Beyond Businessman, Superhero, Father: The Bothan Chronicles (OCs)

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by Jedi Gunny, Apr 11, 2013.

Moderators: Briannakin, mavjade
  1. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    Doesn't miscarriage usually include some level of pain to set that off? I don't know that much about it, just what I see in the movies. Even so, that's certainly one resolution to a sticky situation.
  2. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    Well, that was a good ending. :D
    Jedi Gunny likes this.
  3. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    OK, it's more domestic stuff, but I promised that I would do some of the therapy process. So here you go.

    TAGS to @jcgoble3 and @Trieste

    The room was dark like she remembered it. Me’lin tried to free herself, but her hands were tied behind her. All she could see in front of her face was the toothy guard, who had that evil smile on his face. She could remember the smell, the foul stench that surrounded him. It was a pungent odor, a revolting sensation that violated her senses. “Time’s up, meat,” was all he said before he pounced on her.

    Me’lin struggled to try and get free, but her body wouldn’t move, frozen in time and space as the guard tried to force himself on her. No, she couldn’t let this happen again. She had to break free, had to do something. Why couldn’t she get free?

    Noooooooo!!!!

    Me’lin awoke in her bed, completely startled by the nightmare she had just experienced. She was already sitting up, as if launched out of a cannon. Sweat was pouring down her face, and her breathing was ragged, not like it was supposed to be. That nightmare had seemed all too real, and it brought back painful memories of the times that toothy guard had assaulted her. He had taken her dignity from her, and had done unspeakable actions. He deserved his fate.

    The sound of pounding footsteps came, and Gark peeled into the bedroom on a run. “I heard you screaming,” he said. “You alright?” He was still sleeping on the couch at her request, given that having any man, even him, near her after that trying period was enough to make her rigid and frightened.

    “I had another nightmare about . . . about . . . being raped,” Me’lin said, still in shock. “Why do I keep having these?”

    Gark came over and sat on the foot of the bed. “I think it’s something you need to bring up with the Doctor. She can help you.”

    “It figures that I can’t get over it,” Me’lin said. “First the pregnancy, now this. Why won’t it ever leave me alone?” She slammed her fist into the bed.

    “Because you went through a very difficult time,” Gark said cautiously. “It wasn’t your fault. But I want to make sure that you get through this. Let me get you a towel.” He went into the refresher and retrieved a towel, which he handed to the Twi’lek. “Clean up the sweat. I’ll worry about washing it.”

    “Thanks,” Me’lin said. She wiped her brow with the towel, which felt nice. But the overarching issue continued to plague her. She wanted answers, and yet only got more questions. Would she ever get over this issue?




    Me’lin sat in Dr. Philli’s office the next day. The Pantoran psychologist looked over a few notes before bringing her view back to her patient. “Tell me what is ailing you today, before we begin our session.”

    “I’ve been having nightmares about the rapes,” Me’lin said slowly.

    “Graphic?” Philli asked.

    “Enough. Luckily I wake up before my mind goes off too far,” the Twi’lek replied.

    “Memory is a fickle beast, Mrs. S’rily,” Philli said. “It can help us remember our best moments, where we feel like we can take on the whole galaxy. But it also serves to remind us of our low spots and failures, and in many cases our fears. What you are experiencing in your nightmares is nothing to be ashamed of. Many of the rape victims I have worked with in the past have reported nightmares of their traumatic experiences months or even years after the incident. Many of them are otherwise fine, but they keep having nightmares. I am not going to lie when I tell you that there may be nothing you can do about them. It may sound mean, but memory can prove to be a difficult thing to move on from. We are not droids because we cannot have our memories wiped. We are flesh and blood, and that is what makes us unique from the non-sentient. But that also means that we are privy to things beyond our control. Your nightmares may be uncontrollable for the forseeable future. I am sorry.”

    This didn’t help Me’lin’s disposition any. She had hoped the doctor could help her out, and the Pantoran was now telling her there might not be anything she could do about it.

    “So I’m going to have them forever?” Me’lin finally asked in a meek manner. She dreaded the answer.

    “Perhaps,” Philli said. “Depending on other factors, of course. But nightmares do seem to make themselves present, even long after events have occurred and should be forgotten. They are difficult to pin down because the brain does them unconsciously. We cannot control our dreams. Conversely, we cannot let our dreams, or nightmares, control us. That is why while I cannot prevent your nightmares, I can provide you with an opportunity to work on the other factors of your life to try and treat them that way. Or I could give you medication, but I don’t think you would want that.”

    “No,” Me’lin said.

    “So, Mrs. S’rily, tell me. How is your home life right now? I know that you miscarried that unfortunate child not too long ago, so are you still having issues with that?”

    “No,” Me’lin replied. She was happy to not still be carrying that infidel in her stomach. “I felt relieved when I learned about the miscarriage.”

    “Good to know,” the Pantoran said. “When you informed me of that, I . . . knew it could lead to other issues. So to hear that the issue has alleviated, I am hopeful that it will improve your mental state. So we are just working with the nightmares?”

    “And general anxiety.”

    “That is to be expected,” Philli commented. “If I may ask, what are your triggers? I need to know so that I can create a program for you given recent developments.”

    “The same ones I gave you last time, but . . .”

    “But what?”

    “I feel . . . very insecure. Very lonely,” Me’lin said. “I don’t know why. Home life is good . . . why could that be happening?”

    “It may not be as nice as you think,” Philli pointed out. “What has your relationship been with your husband and son recently? Have you been around them much, or have you been isolated for the most part?”

    “I . . . Galin has daycare, and Gark . . . he’s mostly gone during the day. But I don’t dare work just yet . . . I might screw up . . . so I stay home most of the time.”

    “Anxiety over meeting strangers, even in familiar places?”

    “To some degree.”

    “So you feel lonely . . . hm, I think you need to get out more.”

    “But the anxiety . . .” Me’lin protested. However, Philli raised her hand to cut the patient off.

    “I have a feeling that the root of this issue is at home,” she said. “Do you feel isolated from your husband?”

    “A little,” Me’lin admitted. “He’s got a lot of things to worry about, and having to see me suffer sometimes from the anxiety . . . especially during the pregnancy period . . . I don’t know how to fix that.”

    “Do you believe that it might help if he was around more often?”

    “Maybe.”

    “Just out of curiosity, have you had any intimacy recently with him, or just sleep in the same bed as before?” Philli inquired.

    “Not in a long time, and no,” Me’lin said. “Ever since I got home . . . he’s been sleeping on the couch. We agreed that it might be better to not sleep in the same bed until I know my anxiety will allow me to do so.”

    “Understood,” Philli said. “Do you feel isolated from him at night? Do you feel like something is missing?”

    Me’lin didn’t have to think hard on this. She did indeed feel isolated. Missing Gark’s presence was something she didn’t like, but she had been too afraid to try to talk to him about it. He was understanding, but if she didn’t even know what she wanted for herself, how could he? It was a very confusing part of her life, and she hadn’t known how to deal with it.

    “Yes,” she finally said after her deliberation. “When he’s around . . . I always feel safe, like . . .”

    “Yes?”

    “Like the galaxy gets a lot brighter,” Me’lin said.

    “I see,” Philli said. “Well, then I have one solution for you. You are obviously feeling anxious about not having enough contact with others. It’s a common issue for recluses who are dealing with mental anxiety. However, if your husband provides you a sense of security, which he needs to in your relationship to begin with, then you need to make sure he knows how much you appreciate his presence.”

    “How so?” Me’lin asked.

    “I think the area to begin is to attack the isolation. The best way to do that is to let him return to the bedroom. It’s a noble thing that he’s doing for you right now, but perhaps not the best in the long-term. Tonight, if it is not too much trouble, I want both of you to sleep in the same bed. Try to see if that will improve your feeling of isolation, and then get back to me at our next session in a few days. I’m not asking you to make out with him . . . that sounds like one of the triggers you have mentioned to me in our sessions. However, I just want to see if his presence can help calm your anxiety down.”




    That night, Me’lin sat on the top of the bed, trying to read one last thing on her datapad before going to sleep. She wasn’t sure if this experiment would work, but she was desperately hoping that it would help make progress. Gark finished brushing his teeth in the refresher and came out. “I’m relieved that I won’t have to sleep on the couch again,” he commented. “I think I got some stiffness in my neck from that thing over these last weeks.”

    “It’s not a guarantee,” Me’lin said. “Doctor Philli just thinks we should try this out for a night, see how it works.”

    Gark sat on his side of the bed. It felt oh so inviting, like it was a long-lost friend. How comfortable it was compared to the sofa. “I hope it works out,” he said. “But if it doesn’t . . . I understand. Really.”

    The Bothan finally settled in on the bed and fell asleep, and Me’lin, despite the apprehension, finally pulled the covers over her body and tried to settle in. She stared at the ceiling for several minutes, trying to get used to Gark’s presence. It felt alien to her to have another body in the bed again, so this was obviously something she needed to take time to get used to. Finally she rolled to one side, trying to fall asleep. The anxiety was lingering, but she had to defeat it. Could this work?

    Then she felt Gark’s arm reach over and come to rest on her side as he snoozed away. She tried to snuggle up as close to him as possible, and instantly the anxiety melted away. She felt truly relaxed for the first time in a long time. Leave it to the Magic Bothan, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, comforted by her husband’s presence. That night featured no nightmares. It was the best night’s sleep Me’lin had had in a while.

    NOTE: If y'all have any ideas on what the next Superbothan story should be, you know how to contact me. ;)
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, Apr 22, 2014
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  4. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    Let's see if progress is made. ;)

    TAGS to @jcgoble3 and @Trieste

    Gark woke up in the morning at roughly 0700, rubbing his eyes as he sat up and got out of bed. He was still tired from putting in a long shift at work the night before, getting all of the affairs of the Andromeda Corporation in order for the upcoming week. Even though he had plenty of help, including Londy Whiste, it still required a lot of time from the Bothan CEO. So much time that he needed a break. There was a lull before the season began, so he wanted to not focus on team things and just get out and about.

    Gark walked into Galin’s room. The young boy woke up and smiled at his father. “Hi daddy,” he said.

    “Hey champ, what’s up?” Gark asked, sitting at the foot of the kid’s bed.

    “I wanna go over to Dirk-es’s place,” Galin said.

    “Playdate?” Gark asked, amused. Galin still couldn’t quite pronounce Dirxx’s name properly, so it came out as more of a ‘k’ sound than the ‘x’. But it didn’t matter; at least he knew who it was the boy was talking about.

    Galin nodded. “They invited me over today.”

    So Dirxx and Re’lia were going to look after Galin today, Gark reasoned. That would work for him. “All right, sport. I’ll give them a call and see what I can do for you,” Gark said. He called the Horstse house. Dirxx answered, and agreed that Galin was welcome over the day to hang out with them and their daughter, who was two years Galin’s senior. After the call, Gark returned to Galin’s room. “So, sport, here’s the deal. You get to be over there all day, and sounds like you’ll have a fun time. However, they just want to make sure that you don’t trash their home. Be careful, be honest, and most importantly, be respectful, especially because your uncle can put you in your place.”

    “Cool,” Galin said with a huge grin.

    Then Gark remembered something. If his schedule was freed up today, and Galin was out at a friends’ place . . . what was Me’lin doing today? He went into his bedroom to see Me’lin getting out of bed. “Hey,” he said.

    “Hey,” the Twi’lek replied as she stretched.

    “Galin’s going over to the Horstse’s place today, so he’s out of our hair,” Gark commented.

    “Good for him,” Me’lin said.

    “Which got me thinking. Weather’s supposed to be fabulous today, and I’ve got the day off from team and work-related stuff. Your schedule open today?”

    “Yes. I don’t go into work today, you should know that by now,” Me’lin said, shaking her head a little bit.

    “Hey, I’m usually a little busy,” Gark said with a shrug. “Anyways, want to get out for a day, just the two of us? Spend some quality time together?”

    “Works for me,” Me’lin said with a smile.

    An hour later, Galin was dropped off at the Horstse’s place. He seemed excited to be here, and Gark got a chance to chat with Dirxx, his former team captain. After this, Gark got back into the speeder and drove off. It was just he and Me’lin now, for an entire day of accomplishing nothing of note but not feeling guilty about taking the time off.

    Their first stop was at a café for breakfast. Gark ordered something that looked like eggs, but were in fact blue. It tasted OK, but it certainly was weird-looking. Washing this meal down with some nice tea, the couple left the café and looked down the sidewalk. “Which way to go from here?” Gark asked. He was wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, since he just wanted to look casual on a day like this. The sun was already bathing the entire downtown in its golden sunlight, and it felt good to be out even at this time of the morning.

    “I’ll go whatever way my big, strong, handsome husband decides to go in. I’ll just follow,” Me’lin said in a tongue-in-cheek manner. It was likely that she meant it, but Gark wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder, either. She wore a t-shirt and jean short shorts along with flip-flops and sunglasses. Although she didn’t wear these things often, Gark didn’t mind; any excuse to stare at his wife’s nicely-sculpted legs was a bonus. Now, he thought, if he could only get a nice close look at those thighs of hers . . . Nah, that was for later.

    The couple started down one of the sidewalks. Not many people were out just yet, as it was still morning. That might change later, Gark reckoned, so the time was ripe to be out and about before the crowds set in. They walked by many storefronts, Me’lin looking at the items for sale and wondering what half of them were for. Gark shrugged and said he didn’t know; perfectly logical answer, he reasoned. Most items like that were rather useless; he liked practical items, not frivolous ones. But this was part of the day out; just let his wife window shop, and tag along for the ride.

    They entered into a few stores, Me’lin trying on some clothing items. Gark watched her as she combed the racks. The Twi’lek had certainly come a long way since her trauma issues. She seemed back to normal in all fashions, and he was glad for that. Watching her suffer had been painful, to say the least.

    After the stores, the pair went to the park for a walk. More people were now out and about, so the park was a little more crowded than was ideal. But they would make it work. Gark reached out his hand, and Me’lin clasped it in her own. Despite all the troubles they had been through in the past four-plus years, they still had each other. That was the greatest thing they could have asked for.

    There was a nice breeze going through the foliage at the park as they slowly walked around it. The sounds of children playing could be heard from all over, the faint hum of the hyperlanes providing a nice undertone to the whole scene. A few children around Galin’s age burst onto the path, obviously playing tag. Gark almost tripped over one of them as they went past. He shrugged to his wife, who shrugged back. Galin would have fit in with those children, being rambunctious and playful.

    As they kept walking, it was apparent to Gark that he was getting hungry. A nice lunch sounded like the ticket, something to tide him over until dinner. The thought to go to a fancy restaurant had crossed his mind earlier, but he wanted to ask his significant other for her opinion. After all, that was what today’s sojourn was about.

    “I’m getting a little peckish,” Gark commented.

    “You’re always hungry, just like Dirxx,” Me’lin, laughing as she shook her head. “What a glutton.”

    “I’m just saying . . . Dex’s?” Gark asked.

    “We always go to Dex’s,” Me’lin said. “Why not somewhere else for once?”

    “I thought we could go out somewhere tonight, so I don’t need a large lunch,” Gark offered. “Just some chili, or something like that. Kinda light, not too filling.”

    “Somewhere fancy? Where I can force you to dress like the CEO that you are?” Me’lin asked.

    “Only if you promise to wear the shimmering white dress of yours,” Gark said back with a wry grin.

    “All right,” Me’lin said. “We’ll do Dex’s, but not for too long. There’s a flick I want to see down at the Holo theater.”

    “Which one?”

    “Something you probably won’t like,” Me’lin replied.

    The two of them made their way to Dex’s in the speeder, and when they walked inside, they were greeted warmly by Tex, the owner. “Hey, it’s my favorite furry patron! And look that that, he brought the misses! How’re you both doing today?” the Besalisk asked jovially.

    “Fine, Tex,” Gark said as he slid into a booth seat. “Just enjoying the weather.”

    “Ah, I can see that. I would enjoy it myself if I had the time, but I just don’t. Running a restaurant isn’t an easy thing, ya know.”

    “Try running a Limmie team sometimes,” Gark said.

    “Eh, that’s your job. I just like the business,” Tex said. “So, what can I get for ya?”

    “What do you have that’s fast? We don’t have a lot of time today,” Gark said.

    “Well, we have the soup, or the house special,” Tex commented.

    “I’ll take the soup,” Me’lin said.

    “And . . . what’s the special?” Gark inquired.

    “How should I know?” Tex asked. “It’s called the ‘House Special’ for a reason.”

    “Eh . . . I’ll have the soup too,” Gark said. He didn’t like getting Specials when he didn’t know what they were.

    “Two soups, comin’ right up,” Tex said. He yelled the orders to the droid in the back, and then turned his attention back to the customers. “So, you two alone today? No junior?”

    “Nah, he’s over at his aunt and uncle’s,” Gark said.

    “Lucky guy. From what I hear, he’s got one hell of an uncle,” Tex said.

    “Oh yeah, I can attest to that,” Gark said. Dirxx was Galin’s uncle, after all; the young boy had a father and uncle who were both Hall of Famers.

    “If you don’t mind me saying, you look smashing today,” Tex said to Me’lin.

    “Thanks,” the Twi’lek replied.

    “You know, it makes me wish I had found myself a woman,” Tex said. “Never got around to it, though. Always too busy with work.”

    “Hey, as long as you’re happy, that’s what matters,” Gark said.

    “I’m not sure if ‘happy’ is a great way to say it, sometimes, but I get by,” Tex said. “So, I’ll have your soup to you in moments.”

    He wandered off and came back a minute later with two bowls of soup. “Enjoy the food, and the weather,” he said before leaving.

    The S’rilys ate their soups and got to the theater just in time to catch the Holo. Gark was bored by the film, obviously, but he tried to not let it on. The theater was rather quiet today, so it was nice to not have to be packed in with a bunch of other moviegoers like some other shows Gark had been to. Those had been hellacious to get out of the theater because his mug was always recognized. So it was a nice experience.

    On the way out of the theater, Me’lin stopped and scrutinized a female Hapan. “Whoa, it can’t be her,” she said.

    “Who?” Gark asked.

    “Carrie Hollotts. She’s the star on one of the shows I watch!” Me’lin said excitedly. Gark rolled his eyes, but found himself dragged over to the Hapan. Me’lin asked for the Hapan’s autograph, and when the woman asked for her name, the man she was with recognized Gark. So Me’lin got her autograph in exchange for Gark giving the man one in return. Both parties seemed satisfied, and went their separate ways.

    “I don’t even know what that show is about,” Gark said as they left the theater.

    “It’s one of the shows I watched marathons of on Wroona when I was pregnant with Galin,” Me’lin said. “Always liked her acting skill, and she just plays her character so well.”

    “You know she can’t act half as well as I can,” Gark said with a smug look on his face.

    “At least you don’t act. You mean it,” Me’lin said.

    “So where now?”

    “Just walking, I guess. I’ll go wherever you want to go.”

    “I thought the idea of the date was to go where you wanted to,” Gark said with a shrug.
    “I’m pretty agreeable,” Me’lin said.

    “You know that if it’s up to me, that we’re likely going to end up at the stadium or at a Limmie store,” Gark said with a wink.

    “There’s this new technology store I’d like to go to, then a music store . . .”

    “Music store?”

    “One, I think Galin might want to start up on a musical instrument someday, and two, because they might have some good music to purchase.”

    The two of them went to the tech store, but it was mostly a dud. Nothing they really wanted was there, so they went to the music store. Inside, Gark found that he had a little bit of skill at a stringed instrument, and he played this while Me’lin searched the music aisle for new music. She purchased a few disks, and they were on their way again. They toured a small museum, and when they were done, it was already 1630. Another walk in a park ate up more time, and they stopped to watch a youth Limmie game going on at the park. Now it was 1800.

    “Time to go home and get changed,” Gark commented as they went back to their speeder.

    “Yep,” Me’lin replied.

    The two of them drove home and then changed into their fancy attire, Me’lin into her white dress and Gark into a suit and tie. He hated this outfit, but he had no choice. The place they were going, they wouldn’t appreciate him arriving there with a t-shirt on.

    “You’re just lucky I’m willing to dress up for you,” Gark said.

    “And that’s part of the reason why I love you,” Me’lin said before giving Gark a quick kiss. The Bothan felt fuzzy for several moments afterwards, and then the two of them were on their way to the restaurant.

    “I was so glad to not have to wear long pants today,” Me’lin said as they drove on the hyperlane into Midtown. “It felt good to finally wear some shorts.”

    “They showed off your legs rather nicely,” Gark said.

    “Of course you would notice and pay attention,” Me’lin said.

    “You expect me to do anything else?” Gark asked with a wry grin. “Speaking of that, I’d like a closer look at them. I could do a thorough inspection if you spread them for me tonight . . .”

    Me’lin punched Gark in the shoulder, not too hard, but enough to get her point across. “You know how long it’s been since we . . . you know . . . did it,” she said. “We haven’t since . . . since . . .”

    “I know,” Gark said. He hadn’t forgotten how Me’lin had ended up in such bad shape for a while there. What he was proposing could be a dangerous thing for her still, and perhaps he was being too forward . . . “But Galin isn’t going to be home tonight at first . . . I just figured . . .”

    “Perhaps,” Me’lin said. “I appreciate the thought, though. Let me think on it.”

    “Fair enough,” Gark replied. When the two of them got to the restaurant, they went to the front desk. When Gark was recognized, the attendant fumbled around to try and get him a table for two. “Five minutes, please, sir,” he said before running to the back of the restaurant to check on the status of the table cleaning.

    “Poor kid,” Gark commented. “I would hate to be him right now.”

    “That’s what happens when you use your influence like that,” Me’lin said.

    While they waited, they ran into Hollotts and the man she had been with at the theater earlier in the day. “I wouldn’t think that the great Gark S’rily would be forced to wait for a table,” the man commented.

    “Eh, it’s not a big deal,” Gark said.

    Hollots then asked the attendant for a table for four for them, and Gark didn’t quite appreciate this. It was his date night with his wife; he wanted to just sit with her, and her alone. But he tagged along as the four of them were seated. The man peppered Gark with a bunch of questions about the Senators and Limmie, claiming that he was a huge fan, and Me’lin chatted with Hollots about Holo shows and everything in between.

    By the end of the meal, Gark just wanted to get out of there. He had missed out on his chance to sit with his wife alone, and the man just seemed a little too rude for his tastes. But he stuck with it until Me’lin said it was fine to leave. She had gotten along very well with Hollots, and had even exchanged comlink numbers, so she got what she wanted. As the two of them walked to the parking lot, Me’lin could tell that Gark seemed depressed.

    “It’s just . . . I thought we could sit together, just the two of us,” Gark said when it was finally coaxed out of him.

    “It was still a special day spent with my loving husband. I’d call that a winning formula,” Me’lin said. Well, at least she’s happy Gark reasoned.

    It was 2045 when they returned to the house. Gark opened up the front door, and both of them went inside. “Probably should get Galin,” Gark said, not dropping his keys in the area where they were kept. But Me’lin forced him to drop the keys by squeezing his hand.

    “Wha . . .?” Gark asked.

    “Just need the topper on a perfect day,” Me’lin said. She clasped Gark’s hand a little harder. “I’d like that inspection of my legs now, doctor,” she said with a smile. “A nice, thorough, inspection.”

    “I’m going to have to be a little rough,” Gark said, returning the wry grin.

    “Just the way I like it,” Me’lin said as she slipped off one strap of her dress on cue.

    An hour later, Gark drove to the Horstse household to pick up Galin, feeling very fuzzy inside. What a perfect day, he reasoned. Galin was asleep before he got home, and Gark put his son to bed without any fuss. Then he returned to his bedroom where the love of his life was waiting for another passionate round. What a perfect day indeed.
    Trieste likes this.
  5. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    Awwwwww, how nice. [face_love] Glad to see that Me'lin has recovered to the point of being comfortable having sex again. :D
  6. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    Nothing bad happened to Gark in a post?

    ...

    HOORAY!
    Jedi Gunny and jcgoble3 like this.
  7. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    Not much meat to the post, but I thought it was timely. ;)

    TAGS to @Trieste, @jcgoble3, @Tim Battershell

    Me’lin rolled over to look at the chrono on her night stand. It read 0600; it was early, but she needed it to be. Checking over her shoulder, Gark was still sound asleep. He was funny to watch when asleep, but as long as he was out cold, that was good. It meant she had quite a bit of time to work. Slipping out of bed quietly, the Twi’lek put on her slippers and quietly left, walking to Galin’s room after closing her bedroom door. The young boy was already awake, and Me’lin made sure to keep him quiet as the two walked into the kitchen.

    “Galin, I need you to be quiet, OK?” she asked. “Don’t wake your father, all right?”

    “Sure,” the young boy said.

    Me’lin opened up the cupboard and got out a few mixing items, which she then carefully placed on the counter. Galin looked excited to be up this early; perhaps he was just that full of manic energy, or maybe he was actually interested in doing this. With the items in place, Me’lin began to quietly form her creation. It was Father’s Day on Coruscant, so she had decided to return the favor to Gark, who at least once had served her breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day. The Bothan worked very hard not just at Limmie, but also at his job as the CEO of the Andromeda Corporation, and tried his hardest to be home every night. So it was time he was recognized . . . besides, Me’lin thought, Gark would probably like an excuse to sleep in and then be lazy all day. That suited her just fine; she had nothing planned.

    As time passed, she kept checking the chrono to make sure she was still on time. And she was, actually keeping ahead of schedule. Galin finally got to do some of the work, rolling out the batter for the pancakes. Me’lin knew she had to keep an eye on her son even though she wanted to trust him to do these simple tasks; there was no sense in losing perfectly good food, or in case he managed to burn something. The last thing Gark needed right now was to have to put out a fire in the kitchen.

    Galin spread the batter into an odd shape. Me’lin looked into the pan. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to it.

    “A Limmie ball,” Galin said with a wide grin. Me’lin knew that wasn’t what a bolo-ball looked like, but it was the thought that counted.

    “Make a few more, and then we’ll get it all put together,” she said.

    It took about twenty minutes, but finally the pancakes were ready and steaming. Me’lin carefully put these on a plate, and then poured some syrup on top of them. Some sliced fruit went on next, and then what to drink . . .

    It was hard to get Galin to pour the liquid correctly, because quite a bit needed to be cleaned up off the floor after it missed the target. But Me’lin was fine cleaning up; Galin needed the practice anyways. He was getting better all the time at pouring juice, so it would be soon when no drops were spilled.

    When everything was ready to go, Me’lin wiped her brow. She had finished the entire meal in less than an hour, which was perfect timing because Gark sometimes liked to get up early. Dusting some flour off her cooking apron, which was already covered in crusted baking materials, she carried a tray into the master bedroom with Galin right behind her.

    “You may jump on him, just for once,” Me’lin told her son, who excitedly jumped onto the bed and rattled Gark awake.

    “Hunh . . . wha?” he spluttered. When he found the perpetrator, he frowned. “How many times do I need to tell you not the jump on me when I’m sleeping?”

    “It’s OK, I let him do it for once,” Me’lin said. Galin rolled off to the side so that Gark could see the tray the Twi’lek was holding.

    “Creative,” he commented, a wry smile on his face. “What did the beautiful master chef make for me today?”

    “The usual,” Me’lin said as she placed the tray on the bed next to her husband. “It even comes with a side of love, too,” she said, kissing the Bothan on the cheek. “And after you’re done, I think I have something to give you . . . not sure what . . .”

    Gark ate his meal, and then received a small package. He ripped open the wrapping flimsy to reveal a spatula. “It’s even got the team logo on it,” he said as he examined the grilling instrument.

    “It was half price!” Galin piped up.

    “OK, I don’t think daddy needed to know that,” Me’lin said sheepishly.

    “Eh, I know the team’s in the tank. Doesn’t matter to me, though,” Gark said. The other item was a “Galaxy’s Greatest Dad” Holo frame with an image of he and Galin, the young boy riding on his father’s shoulders. “Because I think the three of us being together is the greatest thing I could ever receive. Although breakfast comes in close second,” he said with a wink.


    In the midst of a crappy and hectic season, at least one day didn’t start off so badly.

    And Happy Father's Day to Everyone and their Dads :)
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  8. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    I love the fact that there is a Coruscant Senators-branded spatula. It's the perfect gift for Gark. :D
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  9. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    It's the return of everyone's favorite Holo sitcom, Leave it to Vader!

    Or it's just more escapades of the Caped Crusader. :p

    TAGS to @Tim Battershell, @jcgoble3, and @Trieste


    Gark flipped through some items on his desk, and then sighed as he sagged back in his chair. Things had not been going so well as of late; the Senators were in the tank, just waiting to be demoted, the company was struggling to fill contracts for some odd reason, and the stupid air conditioning unit in his office was broken again. He would have to get a team in to work on it once again, because it was too sweltering in the CEO office for his tastes. Yes he had a view of the Coruscanti skyline to his back, but if it was too warm inside, then that was no good. It was hard to work when you had to deal with the heat and the sudden inability of your multi-planetary company to fulfill its obligations. Losing money on the Senators hadn’t helped things.

    His eyes shifted from the mess on his desk to the Holo that he had anchored to the corner of the desk. It was always activated when he was at work; it showed the prior year’s trip to Wroona with his family for training camp. Things had been easier with the team at the time, but at least the home situation was still good. Me’lin had the day off from work at the team HQ, so she was probably home with Galin. The young boy was growing up so fast; he was ready for school the next year. That would present a whole new set of challenges, his parents knew, but also new opportunities. He no longer could just live around the house; it was time for him to learn and expand his life. As for Me’lin, Gark knew that some of the depressing thoughts he was having at work was bleeding over into home life, and a few small moments of tension had arisen over the last few weeks between the two when he had been moping about the Senators sucking so thoroughly. But things had smoothed over relatively well – sometimes a nice passionate romp in the bedroom was enough to heal all rifts. It certainly had for him.

    A button on his desk communicator blinked, and his attention focused on that. It was from the secretary’s desk outside his door that served all the executive offices. Gark pressed a button next to the light. “What is it?” he asked.

    “Inspectorate report,” the smooth voice of the Wroonian secretary replied.

    Gark hadn’t been expecting a report today. That was indeed curious. “Have they been verified and gone through normal security procedures?”

    “I’ll send the Inspector in,” the secretary said with a sigh. Gark just rolled his eyes; that was typical. He wasn’t too worried, but just in case someone got in with a fake identity, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t in danger.

    The doors to his office opened, and the clacking sounds of high heels against the polished floor easily became evident. The heels belonged to a red-haired Hapan in a striking black dress with a killer figure; if she hadn’t been doing this, she could easily have been a model, Gark thought.

    “Long time no see, Nat,” he said. “You have a report for me?”

    “And a lot more than that, boss,” Nat'alia Patrovish said as she walked up to his desk. She then handed him a datapad. “We need to talk.”

    “Then take a seat,” Gark said. The Hapan did so. “What do I need to know about?”

    “Are all cameras off?” Nat asked.

    “Why should they be? Trust me, Nat, if you’re trying to kill me, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

    “Who said it would be me trying to kill you, and not just the decoy to distract you?” Nat asked.

    “Fair enough,” Gark said when he knew the Hapan had called his bluff. “Now, your message?”

    “We have a rogue factory boss,” she said bluntly.

    “How so?”

    “Production is down considerably,” Nat said. “Check the figures. I ran a check on average production over the past five years for each quarterly check. Figures are down by over half, yet the same amount of money and material has been entering in.”

    “This could be due to faulty machinery,” Gark commented. That often happened in the factories; things broke down, and needed to be repaired or replaced every so often.

    “I looked into that, and all of the inspections reports from the quarterly rounds two weeks ago looked fine . . .”

    “If we have a rogue boss, then it’s possible they could have altered the records,” Gark said. “But . . . that would prove your point.”

    “Exactly,” Nat said. “Either this guy is letting us find out about it out of stupidity, or purposely altered the data to cover his tracks. He didn’t do a good job of it, though. I found this stuff easily.”

    “That’s why I hired you,” Gark commented.

    “But it could be a trap, as you well know. I've been getting a lot of strange stories coming out of there about what's going on behind the scenes,” the Hapan said.

    “I expect a trap; nothing comes easy in this line of work,” Gark said with a sigh. “So, what do you suggest I do about it? If I try to sanction him or add additional workers or inspectors to his plant, things could get rather sticky. And I want to avoid a conflagration if at all possible.”

    “Then get me in there so I can snoop around some more,” Nat said. “I can handle this.”

    “Are you sure?” Gark asked. He didn’t want to risk his best operative, even if she wasn’t the best inspector the company had.

    “When have you ever not been able to trust me?” Nat asked with a wink.

    “I can think of a few times,” Gark said flat-lined. He still didn’t forgive Nat for selling him out to Binn Kinshry.

    “Look, either you let me have some leash here, or we risk letting this guy eat further into our profits,” Nat said. “Your choice, but I suggest you let me get to the bottom of this. Because this could threaten the viability of that factory.”

    “Which one?” Gark asked.

    “The Alsakan plant.”

    “Hm, that one,” Gark mused. He knew what was made there, but he didn’t quite know the factory boss. He had been promoted on merit, the Bothan recalled, but had never met the man. Now it sounded like things were going on at the plant that was destructive to the operation’s viability.

    “I suggest we infiltrate his home and find details we need to get this guy,” Nat said.

    “And how do you suppose we do that?” Gark asked.

    Nat just smirked. “I have my methods,” she said as she raised the hem of her dress up a little bit to show off some bare leg to demonstrate her point.

    “Ah,” Gark said. “Willing to use your looks to get ahead. You haven’t lost a step, Nat.”

    “I have a plan. But it will require expert timing . . .” Nat said. The next few minutes were spent conferring what the plan of action was going to be, and then Nat left. Gark was once again alone in his office, and despite hoping that this would improve productivity and help fill the open contracts, knew that this could go horribly wrong too. And that was the last thing he needed right now.
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, Jun 24, 2014
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  10. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    Corporate intrigue. This could prove interesting. :D
  11. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    Will Gark go from being Superbothan to being Captain of Industry? Find out next week: same Bothan time, same Bothan channel!
    Jedi Gunny and jcgoble3 like this.
  12. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    TAGS to @Trieste, @Tim Battershell, @jcgoble3

    Nat checked the datapad once more. Her hunch had been right all along; this might be easier than she had previously thought. The target was predictable, and probably wouldn’t see right through her. This had to be part of the plan; it would likely prove to be the easiest way in.

    Shutting the datapad down, she walked to the lift and took it all the way to the second-to-top floor. The Andromeda executives had offices on that floor, but not at the top. Someone along the line had figured that offices not on the top floor would present less of a target than top-floor suites. So she got off the lift at the designated floor and then checked in with the secretary. She was quickly shown in to the CEO office. She walked inside, and the door was quickly shut behind her.

    “You have an update?” Gark asked from his desk. It had been three days since Nat had broken the news about the rogue factory boss, and the Bothan was curious to know what his Hapan agent planned to do.

    “Of course I do,” Nat said, holding up the datapad. “It’s still an issue to find the way into the building, but I think I’ve discovered a way to pump information from him.”

    “We still have to be covert about this. Can’t just walk into his factory office and tie him up. That would look suspicious.”

    “Oh, we’re not going anywhere near his factory or his office. Actually, we’ll be hitting him closer than that. Much closer.”




    “This is not going to work,” Gark commented as the two of them rode in an open-air speeder through the busy hyperlanes of Coruscant. It was twilight, and the lights of the endless city were shining brightly in the dark void of nightfall.

    “Of course it is,” Nat said. She was wearing a light shawl over her shoulders, but other than that was dressed rather suggestively. She had taken the curl out of her hair so that it was completely straight; no need to be recognized. “I just need to get in there, extract the information, and then get out as planned. Should be easy.”

    “As you know, things that I’m involved in seldom ever go so easy,” Gark said.

    “Quit worrying, and just drop me by the door, all right?” Nat said.

    “I take it we don’t mean the front door?” Gark asked.

    Nat just chuckled. “I can make any entrance a front door. Get me to an air duct if necessary; I just don’t want to go on the ground floor.”

    “You know, you might not look so out of place if this guy contracts a prostitution service on a regular basis,” Gark commented. “Besides, this is a swank kind of place. I’m sure they see plenty of floozies coming in and out of there. Lots of money, lots of booze, and lots of loose women. Just like a bar, except only for those who can afford a little extra. Not the mega-rich, but the affluent-enough ones.”

    “It’s not my fault you let this guy be promoted,” Nat said.

    “I didn’t think he was going to be up to something like this,” Gark said defensively. “Besides, I’ve never met the guy. Someone below me had the hand in promoting him; I’ve never even met him before.”

    “And they say you’re on top of things in the company,” Nat said while shaking her head.

    “There, that looks good,” Gark said, pointing with one hand as he kept the other hand on the steering wheel. It was a small window on the third floor, one that Nat could easily slip into. “Can you remove that window pane?”

    “Of course I can. I’m not stupid,” Nat said. “But that will work perfectly. Get me closer; I need cover.”

    Gark did so, and Nat hopped out to land on the wall near the window. Using suction pads, she was able to go over to the window and pry it loose with a small pick. Smartly moving it out of position, she hopped inside, and then placed the window back in position. It was a little crooked, but she didn’t care. Hopefully she would be out of here soon enough.

    She was in the laundry room of the complex. No one was here right now, but there probably was a camera somewhere. Hiding behind one of the machines, she peeked over the top of it. Sure enough, there was a camera with a swivel on it. Those were easy enough to get away from. Droid cameras were rather predictable, and easy to fool. She found a towel, wadded it up, and then chucked it to the other side of the room. It didn’t go very far before it opened up and fell harmlessly to the ground, but the camera followed it. Nat ran along the top of the machines and was out the door before the camera reset itself. Easy enough.

    She then checked for the coast to be clear before heading to the lift. A car came quickly enough, and luckily it was empty. She took it up five floors and then got off. No one was in the hallway, so she was able to stroll down to the room, Number 507. Checking her hip kit one last time, she knocked on the door.

    Seconds later, a man opened it. “Can I help you?” he asked.

    “The agency sent me,” Nat said.

    “Yes, come on in, dearie,” the man said with a mischievous smile on his face. Nat went inside, and then the man closed the door behind her. So far so good.

    Nat was now in a three-room apartment. There was a sizeable living space, and she guessed through the door was the bedroom and the bathroom was somewhere around here. Although she had seen fancier abodes, this one was pretty nice. One wall was entirely made of glass; she could break out if necessary. She tapped her headset to make sure that Gark could hear her on the other end.

    “I’ve never been able to take advantage of your services before,” the man said. “What’s your name?”

    Nat turned around and gave a very odd smile. “They call me the Terentatek, because I completely devour my victims if they aren’t strong enough to tame me.”

    “Especially Force-sensitives, I imagine.”

    “Especially them,” Nat said with that same sly smile.

    “I can tell you right now that you are my favorite already,” the man said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get right to business. I’m willing to pay for all night if necessary; depends on if you live up to your name or not.”

    Nat looked around and located a bottle of wine. “Before we get down to business, how about we share a drink? I’ve found that it helps to settle me down a little so I don’t tear you apart quickly.”

    “So be it,” the man said. He laid out two glasses and then grabbed the bottle of wine. Nat noticed that it was probably cheap liquor, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t drinking any of it; no, she was smarter than that.

    “So, what do you do?” she asked. Fair enough question. “For a living, that is.”

    “I’m a factory boss for a major manufacturing company,” the man said as he poured the first glass of wine. “Pretty lucrative job. This whole condo would be too expensive on normal wages. Luckily for me I make a lot.”

    “You certainly do. This is a nice place. I’ve seen many dumps, but this . . . this is nice. I’ve always liked the rich men the most. Always willing to spoil a girl before completing the job.”

    “Oh, trust me, I like spoiling the prettiest girls,” the man said. He then went over to the counter to place the wine back, and Nat took this opportunity to make her move. She poured some of a vial of liquid into his glass. He came back over, and the man came close to her on the gravcouch. She could feel his clothing against her mostly-bare shoulders, except for the shawl she was wearing. He was getting a little too close for comfort, but she had a job to do. This had been her idea, after all.

    The man drank some of his wine, and within a minute Nat could tell that he was under the influence. Her miracle coercion serum was powerful; it would hopefully force him to divulge his plans. But she only had about fifteen minutes’ worth of it in his drink, and he had about half of that. So she had about seven minutes to pump information from him. “So, you say that you’re a factory boss. Cash flow must be pretty good.”

    “You bet it is,” the man said. “No one knows, but I’ll tell you anyways. I’m secretly stealing money from the company.”

    “Stealing? Don’t they notice?”

    “Nah, those buffoons aren’t that good at figuring those sorts of things out. I’ve already ripped off about five million credits from the wages of workers, and by filling bogus contracts.”

    “Bogus contracts?”

    “Of course. I provide cheap knock-offs to fill contracts where I reap most of the rewards. The items the workers create aren’t built to standard, and then we sell them at the regular price. So we make money and disappear before they can complain. When they complain, we hide under the umbrella of the corporation, and we blame another factory. Because the front office doesn’t know who is being complained about, and the parts they inspect at the other factories are built to spec. So they sue the prosecution and usually win with ease because there is no documented proof of bogus parts being sold. They can’t find ‘em, and we make off with tons of cash. And the best part is that the workers don’t even know they’re being had.”

    Five minutes

    “Interesting,” Nat said. “What if someone finds out about your plan?”

    “I have a contingency plan,” the man said.

    “And that would be?”

    “Blame my meddling third-in-command,” the man commented, his face darkening. “He seems to know part of what I’m up to. But I can’t get rid of him because he’s known in the company. So I have to get the legal team to think he’s at fault, and not me. If they audit me, I’m screwed. So I have to push the blame off. And I’ve done a fair job of that, I would say.”

    “How so?”

    “I lead them off on the wrong track. They won’t find out until I retire and go off the grid in a few weeks. Just have to finish the last contract, and then I will retire. When the third-in-command gets the promotion, I will have the scheme revealed, and he’ll be blamed for everything and jailed.”

    “That’s very interesting, and very devious of you,” Nat said.

    “What is?” the man asked. The serum had worn off earlier than expected; dammit, Nat thought. “Now, let’s get to business. I’m tired of waiting.”

    “All right, fine,” Nat said. The man stood up and removed her shawl from her shoulders. It fell harmlessly to the ground.

    “Now I get to find out how ferocious you really are.”

    “Settle in to your bedroom. I’ll be there in a few moments. Just need to get ready,” Nat said with a wink. The man nodded and did so. “And close your door,” Nat said. The door slammed shut. Man this guy was easy to persuade. She looked around; no sensors could be seen with her naked eye, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. She pulled out a can of spray, and no cameras were found in this room. She checked the bathroom; there was a window she could get out of here. It would be a little tight, but she could do it. Tapping the headset, she called in to Gark.

    “Be outside the small window in the room I am at right now,” she said. “My location tracker should tell you where that is.”

    “Got it,” Gark said. “I will be waiting for you, but not for too long. Can’t attract too much attention.”

    “Copy that,” Nat said. She rigged up two tiny spy cameras in the room and then went to the bedroom. The man was waiting for her, and the two landed on the bed quickly thereafter.

    “You have mighty fine hair,” the man said. “You are very pretty.”

    “Thank you,” Nat said in a sweet voice. Her hand was still free from the man’s grasp. “I wish I could say the same about you.”

    The man was completely stunned for a moment, and Nat made her move. She plunged a syringe into his back, and the man groaned out in pain. He then fell limply onto the floor, completely knocked out by the sedative. Nat took a few moments to breathe before hauling herself up from her vulnerable position and then went to the bathroom. She jimmied the window loose before hopping outside and then placing the window back where it came from. Sure enough, Gark’s speeder was right below her, and she jumped into the passenger seat.

    “Mission accomplished,” she said.

    “From the sound of things, we’re far from done,” Gark said.

    “We just need to prove that this guy was filling the contracts.”

    “First we need proof,” Gark said.

    “I think we can get his third-in-command on the line,” Nat said.

    “Still need definitive proof that he was stealing from the company.”

    “Leave that to me,” Nat said with a sly grin. Gark knew that she could do it, but that it could be a lot more interesting than previously thought.
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, Jun 29, 2014
    Tim Battershell likes this.
  13. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
  14. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    I second the thought!
    jcgoble3 likes this.
  15. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    TAGS to @Tim Battershell, @Trieste, and @jcgoble3

    Gark tried to keep a low profile as he sat at his work desk. The Senator season had gone final just days earlier; 0-9 was their record. They were the worst team in Elite League history. And it bugged the Bothan to no end; what had he done to deserve such a bad fate this year? He had assembled an All-Star team, only to see it go down in flames almost immediately. How could this mess possibly get better, he wanted to know. Because it seemed like nothing would ever change. The Senators were done.

    Then Nat came into the office. She had gotten the curl back in her locks after straightening her hair out for the undercover mission two weeks prior. Gark lifted his head up a little more. “Find anything?” he asked, hoping, praying, that something would have come up.

    “Found everything we needed,” Nat said triumphantly as she tossed a stack of file folders down on the CEO’s desk. “Records, witness testimony, and a bunch of information on how we bust this guy.”

    “How did you come across all this so quickly?” Gark asked.

    “Let’s just say some of the workers at the plant, when persuaded with the evidence I did have, were all too willing to spill their guts to me.”

    “And I take it that a little feminine charm went a long way?” the Bothan inquired.

    “I wouldn’t tell you if it did,” Nat said with a wink. “But I never had to resort to such methods. When confronted with the facts, the workers and their superiors were shocked and angered to hear what was going on, and told me everything they knew. I put all of the stories together and came up with these folders. Now we just need to bust the guy and get him on the charges.”

    The next day, the arrest was made by Alsakan police. The guilty party was of course yelling his head off that he hadn’t done anything, but Nat was sure that she had the upper hand. The court date was set for the next week, and Nat, as expected, had arranged the prosecution’s case with the Andromeda lawyers. This would be quick work, the Hapan promised. Gark wasn’t so sure, but he knew the legal team would be able to grind the man into the ground easily. He wanted this creep off his payroll.




    “What does the jury find?” the judge asked.

    One by one the jurors gave their verdict. “Guilty,” the first one said.

    “Not guilty”.

    “Guilty”.

    “Guilty”.

    And on down the row it went. At the end, it was 10-2 in favor of the Guilty verdict. The judge slammed her gavel down on the wood, and the fate of the corrupt plant boss was sealed. Fifteen years in jail for corruption, money laundering, and various other charges. Nat didn’t even have to use the security camera footage to indict him, which was good because if she had brought that up, Gark pointed out, the judge might question the legality of using such equipment. It just wasn’t right, it would be argued. So getting things sorted out now was quite the feat.

    “I want to thank you,” the third-in-command of the plant said to the lead Andromeda lawyer as the court session was adjourned. “I was being muzzled the whole time.”

    “You should just be careful not to pull the same stunts as he did,” the woman replied. “Or you will find yourself joining him in the slammer.”

    “Understood,” the new factory boss said. “We have a lot of ground to make up on filling the contracts.”

    Gark was relieved to know that this threat to his company was resolved. Now he had a team to get back to worrying about. Thanking Nat for all her work, and promising to slip a few extra credits to her under the table, he left the courthouse and made his way back to the office.

    When he walked into his office, he could tell that something seemed out of place. Someone had ransacked his desk . . . and he had a funny feeling like he was being watched. Spinning around on a dime, he was now face-to-face with a man holding a blaster at his head.

    “Don’t move,” the man said.

    “What do you want?” Gark asked slowly.

    “I want revenge for what happened in court just now,” the man said. “My boss was framed! You go down there and free him from jail, or I’ll kill you!”

    “No, he wasn’t framed. He was corrupt, though.”

    “I don’t buy that,” the man spat. “Now, do what I tell you to, or I’ll blow your frakking head off!”

    “Oh really?” Gark asked. He knew what he needed to do.

    “Don’t move!” the man shouted.

    But Gark did anyways. He feinted to the left and then drew a hard metal object from his pocket. He then chucked it at the man’s head, and it connected. The man’s aim was disrupted for just a moment, and Gark had him. The Bothan used a variety of punches to disarm the intruder, and then pinned him to the ground.

    The door to the office slammed open, and the company secretary and a few guards stormed in. “Sir, are you all right?” the woman asked in a concerned tone.

    “I’m doing all right,” Gark said, still pinning the man down to the floor. The guards came to clean up the man, who was promptly dragged off to jail himself, and Gark dusted himself off.

    “That must have been scary!” the secretary exclaimed when Gark had given her a synopsis of the fight.

    “It wasn’t fun, I’ll tell you that,” Gark said. “Hopefully this is all behind us. However, I want to make sure that this never happens again.”

    It turned out that the secretary, on a lunch break, hadn’t been there to cover the door, so the man had gotten in. Gark wasn’t sure what to make of that, but he vowed to get Nat on the job soon enough. The Hapan deserved a few days off after all this work.

    When Gark got home, he went inside to find Me’lin excitedly talking on the comlink. The Bothan waited until his wife was done before speaking. “What was that all about?” he asked.

    “It was Lia,” Me’lin said. “She had fertility treatment done a month ago, and has now found out that she’s pregnant!”

    “What does Dirxx think about this?” Gark asked. The Besalisk former captain and Hall-of-Famer obviously had some say in the decision, except that he wasn’t going to be the biological father because of species differences between he and his Twi’lek wife.

    “Apparently he said he’s fine with the decision,” Me’lin commented. “It’s just too bad they couldn’t have done it the normal way, though.”

    “You mean the fun way,” Gark said with a chuckle.

    “Either way, I’m just happy that my baby sister finally gets to go through motherhood,” Me’lin said. “She was excited for me when I was pregnant with Galin, so now she’s going to have her own child.”

    “Did their daughter have anything to say on this subject?” Gark asked. The Horstses had a seven-year old adopted daughter.

    “Apparently she’s as excited as Lia is to have a new member of the family coming along.”

    “Good for them,” Gark said with a nod. Parenting was hellish at times, but also so rewarding.

    “How was work today?” his wife asked.

    “Odd,” Gark said.

    “How so?”

    “We got that creep indicted this morning in court . . . but then one of his cronies threatened my life.”

    “What? That’s terrible!” Me’lin exclaimed.

    “I soundly defeated him. Didn’t take much; the guy was a novice,” Gark said proudly as he sat down next to the Twi’lek.

    “My hero,” Me’lin said as she hugged up against her husband’s body.

    “I just did what I had to, nothing more,” Gark said.

    “I think that act of bravery deserves a reward. A fitting reward,” the Twi’lek said.

    “Galin’s off somewhere, I take it?” Gark asked.

    “Out at day care,” Me’lin said with a wink. “So we have the house to ourselves for a while. And I think that’s plenty of time for me to reward you.”

    “This doesn’t have something to do with your sister being knocked up, does it?” Gark asked. “Because I think we’ve discussed this in family planning. Are you getting ideas?”

    “We’ll let biology and nature take their course when all is said and done,” the Twi’lek said playfully as she undid one of Gark’s shirt buttons. “So what are we waiting for?” she asked as she began to wriggle out of her shirt.

    “For the best reward ever to begin,” Gark said as he kissed his wife’s now-bare shoulder. He wasn't about to complain.

    And it was indeed the best reward the Bothan could have received.
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  16. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    TAGS to @Trieste, @Tim Battershell, @jcgoble3


    Me’lin wasn’t feeling well when she woke up that morning. It had started with a headache two days earlier, and now her entire body just felt out of whack. Was she coming down with a virus or something? She coughed roughly, and Gark shot awake. “You OK?” he asked as he looked at her groggily.

    “I feel like crap,” she replied.

    “You said the same yesterday,” Gark said. “You think you’re sick?”

    “Possibly,” Me’lin replied. “I hope not, that it’s nothing . . .”

    “Well, just stay in bed and rest,” Gark said. “You have two off days here anyways, so use those to your advantage. I need to go to the office, and then to Team HQ and get some scouting reports in. The Draft is getting closer every day, and we have tremendous pressure to perform this year.”

    “OK,” Me’lin said. “I’ll try not to breathe on you.”

    “You probably already have,” Gark muttered to himself as he got out of bed. He was hoping that his wife wasn’t sick; he needed to be healthy, and having a sick being around the house would make things difficult. Hopefully it was just an upset stomach or something like that.

    While Gark went around his regular morning routine, Me’lin laid in bed, her head on the pillow and staring up weakly at the ceiling. She couldn’t remember any symptoms of coming down with something. Perhaps this was a disease that she had never contracted before? Or maybe her body just hated her. Maybe Galin had brought something home from day care? Was someone at the office working sick and spreading something?

    When Gark was ready to leave, he had Galin ready to go as well. The young Bothan had a small backpack, and was headed to day care at the Senators HQ facility. Ever since Galin was born, it was determined by his father that having such a facility would be smart for the young children of Senator employees. Others in the program included the Chambers-Vayne twins when their parents were in town, the Heatly children (at least when Moen had been coaching up until recently), and the Corizyl sisters, whose mother Lyndra was the head of marketing operations for the team and father Tavis the two-time Galactic Cup winning goaltender for the Senators. It had expanded over the years, that was for sure.

    “I’ll call you later and see how you’re doing. Get better, all right?” Gark asked his wife from the bedroom door.

    “Yeah,” the Twi’lek replied. “Have a fun day, Galin.”

    “I will, Mommy,” Galin said. He liked day care; it was fun to get to play most of the day. It made his parents wonder how he would transition to real school, where playtime didn’t exist.

    Me’lin then fell asleep, and woke up about an hour later. She still felt crummy, but it was at least slightly better than it had been previously. Sitting up, she decided to go to the kitchen and at least grab something small to eat. She fixed herself a small bowl of runny fruit sauce and began to eat it. It felt good as it went down her throat, but about three minutes in she realized that she was feeling violently ill all of a sudden. Setting the bowl on the counter, she barely made it into the refresher and to the privy before vomiting.

    Obviously her body hated her for some reason, but the question was why. If she was truly sick, she reasoned, she wouldn’t be able to move around easily without major nausea. She wasn’t feeling overly nauseous . . . and then a thought came. Her eyes shifted over to the counter drawer. She wondered . . . could it be? Opening the drawer, she took out a small box and busted the seal on it. Out came a small test strip into the palm of her hand, similar to those ones she had used in the past. Two times they had come out pink; could this be a third time? Taking the test, Me’lin then intently watched the pregnancy test strip. In fifteen seconds she would find out . . .

    Fourteen.

    Thirteen.

    Twelve.

    Eleven.

    If she was pregnant, Me’lin thought, would that explain her sickness symptoms of the last two days?

    Ten.

    Nine.

    Eight.

    Seven.

    Six.

    If she and her sister Re’lia were pregnant at the same time, the younger sister probably would claim that even as adults they were still best friends by still being alike. Bulging Belly Buddies, she’d probably call them.

    Five.

    Four.

    Three.

    Three seconds until she could expect an answer. Her eyes narrowed. This was it.

    Two.

    One.

    To Be Continued . . .




    “Everything seems to be back on schedule,” Nat reported as she stood in Gark’s office at Andromeda. The new boss of the Alsakan production plant obviously was interested in keeping things running smoothly. It was likely that his disdain for his former bosses, plus their arrest and long jail sentences for fraudulent management of company property, which kept him on the correct side of the Bothan CEO’s opinion. “Contracts are being filled correctly, and the workers are back in full force after the letdown.”

    “Good to know,” Gark commented. Hopefully this whole issue with the corrupt factory boss was over. “So, Nat, how do you like this line of work, since you’ve been hired for about a year . . .?”

    “It’s boring at times, I admit,” Nat said. “Lots of research, not enough undercover operations.”

    “Remember, your job on paper is to be an Inspector. However, we both know that you’re a little more versatile than that,” Gark said with a wry grin.

    “I find undercover operations much more fun,” Nat said, returning the grin. “And ‘under covers’ ops even more so, at least you thought so” she added, winking.

    “Of course you would remember that fondly,” Gark commented.

    “It’s water under the bridge now,” the Hapan replied. “I’m just glad I’ve got this job. Now I can afford to live a much better life. No staying on the streets.”

    “That was the point of the bargain,” Gark said.

    “And I am grateful for your willingness to offer it to me,” Nat said.

    “Good. Now, we need to do the quarterly checks on the Coruscant plants. They should be in good order, but now we have extra things to worry about after the last little fiasco. So just through your normal routine, and we should be fine.”

    “Fine,” Nat said with a nod. “If you need me for more undercover duties, you know how to contact me.” She then walked out the door of the office, her high heels clacking against the floor. Gark was alone once again; hopefully this time the inspections wouldn’t come up with red flags, he hoped as he busied himself with some paperwork.


    After all, he really didn’t like surprises anymore.
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  17. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    The Gunny School of Cliffhangers teaches another lesson. :D
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  18. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    And now your resolution.

    TAGS to @jcgoble3, @Tim Battershell, and @Trieste (who either will be really excited by all this or really not)



    Clear

    Me’lin sighed as she stared at the strip for a few more seconds. No color had changed; she wasn’t pregnant. It probably was a good thing, since her last pregnancy had been a bit of an issue with the rapes, and her one with Galin, despite being a success, had tense moments at the end when the young Bothan decided that he wanted out. At least she wouldn’t have that burden to carry around.

    But she was still somewhat disappointed. Re’lia was now about two and a half months pregnant, and when Me’lin had gone to see her the prior week, she could see her sister’s belly bulging out a little bit. Lia had been excited about the new possibilities this opened up, and Me’lin had wished her younger sister well. But that moment had accelerated her hope for a pregnancy of her own; she had made passionate love to her husband around that same time, and had figured that maybe, just maybe, he had knocked her up that day. She had certainly tried as hard as she could . . . but it was not to be, apparently.

    The next few days were spent mostly in bed, recovering from the virus she did have. It took about a week to get back on track, and then she had to talk to Gark about this.

    “I thought we had agreed that Galin was to be the only one,” Gark commented.

    “I told you that I might want another one someday,” Me’lin replied. “After Galin’s birth, I didn’t really want to . . . but then Lia got pregnant . . . and I’ve been starting to want another child.”

    “As much as I have my own opinions, I want you to know that I respect your opinions as well,” Gark said. “As much as my own. We’re in this together, and if you’d be happiest with another child . . . well, then I can offer to provide. But promise me one thing.”

    “What’s that?”

    “I want you to think this over very carefully the next few days,” Gark said cautiously. “Do we really need another kid? Galin’s a handful as it is, and I don’t think he’d appreciate being rendered as second-best in this family. Give the kid a chance.”

    “You wouldn’t understand,” Me’lin said. “It’s not as personal for you as it is for me.”

    “I get that. But do you want to be incapacitated for the next nine months, and then wish you hadn’t?” Gark asked.

    “I’d do it for both of us,” Me’lin said. “Because this child would be yours as well as mine.”

    “And I’ll leave that up to you,” Gark said. “Now, I need to get off to work . . . if you truly want this, then I’ll do it. Just think it over.” He and his wife then kissed, and the Bothan was out the door with his bag in hand.

    Me’lin knew this would be a huge decision in her life, and understood what Gark was apprehensive about things. She had her own doubts as well; would Galin like having a baby sibling around? He was starting to grow up so fast; about five years ago, she knew, the boy was inside her belly. She had created a bond with him then that could never be broken, one of love. And now she wanted that same input with another child. But Gark was still right. She would have to think this over.

    Later that day, she took Galin to the nearby park. As she sat on the bench on the side of the park, she watched parents taking their infants and toddlers around. She had done that with Galin when he was that age, acting like there was nothing wrong in the galaxy. Everything in that time had been about her and her son. That was what made those moments so special, she remembered.

    Finally she turned her attention to where Galin was. He was out playing with some other children around his age . . . except for the tall dark-skinned boy she had never seen before. The youth was at least a teenager, and looked very out of place with the five-to-seven year olds who he was roughhousing with. But the kids didn’t seem to mind; in fact, they seemed to know the youth. Me’lin was curious to see what the youth was doing here; she had never seen him at the park before.

    An hour later, Galin came over with a few friends. They found their parents and headed off, and the young Bothan came over to Me’lin’s bench. “Hi,” he said.

    “You wore out?” his mother asked. Galin nodded.

    “Fun day,” he said.

    “Who’s that kid over there, the tall kid who you were playing with all that time?” Me’lin asked, pointing to the youth.

    “That’s Big Mike,” Galin commented matter-of-factly.

    “Big Mike?” Me’lin replied. The youth looked harmless, but she didn’t want her son playing with someone who could possibly hurt him.

    “Yeah! He’s a great guy! You should meet him sometime!”

    “Does he live around here?” Me’lin asked. Usually only neighborhood members used this park.

    “No. He lives in the City Center . . . but he also said that he’s a drifter.”

    “What?” Me’lin exclaimed. Two young parents with their own child turned to look at the Twi’lek, and Me’lin tried to lower her gaze. It was an awkward moment. “Did you just say he’s a drifter?”

    “Yeah. Why?” Galin asked.

    “That means he might be homeless . . . and might be dangerous,” Me’lin said.

    “Big Mike isn’t dangerous, Mommy,” Galin said, shaking his head. “He’s a big softy, like Daddy is.”

    “Soft or not, I don’t know if I want you playing with him anymore,” Me’lin said.

    “Come on, Mommy, he won’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt anything. Said he’s big and can scare away bad men.”

    “I bet,” Me’lin said as she watched the youth walk around. He looked downcast, even though he had just played around with children. Something about him seemed . . . sad. He wore a faded t-shirt, cargo shorts with some holes in them, and roughed-up sports shoes. As she studied him, she could tell that this guy was indeed soft; there didn’t seem to be a rough bone in his body. But that could easily be a smoke screen, she figured. Sometimes the worst criminals were the ones you didn’t suspect.

    “Let’s go,” Me’lin said. She stood up and grabbed Galin’s hand.

    “But what about Big Mike?” Galin asked.

    “What about him?”

    “He said he doesn’t have a home tonight.”

    “What?”

    “He’s a drifter. Those were his words, Mommy. He doesn’t have a home he’s happy to be at.”

    “Sometimes that happens, Galin. There’s nothing we can do about it.” Me’lin then led Galin to the speeder, and got him into the booster seat in the back. She then climbed in to the driver’s seat, but not before looking into her mirror. Big Mike was now sitting at the bench, a glum look on his face. It was obvious that he was depressed. She looked back at Galin; he was preoccupied with something, but his words started to echo in her head.

    He doesn’t have a home . . .

    Shaking her head, she turned the ignition and started the speeder up. It slowly came to life, and then she started to make her way through the lot away from the park. As she went, she continued to watch the youth. People were trying to stay away from him as they passed, and although he waved to a small child, the parent moved the child away quickly to avoid the teen.

    Me’lin couldn’t take that. She slammed on the brakes, causing the speeder to stop. Looking back at Galin, she had a question. “Doesn’t have a home?”

    “Said he has no friends. That’s why he plays with us; he has no one else.”

    The speeder backed up to the nearest spot to the bench, and Me’lin lowered the window. “Hey, Big Mike!” she said.

    The teen turned around to see who had called for him, and then turned around.

    “Hey!” Me’lin said again.

    Big Mike got off the bench and started to walk away, keeping his head down. Me’lin slowly followed him, then stopped again. “Big Mike! I need to talk to you for a moment.”

    The teen finally made eye contact. It was hard for Me’lin to do this, since she didn’t know the boy. But she could tell that he was down in the dumps. He just had that glum expression on his face. “Yes, ma’am,” was all he said. It was more of a mumble than anything else.

    Me’lin’s first impression was that the boy was very well-mannered. No one ever called her that title; he had obviously learned that from somewhere. “My son says you don’t have a home to go back to,” Me’lin said. “Is that true?”

    Big Mike was silent.

    “Do you have a home?” Me’lin repeated. Again the teen was silent, just looking at her with his lips not moving. He was expressionless.

    “Tell me, do you have a home to be at tonight? I can take you back there,” Me’lin said.

    “No, ma’am,” Big Mike finally said. “I ain’t got a real home.”

    Me’lin looked back at Galin. The young boy nodded. She turned back to the teen. “You need a place to stay for the night?”

    Big Mike just looked down at the ground and nodded.

    “Get in,” Me’lin said, motioning to the back. Big Mike cautiously opened the back door and got in opposite Galin. He then closed the door behind him. Me’lin took off slowly through the lot.

    “Tell me a little bit about yourself,” Me’lin said.

    Big Mike was silent.

    “OK, I’ll respect that,” Me’lin said. She got onto the expressway and started home. It was deathly silent in the speeder, Big Mike obviously very shy and not willing to talk.

    When they got home, Me’lin offered Big Mike some food. The youth took a small bit, but didn’t ask for much. He just stayed silent, and Me’lin started to wonder if the youth was all together mentally. How could he be so quiet, she wondered.

    When Gark got home, he was surprised to see the new visitor. He immediately took Me’lin into the bedroom and started to talk to her about this. “What are you doing?” he asked. “We don’t know anything about him!”

    “Galin was demanding.”

    “I don’t care what he thinks on this, the kid can’t stay here,” Gark said. “What if he’s a predator?”

    “Gark, you need to trust me on this.”

    “I’m afraid that I can’t, Lin. I’ve seen too many bad things happen if you let strangers into your lives. They can ruin everything in an instant.”

    “Gark, let me handle this. It will just be for one night until we can find him a proper home.”

    “Can I trust you?” Gark asked.

    “Trust me,” Me’lin said. “All I ask is for you to remain calm.”

    “All right,” Gark finally said after a pause. “One night.”

    That night, Me’lin laid out some blankets and a pillow for Big Mike to use. He was going to sleep on the couch, since the visitor’s bedroom was cluttered, and the only other spare room was now Galin’s bedroom. So the sofa would have to do. Me’lin laid out the sheets on the sofa, and then fluffed up the pillow some. “I know it’s not the most comfortable,” she said, “but it’s all we’ve got for tonight. I’m sorry about that.”

    Big Mike just sat down on the sofa.

    “If you need anything, just tell us,” Me’lin said. “Good night,” she said before switching off the light.


    The next morning, all the S’rilys found of Big Mike’s stay were the blankets on the sofa, all neatly folded like they had been when they came out of the closet, and the pillow on top of them. He had obviously left during the night.
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, Jul 9, 2014
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  19. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    I have a feeling that Big Mike will show up again.
    Trieste likes this.
  20. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    Me'lin is a better sentient being than I am.
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  21. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    TAGS to @Tim Battershell, @Trieste, @jcgoble3

    The next day, Me’lin was very surprised to see Big Mike at the playground again. Where he had come from, she didn’t know, but she had to find out. He hadn’t said anything last night about not wanting to stay over, and had left quietly. She hadn’t heard anything, and nothing was missing or out of the ordinary. He had obviously folded the blankets up and left on his own terms.

    [IMG]

    When the children were done playing, Me’lin had to know what was up with the teen. She went over to him, and immediately he put his head down. “Why did you leave last night without telling us?” she asked.

    The teen was silent. He obviously didn’t want to speak.

    “Why did you leave, Big Mike? We just want a resolution. Nothing more. Just to know if we were bad hosts or something,” the Twi’lek said.

    “I have a home,” Big Mike said.

    “Don’t you lie to me,” Me’lin said. She knew the teen wasn’t being truthful here. He didn’t sound confident enough to be telling the truth. “You don’t have a stable home, do you?”

    Big Mike shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he said.


    “No family, relatives, friends?”


    “My momma . . . she has an apartment . . . down in the city center . . . lower depths . . . real rough place.”


    Me’lin nodded. She understood that.


    “My father . . . he’s dead.”


    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Me’lin said.

    “Killed in a driveby,” Big Mike said. A tear went down his face. “My brother . . . he’s in with a gang. Got shot last week; still in the hospital.”

    “And what about you? Are you a gang member?”

    “No, ma’am,” Big Mike said. Unlike before, he sounded sincere about this. “I want to stay away. It’s why I left home. My momma wants me to come back, but there is nothing for me there.”

    “Do you just wander about?” Me’lin asked. “Don’t you have school, or something else like that?”

    “Don’t go to school often,” Big Mike said. “The other kids tease me about my size . . . I don’t like school. Homework . . . tests . . . I don’t like them.”

    “School is an important part of life,” Me’lin said.

    “Not when you’re bullied,” Big Mike said.

    Me’lin finally knew the story of Big Mike. He was homeless, adrift, and helpless. He looked like a big kid with a big gap in his life.

    “Sorry to hear that,” she said. “We . . . my husband and I . . . would be willing to take you in for a few more days.”


    “He said he didn’t want that,” Big Mike said.

    “Gark’s just a hard-nose sometimes,” Me’lin admitted. “But he’s got a big heart. He’ll accept you; just give him time.” She paused. “Big Mike, do you want to stay with us for a few days?”


    The teen didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he nodded. “I need a home,” he said.


    “All right,” Me’lin said. She gave him a smile.

    “But one thing,” the youth then said, catching the Twi’lek off-guard. “I don’t like being called ‘Big Mike’.”

    “Then what do you want me to call you?” Me’lin asked.

    “Mykal. My name’s Mykal Oha,” Mike said.

    “Well, Mykal, my name is Me’lin. This is Galin, although you probably know that by now,” Me’lin said, motioning to her son.

    “My momma would say that was a pretty name, ma’am,” Mykal said. “She’s a smart lady . . . she’s just crazy sometimes.”

    “Thank you, Mykal,” Me’lin said. “Your mother is crazy?”

    “She says a lot of crap. Gives me hell if I don’t clean up after myself . . . I learned real fast when I had to change my own soiled pants, or do my own homework. I want to love her . . . but I don’t know if I can.”

    “Sometimes love is the hardest thing to find in a confusing galaxy like this,” Me’lin said, touching Mykal’s shoulder gently.

    “How would you know?” Mykal asked. It was more of a curious question than a demanding retort.

    “I’ll tell you later, when you’re ready to know,” Me’lin said. “Now, let’s go.” She led the two boys to the speeder, and Galin was back in his booster seat. Me’lin started the engines and got onto the expressway.

    “So, Mykal, what do you do in a typical day?” she asked.

    “Not much, ma’am. I visit the park . . . and wander. Eat when I can.”

    “You want lunch?” the Twi’lek asked.

    “No, ma’am. I’m fine.”

    “Don’t lie to me, Mykal. You’re probably hungry.”

    “I don’t lie to no one, ma’am.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    “Well, I feel hungry, so we’re going to stop over for some food. You can have some if you change your mind,” Me’lin said. She got off the expressway and went to a small fast-food diner. She ordered a kid’s meal for Galin, a wrap for herself, and then looked to Mykal.

    “You can have anything you want, Mykal,” she said. “I’ll pay for it.”


    “Anything?” Mykal asked.

    “Yes, anything,” Me’lin said.

    “Um . . . I’ll have a burger,” he said.

    “Anything on it?”

    “Nope. Just a burger,” he said. “I love burgers.”

    “All right,” Me’lin said. She ordered a regular burger, and then picked up the order at the window. Stopping over in the lot to hand out the food, the three just ate together.

    “How does it taste?” she asked.

    “Good,” Galin said as he munched on his meal.

    “Mykal?”

    “I like it, ma’am,” he said.

    When the speeder got back on the roadway, Me’lin got an incoming call from Gark. He had to give her an update on what was going on at Team HQ.

    “That was my husband,” Me’lin explained when the call was done. “He owns the Coruscant Senators limmie team.”

    “The best ever!” Galin said excitedly.

    Mykal remained silent.

    “Mykal? You do know what that is, right?”

    “I’ve . . . heard of it, ma’am. Never played. A few of my . . . a few of the other guys . . . they played public school leagues . . . but none of them go on. They all go into the gangs or walk the streets like me in the end. I’ll probably end up like them, ma’am. But I don’t want to.”

    “What do you want, Mykal?”

    “I just don’t want to be bullied, ma’am. I want people to call me ‘Mykal’, and not ‘Big Mike’ or ‘Fatty’.”

    And then the three could hear a smashing sound and the thump of contact of metal upon metal. The speeder was impacted hard on the side and flipped onto the opposite side. Everything went dark.
    Last edited by Jedi Gunny, Jul 12, 2014
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  22. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    So we get the story of Big Mike, more properly Mykal. Interesting.

    But a speeder accident? I hope they're OK... [face_nail_biting]
  23. Jedi Gunny Yahtzee Host

    Game Host
    Member Since:
    May 20, 2008
    star 8
    And now for a conclusion . . .


    or not . . .


    Depends on your point of view.


    TAGS to @Tim Battershell, @Trieste, @jcgoble3


    “Ma’am . . . ma’am . . . are you alright?” asked a voice from out of the blue.

    Me’lin turned to the source of the voice, and could now see a Duro man standing by the speeder looking in to where the airbag had gone off in the driver’s face. The Twi’lek brushed the inflated bag aside and nodded. Where in the hell had that other vehicle come from? There was no turning at that intersection, she knew; that explained why she hadn’t expected to see it.

    The next thing she could feel was other responders pushing her speeder back onto its proper side, the vehicle bouncing slightly as it hit back down on solid ground.

    “Are you the only passenger?” the Duro asked.

    Then Me’lin remembered that she wasn’t. “No,” she said, starting to panic. “My son . . . is he alright?” She ripped off her safety belt and turned her torso around to look into the back seat. All she could see were two airbags, which had come in from the side for some reason. She wasn’t sure if they were supposed to work like that, but they had gone off. “Galin! Galin! Can you hear me?” she exclaimed.

    She heard nothing.

    A passerby smashed the window on the speeder, which was already mostly broken, and opened the door. He shoved the airbag out of the way. “There are two passengers back here! I need help!”

    Me’lin got out of the driver’s seat and then went to the back door to help. She aided the man in pushing the airbag aside, which was now partially deflated. Galin’s safety seat was still in place . . . and the young boy was still in the apparatus. He looked around at his rescuers, some blood pouring out of gashes on his face. Otherwise, though, he looked fine.

    “Galin!” Me’lin said as she reached for her son. She tried to unlatch the safety belt, but found that there was something in the way. A dark-skinned arm had been wrapped around the boy’s torso. The other man, realizing this, pushed the other airbag aside. Mykal’s face came into view; he looked battered. The airbag on his side of the vehicle had pushed him across the center seat, apparently.

    Minutes later, first responders were on the scene, including a gurney for any major injuries. Me’lin found it hard to get traction on her feet, since she was still badly shaken. The airbag had taken some of the blow, but she had been rattled around pretty hard. Medics were checking Galin; they were cleaning up his wounds with some bacta and bandages. A police officer came over to the Twi’lek.

    “We’re not sure why those airbags popped there, but they came very close to drilling your son in the head. He’s lucky that he didn’t suffer a face fracture or a broken neck . . . or worse. Damn lucky.”

    “We inserted the seat correctly . . .” Me’lin said.

    “We think your airbags may have been defective,” the officer said. “There is no reason for them to go so high up on the body.”

    “But will he be alright?” Me’lin asked in a worried tone. Galin was everything to her . . . the young Bothan was her own flesh and blood.

    “He should be fine, but we have to take him to the hospital just in case.”

    Then Me’lin realized that she was forgetting about a passenger. Mykal was sitting over on the curb, head in his hands. Me’lin went over and sat next to him.

    “They say Galin’s going to be fine,” she said.

    Mykal didn’t reply. He just sat there.

    “There was nothing you could have done, Mykal,” she said. It felt weird to try and have to console a teen she barely knew, especially when she had been hysterical and panic-stricken only seconds earlier.

    “I stopped it,” the boy said.

    “What?” Me’lin asked.

    “The airbag. I stopped it,” Mykal said. He looked down, and Me’lin followed his gaze. The boy’s arm was gashed up and bloodied from the impact.

    “You . . . stopped . . . it?” Me’lin asked, confused. What did he mean?

    Mykal just nodded.

    Then Me’lin finally understood. Mykal had taken the blow of his own airbag and had reached his arm over to protect Galin’s torso and face from the airbag on his side of the speeder. This teen may have saved her son’s life.

    “You’re bleeding!” she stated. “We need to get you care.”

    “I can handle it,” Mykal said.

    “No you can’t,” Me’lin said. She flagged down the nearest medic and got Mykal some medical attention.

    Half an hour later, Me’lin found herself at the hospital being evaluated. The doctors said that she didn’t have any injuries, but that she might want to take it easy for a while until the shock of the crash wore off. Galin had been taken to the emergency room, and the prognosis was that he had a busted nose. But other than that, he had just been nicked up. Mykal’s arm had been fractured, they said, and he was going to be wearing a sling for a few days. But all that Me’lin cared about was that everyone was alright. They would survive this incident.

    It didn’t take long for Gark to arrive. When he had received the call from emergency responders, he had left an important meeting at work to get here. That was the nice thing about having Londy Whiste at Andromeda to keep things running smoothly without him.

    “Are you OK?” the Bothan asked as he hugged his wife. “I got here as fast as I could.”

    “I’m fine,” Me’lin said. “They took Galin back into the ER to get patched up.”

    “What’s the damage?”

    “His nose was busted, and he has gashes all over his face. But they say he should be fine in a few days.”

    “What happened?” Gark inquired quickly.

    “We got hit on the side and flipped over, at least part-way,” Me’lin explained. “At least, I think so. The airbag was a rude awakening.”

    “But you’re fine, right?” Gark asked. “They’ve checked you over, and you’re not injured?” He was very concerned about his family’s well-being.

    “They said that the side airbags inflated improperly,” the Twi’lek said. “They could have seriously hurt Galin . . . might have killed him . . . but they were deflected . . .”

    “What do you mean?” Gark asked quizzically.

    “Mykal . . . he stopped it with his arm . . .” Me’lin said.

    “You mean . . . the boy we had at our house last night?” Gark asked. Me’lin nodded.

    “He stopped the airbag before it could fully hit Galin. Our son is alive because of Mykal.”

    This took several moments to sink in for Gark. The teen that he didn’t trust had saved his son’s life? “He didn’t have to do that,” Gark said.

    “But he did, and I’m relieved that he did. If Galin had died . . . I . . . I . . . I . . .”

    “It’s fine,” Gark said, reassuring Me’lin. “He’s going to be fine. I’m just glad to know you’re both OK.”

    “And hopefully Mykal is too.”

    The couple went to check on Galin. The medics said that he would be discharged in about twenty more minutes, so they went to see about Mykal. His arm was being patched up, and a sling was prepared for his broken arm. “Mykal . . . I want to thank you . . .” Me’lin said.

    “Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly as he looked at the floor.

    “Mykal . . . you didn’t have to take action . . . but you did . . . why?” Gark asked.

    Mykal looked up at him. “Because I protect my friends,” he said.

    Those five words spoke volumes for the S’rilys.


    Trieste, Tim Battershell and jcgoble3 like this.
  24. jcgoble3 Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Nov 7, 2010
    star 4
    Excellent! :D Sometimes a hero is who you least expect it to be.
    Jedi Gunny likes this.
  25. Trieste Force Ghost

    Member Since:
    Apr 10, 2010
    star 4
    It seems that Mykal might have some hidden talents and a whole lot of loyalty.
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