Beyond - Legends Have Blaster, Will Travel: First Chapter of the New Year!

Prologue:


I?m standing in the shadows in an alleyway in the lower levels of Coruscant?s Imperial City.

It?s raining.

Hard.

And the steady impact of water droplets on my helmet is threatening to break my concentration. I shift my weight and try and keep my carbine from getting waterlogged.
Standing in wet alleyways in the dark isn?t exactly a hobby of mine but I?m not doing this for fun. I?m waiting for Urko ?The Animal? Goonta to show up.

Goonta is known as an ?enforcer? for the Wild Wampas swoop gang, which is a nice way of saying he kills people who get in their way. He?s wanted on Talus for the small matter of leaving an informant and three CorSec officers with large smoking holes in their heads. A 20,000 credit bounty?s been put on him, dead or alive. Frankly, dead?s no better than he deserves, but alive he might be a source of information leading to the incrimination of other members of his gang.

Besides shooting it out with law enforcement, some of the Wampas other hobbies include extortion, bribery, smuggling and poor hygiene. Naturally, they have close ties with the Hutts.

For some reason I start imagining what a Hutt would look like riding a swoop bike. I stop. The prospect of dissolving in helpless laughter while on a mission does not appeal to me.

I check my motion sensor. No movement registers except for a solitary granite slug chewing on some unoffending hunk of duracrete a few meters above my head.

I wonder when the reason I?m getting an open-air shower in the Lower City?s nastiest district is ever going to show up. Up till now, Goonta?s evaded capture handily, a feat I?m going to take great satisfaction in ending. With any luck, I?ll get my chance tonight.
I?ve trailed him across the Mid-Rim for the past few standard weeks, and now he?s come to the Core, to Coruscant, apparently sent here to pull off a hit for the local Wampas chapter. According to my intel, he?ll be meeting with the locals somewhere near my current location to work out the final details of this little job he?s on.

I could have nabbed him right after he left the spaceport, but if the Wampas follow their usual pattern Goonta will only be told what poor soul he?s supposed to waste after he meets up with the locals. And I intend to stop the hit.

My ears prick up. The aural sensor suite built into my helmet is amplifying a sound that bears a striking resemblance to the howl made by a Krayt dragon dying in extreme agony. I smile. They?re here.

The motion sensor reads five signatures, all swoops, four approaching from the south-west and one bearing in from the north-east. They come to a stop at the end of the alleyway I?m currently soaking in. The riders are a diverse bunch, a Nitko, two Rodians, a Devaronian and one human, Goonta.

They start talking. I lean closer, recording everything they say. It turns out Goonta?s assignment is to murder a senator from Brentaal who, unsurprisingly, is slated to introduce a measure in the Senate to crack down on illegal gang activity.
The target, despite his concerns, takes very few security precautions, only has one bodyguard and takes the same route to the Senate every day. He?ll be on a dinner date tonight and Goonta?s planning to kill him on the way home and make it look like a traffic accident. It sounds like the perfect set-up, except for one factor they forgot to take into consideration:

Me. Eclan Graven, Mandalorian.

Unfortunately for the forces of Truth, Justice and the preservation of my vital signs, a blind or unusually near-sighted hawkbat chooses this exact moment to take a poke at the rock slug on the wall above me. He misses, smacks into the wall and spirals down into a nearby garbage receptacle with a louder noise than something that size has any business making. The swoopers are too deaf to take any notice and keep on talking.

I wish.

Oddly enough, they decide that now would be a good time to start poking around the alleyway with blasters drawn and invite whatever made the noise to a little on-the-spot target practice, an

 

Interestingly merciful for a Mandalorian.

 

Interestingly merciful for a Mandalorian.

Ordinarily, I don't think he'd have any qualms about blowing them away, but in this case he wants to keep them alive because he feels the cause of justice will be better served if the authorities can get any information out of them. I tried to hint at that in the beginning but I guess I wasn't explicit enough. He is, after all, working against a gang, not hunting down a random killer.

 

Hey, nifty! I don't read many of these things, but this one really caught my eye; a fan story in the style of a 1940's first-person narrative gumshoe piece! Woohoo!

I hope you've got more of these in the works. I really enjoyed this one.

 

I like it, very different Nice use of first-person,and I love the concept of a Mandaolorian working as a mercenery post-Empire. Look forward to another post

 

Thanks for the kind words guys. I'm honoured.

And yes, I do have another one in the works, and hopefully I'll be able to post it fairly soon.

 

Hurry up! Even my supremely patient self cannot stand much more of this waiting! [-o|

 

Coming, coming.

 

Here's the next chapter in the adventures of our self-absorbed mercenary hero:



Please tell me again why I'm going to Dathomir



I must be crazy.

Really, it makes sense. I mean, what sane being in his right mind would be at this moment touching down on Dathomir, to retrieve a teenage girl with a Lightsaber and attitude problems?

I don?t actually regret the decision. I mean, I didn?t choose the Mandalorian vocation because I wanted to live to a ripe old age, but I?m not exactly keen on dying this young if it can be helped, and this time I?m wondering if maybe, just maybe, I bit off more than I can chew.

From what I gather, the young female in question, one Arani Hesas of some 19 standard years, was recently seduced by the Dark Side, or whatever the Jedi mean when they say that, and skipped Luke Skywalker?s training facility on Yavin IV with the stated aim of going to Dathomir and there receiving training in the Dark ways from the Nightsisters.

Since Skywalker and most of his cohorts are currently off resolving some crisis on the far side of the Galaxy, there hasn?t been much attention paid to the incident in Force-user circles. Considering all that recent unpleasantness with Tamith Kai and her pals, you?d think the Jedi would pay more attention to something like this. Of course, that?s not really my business.

At least, not until someone hires me to make it my business.

My employers, Hesas' parents, a prominent political family from Balmorra, are worried about the scandal that having an evil Dark Jedi in the family would generate. Oh yes, and they?re a mite concerned for their daughter?s health.

To cut a long story short, they hired me to travel to Dathomir and convince, cajole or coerce their little bundle of joy into returning to the Jedi Academy before she becomes a black-cloaked varicose-veined Palpatine look-alike, or gets eaten by a rancor, whichever might happen first. Since the girl allegedly attacked one of her friends who tried to stop her with a burst of Force lightning, and her family wants her back alive, in one piece, and as undamaged as possible, I?m pretty sure that this is going to be one assignment to remember.

As I said though, I?m not entirely certain that I?m not in way over my head. These Nightsisters do, after all, have a predilection for using the Force to summarily kill, in various imaginative ways, anyone that annoys them, and they like to ride around on rancors, as does pretty much everyone else on the planet.

Rancors, I?m told, are gentle, intelligent beasts that shy away from humanoids and would rather run from them than attack them. At least that?s the Coruscant Geographic?s version. Considering the fact that they come in sizes starting at four meters and up, have teeth the size of, well, something big, and Jabba the Hutt used to keep one to feed his unwanted guests to, I think I?ll reserve judgment until I see these things for myself.

And I?m still wondering if it was really such a good idea to nobly give my honour-bound word on the deal before they told me what planet she?d run off to. Not that I have any doubts as to my ability to take care of myself. I mean, I?ve snuck up on Nohgri, killed Mystrals in hand-to-hand combat and arm-wrestled a Wookie, and almost won, and I?m confidant I could handle a single Jedi apprentice. Tracking her through an entire planet of crazy husband-hunting matriarchal Force-sensitive women might just prove to be slightly more challenging.

But, anyway, I can?t worry about that right now. I get out of the pilot?s seat and head back into the hold of my ship, the Estoc.

The Estoc is a fairly new ship, a C.E.C. VCX 700-class light courier. It?s about 26 meters long, and as fast and maneuverable as you?d could hope anything this size to be, especially now after I?ve upgraded the main drive and thrust-vectoring. It's pretty much ideal for my work.

Like virtually everyone other independent-minded sentient in the Galaxy, I?ve added some ?special modificati

 

I mean, what sane being in his right mind would be at this moment touching down on Dathomir, to retrieve a teenage girl with a Lightsaber and attitude problems?

That's an interesting enough opening to keep anyone reading!

My employers, Hesas' parents, a prominent political family from Balmorra, are worried about the scandal that having an evil Dark Jedi in the family would generate. Oh yes, and they?re a mite concerned for their daughter?s health.

Definitely an original set-up. I certainly haven't seen a story like this on the boards before

I mean, I?ve snuck up on Nohgri, killed Mystrals in hand-to-hand combat and arm-wrestled a Wookie, and almost won, and I?m confidant I could handle a single Jedi apprentice.

I'm just glad you mentioned Mystral warriors Great little sentence as far as giving a sense of history to your character with little allusions like that, rather than going into great detail. Let's the reader's mind wonder about what possible situations this Mandolorian was in to "arm-wrestle a Wookiee."

two ysalimiri, and the required nutrient backpack frames that I blew the last few standard time-units cannibalizing out of spare parts.
Strapped down near the cargo ramp is my swoop bike, which I?m hoping I?ll be able to use to avoid encountering the natives, as well as some camo nets to disguise my ship.

Good details.

Officially, the Dathomiri have given up their little hobby of capturing offworld males for use as mates,

Aww man! *cancels trip to Dathomir*

Another good post, Mandalorian I'm very impressed. I think I'll have to tell people about this fic, I really like what you're doing here

 

Hey, thanks YK!

I'm glad you like it, and I really appreciate the constructive criticism. It's great to have those kind of comments on my work, and thank you for spreading word around too.

Now, how do I top the first chapter......

 

Part Two:

A while later I?m on my swoop, heading northward through the woods at a pace like a space-happy smuggler with a cargo of contraband and hoping not to run into any rancor-riding witches out for their daily constitutional. As long as I?m under cover of the trees I don?t think I?ll have any trouble, but once I get out into the open I?m pretty sure I?m going to have problems, not the smallest of which is finding out where in the Galaxy the Nightsisters have stowed themselves away.

At this point, shooting along grimly through the woods, wrapped up in my thoughts, I suddenly realize the big light blur of passing trees has been replaced by a big dark blur. Then something hits my armour-plated chest with about as much kinetic energy as a heavy-freight speeder, and I take note that I?m now flying backwards through the air.

Time slows down like it often does when my adrenaline starts running, and I can see my swoop flipping end over end and a dark-haired cloaked woman in a reptile leather garment landing lightly on her feet. I think it?s safe to assume that she was the big dark blur that made uninvited contact with my mid-section a moment ago.

To jump out of a tree and knock me so precisely off my bike she has to be either extremely good or totally insane, or maybe both. If she?d been even a hair off, the swoop would have cut her in half. I mentally designate a high-level threat priority to her as I hit the ground and roll onto my feet. Luckily, the ysalimir hasn?t been hurt in the fall.

She faces me. She?s armed with a blaster, a spear, some sort of rope, a couple of knives and wild look in her eyes. I can deal with all of those myself, and the ysalimir should take care of any Force powers she tries to exert on me.

However, since she?s here, I might as well see if I can get any information out of her. I ask her what she wants. She responds.

?These woods are mine. You have trespassed in them and I have captured you. You are to be my slave off-worlder?.

So much for the official story. ?Aren?t you being a little premature?? I ask. She smiles at me. Here it comes.

She begins to gesture like Force-users usually do when they?re about to start defying physics. Years ago, the witches used to chant invocations to use the Force, or so I?ve been told, but it seems they?ve learned since then.
I can tell that something?s happening outside of the ysalimir?s range, but whatever she?s trying to do it isn?t affecting me.

The witch?s mouth drops open for a second, and then she shuts it and glares at me.

?Are you a Jedi then, to resist me in such a way?? she queries.

Me a Jedi? I smile at the thought.

?No. Not a Jedi? I inform her, ?Just very well-prepared?.

She doesn?t seem to like this response very much, and I can tell she?s not quite ready to take no for an answer yet. Sure enough, she fires a narrow-angle stun beam at my noggin.

Being possessed of the kind of almost-inhuman reflexes that can come in handy in this job, I dodge to the side and blast the gun out of her hand.

It would have been easier to just shoot her, but maybe I can convince her to help me find the Nightsister compound.

My would-be captor doesn?t seem to be taking all of this too well. From the look she?s giving me now I?m getting the idea she?s given up on taking me as a slave and is ready to settle with bringing my hide home for use as a rug.

She glares at me. Then she throws her remaining weapons to the ground with a showy, theatrical gesture straight out of one of those operas they?re always showing on Coruscant.

?Will you dare face me equally, or will you hide like a coward behind your devices?? she snaps, prowling back and forth like a caged sand panther.

Typical. She?s trying to goad me into giving up my range advantage. It would be a waste of time, not mention an unnecessary risk, to take her on hand-to-hand. Still, there might be one advantage to it.

?If I defeat you fairly, then you will show me where the Nightsister stronghold is located?.

I have the satisfaction of seeing her

 

Go go Eclan Graven! That was really great chapter QM, can't wait ti'll you get the whole story posted.

I get up and help her to her feet, which seems to surprise her. Now that she?s not a possible threat I?m able to actually look at her. I would say she?s about thirty to thirty-five standard years old, tall, and attractive, although her face is a little hard-edged and I?m not much more a judge of women?s features than a Gran would be.

Hehe, I really love the way Graven is always making reference to star wars aliens and some of their more well known cultural traits. My favorite so far was:

"I lob the grenade down the alley. Unfortunately, I now get an active demonstration of why Urko Goonta has so far evaded every attempt at capture to date. As soon as the casing hits the pavement, laughing boy is off like a Falleen in mating season" from your last story.

I wonder where the Nightsister stronghold is? after what happened in TCOPL I bet they're hiding in a mountain or something suitably difficult for our hero to gain entry to.

 

Loved the lines about Dathomir. Look forward to more!

 

Thanks guys.

Hopefully I'll be able to post the next part soon.

 

Sorry, I'm a few days late on this one

A while later I?m on my swoop, heading northward through the woods at a pace like a space-happy smuggler with a cargo of contraband and hoping not to run into any rancor-riding witches out for their daily constitutional.



?These woods are mine. You have trespassed in them and I have captured you. You are to be my slave off-worlder?.

That's actually not a bad deal if I remember right

?Very well? I respond, ?But not my helmet. I keep my face hidden?.



Good post, QM Looks like he had very little trouble with the Nightsister thanks to the ysalamiri. Now she will have to take him to the other Nightsister's, and he'll be able to find his quarry

 

Sorry, I'm a few days late on this one

Hey, no problem.


That's actually not a bad deal if I remember right

Depends on who you talk to.

 

It?s not often that I have someone riding on my swoop with me, and I think I?m starting to remember exactly why that is.

All I did was ask for directions to the Nightsister stronghold. I?m pretty sure that would have been enough for any normal person, but my newly-acquired travel partner?s taken it upon herself to assume that I?m dying to hear her full and total life?s story.

I try to ignore her. I don?t want to hear about whuffa, the proper care and feeding of rancors and what all the clan sisters were saying about Teneniel Djo just the other day.

It doesn?t make any difference of course. She?s got the speaking habits of an over-enthusiastic protocol droid and she doesn?t want to shut up.

I try to turn down the volume on my aural sensors but it doesn?t really help. I try and concentrate on the path but little bits of sound keep making their way up and falling on my ear-drums like Snivvians on a free meal. I grit my teeth and kick the pace up another notch

It turns out the lady, Tekala Rey, is a widow, her husband having expired some months previously of a malady known as loose rocks striking one?s cranium in a landslide, and she?s been on the hunt for a new one. However, I?ve gone and frustrated her plans just when she thought she?d found a suitable match, and now she probably won?t be able to show her head in the village ever again because she?s lost a fight to a mere man, an assertion of woe that fails to elicit much sympathy from me.

She expresses admiration over my armour and disappointment that she won?t be able to wear it as a trophy. My mind goes back to the exhaustive effort of forging my armour out of Mandalorian iron by hand over a period of a month or so and I suppress an urge to throw her off into the landscape.

However, the landscape itself grabs my attention. Dathomir?s lower-than-average gravity means that the trees can grow to unusual heights, but it isn?t the dimensions of the local plant life that interests me.

I notice that the trees are starting to thin out. This means several things. On the one hand, I?m getting a little tired of looking at high-speed lumber passing by my face, and a change of scenery isn?t going to get any complaints from me. On the other, breaking the tree cover means we?ll be out in the open, and I?ll have to be especially careful to avoid detection.

I also notice something else: A gleam of light playing across the empty air a dozen meters front of me.

I hit the air-brakes hard and hold down, they scream in protest and the swoop skids around crazily through the air and then comes to a halt at the edge of the tree-line. Approximately eight centimeters in front of my larynx is a length of mono-filament strung between the two sturdiest looking trees. For some reason, my first thought is that Ewoks put it there.

But this isn?t Ewok tech, not to mention the fact that Endor is practically on the other side of the galaxy. As far as I can tell, it?s Imperial-issue equipment.

With visions of crushed windpipes dancing in my head, I hop down from the bike with my carbine up and ready and start to scan the woods for movement. My thermal visual sensor is picking up something, but there?s some interference, and I can?t quite get a reading on it, as though something?s blocking it.

My mind goes back to the information I picked up about Dathomir after I accepted the mission. I remember that some units of Stormtroopers had been marooned here years ago rather than let the Nightsisters get off-planet. They?d been taken captive eventually by the various tribes on the planet, the most prominent of them being the Nightsisters, who used them as guards and extra muscle in their dealings with their neighbors, something I recall the other clans seemed to think perverse. The possibility that I?m about to be jumped by a platoon of Nightsister-controlled Stormtrooper-slaves passes through my head, but somehow it doesn?t quite fit.

I switch off the thermal scanner and peer into the trees from my crouched position by the swoop. Tekala Rey starts to

 

I've been meaning to catch up on this for a while, and now I'm sorry I didn't do so sooner. This is a great piece of work! It's got an adventurous flair that appeals to my own muse, not to mention that you've got an excellent way with words. Very cool that you're using the first person, as it's obviously made whimsical wordplay all the easier. Keep it up, man, you're doing great!

 

This is hilarious! On one side you have the serious mandalorian and on the other the denizens of dathomir!

 

but my newly-acquired travel partner?s taken it upon herself to assume that I?m dying to hear her full and total life?s story.



her husband having expired some months previously of a malady known as loose rocks striking one?s cranium in a landslide, and she?s been on the hunt for a new one.

that's quite a "malady"

Such a great post, Mandalorian At first I thought it would be out of character for a Nightsister to blabber on after a defeat, but the things you had her saying totally changed my mind. It was perfect! I like the way she's subtling trying to get sympathy while insulting him

Your writing has so much personality too, a great dark humor to it. Truly a joy to read. The idea that this mercenary is now going to have to play parent to his two captives now is quite amusing as well.

Anyway, fantastic work. post more soon

 

Gee-whiz, thanks guys, You're too kind.

I'm really pleased to see you're enjoying this.

 

Having separated the combatants, I turn back to the biker scout. Ascertaining that he won't continue attempting to dragoon me into serving as a practice dummy for his amateur attempts at amputation, I release him from the whipcord. He stands up and begins to brush himself off. I can tell he?s been living off the land for a long time. While there are still traces of white here and there on his armour, the majority of it is a mottled green, the better to sneak up on you with.

The thought ?where were you on Endor?? runs through my head, as I call to mind old combat holo-vids taken from the battle, all full of white-clad imperial troops painfully obvious against the greenery. This particular trooper?s obviously learned since then.

The Biker Scout looks at me as though noticing me for the first time.

?Why hasn?t the detonator gone off??

?There wasn?t any thermal detonator? I inform him, ?I threw a rock at you to get you out from under cover?

?Great? he mutters, ?Boba Fett captured me with a rock!"

Behind the faceplate I can feel my face creasing in a grimace. Why does half the galaxy assume everyone in Mandalorian armour is Boba Fett?

As much as it wounds my pride though, there are certain benefits to it. For one thing, it?s quite possible that in pulling off a successful assignment, whoever?s left will assume that Boba Fett?s done it, and then go off and get themselves wasted by him, sparing you a lot of time, trouble and bacta treatment.

?I?m not Boba Fett? I announce, ?My name is Eclan Graven, and for better or worse I will be assuming the role of your commanding officer for the foreseeable future. You have three options: The first is to help me complete my mission of removing a young woman from the Nightsister base, in which case by way of compensation for your assistance I will conduct you off-planet and from there to whichever world you have a mind to set down on?

?The second option you have is to refuse to assist me, in which case I will take off on my own and you can take your chances with my recent acquaintance?

?What?s my third option?? he asks suspiciously.

?Your third option is to try and kill or incapacitate me and the witch, in which case I would make certain that no one would be able to discover any traces of your remains with a three-year survey. However, being, as I?m assuming you are, an intelligent man, I?m sure you won?t try anything so foolish?

?Looks like I don?t have much choice? he mutters.

?No? I assure him. ?Now, what?s your name soldier??

?SB 8130? He announces promptly.

?No, your name, not your serial number?

He looks at me with his head on one side, as though he?s trying to remember what it was, and then he removes his helmet, revealing a grim, weathered face that I would place at about forty-two, with graying hair that he?s obviously put a good deal of effort into keeping relatively close to the accepted length for Imperial ground troops, a three-day growth of beard and a pair of keen grey eyes.

I notice Tekala Rey studying him closely out of the corner of my visor. He returns the scrutiny to her.

?Dralin Salis? he says after a moment?s pause. ?My name is Dralin Salis?

?And you were marooned on Dathomir?? I continue.

?No? he growls, ?I got lost on a sight-seeing trip. What do you think happened to me!? They left me and the rest down here to rot when they found out about the Witches.?

?I was eighteen then, one of about fifteen scouts? he goes on, ?all the other the troopers in my unit either got killed or taken as slaves by those frappin? Singing Mountain witches.?

I turn to Tekala Rey. She sniffs and peers down her nose at the trooper.

?That is the custom of our people. You brought no women with claim to you, so by our laws your comrades might freely be taken as slaves or mates, which they were. I assure you they have not been treated badly. You ?Scout Bikers? as you call yourselves were of a much greater value than mere Stormtroopers. We always found them to be somewhat dense.?

Salis grumb

 

?Great? he mutters, ?Boba Fett captured me with a rock!"

Great line - had me a-grinning. And I loved the whole exchange between Salis and Tekala Rey. Awesome dialogue here, and text as witty as ever! I'd love to see what kind of adventure, both plot-wise and textual, you take us on next.

 

Ascertaining that he won't continue attempting to dragoon me into serving as a practice dummy for his amateur attempts at amputation,

Say that three times fast

?Your third option is to try and kill or incapacitate me and the witch, in which case I would make certain that no one would be able to discover any traces of your remains with a three-year survey. However, being, as I?m assuming you are, an intelligent man, I?m sure you won?t try anything so foolish?

Hmmm... tough choice

Me? A barbarian? Pointed remarks as to which one of us is gallivanting about the countryside in a lizard-skin mini-dress come to mind, but before I open my mouth she carries on.



Alright, so I?m a worthy prize. Others have expressed similar opinions in the past, although they usually come about two seconds before the comment about how my head would look over the mantelpiece.



?But there is much ignorance in this man that I must correct? she complains.

Sounds like she likes him

More superb writing, Mandalorian Funny, great pacing, excellent form, and a very entertaining story. This is quickly shaping up to be one of my favorite fics It really feels like Star Wars humor and I can't wait to see what happens next!