excuse did she have? Yes her brother had died, yes her father had lost his job . . . but Gark had been through all that and more in his time. And yet he was still going strong. Either that, or this strength was just an illusion, a smokescreen, a wall to hide the real pain hidden underneath.

“You do realize that you could have come to us sooner and asked for a reprieve for personal reasons,” Gark said in a lowered tone, but his intensity was still there. “We would have listened to you, because that’s what we do around here. This team means a lot to everyone involved, so we take things seriously. But to turn your back on your teammates, on your coaches, on the fans . . . and on yourself . . . that’s unforgivable. You don’t wear that uniform,” he said, pointing to Ava’s jersey, “and disrespect it by playing half-ass Limmie!” The Bothan then paused for a few seconds. The verdict was coming.

“You’re being sent down to Thyferra, effective immediately,” he continued. “I will not have this kind of crap being pulled on this team. If I wasn’t bound to your contract, I would release you right now, because it’s obvious that you aren’t trying to seize this opportunity. But I am contractually obligated to hold on to you for multiple reasons, so this is the best you’re going to get. I will speak to Jed down there and see if he can shape you up. I will therefore make you a deal, and I will not mince my words here, Ms. Killenger,” he said. “I am restructuring your contract so that if you miss games, and if the team ownership believes that you aren’t playing hard enough, that you will not be making any money off your contract. And the union probably will get annoyed, but I don’t care. This isn’t their fight, because you did this to yourself, and should be punished in kind.”

Ava couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This was an unprecedented move by a pro Limmie team! She had never heard of such a punishment being handed down internally before! What was the Bothan getting after? Why not just release her outright? If she wasn’t going to get paid . . . what about the funeral expenses? Or what about her father’s lost job and income? They could never be paid off comfortably if she didn’t make any income playing Limmie!

“If you don’t play hard enough on Thyferra, then you will not be paid. And I will not budge on this, not for any reason. I signed you because I know that you have talent . . . but why are you wasting it by pulling this sithspit? You certainly don’t act like you want to be here, so I’m making things simple by sending you packing. If Jed can’t shape you up . . . then no one worth their salt is going to take a flier on you. You’re going to be damaged goods on the free agent market. A team isn’t going to want to touch you with a ten-foot pole, because they know that they would just be taking on dead weight, a drunken party girl who doesn’t use her athletic talent to her fullest. A whiny individual who doesn’t understand the plight of others. And I’m sick of that. Clean up your act, or get booted. Simple as that. Now get out of my office, and don’t show your face in front of me again until you screw your head on straight. Understand?”

Ava nodded quickly and got the hell out of the office. When she opened the door, she could see the rest of the team huddled around it. They gave her silent stares from across the room as she walked in a daze over to her locker. This was it; she had been effectively cut loose from the team, even though they were technically giving her a simple organization demotion. But it wasn’t just for poor play; this was intended to be as much of a gut punch as they could give her. And it stung. When she reached her locker, she smashed her fist into it, then hitting her head into its metal frame.

“Rook, don’t damage the hardware!” Jerek yelled at her.

Ava packed up her things and left the locker room, not saying a word. As she left, she could see Christine Gamble, her roommate, shaking her head in disbelief. She had screwed up. The players then finished their post-game routines and got ready to leave, but when Gark emerged from the office, they all stopped again. Instead of looking happy, like he should have, he looked downright harried.

“What are all of you looking at?” he asked rudely before walking out the same door that Ava had gone through and slammed it shut behind him.

“What the hell was that all about?” Alysha asked as Pam left the coach’s office.

“Don’t ask,” the Zeltron replied, shaking her head. “Just don’t ask.”

---

When Gark returned to the team shuttle, he was still fuming. How could Killenger be so pigheaded? This was just adding more strain to his situation, and his wife picked up on this easily. Besides, shouldn’t he be elated with the huge road win the team had just picked up?

“What’s wrong?” Me’lin asked in a concerned tone.

“One of our damn rookies disrespected the organization,” Gark replied sullenly. “And I had to remind her in no uncertain terms that we won’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”

“You didn’t yell at them, did you?”

“I did what I had to,” Gark replied. “She had it coming.”

“You’re taking this coaching thing too seriously!” Me’lin exclaimed. “I knew I never should have let you return . . .”

“It’s not just her play that bothered me,” Gark said. “It’s her lack of respect for her own life.”

“How so?”

“She skipped practices . . . mandatory practices, mind you . . . and was instead out at a bar drinking herself into oblivion. And then she’s also been taking drugs . . . her drug test was positive . . .”

“Really?” his wife asked, shocked. Gark nodded.

“I sent her packing, because it was the right thing to do. Jed can deal with her crap now,” Gark finished.

“Honey, are you sure you reacted in a suitable way?” Me’lin asked. “I mean, she’s just a rookie. The pro game isn’t an easy transition out of college. Besides, there may have been some underlying issues that you didn’t know about.”

“It’s not the alcohol and drugs that concern me the most,” Gark replied. “It’s the fact that she doesn’t seem to empathize with anyone, or feel any remorse for what she did to her team and to herself. She seems to think that she has the biggest sob story you can have, and that no one understands her plight. But I do. I’ve lost a whole lot more than she has, and yet I am still here. I fought through the pain to get where I am today . . . and until she can square with that, she’s obviously not of sound mind to be able to do anything with her life. And I cannot help her get there. She needs to get her mind out of the gutter.”

“I just hope you didn’t send her into even more of a tizzy,” Me’lin said.

“I told her exactly what she needed to hear,” Gark replied. “Now we need to see if she can step up to the plate, or if she just falls apart and we never hear from her again.”

TAG: Rebecca_Daniels (for game stuff), No One except those interested in Ava's story

 

(Taab’s attendance and Vhett’s behavior cleared with Bardan_Jusik in advance. Everything else...well that's all me. )

GM Post
Elite League offices, Coruscant



This was the press conference for which just about everyone who followed Elite League Limmie had been waiting. Earlier this week Beskaryc Taab had beheaded the leader of the Ssi-Ruuk in public at Mesh’la Vhetin before an Elite League Limmie game—on galaxy-wide HoloNet. It had shocked beings and even sparked protests on some planets. Considering that Aay’han Vhett had already locked horns with Kayl’hen at the Board of Governors meeting in 274 ABY, everyone had been waiting for the League response.

Kayl’hen knew it too. She’d waited a good two days before she called the press conference. They had been two of the longest days of her life. Esther Gondorf had gone absolutely nuts during them. Kayl’hen had contemplated having Gondorf locked in her office so the Commissioner could have quiet to think about the issue.

The Commissioner had called Taab to Coruscant to discuss the matter. The Manda’lor had declined to come. Apparently he didn’t like being summoned to things. In his place he sent his wife. Kayl’hen offered Aay’han a drink and apologized.

“I’m sorry that you’ve wasted your time with a trip to Coruscant, but at least it was on your way to Rydonni Prime,” the Commissioner said, “Unfortunately my business is with Taab and not the Mercs organization, so we have nothing to discuss today. My apologies on making the trip. More tea?”

Vhett had simply replied that if the Commissioner needed to speak with the Manda'lor that she had better get herself to Mandalore and maybe he'd have time for her there. The media had gotten wind of the meeting and had been clamoring for details. It was at that point that Kayl’hen had decided to call the press conference.

The time for the conference had now come. The Bothan stepped into the press briefing room and the moment the door slid open the room erupted into shouts and the flash of blinding cameras. The room had never been so full before. There were actually some reporters sitting in each other’s laps—and that Whipid looked like he didn’t mind the fact he had a Twi’lek in his.

Nice to know that there’s something positive coming out of this debacle, Niakara thought to herself as she stepped up to the lectern that bore the Elite League shield.

“Good morning, good morning,” she said, quieting the buzz that had built in the room upon her entry, “Obviously we are here to discuss the events that took place before the start of Game 11 at Mesh’la Vhetin in Keldabe, Mandalore. Specifically, Beskaryc Taab, owner of the Mando’ade Mercs, killed Shreeftut on the field prior to the start of the game. This event was broadcast on the Holonet. The League has received a large volume of complaints regarding this act.

“This act goes against the most basic principles that Elite League Limmie were founded upon,” Kayl’hen said, “This League promotes sportsmanship and respect for all beings. The purposeful, deliberate taking of a life goes against all of this in the grossest way. The Elite League does not and will not ever endorse this.

“Additionally, The Elite League has never allowed its games nor the Galactic Cup of Limmie to be used for political purposes. Sport should not be tainted by politics because of the divisiveness of the latter. The intent of sport is to unify and bring beings together. The fact that Taab clearly used his appearance prior to Game 11 for the purposes of a political demonstration is a violation of this principle. This has been a long-standing tradition for the League and one that it has enforced consistently through its history.

“Beskaryc Taab knew what he was going to do. He staged it for maximum effect. He blatantly disregarded the life of a sentient being. And Beskaryc Taab knew what he was going to do was wrong. My decision as Commissioner is based on these conclusions.”

The room, which had been so loud before, was now deathly silent. Everyone knew what was coming next was going to be big.

They didn’t realize how big.

“While Elite League Limmie cannot and will not attempt to put a value on the life of a sentient being, the League is assessing a fine of one million credits on Manda’lor Taab personally,” Kayl’hen said, “This fine will go directly to the Elite League Limmie Player Safety Fund.”

One million credits. Had the Elite League ever levied such a large fine before? It certainly sent a clear message.

“Additionally,” Niakara Kayl’hen continued, to the surprise of some reporters who thought that one million credits was a stiff enough penalty, “Beskaryc Taab is hereby indefinitely suspended and furthermore banned from entering the stadium or associated grounds of any stadium hosting an Elite League Limmie game.”

“No!” someone shouted among the reporters, clearly out of shock.

The Commissioners didn’t even blink. “This suspension includes a mandatory period running for the remainder of the 275 season, including the Galactic Cup Playoffs.

“This ban extends to the traditionally associated airspace around these stadia, which is usually controlled with the cooperation of local authorities around and during Elite League games. Manda’lor Taab has made it clear that he is more than willing to take advantage of this airspace for his own purposes and therefore he has lost the privilege of using that airspace.

“The Elite League cannot condemn what happened on Mandalore this past game day in strong enough terms. It was unacceptable and deplorable. I will now take a few questions.”

To say there were more than a few reporters who shouted for attention was an understatement. Everyone had a question they wanted to ask. Finally one of them was recognized and had the floor.

“An indefinite suspension?” the reporter asked in disbelief, “Does the Elite League have the authority to do this?”

“Yes we do,” Kayl’hen said without hesitating.

“But is that fair to the Manda’lor?” another reporter asked immediately.

“I think it’s rather generous,” the Bothan said, “After all, Shreeftut is definitely dead. Beskaryc Taab is only indefinitely suspended from participating in the operations of the Mercs or attending Elite League games. I considered definitely suspending him for the remainder of his life.”

“Commissioner, you cited that Taab used an Elite League game for political purposes,” a third reporter now piped up, “Isn’t that hypocritical? Chancellor Trieste has basically used limmie for political purposes for over 20 years now. She discreetly, but very definitely, injected politics into the Miners’ 252 Galactic Cup championship celebrations. Why was then-Senator Trieste not reprimanded in the same way?”

“I wasn’t Commissioner then. You’ll have to ask my predecessor,” Kayl’hen said, “But as memory serves I believe that Kerry Trieste made her own contribution to the Player Safety Fund for her actions. I will point out that she didn’t kill anyone.”

“Commissioner—isn’t this just proof that the League has never liked the Mercs and there’s a vendetta against the team?” a particularly aggressive reporter asked.

“This is proof that Elite League Limmie is not going to stand by when beings get killed and it’s going to do everything it can to make sure that it prevents that from happening,” Kayl’hen said, “That will be all for questions today. Thank you.”

It might have been all that the Commissioner was going to answer, but there were a hundred questions all shouted at her at once as she stepped away from the lectern and walked out of the press conference.

Only one thing was certain—things were going to get very ugly.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik

 

IC: Fenton

True to his word Fenton’s supervisor was able to get him a dishwashing job. By the end of the first hour he wished he had taken his mother’s advice back when she had advised and offered to help pay for him to go to school. Maybe if he proved to his mother that he stuck with this job she’d put the offer back on the table, or at very least he could pay to go to school on his own. This job was worse than serving nachos by far. Fenton was secluded back behind the kitchen scrubbing. Even serving rude customers was better than being lonely all day.

It was his supervisor that came to relieve him. “How was your first shift?” he asked.

“Boring” Fenton replied.

“You really should bring one of these.” He said producing a portable listening device. “I listen to books mostly that I should be reading for school. I just don’t have the time to read them all so I listen.” He explained. “It helps pass the time.”

“Okay, thanks.” Fenton stumbled for a moment, wondering what to call the kid. At BankersMansion he wore a nametag that said Bat, but Fenton had always thought it was a practical joke. Bat wasn’t a name. “Umm, see you around.” He finished quickly.

“You can call me Bat.” He provided.

“Really?” Fenton asked, without masking his disbelief.

“Yes, really.” He said a little sternly. “That’s what people call me.”

“Okay, goodbye, Bat.” Fenton quickly left. He got the feeling whatever the kid’s real name was he didn’t like it. That was a feeling he could relate to. But he wasn’t lucky enough to have a nickname. Fenton imagined Bat had earned his nickname, perhaps he could fly like a bat; the kid was athletic in build. He decided to go home and start exercising again. Doubtful he’d ever earn himself a half decent name, but he could at least make an effort at improving himself.

It was getting cold out and Fenton didn’t like the cold. It was getting more and more difficult to drag himself out the door. So he had picked up an exercise holo to try out. It promised results in just 7 days. The next morning after his mother left for work Fenton put the video on and prepared for his workout. It began simply enough with some arm circles and toe touches, but it quickly progressed. He thought for sure he had selected level one, but the trainer was requesting push-ups. Fenton started with the modified version on his knees, but he felt silly so he tried a regular push-up. To his great surprise he did one, despite the burn in his arms he tried another. The second one took everything he had, he wasn’t sure he could stand up and go on, but he did.

By the midway point Fenton was exhausted and soaked in sweat. He would do a few of each exercise then stand and pant until he caught his breath and was able to jump in again. When it was finally over Fenton fell face first into the sofa and stayed there for 20 minutes. He only turned his head when he heard the name Ira Clarke. He had left the holovision on the local channel his mother always watched before work. Sure enough there was Mr. Clarke’s photograph on the screen in front of him and the word Bankruptcy was underneath. Fenton sat up.

All of Ralltiir knew that Ira Clarke’s bad investment decisions were beginning to catch up with him. First there had been the purchase of a hair cutting franchise that went under, then he had bought a failing amusement company that only lost further funds under his guidance and most recently he had tried his luck in the restaurant business which had resulted in more financial loss. Still Fenton had never imagined Ira Clarke would run out of money. He had more credits than any other citizen of Ralltiir just a mere decade ago.

Fenton had missed the majority of the report. By the time he sat up and increased the volume the story was being wrapped. “A court may order Mr. Clarke to sell the Starkillers if he has no other way to pay off his debts” the news anchor said in closing. Fenton quickly switched over to HSN to see if they had anything on their news feed. There it was scrolling repeatedly across the bottom of the screen. Starkillers owner Ira Clarke files for Bankruptcy may have to sell the team.

Fenton flipped the set off in disgust. It was too early to write off the season after only two weeks of bad play, but adding an off field distraction especially one like this was not encouraging. Not to mention his co-workers at the stadium who needed the extra funds provided by the job they had there. Could their jobs be in jeopardy he wondered? Several of his co-workers were older folk that needed the job to help cover medical expenses and in some cases to just buy groceries. He climbed off the sofa and made his way to the shower so he could get ready for his dish washing job. It would be miserable he thought if he were to find out soon that dishwashing was his only job.

TAG: none

 

IC: Jacen Hunter
Meshla Vhetin, Keldabe, Mandalore.

As the game started young Jacen didn't know how the events that had just unfolded would reverberate through the galaxy. What he did know was that the actions of the Mand'alor had fired up the fans, and from the looks of it, the team, in a way that was beyond description. The native Mandalorian players in particular played their hearts out, and took charge from the opening drive of the game. They never looked back, scoring points and forcing turnovers in a game that could have easily become a rout.

Daryc was a monster on the offensive end, scoring 8 points alone (to go with a couple of nice assists, one each to the rookie corner forwards). Jacen's favorite player though started slowly, Fortune just didn't seem as into the game as his Mandalorian counterparts. "Aruetii doesn't have the stomach for what just happened," he could hear others laugh nearby. Jacen's face blushed bright red, he wanted to defend "his" player, but they were right, he seemed sluggish and "off".

At least the others were pulling their weight though, and the tandem of Mor'kesh and Darkrider seemed to figure things out at midfield, wreaking havoc on their Starkiller counterparts. The defense did its part too, snuffing out a late Ralltiir comeback attempt that never seriously threatened the Mercs lead. By the end of the game Fortune had even seemed to find himself a little bit, scoring two points late and adding 4 assists. It wasn't his finest performance, but it was enough and the Mercs came away with their first victory of the season. Hopefully the first of many.

---

Hunter family home, outskirts of Keldabe, Mandalore
Later that week

His father had told him it was too early in the season to scoreboard watch, but Jacen was so excited for his new team that he couldn't help it. After the second week of the season the conference was all bunched up at 1-1, only the 2-0 Rebels (he had been hearing about that all week from his Dad) and the 0-2 Lightning had different records. Jacen sighed, he was supposed to be doing his math homework right now, but he didn't feel like it. Of course he was being homeschooled by his mother, so all his school work was homework, but that didn't make it any less boring than it had been back on Corellia.

Instead he had been paying attention to the Mercs. He had seen that the commissioner's office may "take action" for what had happened before the game. Jacen didn't understand that, but he didn't really understand what the commissioner did anyway. He thought she was just there to announce the draft. Of course Dad had rubbed it in. "Your team is looking at big fines I bet sport," but again Jacen wasn't really sure what that all meant. He just knew that he couldn't wait to go back to that stadium and take it all in again.

TAG: No one. I will deal with Taab's reaction to the League announcement in a separate post, probably next week.

 

IC: Ava KIllenger
Thyferra

Ava stepped off the shuttle and hit the ground on Thyferra. She had never been here before, so everything was all-new to her. It was too late the catch the team at practice, so she had the rest of the night to herself.

But things were gnawing at her. How had she gotten here? She had made the Senators, and then blew her chance. But not just blown it, but completely shot herself in the foot. How would she be able to save face here? What exactly did the team want from her, anyways? Was it them . . . or was it her? Was she killing herself by letting her sanity go in a fit of blind rage? What was she doing here?

And then the depression came back. She had failed Barney. She had failed her parents. She had failed herself . . . and she needed a drink. A very stiff drink. The next thing she knew, she was at a bar, drinking up a storm. She was trying to get drunk, so drunk that she wouldn’t be able to feel, wouldn’t be able to walk straight, or talk straight. She wanted to be as loaded as you could possibly be without dying. But if she died, would she even care? Would she care as life would slip away from her body? Or would she still have purpose here?

After the round of binge drinking, Ava went out back behind the bar, completely smashed. She couldn’t even see straight ahead of her, the beer goggles were so heavy. Her mind was a complete blur; she could see in her mind’s eye, or at least what that probably was given her addled state of mind right now, the lashing she had received from Gark. She needed a smoke . . . a rush . . . a high . . . whatever she could get. Out of her pack came the last of her Rage Weed droplets, and she consumed it without thinking. All of a sudden her mind floated off to its happy place, where she could leave the cold, dark galaxy behind.

And then the complexion of the high changed. The colorful clouds and furry animals were replaced with violent images. Violent thoughts from her past. Fits of rage in her childhood, times when she had wanted to hurt someone. The time she landed and hurt her arm when a bully pushed her over on the playground. But then she could see more recent events. She could see a knife being plunged into her brother’s chest . . . the entire scene played out again in front of her. She could hear Barney’s last words to her, but could not see his face. All she could see was the darkness around her. I’m scared . . . I don’t want to die . . .

“Get out of my head!” Ava screamed.

Ava . . . I feel like I’m dying!

Feelings of grief washed through her as the haze brought back to her mind memories of Barney’s death. She could see his eyes flicker one last time before he passed, the last gasp of air that left his lungs . . . his cold dead body on the ground.

“Stop tormenting me!” she yelled again. But the thoughts would not leave. Instead, they intensified. As she writhed on the ground in her stupor, the pain only magnified. She was going crazy . . . this was complete insanity. But was it a bad drug trip . . . or something worse? Was she going to die? All the while, she could hear Barney’s words floating around through her mind, mixing itself into a cacophony of noise that tormented her brain and made her scream out in frustration. Her control was slipping, a complete panic attack on the spot.

The last thing she knew was when her head hit the pavement and her mind was spinning like a carnival ride. The stars, which had become tormentors with their cruel stares and laughs at her, finally melted into a wall of light, and then she passed out into the darkness as all light was extinguished in her eyes in one swift motion.

---

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Ava slowly awoke to the sound of beeping. Instantly her mind was barraged by white all around her, an intense color compared to the darkness that once surrounded her mind. She looked down at her body; all she could see was a hospital gown, its starchy whiteness contrasting well with the white-sheeted bed she lay on. She was in a hospital room, no doubt about it . . . but where? Was she dreaming? Or was she dead? She tried to lift her head, but it hurt to move, and her body fell back into its original position. She groaned in agony and tried to move her head. This move also brought on additional soreness, and she decided it was best to not move.

How in the hell had she ended up here? What had happened after she passed out last night? Where was she? What would the Senators think of her now, if they somehow knew that she had been admitted to a hospital. Was it a mental hospital? Was she going crazy?

Then the door opened, and two individuals entered. A male doctor strode over to her bedside, while the nurse waited over near the door. “Ah, you’re awake,” the man said.

“Hunh?” Ava asked weakly.

“And speaking . . . at least letting some sound out,” the man replied. “That will come back in time.”

“What . . . what . . . happened?” Ava finally got out. Man it was hard to speak right now, because her brain just didn’t quite feel right.

“You were found out cold on the street behind a bar last night,” the doctor said. “The person who found you wishes not to be identified, but they said that you smelled heavily of alcohol . . . and had a very bad drug trip, from the looks of it. The blood tests we ran on you confirm that you had quite a bit of Rush 405 in your system, which you must know is a controlled substance and is illegal to possess in any amount by Galactic law codes.”

“Are you . . . arrest . . . me?” Ava got out.

“No, thankfully for you charges will not be filed. Once you’re out of the hospital, though, you do need to complete some drug counseling programs. We would like it if you don’t end up like this again, because it just doesn’t look good. And it’s terrible for your health. I’ve seen beings die because they can’t handle the drugs they put in their bodies. Terrible thing, seeing them die when they could’ve done something different, and been smarter.”

Ava would have sighed, but her head still felt sore. So all she did was groan.

“The team has already been notified of this incident,” the doctor said.

“No, don’t . . .” Ava said.

“Well, they already know of this little accident, and hopefully will be by to check on you.”

“You don’t understand . . .” Ava said. “I blew it.”

“You did not blow it,” the doctor said calmly. “You still have your whole life ahead of you. That right there is cause for optimism. However, if you’re willing to throw your life away, by all means do so. But I hope that you don’t, because I think you have a future. A very bright one. But only if you keep your head on straight. You don’t want to become a casualty of drug use, do you? Have your face used all over the galaxy showing school children what happens to those who fall victim to the vice of drug abuse?”

Ava thought this through, even though her mind was still slightly addled. The man was right. That drug trip had been a real turning point for her. Rush 405 had, for a few weeks, been her savior, been the only thing keeping her sane. And now she had no one but herself to blame. What had she done to herself, taking drugs? She hadn’t used in high school, or in college. Why had she put her fate in the hands of drugs from the streets? Why had she almost killed herself? Why had she done something so stupid? A rage at herself was building, and she wanted to yell out at herself, give herself the verbal backlash that she deserved. The Bothan was right all along. She was a screw-up. She had quit.

“Just sleep on this, and we’ll re-evaluate you in the morning,” the doctor said.

“What time is it?” Ava asked.

“Late. You were out for most of a whole day,” the doctor replied before leaving the room and shutting off the lights. Ava, sitting there in the darkness, knew that she had messed things up good. And there was no one to blame but herself.



TAG: No One

To Be Continued . . .

 

GM Post
Elite League offices, Coruscant

“…no, the League isn’t concerned at all,” Esther Gondorf was saying on her comm to a reporter as she flipped through some documents on her terminal, “We review the finances of every Elite League team in detail prior to the season. There’s enough money to sustain the Starkillers for the remainder of this season, regardless of the state of Clarke’s finances….What?…Well, yes, it’s possible that the Starkillers provided us with bad books. I highly doubt it….No, I’m not going to make a definitive statement on that.” Esther rubbed her eyes. Reporters. Why do they call me? “No, no, no. The League is confident that this won’t affect the season….Well, hypothetically, if the bankruptcy extended into the Starkillers organization I wouldn’t be surprised if the Board of Governors convened to discuss the situation….Yes, I do think that it wouldn’t be unreasonable that they would use the Senators situation from 270 as a guide, but I’m not going to speculate on the actions the Board could take….Always a pleasure to be of service. Any time.”

Gondorf ended the call with relief. An office assistant poked her head through the door. “Contract in your inbox,” the assistant said, “Came in today from the Senators.”

“Contract?” Esther said with some surprise, opening her inbox on her terminal. The Senators usually didn’t make midseason moves, at least not this far into a season and this far from the trade deadline. The attorney’s interest was piqued.

“Contract modifications…Ava Killenger…” Esther mumbled as her mind clicked into legal document review mode.

When she’d finished reading the contract, she leaned away from her terminal monitor and thought. Then she saw there were supporting documents. When she saw what was attached, Gondorf’s eyebrows shot up.

Gondorf called through her open door, “The Senators are at home this week?”

“Yes,” someone called back from outside her office.

“Call the Senators offices and schedule an appointment for me with S’rily,” Esther said, “Today.”

---

General Manager’s office, Coruscant Senator offices, Coruscant

“Mr. S’rily, thank you for making some time to see me today,” Esther said as she took her seat before the General Manager’s desk, “Ordinarily I would have just done a holoconference, but since we’re both on planet I thought it didn’t hurt to meet in person.” She smiled.

“The League received a new contract today for Ava Killenger, who I believe you signed as an undrafted free agent?” Gondorf said, holding up her datapad, “As a matter of procedure, my office reviews all contracts filed by the member teams and when possible I give personal attention to each contract. It’s a very…complete restructuring of your contract. I was surprised that Ms. Killenger agreed to it…and then I got to the end where I discovered that she didn’t sign it. You do realize that the players union is going to throw a fit about this if the League were to approve this contract, don’t you? They will sue you and they will sue the League. We are just not going to purposefully expose the League or any of our teams in that manner if it can be helped.”

Esther consulted the contract. “Pay linked to player effort? That’s completely subjective and entirely against the principles hashed out in the League’s collective bargaining agreement with the players union.” She looked at it again. “Fines for missing games…that’s completely understandable, but this is so broadly written that it would include missing games for injuries, which can’t be done. A guaranteed minimum salary is inherent to an Elite League contract. Players aren’t going to play here if their contract is voided because of an injury. Mr. S’rily, regardless of player union concerns, that’s not legal. That goes against Republican workplace injury laws.”

“Of course when I saw your support for this change, things did make more sense. Substance use violations?” Gondorf sighed. “I understand why you are looking to penalize Ms. Killenger and the League obviously supports doing so. However, don’t your standard entry level contracts include standard language regarding the levying of fines on players for specified infractions such as willful non-attendance at practice or games or violating team rules. Perhaps Ms. Killenger’s original contract had such provisions?” Esther suggested.

“We also need to talk about Ms. Killenger. The Elite League’s policy is to suspend players who fail drug tests. However, you have temporarily removed Ms. Killenger out of our reach. We could suspend her…but that would have no effect since she is assigned to the LFL. Are the Senators suspending Ms. Killenger? The League would consider self-imposed penalties in its determination of discipline for Ms. Killenger.”

TAG: Jedi Gunny Runjedirun (for reference to the Starkillers financial situation)

 

IC: Falene Trieste
Bakura Gardens, Salis D’aar, Bakura

It was early on game day—so early that the Gardens were very quiet. Most of the game day staff had yet to arrive. Only the players would be at the stadium now to begin their pregame routines. The stadium was empty and silent and for Falene there was something nice about that. This place would go nuts in a few hours, but for now all was calm. This was something that only a few beings in the galaxy could experience. By its very nature it was a private, intimate moment.

Yet like so many beautiful things, there was something terrifying in it as well. The undefeated Corellia Rebels were in town. Someone was walking out of this game 3-0 and given the way that the Rebel defense had played thus far in the season, Falene knew that if it was going to be the Miners, she was going to have to step up today.

Falene knew it was time that her game hit the next level. The echo of her footsteps in the still back corridors of Bakura Gardens told her that.

---

That same day, the following article had been released by HSN at-large reporter Myk Songsteel.

WHY I LOVE BAKURA GARDENS

This last year has been a big year for stadiums. We’ve lost our old friend Six Boroughs and gotten a dazzling new one in its place. Andromeda Steel Corp Field is waterlogged and already fading as we look upon the glory that is the 1 million seat wonder that will be its successor. Agamar unveiled Memorial Stadium last week, a wonder of modern engineering.

The last few years have seen an explosion of beautiful new stadia. Mesh’la Vhetin was the first of this new breed of architectural marvels with a seating capacity that had been the stuff of pure fantasy two decades ago.

There are the old stalwarts: Stoney End, the Royal Limmie Grounds, Solo Stadium, Euceron Stadium. The Grande Villa reeks of tradition. Peace City Gardens and Bankers Mansion have joined the ranks of the holy places of limmie.

But for my credits, there’s only one cathedral of limmie for me.

Bakura Gardens

---

Field level

The Miners were doing some simple passing drills with each other on the field as the fans started to filter in. They weren’t so much about working on a skill as about getting into the rhythm of the game. Falene made sure that she didn’t allow the familiarity of the routine to zone her out. This was a time when she made sure to sharpen her focus. She expected that Drex Mumu was going to play her pretty hard today. Falene was aware that opposing teams thought they could have their way against her. The truth was that she had problems playing larger beings. She’d handled Vra nicely in Week 1 but Abrams had still given her the runaround last week. Ithorians were pretty well sized so she figured that Mumu was going to try to push her around today.

Falene was just about to make a catch in the passing drill when Deenever bumped into her on purpose. “Loser,” Niskat said as she caught the ball in Falene’s stead.

Trieste just gave her friend a shove back. “Save it for Powe.”

“That Zeltron? I got her, no problem. She thinks she’s hot stuff. Just wait,” Niskat said confidently.

“Wanna bet?” Falene asked.

“Falene Trieste! Betting on games is illegal!” Niskat said in mock shock, “I’d never agree to such a thing!”

“So we’ll say 100 credits then?” Falene proposed.

“Never,” Deenver repeated.

---

I won’t claim to be biased. I am a UBSD Golden Bear and I watched four years of college limmie in the stands of the Gardens. But if you’ve ever been to the Gardens, you can’t deny what they have there.

The new stadia are impressively massive. These large crowds create noise that is absolutely deafening when at full throat. I dare any Elite League player to say with honesty that the Mandalorians in Keldabe can’t break their concentration. I expect the same shall be said about the new Senators home field. Even Memorial Stadium on Agamar got loud and into the heads of the Miners last week.

Bakura Gardens doesn’t have that. At a mere 100,000 seats, the Gardens is larger than only Stoney End Park, which is just as much a historic monument to the history of the sport as it is the home field of the Patriots. Bakura Gardens is only 55 years old thanks to the Neo-Sith War and the occupation that destroyed its predecessor.

The fans at Bakura Gardens are not as large or loud as those in other stadia, but it was once observed that “size matters not.”

---

Miners locker room

“…so the Rebels run a straight up, Corellian-style run-and-gun offense. They’re going to try to use speed and brute force to hit us,” Valerii said in her final remarks to the team, “We know this. We do this ourselves. We see this every week in practice. We play our game and we have this.

“There are games where you can make a statement,” Valerii told her team, “This is one of those games.”

Falene knew that what her coach was saying was true. She felt it in her breast.

“We walk out of here with a win and the galaxy is going to sit up and take notice that we’re for real this season,” Gaeriel continued, “You want to show the galaxy what we’re made of, who we are? Now’s the time to do it.

“And if you think for a second that the Rebels aren’t thinking the same thing over there—” Valerii pointed in the direction of the Rebels’ locker room on the other side of the stadium, “—then you’re kidding yourself. They want this more than we do. They were 3-6 last season. That hurts. They are sitting in that locker room and they are psyching themselves up to punch us in the mouth.

“We have to go out there and beat their intensity. Score early, score often, and keep them on their heels. So let’s go do it.”

Falene jumped to her feet. She was ready.

---

The fans at Bakura Gardens are enthused with this cohesiveness that is their own. They are a musical crowd. When “Molly Malone” begins, they sing with one voice. Is it ridiculous? Yes, but only when you’re not there. When you are at the Gardens, it suddenly seems fitting.

I hate being in the press box at the Gardens. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with their press box, but in the stands of Bakura Gardens there are families that cross blood lines. So many of their seats are held by longtime season ticketholders. The being to your left may have nothing in common with you, but you’ll likely have known that being for years and remember when their kid was born. Heck, you probably remember the next week when the kid was on your neighbor’s lap. You probably even held the infant before its actual aunts and uncles did.

The fans at Bakura Gardens have a special bond. They haven’t seen the Miners win a Galactic Cup Semifinal in over 30 years now. Though Bakura has had postseason success in that span, it’s rarely been at home. There’s a special kind of shared suffering that binds these Miner fans together. They’ve seen greatness squandered so many times, yet they come back because that is what you do. Perhaps that is why Bakura Gardens is so different: it has seen so many broken dreams. Perhaps the fans there have their bonds made stronger by so much disappointment, yet buoyed by those times when they have stood with tears in their eyes and seen Galactic Cup banners rise for events that they could not be present for.

---

Field level

Falene ran out onto the turf into the bright midday sun. The clouds in the sky were few, an unusually good day for Salis D’aar. This was limmie weather and Trieste knew that it was not often that you got good limmie weather on Bakura. This day was a gift—in more ways than one.

As Falene looked around she found the stands filled with not just beings, but ones who were waving dark blue flags sporting the circle of 32 gold stars that represented the federal government of Bakura. Falene had been present at plenty of Truce Day games, but the display of patriotism today was something different. With the war against the Ssi-Ruuk over, this most prominent part of Bakuran culture had become an epicenter of celebration for the citizens. Their age-old nemesis had been vanquished and now was a time to celebrate that they were not just Bakurans, but victors on distant battlefields.

Though the Noble House had played no part in orchestrating this war it did not mean that they would ignore its end. During the singing of the Bakuran national anthem, active service members unfurled a giant Bakuran flag that stretched across the entire pitch, much to the delight and applause of the crowd. No one was enjoying this more than the Prime Minister, who was given the privilege of a box at the Gardens any time he or she wanted one. The fans gave him a standing ovation when he was acknowledged by the public address announcer. He was enjoying quite the surge in popularity that now victory had been achieved.

Valerii gathered her team together. “This crowd is riding high. We need to feed on their energy, right here and now, and put the Rebels on their heels. Our fans are ready for us to kick some butt, so let’s do it!”

---

Sure, I can’t deny that every Elite League arena has its charm, but I’ll never shake the feeling that Bakura Gardens has got a little something special. Go for yourself some day and find out—that is, if you can get tickets. And if you’re a Rebels fan…well, enjoy it. You won’t be back for another three years and trust me, you’re going to miss it.

After all, the Miners have, perplexingly, historically been a mediocre home team. That’s reason enough for everyone in the League to love Bakura Gardens.

Long may she bloom.

TAG: None

 

GM Post

What We Learned: Week 2

Week 2 is one of the best parts of the ELL season. For starters, everybody thinks they have a shot, but there’s enough dread and fear that things are going to evaporate in the blink of an eye that no one is easy. Also, the interns are still happy working here. Or maybe they’re just good actors and are still fooling us. Either way, INTERNS! MORE CAF!

Agamar Packers: That Bombardment attack for the Packers sure is something. Good thing that nothing ever happens in their defensive zone. I mean I’d get really worried if the Packers had to play defense or anything like that.

Bakura Miners: So Lizbit Comstock is a mere mortal. Good thing that the Miners offense remembered that they used to be good. Something tells us that though Dorf Landa may be gone, Niskat Deenever is going to fit in very nicely. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that the Miners’ offensive middle is made up of UBSD Golden Bears. I mean, it’s not like their owner went there or anything.

Chandrila Patriots: This just in: Avano Koobis and Reina Kether really like playing Euceron. In fact I believe they’ve already submitted a plan to the Commissioner that the Patriots just play every game against the Storm. Now if Euceron could just start winning against the Patriots, we might just have a budding rivalry on our hands here.

Corellia Rebels: Corvo Antilles is killing it out there. Wait…what? The Rebels have played the two 0-2 Solo Conference teams? Oh yeah. Their record is so indicative of their actual skill right now.

Coruscant Senators: That’s right—the S’rily Defense is back and looking just as good as ever. And that’s Deter-less defense. No wonder he was pumped on the sidelines. If this is what the Sens are going to bring to the League…everybody else look out.

Euceron Storm: Where is Marte Nalo when you need him? I bet he’s got a bunch of dirt on Kether from back in the day that he could use to blackmail her into letting the Storm win. Right now that’s pretty much looking like their only option to beat the Pats.

Hapes Consortium Buccaneers: Camille Montes is playing awesome goal for the C-Bucs. Again. She’s got to be an early season shortlist for the all-star ballot. This undoubtedly means that her defense is going to suddenly start playing like a bunch of banthas in front of her like they did about this time last season.

Mando’ade Mercs: So…uhhhhh…we’d say that the Mercs really killed it this week but that would be insensitive. Instead, I think that this win showed that the Mercs will be headed in a really good direction. Oh wait…seriously, we didn’t write that. It must have been an intern.

Nar Shaddaa Smugglers: You know that moment where you punch that really annoying Whipid in a bar and then you find out that Whipids have really hard skulls and that you just broke your hand? Yeah, we don’t either, but one of our interns told us about it. We’re betting that’s probably how Kaitlyn Vehn feels right now.

Ralltiir Starkillers: Breaking news: Galaxy Defender says allow less points, score more points and the Starkillers will win. THIS MAN IS A LIMMIE IDIOT SAVANT. Emphasis on the idiot.

Rydonni Prime Monarchs: This is just getting hard to write, especially because we really do like Setarcos. Therefore, we are committed to coming up with only positives every week for the Monarchs. Positive #1: Setarcos has clearly done some awesome advance scouting and has found the next Tan Strensky. Accordingly, he is doing everything he can to make sure he gets him in the next draft.

Ylesia Lightning: Otta the Hutt showed up to a game for the first time since the Galactic Cup championship. After the Senators put their 17th point up on the Lightning we were afraid that the goal crease was going to turn into one of those trap doors with a rancor at the bottom. Kasin—if that happens just use your great vertical leap and hang onto the crossbar! It worked for Leed in that Thyferra game against Bakura.

TAG: Bardan_Jusik CPL_Macja jcgoble3 Jedi Gunny Rebecca_Daniels Runjedirun Tim Battershell Vehn

 

Sub-GM Post/IC: Marius Turnell
Two days before Futures League Week 1 games

Marius considered the message from Gondorf. It seemed that Ava Killenger, who had just been demoted from the Coruscant Senators to the Thyferra Force, had been caught abusing drugs. Gondorf wanted to suspend Ava, but couldn't because she was no longer an Elite League player, and so had reached out to Marius for a response.

Marius considered the matter over lunch. On one hand, there were penalties specified in the collective bargaining agreement for positive drug tests—penalties that the Futures League had adopted upon its inception. On the other hand, neither the Futures League nor the Elite League had any hand in the failed test. The test had been issued by the Senators as an internal matter, and had only come to Gondorf's attention because of the Senators restructuring Ava's contract. Marius felt that a standard suspension would send a message, but also recognized that the demotion was also a significant punishment as well. He also appreciated the fact that the Senators were being proactive by performing their own drug testing, and wanted to find a tangible way to thank them for that. Decisions, decisions...

Eventually he made up his mind. After sending his decision to Gondorf, he tweaked a few sentences in the message to address the Senators and Force personnel instead and sent them this message:

To: Senators GM Gark S'rily, Force GM Lorrin Malestra
Cc: Ava Killenger
From: LFL Commissioner Marius Turnell
Re: Ava Killenger's positive drug test

Greetings. My office has received and processed the demotion of Ms. Ava Killenger, and she may begin play for the Force as soon as she is physically able to. However, it has been brought to my attention by Elite League General Counsel Esther Gondorf that the cause of this demotion was a failed drug test; specifically, that Ms. Killenger tested positive for the illegal drug known as Rush 405. As the demotion of Ms. Killenger places her out of the Elite League's reach, Ms. Gondorf has reached out to me to see if the Futures League would be willing to enforce a suspension on Ms. Killenger.

After considering the matter, I have decided not to issue a suspension at this time, in part due to the fact that the positive test came while Ms. Killenger was an Elite League player and thus I believe that it is an Elite League matter, and in part due to the fact that the test was administered by the Senators organization internally and not by the Elite League office. I would like to thank the Senators for being proactive in monitoring their own players and taking action on their own without waiting for the League office to catch the violation.

However, this does not mean that I am going to ignore this matter altogether. I take a very dim view of drug abusers and deal with them harshly. The normal policy of the Futures League is to administer a drug test to all players once before the season begins, at least one more randomly-determined time during the season, and at one random time during the offseason. Because Ms. Killenger is now a known drug abuser, she will be subject to regular testing. During the first phase, this will be twice per week during the playing season and once per month over the course of the offseason, and she will be suspended for a minimum of three games for any positive test, increasing to one full season on a second offense. After a full standard year has passed without a positive test, the testing frequency will be reduced to once per week in-season with no extra offseason testing beyond the normal random test; a positive test during this second phase will result in reverting to the schedule of the first phase in addition to the mandatory suspension. After another full standard year has elapsed in the second phase without a positive test, Ms. Killenger will be released from this testing program and will be subject to only the standard testing administered to all players.

Additionally, I believe that it is important that Ms. Killenger receive the proper amount of time to understand her transgression and learn from her mistakes. Accordingly, we are placing a hold on Ms. Killenger. For as long as she remains in the first phase of the drug testing program above, Ms. Killenger may not be promoted back to the Elite League and must remain in the Futures League. Once she moves into the second phase, she may be promoted only with the consent of my office, which may be granted or withheld based on any relevant criteria that I see fit. These restrictions are attached to Ms. Killenger herself and not to the Senators or Force; this means that the restrictions will continue to apply to Ms. Killenger if she is traded to another team, or if she is released and signs with another team. This also means that she may not be traded to, or sign with as a free agent, any organization that does not have a Futures League affiliate while these restrictions are in force. After Ms. Killenger is released from the drug testing program described above, these restrictions will cease to apply and she may be moved like any other player.

I hope that these penalties will help set Ms. Killenger on the right path before she does too much harm to her body. Again, thank you for proactively performing your own testing and taking action on your own.

Marius Turnell
Commissioner, Limmie Futures League

TAG: Jedi Gunny Trieste

 

IC: Ava Killenger

Ava’s last night in the hospital also corresponded with a visit by Jed Ortmeyer. The Thyferra coach looked less than happy to have to deal with this, and Ava kept a note of that in her mind. She had made a bad first impression by being in the hospital on a bad drug trip, and now the whole team was going to know that she had screwed up.

“I take it that this is our new acquisition?” Jed asked as he entered the room. “Not exactly the kind of place I like meeting people in for the first time.”

“Tell me about it,” Ava said. She was feeling a lot better physically and mentally . . . well, except for the shame that was being brought to her doorstep at this moment.

“So, you are Ava Killenger,” Jed said. Ava nodded. “I’ve heard some things about you from management . . .”

“Don’t. Please,” Ava begged. “I don’t need to hear any more about it.”

“There was the issue with playing . . . but they said that you also have a world of talent. And I intend to find that in you, one way or another,” Jed said. He took a seat next to Ava’s bed.

“I’ve screwed it up, haven’t I?” Ava asked.

“Yes, you have,” Jed said. “This is the first time I’ve ever met a player who was stupid enough to almost kill themselves on drugs . . . or at least one who has already figured that out for themselves instead of going further down the spiral. Tell me, how do you feel?”

“Terrible,” Ava said.

“How so?” Jed asked.

“I’ve screwed up my life. I almost died a few nights ago,” Ava said.

“Very astute,” Jed replied. “But is it the near-death experience, or the fact that you lost control, that worries you the most?”

Ava had no idea what to say here. Jed was asking her if she could compare apples and oranges . . . what did he mean?

“What?” she asked.

“What I mean is, have you thought about what you did? You could have avoided this altogether had you not been naïve enough to start taking drugs in the first place. That is a very dangerous place to go, Ms. Killenger. And if you died, well, then it would have been on me as your new coach. Management would have killed me for not keeping you safe, even though I never would have known you first before you perished.” He leaned in closer. “Point is, you messed up your life, and now I hope you feel remorseful about your decisions.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” Ava said.

“What do you mean?” Jed asked.

So Ava filled Jed in on what had gone on in her life. Jed understandingly nodded every now and then, and when the rookie was finished with her spiel, paused for several moments. “Losing a family member is never an easy thing. I have never dealt with it in that fashion, but I know what it is like. It is difficult until you realize that they are no longer there to support you. But it still does not explain why you decided to ignore logic and go to a bar when you knew full-well that we wanted to see you report to practice the next day. You were instructed to be smart, and you messed it up. What am I supposed to think of you?”

“That I’m a failure,” Ava said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to get rid of me. The whole organization wants to.”

“And, like I said before, it’s my job to send that part of you packing, and keep the talented you in shape and out on that field,” Jed said calmly. “You do not need that extra baggage around your neck. Instead, move on. I feel confident that you are aware of your transgressions, and are willing to turn things around?”

“That’s all I want,” Ava replied quietly after deliberating.

“Then you need to show up. Here’s the deal, Ms. Killenger. I’ve been instructed by team management to get you back into your college playing shape. Or, if I can, even better condition. And I intend to. My team has been run down over the last few years, and we need something to hold onto, a calling card, if you will. And I intend to turn you from a reclamation project into something more . . . an Elite League-caliber player. And from the sound of it, you will be paid a minimum salary for being here. But first you will need to follow these rules.

First off, I want you to show up to every practice an hour earlier than the rest of the team. If you are even one second late for one practice, then I will have grounds to release you from your contract on the spot. If I catch you drinking, or doing drugs, then you are gone from this team. The league may or may not try to suspend you, so I will wait and see what happens there before moving on. And I have a feeling that no other major team will want you if you get caught doing that again. Teams don’t want addicts playing for them . . . doesn’t look good. In practice, I will assign an assistant to watch over you at all times. You will not be practicing with the team for a good long while. I want you to feel pain, I want you to understand what it is like to be a pro Limmie player. And I will not stop until I deem that you are fit to play, to wear the jersey of the Thyferra Force. If you are not trying hard enough, then you get cut. Simple as that. Do you accept these terms?”

Ava thought about it for several seconds. Jed was offering her a second chance to make something of herself. Yes they were harsh terms, but what choice did she have at this point? She had blown all of her previous opportunities, so now she had to take whatever she could get. Or she could quit. That seemed like the better option of the two. She had a degree from CorTech; that would count for something, wouldn’t it? But she wanted to play Limmie. She had to help her parents out financially, and a regular day job wouldn’t do that for her. What would they say if they knew what she had done? Would they still respect her if they knew that she was lying here in a cold hospital room after being knocked unconscious from drug use? After all they had already gone through, they wouldn’t take too kindly to that. She had to try . . .

“I’ll do it,” she finally said after this deliberation.

“Fine, then,” Jed replied. “Be there at our next practice, an hour early, on the dot or before. And remember, you will work. This will not be easy. So I hope you’re willing to be beaten down, because you’ll need to understand what it feels like to eat dirt.”

---

Ava showed up to the stadium ten minutes early, dressed in her team-issued gear. It was going to be a brand-new journey for her now. If Jed was going to follow through on his word, she was going to follow through on hers as well. All she wanted was a chance.

As she approached the gate to the stadium, Jed came over from the other side of the gate and let her in. “You’re early. I was afraid you might not show up,” he said.

“I have motivation,” Ava said simply.

“Good. You’re going to need it,” Jed replied. Ava just swallowed, but followed the Force coach anyways into the bowels of the stadium. Then they went out onto the field, where a few groundskeepers were working on the field to clean up some rough spots on the grass and make everything even once more.

Jed looked up at the stadium seats, and Ava followed his glance. “You see this vantage point?” he asked. “This is what it feels like to play in front of a pro crowd. Of course, you probably played in a larger stadium back in college, so you shouldn’t be too worried about crowd noise in a place like this. It’s pretty small here. But that’s not my point. In college, it was OK if you made mistakes. After all, most college players don’t make it to the pros, at any level. Many of them are walk-ons who don’t even have scholarships to lean on, and certainly not pro prospects. But you’re here to be paid to play professionally. And that means you need to take this game seriously. This is not college anymore. You will be expected to perform out there, to not make mistakes, to be a consummate professional. I have coached quite a few of those in my time here. Maybe they aren’t the greatest players, but they fill their roles well up with the big club. They are willing to be cogs in the machine, nothing more. You want to star someday? Then you will need to pay your dues, need to prove it to the people sitting in those seats up there that you belong here. Only then will you be able to advance your career. And that journey starts today. Drop and give me twenty pushups.”

Ava tried to process what Jed had said, so much that she hadn’t quite caught his last statement. She only realized her error when Jed motioned to the ground again. “I said drop and give me twenty pushups.” Ava did as she was told, and quickly finished twenty pushups. Her body was fresh now, so it wasn’t difficult to do the core exercise like this. “Very good,” Jed commented as the rookie stood up after completing her twenty. “But that’s the easy part. We’re just getting warmed up.”

The next twenty minutes were spent running line sprints. Ava was starting to break a sweat doing this, because she was well-conditioned coming off training camp. But it was the idea that Jed was pushing her that crept into her mind, and gave her doubt. How much did she have to do to regain the money owed on her contract? What did “enough effort” mean to the organization? Her hand landed on one of the lines, and then she sprinted back to the other end, touching that line softly with her fingers before starting the whole process over again. Finally Jed blew his whistle, and Ava stopped. “That’s enough,” he said simply. “Now give me another twenty pushups.”

Eventually the team showed up to the stadium, ready to practice. What they saw when they entered the field of play was Jed yelling at Ava to keep working. She was doing more line sprints, and it was obvious that she was being worked. Hard. They commented amongst each other about how the rookie was being worked, but the other coaches made sure that their attention was on their own practice. At this point, Jed came over and started practice. When he noticed that some of his players were wondering why Ava was there, he knew that something needed to be said.

“Ignore our new player,” Jed said to the team. “She is being punished for her transgressions. I want all of you to give her wide berth for today, and in the future, until I tell you. She is not practicing with the rest of you as of now; instead, imagine like she is not here at all. She will wear a red noncontact jersey until I see fit to remove it. With that said, let us begin practice.”

Ava took a quick break from her workout and watched the Thyferran players get started in their sets. She was getting tired, but practice was just starting for the team. What else was she going to be put through?

“Did I say you could stop?” came a voice. Ava looked up at Jed. “Sulena here is going to supervise you for a while. Don’t worry about the rest of the team, because the one you need to worry about right now is yourself.” The head coach left to rejoin practice, and the Echani offensive coordinator came over.

“All right, Jed’s given me permission to whip you into shape,” she said. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Give me stadium steps.”

Ava ran up and down the stadium steps in the lower bowl, reaching the top, turning around, and running back down. “Faster!” Sulena yelled at her. “I want to see your speed and toughness! Come on!” Ava reached the bottom and started back up again. She had done stadium steps at CorTech, under a tough coach in Martin Locke. But he had at least given his players rest in between drills. She had never been worked so hard without rest. Her muscles ached, her bones told her to quit, and sweat was now running down her forehead in droves. But she kept trudging ever onwards, trying to impress the Echani down below and perhaps get a reprieve, even temporary, from this exercise.

That hope proved to be false. The Echani seemed to have great joy in making Ava work. She certainly seemed excitable, Ava thought as she continued to run. Down below on the field, the team was working on passing drills. She wanted to be a part of it, but such was her new lot in life as a cast-off rookie who was being put through her paces on a D-League team.

Finally she was allowed to come down from the steps. Ava took several deep breaths as she bent over in her tired misery. But Sulena still looked down at her. “We’re not done yet,” she said.

“What . . . do you mean?” Ava asked breathlessly.

“I’m not done with you yet,” the Echani replied. Ava just groaned. How much more could she do?

It wasn’t long before she was back at it. This time, she had to dive when told to, and then run lightly on her feet in place in the opposite end zone of the field from the rest of the team. She had now been handed off to an assistant coach, who was instructed to make her life hell. “Drop!” yelled the assistant, and Ava hit the turf. It was a hard body blow as her gut connected with the ground, and she let out an “oof!” as she made contact. Then she had to jump back up in the air and continue to scurry on her feet. Then she had to do jumping jacks as part of the routine, sometimes going from a jack to a drop onto the ground in one motion.

And then she began to feel nauseous. Each jack seemed to make her stomach churn, and each hit on the ground make her insides swirl. She felt terrible; what exactly was going to occur. “Again!” the assistant yelled at her, blowing his whistle. Ava continued her cycle. But the assistant blew the whistle again. “Again!” he shouted.

Ava knew she couldn’t keep up with the “again” crap. She was really sick now, and was close to blowing up. Her head was full of pressure, and her ears rang shrilly. She had never worked herself this hard before.

“Again!” came the words with the whistle.

Ava couldn’t. Instead, she dropped to her knees and vomited unceremoniously on the ground in front of her. Some of the upchuck dropped onto her noncontact uniform.

“What are you doing?” the assistant yelled at her. “Again!”

“I can’t!” Ava yelled, her lungs burning furiously as she planted her head into the turf. She felt better after vomiting, but her body was telling her to quit.

“Get up! Again!” the assistant yelled.

Ava stared into the turf, her mind and body aching. She could feel the vomit on the ground below her, a reminder of what she had become. It was like her, trying to drop her baggage and moving on to something better. But she couldn’t do any more of this. She needed a drink. She needed rest.

“Again!” and the whistle.

Ava slowly lifted herself off the ground and continued to do her routine, but it wasn’t long before she bent over again, he knees in contact with the ground and her head planted on the turf. She was spluttering the whole time, felt like she was dying. It was like her drug trip earlier in the week; she was losing control. She had to get out, had to get to a safe place.

“Who do you play for?” the assistant asked her.

No words came out of Ava’s mouth. She didn’t want to speak; she was too tired.

“No reply? Then, again!” the assistant shouted, blowing the whistle. Ava slowly stood again, her mind spinning. She knew that this couldn’t continue.

“Again!” the assistant yelled.

“I . . .”

“Again!”

“I . . . I play for . . .”

“Go on,” the assistant continued.

“I . . . play for . . . the . . . good of . . . the . . . team . . .” Ava said.

“Your workout is adjourned,” the assistant said. Ava then collapsed onto the ground, her body wiped out. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to speak, and didn’t even want to think. She sat here for several minutes, trying to gather her strength again.

Then a voice came from out of the blue. “You only vomited once. Not bad for such a rigorous test.”

It was Jed Ortmeyer. Ava, if she had more strength, wanted to strangle him for putting her through all this misery. She was lying in vomit on a grass field; when had Jed ever done such a thing? But then a hand was extended to her, and she looked up. Jed stood over her, looking stoic as he had his hand down towards her. But Ava didn’t want his help; he was at fault for all of this. She was now completely worn out. What kind of second chance was this supposed to be, anyways?

“That hurt, didn’t it?” Jed asked. Ava did not reply. “I bet your bones are screaming for mercy right now. Your mind feels like mush. Your insides feel like you went one round too many on a carnival ride. You feel tired, down . . . defeated.” Ava once again did not reply.

“Tell me, Ms. Killenger. Do you want to play pro Limmie?” Ava nodded slightly, enough to be perceptible to Jed. “Do you want to be the best player you can be?” Ava nodded. “Do you want to be a part of this team?” Ava nodded a third time. “Will you do anything for this team? Would you go the distance for your teammates out on that pitch? Will you display the dark and sky blue with honor and pride?”

Ava halfheartedly nodded. She wanted to play. She wanted this second chance on a pro career. She wanted it all.

“Then get up,” Jed said. “Your day is done.” He helped haul the rookie to her feet, after which she bent over in her wretched state of tiredness. “Get her some water!” Jed yelled to the assistant, who scurried off to the water cooler at midfield. “How do you think you did out there? And be honest.”

“I want . . . I want to kill you . . . for making . . .”

“For putting you through all that?” Jed asked. “Yes, I was mean to you. Yes I made you vomit on the ground, made you wallow in your mire like a suckling baby without its mother. But I also saw what you are capable of. My coaches and I saw that you have potential. You have the skills to compete in this league. You can be a pro. And we are here to offer you that chance. You passed the test today. The job is here if you want it.”

“Will you make me do this all over again?” Ava asked raggedly.

“No. We’ve seen enough of the punishment phase,” Jed said as the assistant came over with the water. “I will make you an offer, Ms. Killenger. I will give you a roster spot on this team. You will have to spend some time doing extra reps prior to practice to get back in shape. But in exchange, I expect you to be sober at all times. No alcohol consumption except when otherwise cleared by team doctors. No drug use. We will not have that again. And you will show up one hour before every team practice, be it official or voluntary, to prove that you want this chance. And we’re going to run you through extra reps, like I already explained, until we clear you for team practice. And this may not include league or organization disciplinary action. You're lucky you're going to be paid something for all this. Understand?”


Ava nodded slightly. She didn’t like it, but this was her opportunity to finally be a part of a Limmie team. The Senators hadn’t wanted her, and the Force had been willing to punish her severely to get the point across. But she had pain in her life, pain that she could not forget easily. Hopefully this new opportunity would help her expel those demons. Perhaps Ava Killenger could be a pro Limmie player after all.

TAG: No One

---

IC: Gark S'rily
Senator Team HQ

Gark sat in his office, trying to pour over game footage of the Agamar Packers, the opponent this week. They certainly had a lot of size, so his defense needed to be up for the challenge.

Then a knock on his door shocked him out of his focus. Me'lin poked her head inside the office. "One Esther Gondorf is here to see you," the Twi'lek said.

Gark groaned. Why did this have to happen today? He needed to focus, and this wasn't exactly something he wanted to get into right now. If Esther Gondorf was here, something major was going on. And that was something major that Gark didn't want to have to deal with.

---

When the meeting was over, Gark finally left his office looking harried. Gondorf had run him through the mill on this issue over Ava Killenger and the modified contract that had been sent to the League. Luckily this wasn't an everyday occurrence for the Senators; the title of troublemaker was Mandalore's, and Gark didn't want to contend for such a notorious reputation with the League.

"How'd it go?" Me'lin asked as she looked up from her paperwork.

"Hellish," Gark replied. "I basically got an earful from the League regarding the illegality of our contract modifications."

"So what are you going to do about it?" his wife asked.

"I'm going to have to get inventive," Gark said. "I would love nothing more than to go through with this plan and get sued, because I don't really care what the union thinks on this, but if the League is going to get annoying about it, I might as well comply. How about I ask Lorrin to send along the message to Jed that Ms. Killenger is to be suspended for this week's game for a violation of team rules for us. After that, I'll let Lorrin decide where to go. It sounds like the Futures League might have something to say as well, so I want Lorrin to handle most of that and let Jed understand that this is his responsibility right now. As for me, I have more game footage to look over."

TAG: Tim Battershell (for the game this week)


Thyferra Force Transaction:

Ava Killenger (Human, Female, Half Forward) Suspended for the season opener for a violation of team rules.