Beyond - Legends Life and Limmie: Senator Tales (OC)

So wait, it wasn't a kidnapping? Curious.

However, I am not sure the burglars were the brightest bulbs in the chandelier. If they were going to steal something 1) why come by when Jenna is home and 2) why knock? Oh wait--it makes for a good story.

 

Admiral Volshe, jcgoble3, epithree, Trieste, JM_1977

The door to the seedy bar opened, and Fravid stepped inside, closely followed by Zeke and Gark. The three men walked past the bar counter and towards the back room. Gark kept a wary eye on all of the patrons, who seemed to be content looking at their beverages and arguing with other drunks and not interested in seeing the new arrivals. The barkeep, a tough-looking Bith, paid attention, but then looked away when it was clear that these three men were not interested in a drink.

Fravid finally stopped at one of the tables in the back corner. Sitting in the farthest chair was a darkly-clad Barabel, taking a sip of some blue-green liquid from a flask. The Barabel looked up when the three approached. “Look who it is,” the man said in a gruff voice. “If it isn’t Fravid Deese himself. What can I do for you today?”

“Information, Slim” Fravid said, taking a seat next to the Barabel. Zeke took a seat on the opposite side of the table, while Gark wandered off towards the pool tables. He had worked it out with Zeke so that one of them would keep an eye on the perimeter while the other would pump this informant for the location of the Duo’s headquarters.

“You’re a hard man to deal with,” Slim said, taking another sip from his flask. “The sky may be yellow these days, but it’s hard to deal with all of the rain.” Zeke had no idea what this had to do with anything; he assumed the Barabel was drunk. This wasn’t an odd statement, because the Barabel had apparently been drinking quite a bit.

“But I just wear a jacket,” Fravid said. The Barabel leaned in closer.

“What’s this all about, Fravid?” he asked.

“Mr. Sunny Boy here wants to know the location of the Duo’s HQ,” Fravid said.

“Shut it, Fravid,” Zeke said.

“No, you shut it,” Fravid said. “If you want my help, you have to go through me to get it.” Zeke was silenced, but still wary of what was going down at the table.

“And why should I help you?” Slim asked. “You know the Duo kicked me out after that last little slip-up I had in S&R.”

“Because I know you have the floor plan down better than any of my old contacts,” Fravid said.

“That’s a high compliment,” Slim said, drinking again. “But you know me . . . I have a faulty memory at times. My mind’s slipping a little bit . . . so if you would be so kind as to get me a drink, I might remember.”

“Trust him,” Fravid said. “Go buy him a drink.”

“And why don’t you?” Zeke asked. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Come on, Zeke,” Fravid said. “Why can’t you just trust me on this one? I don’t even know what Slim here likes.”

“I’m not too picky,” the Barabel said. “But a nice whiskey would be much obliged right about now. To help my memory.”

“Fine,” Zeke said. “But I’m watching you, Fravid. No funny business.” He stood up.

Fravid put his hands up in the air to prove his point. “None intended,” he said. Zeke scowled before walking to the bar.

Slim, when he saw that Zeke was out of earshot, leaned over to Fravid. “You realize the boss won’t be happy that you’re letting that pipsqueak onto our trail.”

“Don’t concern yourself,” Fravid said. “Zeke isn’t going to connect the dots without us anyways. Might as well lead him into thinking we’re going to help him.”

“You better be right on this,” Slim commented. “If he gets free and messes up our operation, our heads are going to be on the block immediately. The boss never accepts failure.”

“I won’t fail,” Fravid said. “I think he will appreciate my effort to bring them all that way to his doorstep.”

“And what of his little friend over there? What’s the scoop on him, and why should I care?” Slim asked, motioning to where Gark was standing by the pool table. The Bothan was lining up a shot on the cue ball, while several toughs looked on.

“That right there . . . is the Bothanman himself,” Fravid said.

“Get out,” Slim said.

“I’m deadly serious about this,” Fravid replied curtly. “It’s him. Zeke went and asked for some big-time help.”

“You don’t say,” Slim replied. He shot a look over to Gark, and then turned his attention back to Fravid. “Well, it looks like our plans are going to have to be accelerated. I’ll go tell the boss that we’re in for some company soon.”

“I’m going to draw them to HQ, and then we can nab them,” Fravid said. “No need to complicate things further.”

“And why should he trust you?” Slim asked. Both men looked to see where Zeke was. He was busy ordering the drink at the bar.

“Because he thinks he has some sort of muscle superiority over me,” Fravid said.

“Don’t tell me he beat you up and forced you to lead him out this way,” Slim said.

“Unfortunately so,” Fravid said.

“The boss won’t be happy,” Slim commented.

“He doesn’t have to be,” Fravid replied. “I’ll be successful. Just give me a few days. I’ve got Zeke thinking I’m clean of my crime life. He thinks I can just give it up on a whim. If he only knew how well it paid.”

“Just get the job done,” Slim said. “Or you don’t get paid.”

“I will,” Fravid replied. Then Zeke was back with the whiskey, and he sat down.

Over at the pool table, Gark had been keeping a wary eye on the two ex-cons. He didn’t trust them one bit, and when Zeke had left the table to sidle over to the bar Gark wanted to scream bloody murder at him. He didn’t know this Fravid or his contact, but given their past history he knew that they were not to be trusted. Whatever the score was between those two, they certainly were jabbering away at a low volume level. Gark didn’t like that, but he couldn’t watch as it had been his turn to take a shot at the table. He nailed the cue ball into the rack, causing the balls to fly everywhere on the table’s surface. One ball went into the corner pocket, two others following closely behind.

“Here’s your drink,” Zeke said. “Now, talk. Where is this HQ building?”

Slim took a long, deliberate gulp of the whiskey. “That hit the spot,” he said. “The HQ is pretty easy to find if you know where it is.”

“And where is it?” Zeke asked. He was quickly tiring of this charade.

“It’s out on Coruscant, somewhere in the outer limits of the city,” Slim replied. “I can get you the address if you want. Or an application to join.”

“I’m not interested in joining your criminal organization,” Zeke said, slamming his fist down on the table.

“Calm down,” Fravid said. “Do you know exactly where?”

“My memory’s still a little foggy,” Slim said. “It was hidden, obviously . . . I think it was an old fertilizer factory. Still had the old signage an’ everythin’. “TurfWorks, or something like that, it was called. You want to get down that way and go in the back door. The password always changes, but you can typically bribe a guard to let you in.”

“How much are we talking about?” Fravid asked.

“Around 500,” Slim replied. “Of course, that’s what I would take. Some of the guards might differ.”

“And then what?” Zeke demanded.

“You’d need to buy me another drink before I can tell you any of that,” Slim said. “Means no.”

Zeke wanted to crush this guy’s skull in, but Fravid stopped him. “Look, Zeke, we got what we needed out of him. Let’s get to this factory, and then you can stop the Duo by yourself.”

“Oh, I will,” Zeke said.

“Good luck to you two,” Slim said as the others stood up. “I’ll be watching.” He gave a wink to Fravid, and Zeke was unsure of what all this was about. The Bith craned his neck to see how Gark was doing. The Bothan had just beaten some toughs at pool, and collected his winnings off the table’s rim. He then rejoined the other two.

“Have fun playing?” Zeke asked dismissively.

“Get the information you needed?” Gark asked.

“Of course I did,” Fravid said quickly, beating Zeke to the punch.

“I bought him the drink, so it was my doing,” Zeke corrected him.

“You just don’t trust me, do you?” Fravid asked.

“Why should I? After what you’ve pulled?” Zeke asked angrily as the three men left the bar.

“That was a long time ago, Zeke,” Fravid said. “I’m not a criminal anymore. I’m changing my ways.”

“You expect me to believe that load of crap?” Zeke asked.

“No, but you’re just going to have to trust me,” Fravid said. “Now, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a ship leaving for Coruscant in a few hours. We’d better get on our way. Have your father to save, not to mention my neck.”

As he walked off, Gark pulled up next to Zeke. “I don’t like it,” Zeke said.

“What is there to like?” Gark asked quietly.

“I have a funny feeling about this,” Zeke commented.

“Same here,” the Bothan replied. “I saw the two of them talking when you were at the damn bar. Either they were shooting the breeze . . . or we’re going to be in for more than we can bargain for when we get to Coruscant. But keep your eye on your buddy there.”

“He’s not my friend,” Zeke said coldly.

“Keep an eye on him all the same. I don’t trust him,” Gark said.

Hours later, the ship lifted off from its moorings and blasted off into hyperspace en route to Coruscant. All three men were on board, sharing a cramped cabin with three other passengers. It wasn’t that great of a ship, but it could have been worse. Gark was stuck next to a slobbering drunk who had obviously gotten smashed hours earlier and who smelled like a pig sty. It felt like college all over again. Therefore, the Bothan tried to be as far away as possible from the knocked-out drunk, but since there wasn’t much room, this method didn’t work as intended. If he was going to sleep in the proximity of someone else, he’d rather it be the gently curved body of his wife rather than a lumbering, smelly drunk. Lifting his head and looking in the darkness, he noticed Fravid’s lean frame sleeping near the door to the cabin. He didn’t like how things were progressing, but what else could he do? Putting his head back down on the hard pillow, he tried to fall asleep, but it just wasn’t working. It was going to be a long trip.

---

Slim walked into an empty building, making sure that no one was following him. That was the last thing he needed, so after he had left the bar he had tried to look tipsy so that no one would think he was up to something suspicious. That was doubly so for any cops he might encounter, but he wasn’t too worried. Inside the building was a Holo transceiver. He punched up a number on the keypad and waited. Several seconds passed before a blue silhouette popped up in front of him. The figure was shrouded in the darkness of the other end of the line, and Slim couldn’t make out who it was.

“You have news, Slim?” came the voice.

“I do, boss,” Slim replied, nodding his head.

“Well, what is it?” the other figure asked. “And if this is bad news, you know the protocol.”

“I do,” Slim replied. “Fravid is luring Zeke Barbosa and the Bothanman to our headquarters. I, admittedly, helped give them the location, but Fravid would not budge on his stance. Apparently Barbosa isn’t trusting him very much, so we had to fall back onto a new plan.”

“That is expected of Barbosa,” the figure replied. “I am afraid that Fravid will blow his cover before we can finish our work. But, it sounds like I have no other choice. We will commence proceedings immediately; return here as fast as possible. I will arrange for a shuttle to pick you up and bring you here.”

“Yes, boss,” Slim said. “Right away.”

“And the Bothanman, eh?” asked the figure, amused. “Sounds like we’re going to be in for more than we bargained for.”

“I don’t know how Barbosa managed to get him in on this,” Slim said.

“We must have rubbed him the wrong way with our threats,” the figure said. “But that is of no concern. Soon we will have both Barbosa and his furry companion in our clutches. Until then, we need to make sure that Fravid doesn’t blow it this time. Also, you need to round up the others and make sure they return with you. Time is of the essence, Slim. I will not tolerate failure.”


“Understood,” Slim replied. The connection was then cut, leaving Slim alone once again in the empty building with a sense of satisfaction in his mind. He had done well; now Fravid had to pick up his end of the job.

 

Traitor!

But wait--there are city limits on Coruscant? How does an ecumenopolis have city limits?

 

The suspense is building...

 

Admiral Volshe, Trieste, JM_1977, epithree, jcgoble3

Gark flipped on his comlink and dialed in his house number. The trip from Ryloth had been going for two solid days, and Gark hated every minute of it. Had this been the Senators’ private team shuttle it wouldn’t have been nearly as bad, but instead it was a public cruiser with a motley assortment of individuals on board. Gark typically didn’t mind public transport, but those rides never lasted much more than an hour if one took a hoverbus or the train to their destination. And the idiotic drunks made it even harder to stand, because their clothes reeked of days-old beer and spoiled food.

The line on the other end clicked and rang several times before being picked up. Then he heard the sweet, melodious voice on the other end of the line that never got old. “Hello?” his wife asked into the comlink.

“Hey,” Gark said.

“Hey, you,” Me’lin replied. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. How are things?”

“They’re going fine,” Gark answered. “I’m on my way back to Coruscant.”

“Where’ve you been?” his wife asked.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Gark said. “It’s classified, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Remember, whatever you’re up to, come home in one piece, OK?” Me’lin said.

“I will,” Gark said. “How are things on your end?”

“Going fine,” his wife replied. “Caught up on some shows, experimented with cooking some new recipes, kept Galin busy . . . you know, I’m getting quite good at being a housewife. When I’m not at work, I’m here doing something important that needs to get done. And I’m getting an odd sense of satisfaction out of it, too. It’s weird, really. Never really get out much when you’re not here to watch Galin so he doesn’t try to crawl into the oven or anything . . .”

“How’s the kiddo doing, by the way?” Gark asked.

“Fine,” Me’lin said. “It’s only been a few months since he was born, but I feel like I don’t recognize him already. He’s growing so fast.”

“I bet he is,” Gark said. “In a couple of years, you’re probably going to wish he was still this age.”

“Probably,” Me’lin replied. “I can’t begin to imagine what things are going to be like in five or six years, when he’ll expect us to throw birthday parties, bring friends over, generally be excitable . . . that’s going to take some getting used to. At least he sleeps a lot now.”

“In a few years, you’ll probably miss this stage enough that you’ll want another one at that age,” Gark said in a sarcastic tone.

“No, never again,” Me’lin said, obviously annoyed. “Had the birth not been so problematic, maybe, but I don’t want to have another child if I can help it after that experience.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t exactly thinking of having two,” Gark replied. “Especially since it’s hard enough to keep track of the one we have right now.”

“Eh, we’d get by,” his wife said. “At that point, I’d have to quit my job and be here as the stay-at-home mom.”

“I can hear the temps crying out in terror and being suddenly overwhelmed with paperwork,” Gark said jokingly. His wife laughed at this as well.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad,” she said. “I don’t know why I’m the only one apparently capable of doing all of that work at the office.”

“I’m not complaining, because had you not been interested in taking the job, I probably wouldn’t be talking to you now,” Gark reminded her.

“Very true,” Me’lin replied. “Anyways, you probably need to get going on your stuff, so I’ll leave you alone.”

“Probably. I’ll see you when I get back,” Gark said.

“Love you, and be safe,” his wife said before cutting the connection. Gark turned his comlink off and sighed. He had only been gone a week and a half, and he already missed his family. Like he had thought before, it wasn’t the same without her. He missed her sunny disposition, her gentle curves that he could wrap his arms around and never want to let go, her presence at night when he would otherwise feel alone while sleeping, her lips that sucked him in like a black hole . . . he missed all of that. Maybe, when all this was over, he could make it up to her and go out on a date night. Drop Galin off at a friend’s house and just be able to have a night on the town as a couple. Maybe they could go dancing, or to the movies, or maybe eat out and then do all of the above. And then, to top it all off, they could sleep in the next day . . . or perhaps take some adult time in the bedroom without the fear of Galin interrupting, and then sleep in the next morning. Just thinking of her was intoxicating . . . he could almost feel her body tremble a little as he slowly moved his hands up her side, trying to draw her in closer . . .

“You awake?” came a voice, shooting Gark out of his thought process in a very rude fashion. He looked up to see Zeke sitting next to him at the small table.

“Um . . . enough, I guess,” Gark replied, still in a state of shock after being interrupted like that.

“Who’d you call?” Zeke asked. “Just curious.”

“Called my wife. Asked how she was doing.”

“You’re a lucky guy,” Zeke said, sighing.

“How so?” You’re still young, have a long life ahead of you . . .”

“It’s not that,” Zeke said. “Your wife seems very attached to you, and you to her. I guess what I’m trying to say is . . . is . . .”

“You want to be just like me when you grow up?” Gark asked, smirking slightly as he said those last two words.

“Yeah,” Zeke said. “I want a woman to look at me like your wife does at you. Someone who is always there when you need them, and can support you when you fall.”

“Trust me, kid, it’s worth having one,” Gark replied. “I had a good life before I got married, but now that I have my wife I feel like I’m more complete. Because then I have someone to come home to after work, and someone to generally relate with.”

“I just wish I could say I had all that,” Zeke said.

“Why, do you and Jenna not see eye-to-eye right now?” Gark asked.

“No,” Zeke said. “We don’t. She came over to my house a few weeks ago, and I told her that I was going on this . . . trip,” he said, looking around before he said this. “She got offended and thought I was ignoring her, and then she left.”

“Hm, that is troubling,” Gark assessed. “For me, I never really had to go through that phase. Of course, my set of circumstances was a little different than what you are facing.” He was referring to how his “death” had clearly affected his wife-to-be a year and a half earlier.

“Do you have any relationship advice for me, since I’m apparently out of ideas?” Zeke asked.

“Well, let me think . . .” Gark said, scratching his chin. “Um . . . here’s one. Never let yourself be consumed by other things. Always try to be around your woman if possible.”

“I would try that, but we aren’t even on the same planet,” Zeke said. “And Onderon is a ways away from my place.”

“Have you ever thought about moving in with Jenna, or she moves in with you?”

“Yeah, we’ve thought about it,” Zeke replied. “But we haven’t even gotten to the wedding yet, and I feel that every day I’m slowly being distanced from her. I haven’t even been able to call her in fear of her rejecting me . . . perhaps she has another guy who she’s seeing.”

“You just need to get over that phobia and try to make good with her,” Gark said. “You know, taking a night off and spending it with her is never a bad idea. I was just thinking that I would do that with my wife when we’re done here. Take her out somewhere that she enjoys going, make her feel like an important part of your life . . . just give her the attention she needs. A happy spouse makes a happy home. Especially when you have a woman like Leed, who is quite the catch.”

“I guess so,” Zeke replied. “It’s just that . . . I don’t really know if I’m good enough for her at times.”

“Is she sleeping with five other guys?” Gark asked. Zeke looked shocked. “I repeat, is she sleeping with anyone that you know of?”

“No . . .”

“Then you have your answer,” Gark said. “From what I get out of that, all isn’t lost. If you make your play soon, and do it well, she’ll come back. You just need to prove yourself worthy of her, and her of you.”

“Are you suggesting that I make out with her?” Zeke asked.

“If that’s what makes her feel wanted, then yes,” Gark said. “I don’t know, kid, this is just speculation. I have never held a conversation with Leed before, so you obviously know her better than I do. But my point is this: how far are you willing to go to get her back?”

“I would do anything to get her back,” Zeke replied.

“Then go out there when you get the chance and try to settle things between the two of you,” Gark said. “Remember; make her feel wanted.”

“I will,” Zeke said. “Anyways, we were thinking about getting married and moving in together . . .”

“Not a bad plan,” Gark surmised. “That’s what I did last year at about this time.”

“But then I think she would want to start a family,” Zeke said. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of commitment . . .”

“You would have to decide what you feel is right at that point in time,” Gark said. “Jumping ahead to that level of commitment at the moment is a bit of a stretch . . . but if you really want it bad enough, it’s always there. My son can be a pain at times, but I think he’s worth it. You just need to ask yourself; what can you do to get her back?”

“I’ll try when we get done here,” Zeke replied after a pause. “I’ll call her up and apologize for what I’ve done. Hopefully she’ll want me back.”

“Give it a shot,” Gark said. “It’s well worth it.”

“Thanks,” Zeke said.

“Don’t mention it,” Gark said back.

“So, about our stuff here . . . now what?” Zeke asked, lowering his voice.


“We watch and wait,” Gark said. “Stay mindful and alert at all times. Nothing may be as it seems on the outside, so be careful. I sense that the tough parts are yet to come . . .”

 

jcgoble3, Admiral Volshe, Trieste, epithree, JM_1977

The S’rily family speeder, or at least Gark’s personal one, rolled up and stopped at the curb. The Double Threat Duo headquarters, or at least what Fravid said would be, definitely didn’t look the part of a grandiose criminal lair. Instead, it looked like an old abandoned factory . . . which, in fact, it was.

“See, I told you I would lead you here,” Fravid commented. “And you doubted me all this time.”

“I don’t, but you did lead us this far,” Zeke admitted. He never thought that Fravid would get them nearly this far, so at least things were rosier than he had anticipated. “Now what?”

“According to my sources, we need to find the loading dock guard and bribe him,” Fravid said. “But I’m all out of cash, so one of you needs to pay it forward.”

“You realize that we could just knock him out, right?” Gark asked. He was decked out in his Superbothan suit, which Fravid had said looked ridiculous before Zeke had threatened to pummel him one more time.

“We could, but I’d rather not,” Fravid replied. “No need to sound the alarm.”

“But if he takes the bribe and then sounds the alarm, we’re out on both accounts,” Gark said.

“Good point,” Fravid said nervously. “Let’s go, shall we?”

The three of them walked around the building to where the loading dock was housed. As Fravid promised, there was a guard standing up on the dock level, toting a blaster in hand. Gark fiddled with something on his utility belt, and Zeke looked back at him with a strange look on his face. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting rid of the guard real quiet-like,” Gark replied. He pulled out a small weighted spur from his belt and then aimed it. Lining up his shot, he finally let the spur fly. It landed on the temple in the head of the guard, who then slumped over on the dock, knocked unconscious.

“That’s one way to do it,” Fravid commented.

“Let’s go,” Gark said. The three of them got onto the loading dock level and then, with some strength, lifted the door enough for all three to slip through into the complex. They were now in the loading dock. Piles of boxes were stacked over in the corner, and a load lifter was parked in the center to make sure that any major shipments could be easily moved to the distribution center across the dock. From the looks of it, no one was manning that station at the moment, so they were all alone, at least for now.

“Now what?” Zeke asked.

“This way,” Fravid said. He led them through the dark loading area and then into a side hallway. Checking to make sure that the coast was clear, he waved the other two through and then came behind.

“Where are we going?” Zeke asked in the darkened space.

“Just keep going through his hall, and turn left when you reach the end,” Fravid said.

Zeke did as he was told, and turned left at the end of the other hallway. The Bith wasn’t surprised that Fravid knew where to go, since he had been a member of the Duo for a while at least. However, he also had a nagging suspicion that Fravid might still be trying to sell them out at the last moment. When someone aids and abets in kidnapping your girlfriend and blows a hole in your team’s conference room, you never really get over that.

This next turn emptied out into the main “factory” area, which had since been converted into a huge control center. Hundreds of monitors were set up in banks on the walls, several thugs watching over them like a hawk. It was obvious that this was not just some minor operation; the Duo obviously had the means to do major damage where and when it pleased.

“The Duo must be more widespread than we give them credit for,” Gark commented as he gazed upon the scene.

“They are,” Fravid replied. “They are also not to be trifled with, so follow me. We don’t need to mess with these clowns; we can take a shortcut to get to the other side of the room.”
He led them through another hall, this one with a slope to it. It was hard to get used to this change in elevation at the beginning, but it wasn’t that much of a challenge for any of the three. They were in great physical shape, so a little ramp was nothing major to have to deal with. Fravid led the group, and then took a look straight up at the ceiling. Up there was a camera that was watching everything going on in the hallway; what he hadn’t told the other two was that there was no surveillance in the main control center. If something occurred in there, there were no cameras to check up on it. By sidestepping the control room, under the guise of dodging enemy operatives, Fravid instead gave away his position to the thug guards who were stationed all throughout the building. He just needed to keep moving and hope the guards would make their move soon. He wasn’t sure he could take on Zeke if his position was ratted out, and there was no way he would defeat Gark. He just had to deliver the two to his boss as promised and then get out as fast as possible while the better-trained thugs could finish the job.

On the other side of the hallway was a door, and Fravid ushered the other two through it before closing it behind them. “Now what?” Zeke asked. “Are we getting near our destination?”

“Oh yes, quite close,” Fravid lied. He had no intention of leading them anywhere near the actual center of operations, which was far from this hallway. Instead, he was leading them into a trap. “You see, we’re still stuck near the loading area, so we need to get to the middle of the building. That’s where you can exact your revenge, and I can save my neck.”

“It’s too simple,” Zeke rationed.

“You want something more complicated?” Fravid asked. “Be careful what you wish for, Zeke, because it might come true.”

“What are you talking about?” Zeke asked, an air of suspicion in his voice.

“Nothing. Let’s just keep going,” Fravid said quickly, trying to change the subject. He almost blew his cover there; no need to make the two crime-fighters suspicious of his intentions, or at least more suspicious than they already were.

The trio kept moving for another ten minutes before Fravid raised his hand for all of them to stop. “Now what?” Zeke asked.

“We seem to have found it,” Fravid said. “This is our holding area; your father isn’t in this one, but he’s in the next one over. Careful, the prisoners aren’t always nice around these parts.” Especially you he thought.

The trio moved across the holding area, and the prisoners began to look warily at who was being brought in. Then there was a rattling sound, and several burly guards stepped out from the shadows. The leader, a Herglic, was holding a large metal bar that looked like it could break someone’s neck like a twig if it made contact. “What do we have here?” he said, grinning evilly. “Fravid, how nice of you to come back.”

“Miss me?” Fravid asked, sneering.

“Not particularly,” the Herglic said. “Take them.” The thugs rushed the trio, ready to kill. Zeke kicked one of the guards in the head, but was then smashed to the ground by a Barabel. Gark chopped a Devaronian in the face, and then beat the crap out of a human with a series of punches, but got caught flat-footed and was hit with a stun baton when he wasn’t looking. Fravid then went without a whimper, and the trio had been caught.

---

Gark tried to wriggle out of the cuffs restraining his hands, but it was of no use. He now found himself tied to a large metal table, cocked up at an odd angle that made him half-stare at the ceiling and the floor at the same time. Zeke and Fravid were being held under guard nearby, their hands tied behind their backs by the brutish guards. Then he heard a door open, and his head moved to see who had entered.

A figure wearing a long black cape and a silver helmet and mask entered, flanked by two more guards. The figure was about an inch taller than Zeke, complete with black combat boots and a modified flightsuit that had been turned into more of a “fashion item” than a practical piece of clothing. “What do we have here?” he asked in the metallic voice coming from the helmet. After looking at the prisoners, he then sighed. “Good to see you again, Fravid,” he said, a touch of humor in his voice.

“Happy to see me?” Fravid asked, using a disgusted tone of voice here.

“To the contrary,” the figure replied dismissively. “However, since I am in need of your services, and because it looks like you completed your mission, I might be glad to see you still in one piece. Release him.” The binders holding Fravid’s hands fell to the floor, allowing him to be freed from his confines.

“This was a set up from the beginning!” Zeke said.

“Of course it was,” Fravid said. He had joined the figure over on that side of the room. “Like I said, Zeke, crime pays better.”

“Listen to your friend,” the figure said.

“Never!” Zeke spat. “I’d rather die than taker orders from him!”

“That can be arranged, can’t it, boss?” Fravid asked.

“Easy, Fravid. I have a better plan,” the figure said. He then reached up to take off his helmet. “You do realize that there are alternatives to death, Zeke. We could use someone like you in our operation.”

“How do you know my name?” Zeke asked.

“Trust me, I know.” The helmet seals popped, and the figure took the mask off completely, revealing his face. He was, like Zeke, a Bith, with some nasty battle scars on his facial features from a hard life. Zeke’s jaw dropped.

“Dad!” he said, completely surprised.

“Zeke,” Ciscerian Barbosa said.

“Why . . . how?” Zeke spluttered.

“There will be plenty of time to answer questions later,” Ciscerian said. “Zeke, you must realize something. Your worth to us is paramount; join me, and as father and son we can take over the crime market here on Coruscant. With our combined strength, we will be able to crush our enemies and bring in untold sums of cash!”

“I’ll never join you!” Zeke shouted out.

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” Ciscerian said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I once thought as you do. Back when you were a child, I always told you to obey the law because I thought it was the way to the top. But now that I am older, I have learned that following the rules does not pay the bills. It doesn’t make you happy, just confined to a small space where the society can bring you to your knees without your consent. So I left that life behind and became a collaborator in this little operation. Fravid came to me for help, and I signed him on. He’s now my second-in-command, and he did his job quite well in bringing you before me.”

“Thanks, boss,” Fravid said.

“I didn’t ask for you to speak,” Ciscerian snapped. Fravid kept his mouth quiet at this point. “I am sorry that I did not contact you to say that I was still alive, but I figured that you would never join me. So I hatched a plan to lure you here today, one that I see has worked to perfection.”

“Why did you fake your own death?” Zeke asked.

“Simple. I couldn’t let the Ciscerian Barbosa, Limmie champ, image die,” Ciscerian replied. “If the Limmie authorities knew I was involved in organized crime, they would erase my name from the record books. You see, Zeke, a playing career is only so long. But fame is everything; when you and I are long dead, they will still be talking about me as the great Ciscerain Barbosa, the player who won 7 GCLA titles in a row without breaking a sweat and who resides in the Hall of Fame for all time. And they will also talk about my son, Zeke Barbosa, who followed in his father’s footsteps and became a title-winning player in his own right.”

“I’m not going to let you ruin my life,” Zeke said.

“If you only knew,” Ciscerian said. “Zeke, I need you here by my side. You’ve always wanted to be just like me, so join me one more time.”

“Unlike you, I still have respect for the law,” Zeke replied.

“Ah yes, you still retain my old ideals,” his father replied. “At least your brother doesn’t share that sentiment.”

“I don’t have a brother!” Zeke exclaimed. Ciscerian, his father, his own flesh and blood, said that he had a brother? Had Ciscerian been seeing someone else than his mother?

“I am quite sure you do, because I’m standing next to him,” Ciscerian said.

“It can’t be true!” Zeke said when he had connected the dots.

“It is, Zeke,” Ciscerian replied. “You and Fravid here are brothers, like it or not.”

“How?” Zeke asked. “We aren’t even the same species!”

“Zeke, this may be hard for you to hear, but it’s true. What if I told you I’m not your real father?” Ciscrian asked.

“That can’t be true!” Zeke exclaimed. He was getting very confused now. “You’re lying to me!”

“Would I lie?” Ciscerian asked. “You see, Zeke, both of you came to be in my care under . . . odd circumstances.”

---

Many Years Earlier

The look on the human mother-to-be’s face was of pain, of complete anguish. Ciscerian looked down at her, trying to coach her though the birthing process. How he had gotten here was rather odd; he had been out on patrol for the army. It was something he had grown rather accustomed to over his career in the military, going on the regular patrol shift. As he had passed a nearby building, he had heard the screams of a woman. Not bothering to follow protocol, and wanting to make sure that she was alright, he had busted down the door and checked up on her.

As it turned out, she was giving birth, but no one else was able to help her. So she had been sitting there for quite some time, completely alone, trying to let her child live. When Ciscerian had busted in and started to help her, she was already in a state of complete distress. There wasn’t much time.

Finally, a Bith child came out first, plopping into Ciscerian’s hands. Ciscerian looked down at the young child, and thought that there were some similarities between the newborn and himself. He wrapped the baby in a towel that he found on a nearby table; it wasn’t perfectly clean, but he did what he could. However, instead, of being done, the woman was still in contractions. Ciscerain was confused; hadn’t the child come out? What was going on?

It was only until a human child came out as well that he understood; she had been carrying twins. This child was also taken care of by Ciscerian and placed next to his brother.

The woman, now done with the birthing process, looked completely gassed, which was to be expected. But her cheeks were completely devoid of color, and her eyes flitted around nervously. “Are you all right?” Ciscerian asked.

“I’m . . . not going to make it,” she said.

“No, you can’t die,” Ciscerian said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Don’t have much time,” the woman said, breathlessly. “Take care of my children for me . . .”

“All right,” Ciscerian said. “I promise I will take care of them. What is the name of the Bith?”

“Zeke,” she said.

“And the human?” Ciscerian then asked.

“Fravid,” the woman replied. “Take care of them.” With that, she exhaled for the last time, and then died on the spot. Ciscerian just stood there, the wailings of the two brothers ruining the otherwise silent scene. She had been able to deliver the two boys, but then had died.

He had taken her body back to base to be buried, and the children had been taken under his wing. Zeke, since he was a Bith, eventually became Zeke Barbosa, the adopted son of Ciscerian and his girlfriend. Fravid became Fravid Deese, the adopted son of one of Ciscerian’s friends in the service.

---

“So both of you became adopted,” Ciscerian finished. “I never did track down their father, though. No matter how hard I tried to figure it out, their identity has remained a mystery to me ever since. But I swore that day that I would find them, to tell them that their children were not killed that day.” He then paused for several seconds. “I take it that you will not be joining me, Zeke?”

“Never,” Zeke said. “You aren’t even my real father, so why should I ever join you?”

“You give me no choice,” Ciscerian with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Zeke, but you brought this upon yourself.” He then turned to look at Gark. “And what to do with the Bothanman . . .? Decisions, decisions . . . how about we finish him off once and for all?” There were some chuckles from the thugs at the sound of action. “I’m going to do what Calo Mornd could not; kill off the caped crusader once and for all. And then your wife is next. She never should have started messing with our affairs, so we’ll make sure that we silence her.”

“What makes you think I’ll go quietly?” Gark asked. He was still struggling to free himself, but had been forced to stop now that the attention in the room seemed to be on him instead of Zeke.

“Since you are in no position to make threats, your well-being is not exactly secure,” Ciscerian shot back. “I'm going to find this rather enjoyable. Kill him.”



But Gark had other ideas. During the whole Ciscerian-Zeke conversation, he had been picking the lock on the bindings they kept him down on the table using a piece of wire. It had been extremely difficult to jimmy the lock not only by not being able to see it clearly, but also because he hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself. He then sprung free from the table and shot off like a rocket to the corner of the room, grabbing Zeke’s hand as he passed and pulling him along. Ciscerian, when he figured out what had happened, ordered his men after the two fugitives.

“Find them, and then kill them!” he ordered loudly as his men ran off after the escapees.

“Why didn’t you say anything about trying to free yourself?” Zeke asked as the two men ran for the exit.

“You really think I would blow my cover?” Gark asked. “Kid, you’re new to this whole superhero thing, aren’t you?” The two of them sprinted as fast as they could through the compound, neither knowing exactly where they were going. Sometimes they would run into thugs, who would then continue the chase through the bowels of the HQ building. One such instance was almost running over a thug who had just left the latrine, and was in absolutely no mind whatsoever to start the chase as soon as the fugitives ran by. However, it took a second or two for the thug to realize what he had just seen, and then gave chase, all the while trying to fasten his pants once again.

The hallway they were in seemed to snake around quite a bit, so they kept on running as the hall snaked around. Whoever had designed this place hadn’t exactly made it very angular; there were a lot of long, curved hallways that seemed to go on forever. Obviously it was designed so that a prisoner, in this case them, would easily be caught by the Duo’s guards before they could escape. In most cases, these prisoners likely wouldn’t have seen the entrance to the HQ building, and thus would have no clue as to how to escape. Luckily for these fugitives, Fravid had led them in the back door, so at least they knew one way out. And they were now going to have to find it in the middle of a hostile warehouse.

Gark busted down a door with his brute strength and kept on running, his arm now hurting slightly. He wasn’t the kind of guy who could typically bust something that size and weight down without really working at it, so of course there was going to be reciprocating pain as a result. But he didn’t care; having to open the door manually would have taken time, time that he wasn’t sure he and Zeke had much to spare. Even as they ran, they could still hear the voices and the boots of their pursuers, doggedly following their prey like hounds.

“These guys don’t give up,” Gark commented.

“You expected them to roll over and die?” Zeke asked sarcastically.

“No, but typically you can outrun the usual brutes,” Gark reckoned. “But these . . . these ones are good.”

“Why are you complimenting them?” Zeke asked. “We need to get out of here, so worry about finding the exit, and not about them.”

Finally they hit the loading dock area, ran across the loading floor, dodging the boxes as they went, and jumped down onto street level after they had rolled up the door. Gark took a look back to see where their pursuers were, and then beat Zeke to the parked speeder that had been left out by the curb. Revving up the engines, Gark peeled out onto the hyperlane and kept driving, Zeke pushed into the back of the passenger-side seat as he tried to get seated before speeder took off. The thugs behind them, knowing that they couldn’t stop the duo from escaping on foot, instead ran into their motor pool garage and grabbed several black speeders. The chase was on.


NOTE: Everything is falling into place now.

 

That was a pair of brilliant twists. Ciscerian Barbosa, 7-time GCLA champion turned criminal? And Zeke and Fravid, brothers? What is going to happen next?

 

Did not see either of those coming, though I'm still a little shaky on human-alien breeding. But those were definitely some big twists there! Ruling an empire as father and son, didn't see that in the cards.

 

And the chase is on!

jcgoble3, Admiral Volshe, Trieste, JM_1977, epithree

Gark hopped out of the speeder, not even killing the engine as he bolted to the front door. Fumbling with his key, he opened the door and scurried inside. Closing the door behind him, his senses on high alert, he went into the kitchen. Me’lin stood there, chopping up a vegetable on the cutting board. She was wearing one of her light green summer dresses and a pendant that she had bought on their honeymoon. She was gorgeous in every way imaginable, but Gark knew he didn’t have time to think about that. His wife looked up, giving her husband one of her trademark smiles.

“Hey,” she said. “Glad you’re home.”

“Um . . . about that,” Gark said, panic-stricken. “We gotta go.”

“What do you mean?” his wife asked, slightly taken aback

“ ‘Go’ as in leave right now,” Gark said.

“What for? You just got back,” Me’lin said, shrugging. She finished chopping the vegetable into even chunks. “I was making dinner, so you’re just in time.”

“No, I mean we need to get out of here NOW,” Gark insisted. “Grab Galin, and whatever you absolutely need, and then we gotta bail.”

“What’s going on?” Me’lin asked, an air of suspicion in her voice.

“I’ll explain when we get out of here,” Gark said. “No time to say anything.”

“What’ve you done this time?” his wife asked, sighing.

“Let’s just say that the Double Threat Duo is on my tail, and threatened to kill both of us. Zeke and I barely escaped their headquarters, and they’re hot on our trail.”

“So you’ve gotten into trouble again?” Me’lin asked. “You didn’t sound that concerned when you called a few days back.”

“I’m just trying to get you out before they think it’s a good idea to pull the trigger,” Gark said. How hard was this going to be to get Me’lin to just follow his lead?

“They’re after me, aren’t they?” his wife asked.

“And they’re willing to blow you to bits to get back,” Gark said. “Let’s get out of here before that happens, shall we?”

“Those documents I pulled up must be rather valuable to them,” the Twi’lek commented as she turned off the burner on the stove. “Since you give me no choice, I’ll just go pack.”

“Pack? We don’t have time for that!” Gark said. “Just grab your most vital possessions and go.”

Me’lin sighed and walked off to the bedroom. Gark followed her, trying to think if there was anything he needed in there. A towel . . . he would need one of those . . . never wanted to go anywhere without your towel . . . his comlink was in the speeder, so that was fine . . . his wallet he would need . . . that was probably stuck underneath the back seat . . . he didn’t need any bedding materials . . . probably would have to make do with a spare pillow . . .

Gark ran into the master bathroom and fumbled around for a spare towel. He grabbed one off the rack and draped it around the back of his neck. He grabbed another one off the rack and placed it on top of the first one. Then he grabbed a new pair of pants that had been lying out to dry by the sink and swapped them out for his now dingy pants. It was this way that he left the bathroom, pants still half on as he tried to wiggle into them while walking. They came up all the way, but before he could get them to stay on, they fell down to his ankles. This wasn’t a good sign.

Me’lin looked up from packing her small suitcase and saw her husband fumbling to get his pants on, and then drop down. It appeared as if he was purposefully taking his pants off in front of her. “If you’re in such a rush, we don’t have time for that,” she said dismissively.

Gark gave her an odd look, and then looked down at his lowered pants. “Uh . . .” he said, trying to cover his error. He pulled up his trousers and got them to fit this time. At this point, he also grabbed a fresh shirt off the bed and replaced his dingy one.

“Why are you in such a hurry, anyway?” his wife asked.

“Let’s just get out of here, and I’ll explain on the way,” Gark said. He put a spare pillow underneath his armpit and then left the bedroom. Me’lin sighed again, and finished packing her suitcase.

There was a loud honking from the front yard, and Gark took a look outside from the front window. Zeke was frantically trying to get his attention; they were running out of time. “Let’s go!” Gark stated as he walked out of the house. His wife then wandered over to Galin’s crib, where the infant was, somehow, still asleep. With the careful touch only a mother could possess, Me’lin picked him up and carried him out to the speeder with her suitcase without waking him up. Galin felt comfortable in his mother’s arms, and thus decided not to stir.

Gark opened the back hatch and grabbed the suitcase. He then tossed it in and shut the lid, proceeding to jump back in the driver’s seat. Me’lin opened the back door, and then stuck her head inside the vehicle. “Why the hurry?” she asked.

Then two blaster bolts rang out. They were way wide of the speeder, but all eyes in the speeder turned to see where they had originated from. A black speeder with no markings of any kind was coming towards them at high speed . . . they needed to get out of there. Me’lin, not taking any more time, dove into the speeder and closed the door behind her. Gark then revved the engine and sped out of the driveway, peeling out onto the lane like a maniac. The black speeder was gaining on them.



“Head down!” he told his wife. She obeyed this order, making sure to shield Galin with her body in case a laser blast decided it would be a convenient time to hit the back bumper.

“Where are we going?” Zeke asked.

“Starport,” Gark said.

“We aren’t taking a trip!” Zeke said. “This is serious!”

“We need to get off-planet until things blow over,” Gark replied, trying to focus on his driving. In his mirror, he could still see the black speeder. Then another one appeared next to it, a thug brandishing a blaster pistol out the side window. Another shot came close to hitting the prey speeder, and Gark began to really sweat it.

“They’re gaining!” Zeke exclaimed.

“I’ve got a few moves to lose them,” Gark said.

“What?” Zeke asked, aghast.

“Hold on!” Gark said. He punched down the accelerator, and the speeder lurched forwards. The thug speeders, noticing that their quarry had sped up, also increased their speed.

“Watch the intersection!” Zeke shouted.

“I see it, I see it!” Gark said. His speeder swerved around one waiting for the light, and the driver yelled at them from the window as they passed. However, the driver was almost hit by the other two speeders as they also ran through the intersection without stopping. One almost hit a green speeder, which promptly flipped on its side.

“Dammit, can’t shake them that easily,” Gark commented. “I’ll have to try something else.”

“You don’t have to do this to impress us,” Zeke said.

“Look, kid, when your life is on the line, you do whatever you can to preserve yourself,” Gark said. “I’ll lose them; just give me time.” The speeder went around a corner and headed towards a sleepy suburb of the city. The black speeders followed, another volley of shots squeezed off. One of them hit the back bumper, causing the speeder to shudder slightly.

“You all right back there?” Gark asked.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Me’lin said disgustedly, completely disenfranchised with this whole escapade.

Gark then hit a hard turn, and he tried to cut it close to lose his pursuers. Both of them, however, made the turn well enough.

“Dammit, these guys are good,” Gark said. He checked his mirror again before stopping the speeder in its tracks by slamming on the brakes.

“What the hell are you doing?” Zeke asked, his eyes popping open as he spoke?

“Wait for it . . . wait for it . . .” Gark said under his breath. The black speeders were almost on top of them, and then they pulled up next to Gark’s speeder. “Now!” the Bothan said to no one in particular. He shot the speeder in reverse and rocketed backwards down the street. The black speeders, the thugs inside them not ready for this move, we caught unaware and were instantly behind.

Gark peeled back onto the main thoroughfare and kept driving. “Zeke, check to see where they are,” Gark said.

“Got it,” the Bith said. “They’re coming back.”

“OK, I just need to lose them one more time . . .” Gark said.

Then a black speeder slid sideways in front of their speeder, trying to stop them. Gark, who hadn’t been watching, yelled out and pushed the steering wheel to the side. The speeder skidded around the new roadblock and kept going, just barely clearing the enemy speeder. “That was too close!” Gark stated.

“Look out!” Zeke yelled.

“I see them!” Gark said. He saw two more speeders coming up to his left, knocking someone on the sidewalk over as they careened around the corner. “These guys don’t give up, do they?”

“You expect them to let us get away?” Zeke asked.

“Of course not. I just never thought I would be their prey in a long chase,” Gark said. “It’s like Troops all over again . . .”

“You never watch that show,” Me’lin commented.

“You get the point,” Gark replied roughly. “How’s Junior?”

“You’ll wake him up at some point with all of your yelling,” Me’lin said. She made sure to tightly hug their son once again to try and stabilize him. They hadn’t had time to install any kind of speeder seat for him yet, so he was without a stable seat to sit in. Gark looked back in his mirror at his wife; she had a pained look on her face at all of this commotion. She certainly was beautiful . . . but definitely was troubled. It wasn’t easy for her to have to hold on to Galin like that without being strapped in herself. One bad move, and she could easily nail the seat back with her head. Even worse, Galin might be the one to have that happen to him. Me’lin would be knocked out by that . . . Galin could be killed. Gark knew the stakes here; this chase had to end. His wife kept holding on to Galin, trying to protect him so that if a laser blast hit the back bumper, it would have to go through her body first before it could hit his. Maybe she could sacrifice herself to stop a blast from hitting the infant. Gark hated to admit this, but his wife had placed her son’s health over her own . . . Gark wasn’t sure if he had those kinds of guts. Even he, the superhero, couldn’t do that. He guessed it was something only a woman who had become very accustomed to their child during the long months of pregnancy and in their early years would understand; he was just the father who got to sit and watch that mother-son bond mature over time. Although Gark knew he wouldn’t be able to do the same that his wife was in risking his life to save Galin’s like his wife was, he was willing to do whatever it took to get both of them out of danger.

The chase was leading them into downtown. Gark looked in the mirror and saw four black speeders behind them. “We need to end this chase now,” he commented. “Any ideas?”

“A tight corner?” Zeke offered.

“That’ll do,” Gark said. “But where can I find one . . .” Then it came to him. “Hold on!” he announced. The speeder shot forward and, after some turns, hit a construction zone. The few workers who were milling around dove out of the way as Gark’s vehicle blasted through. The speeder rammed into a wooden support structure, causing the thing to start to lean over to one side as it lost one of its key supports. Zeke looked back; three of the black speeders got through the obstruction, but the last one hit the falling support and flipped on its front, smashing the front in the process.

Gark then aimed for the building nearby that was under construction. The speeder shot into the lower floor, Gark skillfully dodging the supports as he made his way to the back.

“Watch out for the wall!” Zeke exclaimed.

“Dammit!” Gark yelled out. He spun the wheel, and the speeder just barely missed nailing the wall at high speed. Then it peeled out and went to one of the corners. The black speeders were still on his tail . . . this was getting dicey.

“We’re running out of space,” Zeke said.

“I know!” Gark stated.

A blaster bolt whizzed by, missing the speeder. However, it embedded itself in one of the supports, blowing it out in the process. The support system then began to unravel, pieces falling all over.

“It’s collapsing!” Zeke said.

“Then we need to go up,” Gark said. He drove towards a large piece of transparisteel, going up the side of it like a ramp. The speeder shot into the air and then came back down on the upper floor. Two black speeders made it up this way, but the third rammed into the steel “ramp” and shattered on impact, the thugs thrown from their mount.

“Two more,” Zeke said.

The chase kept going up every floor, the thugs not giving up on the chase. Gark looked back every few seconds, trying to gauge the distance between his speeder and those of the thugs. Then they hit the roof, and the speeder shot towards the edge. “Don’t!” Zeke said.

But Gark wasn’t listening. For some odd reason, and despite all logic, he was getting a kick out of this. His adrenaline was pumping, and he felt oddly at peace for a moment. Then the other two speeders appeared, and the paranoia began again.

Gark hit the accelerator as the speeder left the top of the building, and then the building melted away as it finally lost its supports. One of the speeders, unsure of where its footing was, crashed into the next building in the line, exploding on impact. The fireball knocked the last speeder around a little bit, and the extra turbulence finally sent it in a downwards spiral towards the ground, where it rammed into the sidewalk at high speed and became a wreck.

Gark took a sigh of relief as the speeder shot through the air. “Well that was fun, wasn’t it?” he asked, frazzled.

“You’re a terrible driver,” Zeke said. “I should have done it.”

“But we’re alive, aren’t we?” Gark asked. He used his mirror one more time to check that their path was clear of enemy speeders, and then his eyes shifted to watch Me’lin as she sat back up in her seat. Galin had woken up, and was staring off into space at nothing in particular. “You all right back there?” Gark asked, concerned.

“Just fine, dear,” Me’lin said. She then hugged Galin close one more time, this time not needing to protect him but just to keep her son close. It was obvious to both men in the front seat that she loved Galin dearly, enough to try and keep him safe at the expense of her own life. Zeke instantly had a thought pop into his mind . . . he had a son as well, but he had no idea where he was or where the mother, Gargova Broussard, was. She had been drafted by the Mercs, but then he had lost track of her after that. Then he thought of Jenna; he had really blown it with her, hadn’t he? Maybe someday, if he was able to make it up to her, he would have a child of his own with her who would need protection and care.

“You all right?” Gark asked Zeke, punching the Bith in the shoulder.

“I’m . . . fine,” Zeke said, downcast.

“Keep a little optimism,” Gark replied. “We’re alive, and that’s what matters.”

“It’s not that . . . it’s . . . something else,” Zeke said.

“You have issues? Join the club,” Gark stated.

“I just keep getting reminded of how I’ve blown it with Jenna,” Zeke said. He looked back at Me’lin, who was now trying to keep Galin occupied by rubbing his nose and making the infant gleefully grin at his mom. “I need to make it up to her somehow.”

“Trust me, kid, it’s worth trying again,” Gark said, nodding. “I was just lucky that we,” he said, motioning to his wife and himself, “hit it off immediately, and there was no need for a cool-down period. Of course, I think a dire situation also helped that process.”

“Helped?” Me’lin asked. “That was the real driving factor.”

“True,” Gark said. “Very true.”

“It’s just that . . . I don’t know what to do,” Zeke said. “I’ve never really been good at dates.”

“If you like the woman you’re going out with enough, you can make up for the awkwardness of the situation without much trouble,” Gark said. He was happy to get the chase off his mind for a few minutes.

“That’s the thing,” Zeke said. “We’re already engaged. I just want to make sure that Jenna hasn’t thought that I’m running off with some other girl . . .”

“That could be problematic,” Gark said. The Bith had a point; he personally hadn’t needed to worry about losing his woman, because she had wanted him as badly, or even more, than he had wanted her. He and Me’lin had a special connection that he couldn’t really explain; perhaps the Superbothan project had brought them closer together than he originally thought?

“Where are we going?” Zeke asked, changing the subject.

“Team HQ,” Gark said, after pausing for a moment.

“HQ?” Me’lin asked. “Why are we going there? I thought we were trying not to attract attention.”



“It’s . . . it’s . . . Gark said, but he couldn’t get the words out. This was going to be hard for Me’lin to hear, but Gark knew it had to be done. “It’s so that we can drop Galin off.”

“What?” his wife asked, exasperated. “What for?”

Gark turned his head around so that he faced Me’lin, who looked back at him with wide eyes. “Galin shouldn’t be caught up in all this. It’s us that the Duo wants, not him. I figure that if we drop him off with a friend for a week or so, we can figure out how to defeat them . . . not to mention be safe to return here and pick him up again. But mostly because . . . if we don’t make it . . . he’s safe.”

Me’lin just hugged Galin closer to her body. The child seemed to be oblivious to the angst going on between his parents, and just looked happy to have attention. “You’re right,” she said after pausing. “I hate leaving him . . . but I don’t want him to suffer . . .”

“So we’re going to stop by HQ and drop him off,” Gark stated. He drove the speeder through the hyperlane and finally pulled into the team parking lot at HQ. Me’lin got out and walked into the building, in a somber mood.

Inside, there were only a handful of people. Most of them were bustling about hurriedly, and were not about to be bothered. However, one woman turned to see who had entered. “Hey, girl!” Lyndra Corizyl (formerly Bultam) said. “How’s it going?” She then saw Galin. “Hey, haven’t seen your son yet. He’s cute, I gotta say.”

“Lyndra, can you babysit Galin this week?” Me’lin asked.

“What for?” Lyndra asked. “You going on vacation?”

“Yeah,” Me’lin replied. She was trying to sell this load of crap, but it took quite a bit of effort. “Just for a few weeks.”

“Why don’t you take him with you?” Lyndra asked. “I would think he’d appreciate getting out for a while.”

“Well, Gark and I . . . need some time together . . .” Me’lin said. “Galin’s not a pain . . . we just need a few days off, that’s all.”

“Hey, I understand,” Lyndra said. “Tavis was like that a few months ago, when we figured we weren’t spending enough time together. I’ll take care of the kid, don’t worry.” She reached out her arms, and Me’lin deposited her son into them. Galin had fallen asleep again, and was snoozing soundly. “Don’t worry about it. Hope you and Gark have a good trip,” she commented. “Remember, send pictures!”

“I will,” Me’lin said. She secretly hoped she wouldn’t have to, but if she had to sell a lie, then so be it. At least Galin would now be safer with the Corizyls than he would be with his parents. When she got back into the speeder, Gark could tell that she was devastated by this.

“We’ll see him again,” Gark said, trying to calm her nerves.

“I’ve never let him out of my sight before,” Me’lin said. “When I was pregnant with him, he was always there with me. Sometimes, when you were out, I would pretend like I could converse with him, at least when he wasn’t kicking my innards into a pulp. Because he was there to listen to me, even though he couldn’t talk back. I know it sounds silly, but he was my confidant. I could talk to him in there about anything. For the most part, I don’t miss pregnancy, but I feel like that moment, that trust, is gone. And now . . . he’s out of my sight, and my care . . . I worry for his safety . . .”

Gark put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. She looked back at her husband, tears almost forming in her eyes. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “We will see him again. I promise.”

The ride out to the starport was rather subdued. No one said anything, because what was there to say? All of their lives were now in jeopardy, and they had to leave the planet until things blew over. It wasn’t going to be a fun week, that was for sure. When Gark parked his speeder in the lot at the port, the three made their way with their meager possessions over to their personal starship. It wasn’t a lot, but it was better than having to take a public transport where they might be recognized.

“Don’t trust anyone,” Gark said. “Keep your voices low, and don’t say where we are headed until we are on the ship.”

“Why?” Zeke asked.

“Trust me, it’s safer for us this way,” Gark replied.

“Afternoon, sir,” said the guard who was standing by the private lot’s entrance. In the background, there were plenty of private starships, of all different colors and sizes. A tiny one-person sailer was next to a giant twenty-seater party cruiser.

“Hello there . . . um . . .” Gark said. He didn’t recognize this guard. “You new?”

“Yes sir,” the guard replied. “First day on the job.”

“Where’s Tec?” Gark asked.

“He has the day off,” the guard replied. “He was supposed to report in today, but there was a screw-up in the schedule, and I’m all alone here. On my first day, too. It sucks to be me right now.”

“Anyways, here’s our information,” Gark said, handing the guard a datapad.

“No . . .” the guard said. Gark raised an eyebrow.

“No?” he asked.

“Erm . . . I don’t see a place of destination,” the guard said, trying to cover his error.

“Don’t need to know,” Gark said. “And I mean it.”

“Are you sure . . .?”

“I mean it,” Gark said in a deadly serious tone. “Son, when I say that you don’t need to know, you don’t need to know.”

“All right, sir,” the guard said, shrinking away. He handed Gark back his datapad. “You’re clear for launch whenever.”

“Thank you,” Gark said snidely, taking his pad back. Then the three of them walked to the ship . . . or, as Gark liked to joke with it as, the Bothancruiser. It wasn’t much of a ship, admittedly, but it would easily seat five comfortably, with a small kitchen and restroom facilities so that you could move your legs. A small table was also set up in the corner to play any number of games, and the ship library was stocked with at least one hundred different titles (of course, most of them were on Limmie due to Gark’s preference).

Walking up the ramp and settling into the pilot’s chair, Gark looked around at the other two as they took their seats. Me’lin sat next to her husband in the co-pilot chair, and Zeke sat behind them at one of the consoles that housed the sensors. The ramp then closed behind them, closing them off from the outside world. “So, what’s our flight plan?” he asked. “Any suggestions?”

“Denon?” Me’lin offered.

“Too close to here,” Gark said.

“Ryloth,” Zeke offered.

“We just barely escaped there without a problem,” Gark reminded the Bith. “Besides, they might think we would go there. We need somewhere different . . .” He began to fiddle with the holo receiver next to the center console, flipping pages as he looked for a suitable planet. “Not enough air . . . too wet . . . too dry . . . Limmie team that we don’t like . . . ah, I’ve got it . . . Ondal.”

“The Ondal system?” Me’lin asked.

“Ondal’s not a system, he’s a man. Ondal Nalcrissan,” Gark said. “He runs one of our smaller, yet more reliable, manufacturing contractors for the company. He and I go way back; met each other at college. Of course, he went off into the manufacturing sciences, while I did accounting. He’s one hell of a hard worker, and they never miss a contract assignment.”

“Do you trust him?” Me’lin asked.

“I trust Ondal with a lot,” Gark said. “He’s never let me down before.”

“So where are we headed, then?” Zeke asked.

“Nipseb. It’s a planet in the Mid Rim somewhere. I know it’s a little far to get our parts from, but like I said, it pays to have quality parts to then sell on the market,” Gark replied.

A minute later, the shuttle lurched into motion, slowly rising into the Coruscanti skyline. Whatever happened, they would be back soon enough.

---

Once the shuttle had left the ground, the security guard pulled out a comlink.

“Come in,” said the person on the other end of the line.

“I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen to me,” the security guard said. “I even demanded a flight plan, and was told off for asking.”

“We will have to move in quickly, then,” said the other person. “Did you manage to figure out where they were headed?”

“No idea,” the guard replied. “But I placed a tracking device on their hull, so we’ll know where they are headed.”

“Good work,” said the other person. “Have you dispatched the actual guard?”

“Not yet,” the “guard” replied. “But I will soon. Long live the Duo.” Then the connection was cut.

 

I bet he lives on Cirrus City.

Also, Gark really likes his towels, doesn't he?

 

Tracking device, huh? I have complete faith that this will get even more interesting.

When Gark was going through options for destinations, I wonder what the limmie team he didn't like was?

Oh, and I love the reference to ESB with the guy that's totally not a ripoff of the one and only Lando.

 

Totally missed that! There's certainly a list of contenders.

 

Hey, Gark apparently took the advice that you always need to know where your towel is.

Anyways, moving on.

Trieste, jcgoble3, Admiral Volshe, epithree, JM_1977

Nipseb



Zeke awoke from his slumber in the sensor chair to the sound of a familiar voice. He rubbed his eyes and then took a look out the front viewport. What lay before his eyes was a beautiful sunrise over the planet below, bathing the lakes, hills, and small settlements in its radiant glow. Gark was chatting away on the communicator, most likely trying to get permission to land somewhere. Zeke stretched out his arms and then shook his head to try and clear his mind. He had gotten mighty sick of being stuck in this shuttle, so it felt nice for that portion of the ride to be over. He couldn’t wait to get out, breathe in some fresh air, and just take a leisurely stroll. Then again, they were fugitives from a criminal organization, so perhaps laying low for a little while would be advantageous.

“I’m trying to reach Ondal Nalcrissan,” Gark said for what probably was the third time. He was getting sick of the lack of responses from the traffic controller, and was trying to press his case.

“Do not deviate from your course until we have cleared your identity,” the controller said in a snappish manner.

“Rather touchy, aren’t they?” Me’lin commented.

“I thought you said you knew this guy,” Zeke said from the background.

“I don’t understand . . .” Gark said. “He’s never put me through this before.”

Finally, the controller’s voice came back through the communicator. “You’re cleared to land. Docking pad 93A. Continue on your present course.”

“Thank you,” Gark said snidely. “See, I knew it would work.”

“Who’s worried?” Me’lin asked.

The shuttle landed softly on the landing pad, its metal feet meeting the pad gracefully as it touched down. Gark extended the ramp and then got out of his chair. It took several moments for him to stretch out, as he had been stuck in the pilot’s chair for way too long by his estimation. “And out we go,” he said. “But keep your eyes out.”

“I thought you said you trusted him with your life,” Zeke said.

“Just keep an eye out, would ya?” Gark asked as he walked down the ramp. There was a door at the other end of the landing platform, but it was closed. The Bothan took a look around to see if he was missing something, but when he determined that he wasn’t, his eyes shifted back to the door in front of him. Zeke came down, and then Me’lin. In order not to attract attention to themselves, they had all changed into new outfits. Gark was now dressed in a Corellia Rebels t-shirt (this one he had found rather cheap at a local pawn shop, and figured that in case he ever needed to blend in, it was come in handy despite his loathing of the Rebels), Zeke wore a wrinkled t-shirt (the wrinkles hadn’t been on purpose, but it had just come out that way), and Me’lin, despite her usual insistence on wearing more fitting summer attire normally, got by in a t-shirt and jeans. It was a complete departure from the norm for all of them, but they were just trying to mix it up and stay low as they were out in public.

“I don’t like this,” Me’lin commented when the door at the other end of the pad didn’t open.

“What is there to like?” Gark asked. “We’re on the run for a criminal organization, and trying to blend in as easily as possible.”

“If they would have welcomed us with open arms, I’d feel differently,” his wife replied.

Then the door opened. A dark-skinned man stood in the doorway, talking to a red-shirted guard. Then he came out, flanked by four of the similarly-garbed guards. He was about average height, with a slim build. He wore a nice blue jacket with black slacks, so at least he looked like a businessman even when wearing more casual attire. Gark nodded in his direction, but the man said nothing back.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come out and greet us,” Gark said.

But the man said nothing. He came up closer to the three, and then stuck out his hand, a wide grin opening up on his face. Gark took the hand, only to then be given a bear hug by Ondal Nalcrissan. “Hey, buddy, long time no see!” Ondal exclaimed. “How are things?”

“Tense,” Gark said.

“What have you done now?” Ondal asked.

“Let’s just say that we’re in need of a place to hunker down for a few days,” Gark said. “Until things blow over, that is.”

“You on the run from the police or something?” Ondal asked.

“I wish,” Gark said. “Will you let us stay over?”

“Normally I would say no, but since you and I go way back, I’ll allow it,” Ondal said. “Come on in.” He then made his way over to Me’lin. “And I take it you’re his beautiful wife?”

“Yes,” Me’lin said. Ondal kissed her hand smoothly, and Gark rolled his eyes. Ondal was as good as ever at being smooth with women. Back in college, he had been the life of the party, never turning down an opportunity to chat with the ladies. Gark had usually been in his dorm room, trying to work, but occasionally Ondal had dragged him to a party. It was at these events that Gark typically tried to at least be sociable, but the women weren’t interested in him. Ondal, on the other hand, almost had too many women just hanging all over him. They couldn’t have been more different in every respect, but there was a mutual understanding between them, so it could have been a lot worse.

“It’s a shame that I haven’t gotten to meet you earlier,” Ondal said.

“All right, you old smoothie,” Gark said, trying to separate Ondal from Me’lin by stepping in. Ondal, noticing what Gark was doing, then went over to Zeke.

“And who might you be?” he asked, reaching out his hand. “I’m Ondal Nalcrissan; I’m the administrator of this facility.”

“Zeke Barbosa,” Zeke replied. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Ondal, but if Gark trusted him with his life, then he had no choice but to at least say his name.

“Ah, Barbosa,” Ondal said. “I’ve heard of you. You’re quite the good keeper, I hear. Take after your father . . .”

“No,” Zeke said, snapping in a rude manner. Ondal looked taken aback, and Zeke knew that he had stepped over the bounds of decency with his rude remark. “I’m . . . sorry,” he said quickly, trying to rectify his mistake. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s all good,” Ondal said. “Anyways, would you three kindly accompany me?” He then walked off to the door, still flanked by the guards. Gark looked at the other two.

“Keep an eye open,” he reminded them before following Ondal into the compound.

---

The compound was extensive. Gark had been here several times before on business trips, but it had been a long time since the last one. Ondal had obviously spent a lot of money trying to add on to the facility, adding in nice windows, décor, and fixing up the issues that had once nagged his factory and facility. It had once been a rather decrepit old factory, one that had stunk, looked like crap, and needed serious help. But Ondal, through his business and charisma, had gotten it back on track. Now it was one hell of a facility, Gark thought to himself, and Ondal had to be given his due credit for its transformation.

“What is it you do here?” Me’lin asked.

“Mostly part manufacturing,” Ondal said. “We also have some research divisions and work on some small prototype vehicles and the like, but those are just side projects. We are independent contractors running a small-time business and trying to keep up with our competition.”

“Are you a part of the Corporate Manufacturing Guild?” Me’lin pressed.

“No, not actually,” Ondal replied. “We’re too small to be really noticed by them, which is advantageous given our small operation here. If we were constrained by their regulations, then we would go out of business real quick.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Gark said. “Ondal actually goes above and beyond in worker satisfaction and living conditions. The large firms barely pay a living wage, and their housing is crap. Three families have to live in one small apartment in what are basically slums. But here, they get a lot more compensation for their time. It’s why I keep coming back to him when we need parts contracting; I know I’ll get the best products at the best prices. Also because the records here are kept well; they have a good front office staff.”

“It’s also because I feel I still owe you one for all those times you helped me out back in college,” Ondal said. “Without you tutoring me on quite a few subjects, I never would have gotten through.”

“You were always the partier,” Gark said, a smirk on his face.

“But I’ve left those days behind,” Ondal said. “I’m a pretty successful businessman, and a respectable leader, so I can’t complain.”

“Listen to you, you sound like you know what you’re doing,” Gark replied in a smug manner.

“Yeah, I can say that I’m respectable,” Ondal said. “I’ve got a great operation here, and profits are up. Can’t complain too much about that.”

The four of them, plus the guards, walked by the factory viewing area. Gark stared down into the maw of the machine. Down below, black-suited workers toiled away to make the parts necessary for just about any job. “You have a job in particular you’re working on?” Gark asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes we do,” Ondal replied. “We got a contract from a swoop company a few weeks ago, so we’re manufacturing the bodies and engine assemblies. After that, these parts will be shipped to another contractor who will put in the other touches and make their medium-priced swoops. They offered us the job to do their low-line stuff, but I’d lose a lot of money making that.”

“Did you get that contract resolved from last year?” Gark asked.

“Your contract? No, we had to put it on hold for this one since we needed to get a new mold,” Ondal said. “We’ll get working on it as soon as this job is over.”

“How long will that be?” Gark asked.

“Give us two weeks, and then we’ll pick up your contract again. Sorry about that,” Ondal said. “Making new molds is always a pain, and we want to get it done the right way, so it takes time.”

“Understood,” Gark said.

“You want to go to your quarters now, or should I continue with the tour?” Ondal asked.

“How about we go there first, drop these two off if they don’t want to see the rest of the facility, and then double back there?” Gark asked. He looked to his wife and to Zeke. “Do you want to keep going, or would you rather not?”

Zeke just shrugged. He really didn’t care either way, since he didn’t know what to expect or what there was to do besides go on the tour. Me’lin, on the other hand, was getting bored, because technical stuff like this never was her area of expertise or of any interest. “I’m not interested in continuing,” she said.

“All right, then,” Ondal said. He called over one of the guards. “Can you make sure that these two are taken to their quarters?” he asked.

“Which ones?” the guard asked.

“Guest Rooms A and B,” Ondal said. “That should be enough.”

“Right away,” the guard said. “Follow me,” he said to the other two, and they followed him down a side hallway. This left Ondal and Gark in the viewing room with three guards.

“Anyways, shall we continue?” Ondal asked.

“Yeah,” Gark replied. “I can see that you’ve been adding on to the facility.”

“Ah, yes, we have,” Ondal said. “Want me to show you around the new addition?”

“You added on?” Gark asked.

“Of course,” Ondal replied. “We were growing out of the old space, and I figured it would be easier to expand than to have to build more floors. Ceilings can collapse, machines can only get so big before they become impossible to operate, we’d need more maintenance staff and equipment, more catwalks . . . you get the picture.”

“I do,” Gark said. “Lead the way.”

---

Me’lin paced back and forth in the room. She wasn’t sure why she was going back and forth like this, but there was nothing else to do. Gark hadn’t come back from the tour with Ondal yet, so it was either this or turn on the HoloNet receiver in the room, and day-time shows usually were crap (unless Nipseb had remarkable programming, which she rather doubted). Zeke was sitting in a chair not too far away, just staring at the wall.

“You think he’s going to come back anytime soon?” the Bith finally asked.

“I don’t know,” the Twi’lek said. “I don’t know.”

“How does he know this Ondal guy?” Zeke asked.

“I have no clue,” Me’lin replied. “I didn’t know about him until last week. Sounds like an old college buddy.”

“Ah,” Zeke said. “Never went to college. Got stuck in the military for a while, and then started playing pro ball.”

“I went to community college for one term, but then had to drop out due to a lack of funds,” Me’lin said. “At least Gark went four years and got his degree.”

“He’s a lucky guy,” Zeek mused. “He’s got the best of everything. A great job, a nice house, a Limmie team, you . . . wish I could say the same sometimes.”

At this time, the door to the room opened, and Gark entered. “I’m back,” he said.

“So you are,” Zeke said.

“How’d it go?” Me’lin asked.

“Ondal’s got a nice place,” the Bothan replied. “It’s changed a lot since I was last here, but he’s still the same old Ondal I knew back in the day. Never misses a beat.”

“Speaking of missing a beat, I think it’s time we got something to eat,” Zeke said. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll ask Ondal if there are any places to get grub around here,” Gark said.

“I don’t trust Ondal,” Zeke said. “He seems too . . . too . . .”

“Happy?” Gark asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, he’s got a good gig right here. If I was in his position, I would be pretty happy too,” Gark said.

“Eating sounds nice right about now,” Me’lin said.

“Yes it does,” Gark replied. “Any objections to finding some food?”

---

After eating some of the fare at the workers’ cafeteria, the three headed back to their guest rooms. The food hadn’t been exceptional, but what could you expect from a cafeteria? Zeke, noting that Gark and Me’lin wanted to be alone for a while, headed off to the adjacent room, flopping on the bed as he did so. It was a nice room, to be sure. Not nearly as fancy as the suite on Bespin in which he had roomed with Riff Persnor for the All-Star Game back in 270, but still nice. For the next half hour, he just stared at the ceiling, trying to reconcile his emotions. He needed to get Jenna back somehow . . . but how? He had seen how much more lively Gark was with his wife around . . . what about Zeke? He didn’t have that woman to cling to right now. It seemed wrong to want to rush in and try to get Jenna to marry him immediately, but he wanted to have that feeling of belonging. Once again, he wanted to be like Gark, and a little bit of jealousy had crept into his mind.

Gark shut the door behind him and then sat down next to his wife on the couch. Me’lin gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before then settling in next to him. “It’s been a while since we had some time like this,” Gark remarked.

“It has,” Me’lin said quietly. “I’ve missed having you around to myself for the last month.”

“I haven’t been trying to ignore you,” Gark said. “This whole thing has gotten in the way.”

“When do you think we’ll be able to return to Coruscant?” his wife asked.

“I don’t know,” Gark said. He hadn’t given that any thought over the past few hours, although it had been the main desire of his ever since they had left the starport. “You’re still worried about Galin, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Me’lin said. “I don’t want him to get hurt because of what you or I have done. He hasn’t wronged anyone . . . and I just want him to grow up with us there every step of the way.”

“Don’t worry, we will be,” Gark said in a reassuring tone. His hand snaked around the back of Me’lin’s shoulders, and he slowly nudged her closer into his body. She didn’t mind one bit at this subtle gesture. “But I miss him too, and I didn’t even really want him to begin with.”

“Funny how things like that change over time,” Me’lin responded.

“It is,” Gark said.

“I miss his furry little self,” Me’lin said. “He always felt so warm when he was in my hands, and I could hug him close to my body and feel like he was trying to tell me something. It’s . . . hard to describe . . .”

“Something only you can understand?” Gark asked.

“Pretty much,” his wife said. “I just have this connection with him. Had it ever since I knew I was carrying him. It’s hard to be separated, even for a moment. He’s back at home, and we’re in the Mid Rim somewhere . . . when all this is over, I just want to keep him close and not let him out of my sight.”

“You and I both,” Gark said. “But at least I’m here, so that makes it less painful, right?”


“Most likely,” Me’lin said. “A lot less painful . . .” The two then kissed for several seconds, trying to forget what was going on in their lives that was causing them so much trouble. For those few seconds, they could think about their relationship, about love, about not being troubled by what life seemed to be pushing on them. Neither knew what lay ahead, but at least they had each other.



Yes, I actually used SW music. What a shock.

 

Nice setup. Now I wonder what that tracking device is going to lead to? And is Ondal going to turn on them?

 

Since I have a field trip tomorrow, I'm going to put this up tonight.

jcgoble3, epithree, Trieste, Admiral Volshe, JM_1977

Gark awoke the next morning, his eyes bleary. He had needed every second of rest he had gotten that night; pulling long shifts at the controls of the shuttle had made him feel exhausted, so feeling fresh certainly put a new hop in his step. He pulled back the covers and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The chrono read 0630; somehow, he had gotten in a full eight hours, but Me’lin was still sound asleep on her side of the bed, so he didn’t want to wake her. He quietly got dressed in his day clothes and walked outside to the balcony on the room. Here he stood for about fifteen minutes, just staring out at the sprawling Nipseb plains. If he was here on vacation, he could spend hours running around these plains, not a worry in his mind as he frolicked around like an eight-year old once again. But he wasn’t here on vacation, and there was doubt in his mind that he would get to feel that care-free for a long time to come. He was angered that Zeke had brought him into this whole mess . . . but there was nothing he could do about it now. The mission would have to be seen through to its ending point one way or another.

In the distance, he could see some of the early-bird workers checking into the factory. They didn’t seem happy to be coming in this early to work, but from what Gark had seen the day before, it wasn’t necessarily a bad job. He had seen a lot worse when he had been growing up; his parents sometimes had to work two jobs just to stay afloat. It had been a rough life for them, but at least they had each other. Gark wasn’t in the same boat; here he was, rich, influential, having everything he ever wanted . . . but he missed his parents deeply. There was still a piece of him missing from the day he had heard about their death. Knowing that he had killed the culprit, Calo Mornd, had patched some of the wound that had been created, but he knew that he was never going to be able to forget about that day.

An hour later, he found himself in the small training room at the complex, nailing a punching bag with his fists as he stood in there alone. He was annoyed about his situation, about being stuck here on Nipseb as a fugitive-of-sorts instead of being able to enjoy a vacation. All of the pent-up stress that had accrued in his system was now being hammered out into the punching bag, every bit of rage that he had in his body he sent through his fists into the padded mass. The threat of losing his wife and his son, Zeke’s involvement in all of this, Ciscerian wanting to kill them all, the narrow escape, the painful decision he had to make as a parent to get Galin out of danger, the flight here . . . everything was coming back, and he wanted nothing to do with those thoughts. So he kept hammering away at the bag in a vain attempt to make everything disappear and leave him alone.

When he walked back to the Guest Room, he took a look at Zeke’s door. It was open, so he peeked inside. Zeke was sitting there on the bed, staring blankly at the HoloNet screen. Gark just let him be; he knew that Zeke had a lot to deal with mentally right now, with his father being in charge of a criminal organization, so the Bothan decided that he needed some space to reconcile with these new troubles. He opened his room’s door and slipped inside.

“Morning,” Me’lin said as she awoke at the sound of his footsteps. He hadn’t meant to wake her up, but such was life.

“Morning,” Gark said in reply.

“You’ve been pacing again, haven’t you?” the Twi’lek asked.

“You could say that,” Gark said. “I just have a lot to think about.”

“I know the feeling,” his wife said. “When will this end?”

“I don’t know,” Gark said. He wished he knew the answer, but he didn’t.

“Anyways, do you have breakfast plans?” Me’lin asked. Typical, Gark thought; even when things looked troublesome, at least his wife was trying to be optimistic. He needed more of that right about now.

“Not that I know of,” Gark said.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and Gark went to answer it. Outside was Ondal.

“Good morning,” he said. “I trust you slept well?”

“Yeah,” Gark said. “I don’t know what it is about that bed, but it was comfortable. Beats that crappy pilots’ chair any day.”

“Good to know,” Ondal replied. “It took me a while to find decently-priced yet satisfactory ones when I was shopping for them a while back when we were building on. But, moving on, can I interest you in some breakfast? Everyone is invited, of course.”

“Sure, why not?” Gark said. He turned to his wife. “Ondal says he’s got some breakfast for us.”

“Then we should go,” Me’lin said, coming up to the door.

“You look ravishing,” Ondal said.

“Thank you.”

“And we should probably invite Zeke along,” Gark said.

“He already has,” Zeke said from the hallway.

“Oh, never mind, then,” Gark said. “Let’s go.”

The four of them walked down the hall, Ondal and Gark chatting all the while. “So, I hear that you have a new division being set up,” Gark said.

“Yes, we’ve been working on some new technology,” Ondal said. “Can’t tell you what it is, though. Privacy concerns. Until we know what we have and how we can market it, I can’t let you know ahead of time.”

“Perhaps if my company wants to purchase some of those items, it might be nice to at least know what you’re working on.”

“Can’t,” Ondal said. “But I can tell you about some of the new droid parts we have. They’re tough as nails, have internal circuitry that leaves other pieces in the dust, and can be connected to more joints and sockets than previous models. We’d like to think that they could be used for creative kits and tinkerers. Perhaps we could strike a deal and you could have some tinkerer kits sold? I know how much people around here like their creativity in droid manufacturing, so why not let the general public get a chance to do that as well?”

“Hm, that’s an interesting offer,” Gark said. “I’ll look into it.”

As they walked through the halls, Zeke kept quiet. He had a lot of items swimming around in his mind from the close encounter a week earlier. It was hard to try and deal with these thoughts, because he wasn’t quite sure what to make of everything. He felt like his life was in shambles, and he had to find a way to patch the pieces back together again.

“So, what brings you out all this way?” Ondal asked. “I keep forgetting to ask you.”

“The Duo’s on our tail,” Gark said. “You can keep a secret, right?”

“I can do that,” Ondal said. “So the Duo wants you all dead, I take it? Nasty bunch they are, I hear.”

“I’m not sure, but whatever they intend, it won’t be pretty,” Gark said. “That’s why we need to hunker down here for a while.”

“Criminal organizations are terrible things,” Ondal said. “Always trying to throw a wrench into your plans.”

Finally the foursome reached a door. “Luckily, I shouldn’t have to worry about that. I have just made a deal that will keep them out of my hair forever.”

The door opened, and Zeke’s jaw dropped. There was a breakfast table set out there, with all kinds of juices, fruits, and pastries that you could imagine. It looked rather appetizing, but what else was there was anything but.



Sitting at the other end of the table, opposite from the foursome, was Ciscerian Barbosa, a smirk on his face. Standing next to him was Fravid Deese, a smug look on his mug, and then someone else the group didn’t know. Then it hit Gark; it was the guy who had been at the starport and had asked them for their destination plans.

“They arrived right before you did,” Ondal said. “I’m sorry.”

Several armed thugs ran up behind Ondal, brandishing their blasters menacingly.

“Well I’m sorry too,” Gark said. All four of them entered the room, and the door closed behind them.

---

Zeke paced back and forth in the holding cell, trying to keep his emotions in check. What could he do about this whole situation? His “father” had gotten the best of him once again, and now he was looking down the barrel at certain doom. Even if he wasn’t killed, which he doubt he would be, Ciscerian would most likely force him to work for the Duo. It wouldn’t kill him physically, but he wanted no part of the criminal life. He had grown up wanting to fight crime as much as possible, and the thought of becoming an agent of evil like that made him sick. He would rather die than be forced to such a low level.

Me’lin sat on the hard metal bench in the cell, holding her head in her hands. This had been a complete disaster; Gark’s contact, whom he trusted so much, had now betrayed them. She had the sinking feeling in her mind that this was the end. The Duo wanted her dead, and Gark as well for stepping the way. Where was her husband, anyways? What was the Duo doing to him?

---

Gark was socked one more time in the face, his hands being held down by two thugs. Fravid was enjoying every moment of this torture process. “What have you done with those files?” he asked.

“Get out,” Gark said. Then he got punched one more time in the jaw, quieting him. That blow had hurt quite a bit. It wasn’t as bad as Mornd’s punch that that dislocated his nose in the Siege of the Senate back in 272, but this one still packed a wallop.

“Enough of this,” Ciscerian said from the shadows. “Release him.”

“But boss, we need to know the location of that information!” Fravid protested. “And this worm will cough it up. I just need more time.”

“We don’t want to kill him, or beat him so badly that he is worthless to us. Therefore, cease and desist, Fravid. That’s an order.”

“Fine,” Fravid spat.

“Take him to his cell, and then we start in on the next phase of the plan,” Ciscerian said before walking out of the room.

Fravid gave Gark one more hard punch before getting into his grill. “Listen, meat bag, I’m not done with you yet,” he said menacingly.

“That’s great,” Gark commented. “I’m so frightened of you.” He said this is a rude manner.

“Shut up,” Fravid said. “Dump him in his cell.”

Ciscerian walked out of the room, only to be intercepted by Ondal. “Barbosa, what about the others?” Ondal asked.

“They are to never again leave this facility,” Ciscerain replied harshly.

“That’s not what we agreed upon, nor giving . . .!” Ondal exclaimed, but he was cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“I will need them here for my own purposes,” Ciscerain replied sharply. “If they are able to escape, I will take it out on your personally, Nalcrissan. You don’t want to see me when I’m angry, so comply and you will be spared.” He then walked away, leaving Ondal in a funk. What was he going to do now?

Ciscerian, as he walked down the hall, knew exactly what was going to happen to the three of them. He wanted to get Zeke in on this whole enterprise, whether he was willing to or not. The Twi’lek woman was going to be pumped for information on where she had hidden those files that she had uncovered in her snooping around. As for Gark, well, Ciscerian had a plan to deal with him and profit out of it. Any criminal worth their salt was going to take the opportunity when it presented itself, so that’s what he intended to do. Nalcrissan, he mused, would be too afraid to do anything, so his path was cleared. With Superbothan out of the way, the Duo would be able to move forwards with its plans back on Coruscant. Things were falling together nicely.



What is going to happen now?

 

I have nothing to say except "Uh-oh...."

 

epithree, Admiral Volshe, Trieste, jcgoble3, JM_1977



The carbon freeze chamber was its usual self, dark and menacing, when the foursome, Gark, Me’lin, Zeke, and Ondal, walked up the stairs to the edge of the pit, flanked by four armed guards from the Duo. The putrid-smelling steam from the chamber caused Gark’s face to twitch as he tried to find better smells somewhere else. What was going to await them now? They had been tortured (at least in his case), humiliated, and kept under lock and key for the last 24 hours. And now it looked like a possible end to this situation, although that end would likely not be beneficial for any of them.

Finally the four reached the side of the chamber, staring straight into the maw of the carbon machine. It was like a Sarlaac, its mouth waiting hungrily for its next prize.

“What’s going on now, buddy?” Gark asked snidely, trying to fidget with the cuffs that bound his hands together.

“You’re being put into carbon freeze,” Ondal said, a serious look on his face.

“Oh good. You’ve fixed this up really well, haven’t you?” Gark commented.

Before the other man could respond, Ciscerian showed up, flanked by two brutish Barabel thugs toting large-carbine blaster rifles. “It’s time to put the Bothan on ice,” he said simply. “Put him in.” He gave a flick of his wrist after speaking.

Zeke yelled out an unintelligible roar at his father, and pushed one of the guards who had been holding him over into the wall, knocking the frail human out as his head nailed the wall. However, another Barabel came over and tied up Zeke’s hands even further, sending a jolt of pain through Zeke’s wrists as he felt them being squeezed by the thug.

Gark turned to Zeke, a look of half-terror, half calm, on his face. Me’lin stared at her husband as he made this turn; she had seen this face before. It had been two years earlier, when she thought she had lost him to Mornd’s blaster. It had been in the falling rain as he had left the secret entrance to the Bothancave, and they had looked at each other, neither knowing what was to come in the future. Once again, Gark was staring down the barrel at the unknown, and the usually-sturdy man was unsure of what was to come.

“Zeke, save your energy,” Gark said. “There will be another time. You hear me?” he asked, as two of the guards hovered around him, ready to push him into the center of the chamber where the lift was.

“All right,” Zeke said. He was obviously put-out, but there was nothing he could do now but take Gark’s advice. The Bothan knew when he was beat, and when it was time to admit defeat and try again later.

Gark then took a long, hard look at his wife, who stared back at him. Finally, their lips came together, one last gesture that Gark knew he could make before he was frozen. This lasted for about two seconds before the thugs pushed Gark away from Me’lin and Zeke and onto the lift.

“I love you,” Me’lin said.

“I know,” Gark replied after a short pause.

Ciscerian made another gesture, and the carbon freeze chamber started in its typical ghastly-sounding manner. Steam was being vented everywhere in the tiny room, making it difficult to see very far in front of you if the steam cloud covered your head. Gark could feel the lift dropping down into the chamber, and it felt like his heart was dropping down with it. He didn’t know how this was going to end up; would he survive the freezing process? Would Zeke and Me’lin make it out alive? Why did Ondal betray them like this? Where was he going to end up after he was frozen? All of these thoughts raced through his mind as the lift slowly descended.

Finally, the lift hit the bottom, and a jet of super-cold steam rushed into his face. Gark closed his eyes and took the brunt of the freezing.

Above, both Zeke and Me’lin stared at the chamber, both unsure of what was going on down in there. Ciscerian had a smug look on his face the whole time; had Zeke not been handcuffed like this, he would have charged his “father” and taken him out with one swing. It was true that he had looked up to Ciscerian as a father . . . he had always thought that the elder Barbosa cared for him. But that had been a lie, a deliberate ruse to throw Zeke off from the reality. Ciscerian was a criminal, and Zeke had no patience for a criminal acting like he was his own flesh and blood. No, he was not going to take this lying down, especially after what was happening to Gark down in the freezing chamber. But what was going to happen to him now? Ciscerian obviously didn’t want Zeke to be absent for this, so what else did the criminal kingpin have up his sleeve for his “son”?

For Me’lin, this was torture all over again. She remembered vividly the time she had spent in her apartment when Gark had been “killed” in 272, back during the siege of the Senate by Mornd. She had cried so hard and so often because she knew she had lost the love of her life. The Bothan had, in the interest of the many, sacrificed himself willingly, and thus she knew that he had taken the punishment of the carbon freeze to save her from the pain. But she had also remembered how it had hurt to look at the HoloNet screen as her world was crumbling around her; Gark was dead, the rest of the “Avengers” had been helpless to do anything, and the Senators players were still in peril. That had been back when she was living by herself, when she was more absorbed in work rather than her social life. It had been that mission to Mornd’s gala where she had truly appreciated Gark not just for what he was doing in the name of justice, but also for whom he was as a person. She had always liked him, but that was when she figured out that she truly had fallen for him. It seemed like such a long time ago, because in that stead she had gotten married to the man of her dreams (who had come back from the dead to finish the job against Mornd), settled down, started a family, and generally couldn’t be happier with her home life. But now she felt alone again, and this time around not having a significant other around definitely bothered her.

Steam rose from the chamber, causing a menacing cloud to form and hang there as the freezing process continued. Finally, the process ended, and a giant claw extended from the ceiling to retrieve its prey. When it latched on, there was a loud whirring noise that filled the room. Finally, the claw began to ascend, and a rectangular shape faintly appeared in the steam cloud. As soon as the claw brought the panel all the way up, the block fell. Me’lin felt her heart drop about ten stories when she could see Gark’s face molded into the carbonite, a shocked look on his face. The block was then dumped unceremoniously on the metal floor, a dull thud echoing around the room.

“Well, Nalcrissan, did he survive?” Ciscerian asked.

The man walked over to the block and then bent over, checking the settings on the side of the block. “He’s alive,” he said. “And seems to be in perfect hibernation.”

“Good,” Ciscerian said. “Fravid, he’s all yours,” he added, turning to his lieutenant as he spoke. “Tell my client that this should more than pay my debt to him.”

“Understood,” Fravid said, nodding. He then flicked his wrist, and a thug came up to him. “I want him loaded onto my ship; I’ll hand deliver him to the designated spot.”

“Right away, boss,” the Rodian said.

“Barbosa, what about these two?” Ondal asked.

“Take them to my ship,” Ciscerian said.

“What?” Ondal exclaimed, shocked. “You said they were to be left here under my supervision!”

“I have altered the deal,” Ciscerian replied coldly. “Follow my instructions, or the deal is off.” With that, he walked out of the chamber, flanked by the two armed thugs. All Ondal could do was stand there, angered by what had just transpired. Things had already been bad enough when Gark had been sentenced to be frozen, but now the situation had gotten a lot direr. He looked over at Zeke and Me’lin, who had buried her face in Zeke’s shoulder as the tears flowed from her eyes. The Bith had been taken aback slightly by this motion, but then he tried to comfort the Twi’lek as best he could. Ondal grit his teeth, knowing that there was nothing he could do.

---

Hallway

Two thugs led the procession of the prisoners from the carbon freezing chamber out to the shuttle on the landing pad. Ondal was in the stead of several of the thugs, staring straight ahead. Behind him were the two prisoners, Me’lin still depressed by what had happened to her husband and Zeke still in shock about Ciscerian’s callous actions. Finally, Ondal had had enough; he wasn’t going to let Barbosa keep altering the deal. Coming into the deal, he thought he had gotten a fair bit of compensation out of it. The Double Threat Duo would never threaten him again, so at least he and his customers would be safe from intrusion by the Duo. But at what cost? He had just frozen a man who had been generous enough to sacrifice himself to make sure that his wife and Zeke could persist . . . and it nagged on him, even though it really shouldn’t have. Ciscerian was going to pay for this.

The party was two hallways from the landing pad, so Ondal knew his time to act was short. He tapped a button on his comlink, letting it sit for several seconds. The next door opened, and the party walked through without a hitch. However, at this juncture, several armed guards popped from out of the woodwork and surrounded the party with their blasters. One of the Barabel thugs charged a guard, but was hammered down by a flying fist of one of Ondal’s guards. The other thugs stopped in their tracks and raised their hands dutifully, knowing that they had been bested.

“Good work,” Ondal said, going around and collecting the thugs’ blasters one by one. He then handed one to Zeke and one to Me’lin, who looked at him with an air of scorn. “Lock them in the brig, and keep it quiet,” he said. “Go.”

The next thing he felt was Zeke’s hands around his neck, and he fell on his knees on the floor under the strain. It felt like his eyes were going to burst in the grip of the strong Bith, and he choked desperately for air.

“What are you trying to pull?” Zeke demanded. When Ondal didn’t respond, Zeke just tightened his grip harded. “What are you trying to pull?!” he yelled.

Ondal sputtered, trying to speak under the tremendous strain of the choke hold. “Ju . . . just tryin’ to help . . .”

“We don’t need your ‘help’ ,” Zeke said coldly. “We don’t want your help.”

“There’s . . . still . . . a . . .” Ondal gutted out. He was running out of air; things weren’t looking good.

“What?” Zeke demanded.

“There’s still a chance to save Gark,” Ondal said. “ . . . platform!”

“Let’s go!” Zeke said, dropping the choke hold he had on Ondal and leading the way. Me’lin was close on his heels, trying to choke back a few tears as she readied herself to wield the blaster. Ondal sat there stunned for several seconds, trying to gulp in that sweet gas known as oxygen as he filled his lungs once again. He hadn’t blamed Zeke for confronting him like that; after all, he had aided and abetted Ciscerian in freezing Gark. But he was trying to save the prisoners now, and that was how they thanked him?

As Zeke rounded the corner, he almost ran smack-dab into a door. Punching the button to open the door, he ran outside to see Fravid’s ship lift off the ground. Zeke brought his blaster up and let off a pair of shots at the ship, but Fravid had already upped his shields to where the blaster bolts bounced harmlessly off. Me’lin added another shot, but by this time Fravid’s vessel had left the pad and blasted off into the setting sun.

“Zeke, look out!” the Twi’lek shouted. Zeke looked around to see three armed thugs in the hallway behind them, ready to fire. Zeke did a barrel roll on the platform as the thugs fired off one shot each, and Me’lin tucked herself in the archway of the door to protect herself from the blaster fire. Zeke brought his blaster up and squeezed off a shot, nailing one of the thugs in the chest, downing him. The other two were unfazed and fired again. One of the bolts barely missed Zeke’s head as he dove for cover. Me’lin brought her blaster around and let off a shot, blasting one of the thugs in the leg. The thug went down, clutching his ankle. Zeke then used this distraction to dispatch the other thug, clearing the path.

“Go ahead!” he yelled. “I’ll cover you!” Me’lin nodded and advanced back inside the building complex.

They were quickly met by Ondal , who was holding a blaster aloft and waved for the other two to keep advancing. Another thug appeared in the hallway, and Ondal let off a shot that buried itself in the chest of the thug. The lifeless body collapsed on the floor, allowing the three fugitives to keep moving.

Finally, they got to the lift. Zeke frantically pushed the button to get the lift to return, because he could hear the clanking of armed troopers advancing towards their position. “Get behind me!” he stated, spinning around. Sure enough, the head of a Rodian popped into view. Zeke blasted the thug in the shoulder, downing the criminal with the shot. Finally the lift door opened, and the three climbed inside. Just as the door closed, Zeke could see the bodies of at least two more troopers coming up to try and stop the prisoners from escaping. They had just barely made it out of that situation alive, and Zeke took a deep breath. This escaping business was harder than it looked.

“How do we get out?” Me’lin demanded of Ondal. It was obvious in her voice that she was trying to buck up despite her loss. Zeke admired her for her courage in this instance; what would Jenna do if he himself had just been frozen in front of her eyes like that? Even though they weren’t on the best of terms now, he hoped that she would come back for him. But that was unimportant; escaping the complex was.

“We need to get to the south platform,” Ondal said. “Unfortunately, it goes right by a glut of enemy troops. We’re going to need to blast our way out, it appears.”

“Oh great,” Zeke replied. “Is there any other way out?”

“No,” Ondal said sullenly. “Ciscerian has all of the other exits blocked. If we go anywhere else, we’re sitting in the line of fire.”

The door to the lift opened, and immediately Zeke was out like a shot, kicking an enemy in the face and sending the man down to the ground in pain. “Come on!” Zeke urged.

The three escapees ran down the hallway. Another thug appeared from around the corner, and Me’lin pulled the trigger. Her blaster spat forth a laser bolt and caught the thug straight in the chest, killing him instantly and dropping his body down onto the floor face down. The Twi’lek looked visibly shaken by this. “I killed him,” she said.

“What’s wrong?” Zeke asked. This was no time for weakness.

“I’ve never killed anything, or anyone, before,” the Twi’lek replied, stunned by this new development. “I can’t believe it. I feel so terrible . . .”

“Look, I know it’s not much consolation, but they’re doing their best to kill you,” Zeke said, putting his hand on her shoulder. His meaty grip easily filled her shoulder, so he also grabbed part of her shoulder blade. “You acted in self-defense. There is nothing wrong with defending yourself.”

“It’s just . . .”

“Keep moving!” Ondal urged. “The longer we wait, the more likely we’re all going to die.”

“Fine,” Zeke said. “Gark said that we need to live to fight another day, so that’s what I intend to do.”

The three of them advanced around the bend in the hallway, and then screeched to a halt as they saw the backs of about five armed thugs. The brutes weren’t facing them, but the three plastered their backs against the wall all the same.

“We need to break this block,” Ondal said quietly. “I’ll get in there and create a distraction. You two head for the exit.” He then jumped out from his hiding place and let off a stream of blaster fire. Three of the thugs hit the ground, and the other two were stunned by this unexpected occurrence.

“Go!” Zeke urged, pushing Me’lin forward. Both of them made a mad dash past the two thugs, who had finally whipped out their blasters. But Ondal was too fast, and he blasted both of them down on the spot with pinpoint accuracy.

Zeke finally made it to the platform door and pressed the button to open it. However, there was a buzzing sound, and the door didn’t open. “Access has been changed!” he exclaimed as Ondal ran up.

“Dammit!” Ondal said. “Cover me. I’ll try to hotwire this thing.” He opened up the security panel and began to mess with the wiring, and Zeke got down into a crouch as he surveyed the hallway. One thug popped into sight, and was then killed by an expertly-placed blaster shot to the head via Zeke’s weapon.

“Hurry up!” the Bith urged. Ondal ripped out one of the cables in the panel, and some sparks flew harmlessly into the air.

Two more thugs appeared in the vicinity, and Zeke let loose two more blaster shots. These thugs were more intelligent than the last one, and ducked out of the way of the angry red bolts. When the trouble was clear, they returned fire with their own salvo, nearly striking Zeke in the wrist. The Bith recoiled slightly, and by the time he was ready to return fire once again the thugs had moved from cover and were running full speed at him. Zeke’s finger nailed the trigger, but the blaster didn’t respond. His eyes shot open, and he quickly glanced down at the weapon. For some reason, the fire control mechanism wasn’t working!

He heard two blaster shots ring out in the area, and half-expected to be hit and killed by one or both of them. He closed his eyes, expecting to feel the pain shoot through his body as the laser bolts made contact with his skin. However, nothing of the sort occurred. When he opened his eyes, he saw the two thugs lying dead on the ground. Me’lin stood above him, her blaster still smoking from the blaster shots.

“Thanks,” Zeke said, relieved.

“Anytime,” the Twi’lek said. She seemed more confident about those two kills than she had been minutes before. Perhaps the gravity of the situation had finally sunk in?

“I’ve got it!” Ondal exclaimed. He yanked on a wire, which broke it free from the tangled mess. But the door didn’t open. “Dammit,” he said. “Wrong one.”

Another blaster shot came near to hitting Zeke, and the Bith looked around the corner. About a dozen guards were coming up on their position, each one ready to kill as they stepped carefully over the bodies of their fallen comrades. “Hurry up!” Zeke insisted. He leveled the blaster and prepared to fire.

One of the thugs let loose a shot, and Zeke dodged it barely as the shot lodged itself into the wall. Moving his arm around, he fired off a very ill-timed shot. The bolt, instead of going towards the thugs, instead rammed into the ceiling, leaving a scorch mark. Zeke swore under his breath and had to hide himself as more blaster shots came his way.

“This should be it!” Ondal exclaimed. There was a hissing sound, and the door finally opened. “Let’s go!”

The three escapees ran out the door, Zeke with his back turned to the landing pad as he trained his blaster rifle on the hallway they had just left. On the pad itself was a beat-up old Imperial Lambda class shuttle, its paint peeling in spots and generally looking worse for wear.

“Get inside! I’ll hold them off!” Zeke shouted. How he was going to protect anyone with a busted blaster was beyond him; perhaps he could serve as a distraction? Ondal ran to the shuttle and forced the ramp down. It slowly slid down onto the pad, and the human immediately tore up into the cockpit to start up the shuttle. Me’lin found a hiding spot on one of the sides, still brandishing her blaster.

Zeke kept backing up as the first thug appeared in the hallway. A shot rang out into the sunset, easily missing the shuttle. Zeke tried to fire back, but the blaster was definitely broken. That wasn’t going to do anyone any good. “Get aboard!” he yelled. Then he ran for broke. With no other options, this was all he could do.

Blaster fire rained around him as he ran, the bolts nipping at his heels as he fled. Me’lin squeezed off several shots, but they were all wide of their target. The thugs hit the landing pad and started to steadily advance forward. Things were looking dire.

---

Ciscerian strode across the landing pad to his personal shuttle. The two thugs flanking him had split off to pursue the escapees, but he wasn’t too worried about being unprotected. No, his troops would deal with the threat; even if they didn’t, he would be a long ways away by the time Zeke could get here. He was quite safe.

He could hear laser blasts coming from a distance, and his head looked up to try and ascertain the source of the noise. Obviously someone was having a firefight, and a damn difficult one, too. All he could do was sigh; he bet that Zeke was in the middle of it. A small piece of him felt saddened that it had come to this. He had never intended for Zeke to be put in harm’s way like this. But his son had disowned him, so the younger Barbosa was now on his own. He had chosen his path, so he had to deal with it.

Ciscerian sat in the pilot’s seat and activated the shuttle. It revved to life almost instantly, and within fifteen seconds the ship was leaving its moorings.

---

“Get moving!” Ondal screamed from the cockpit of the shuttle. “We’re going up and out!” Zeke motioned for Me’lin to go up the ramp, and the Twi’lek scampered up the incline into the shuttle. Zeke quickly followed, finally throwing his useless blaster down on the pad behind him. Before the ramp could be retracted, Zeke hit the deck in the shuttle, trying to keep a low profile in case one of the thugs decided to let off another blaster shot.

He could then feel the shuttle vibrate, as the old lifts finally kicked into gear. The ship lifted off the pad, the thugs still taking potshots at it although the shields had been raised. Zeke dusted himself off as he stood up in the passenger area of the shuttle, but then was almost hurled into the wall as the ship shuttered once more.

“Can’t you fly this thing?” he asked.

“It’s a little old, but it hasn’t failed me yet,” Ondal said from the cockpit.

“Oh, great,” Zeke commented cynically.

The shuttle blasted off into the area surrounding the city, and Zeke looked out of the small lookout hole at the city below. Then he saw something he didn’t like; another shuttle was coming up on theirs, and it was gaining. “Um . . . we have company!” he stated.

“Frak!” Ondal exclaimed. “He’s on to us!”

“Who is?” Zeke asked.

“Barbosa. That’s his shuttle; he’s going to try to shoot us down!” Ondal replied. “Get up here and defend us while I ready the navicomputer!”

Zeke ran into the cockpit and took over the firing controls. The shuttle they were on hadn’t been heavily armed when it was new, and was certainly not now. It was a shuttle, not a warship, so armament was minimal.

He could see Ciscerian’s ship coming up from behind, and he nervously held the fire control button. The ship then rocked as it was nailed by a pair of blaster bolts. Ondal had to hold onto the control panel in order to not be thrown from his chair. “Get moving!” Zeke urged.

“Almost there . . .” Ondal said.

More blasts rocked the ship. Zeke looked down at the shield gauge; it was starting to run down to about 50%. If they didn’t get out of there in a hurry, they would get shot down.

Zeke finally fired back. The laser blasts easily missed Ciscerian’s ship and went off into the distance. Zeke cursed at his poor aim; that hadn’t helped them at all.

Finally, Ondal hit a button, and then shouted “All right! Punch it!”

Zeke nailed the hyperdrive button, and the ship shot off into hyperspace.

---

Ciscerian watched as the shuttle shot off into lightspeed. He sighed, and then sat back in his seat. He knew that this wasn’t the last he would see of Zeke. No, he knew that the younger Barbosa would come back for more punishment . . . and Ciscerian would be ready.

---

Zeke leaned back in the pilot’s chair, taking a deep breath. They had just escaped from a sticky situation. But then he looked back, past Ondal, into the main compartment of the shuttle. He got out of the chair, passed Ondal, and looked into the back. Me’lin was quietly sobbing there, sitting down on one of the hard benches that constituted the seats on this half of the shuttle. She looked extremely depressed, but Zeke had other things on his mind.

He then turned back and sat down in one of the reserve chairs in the main compartment. Thoughts were flowing through his head; he had really blown it with Jenna, and now that he had almost been killed once more, he knew that he had to make it up to her. As for Gark . . . well, that was another matter. It was something he would have to think about for the next few days.


Author Note: Well, it looks as if I've pulled the rug out from under Gark again, haven't I?

 

Oh boy. Who's going to rescue Superbothan?

 

Couldnt have written it better myself. Well done gunny

 

But please, have him remain on ice until the 274 Draft is over for everybody's sake.

I'm pretty sure that after the Solo Conference championship that Fravid's "client" might be a certain Imperial-looking with sharp cheekbones Human that resides on Bakura...which I bet is rather close to Nispeb.

 

Short post today. Admiral Volshe, jcgoble3, epithree, Trieste, JM_1977



The Lambda-class shuttle gracefully landed on the pad below, not making a rough landing this time. The ramp extended, and Zeke walked out of the shuttle quickly onto the waiting pad. He never liked being cramped like that for extended periods of time; as a Limmie player and former soldier, he had grown to distrust tight confines. Ondal and Me’lin followed him down the ramp.

But, instead of waiting for them, Zeke kept on walking, thoughts swimming through his head. Now that he had gotten off the shuttle, he could move to the next phase of his plan.

“Zeke, where are you going?” Me’lin called to him.

“Onderon,” Zeke replied from over his shoulder.

“What for?” the Twi’lek asked, taken aback by this statement. “Your stupid ‘friend’ isn’t going there . . .”

“I realize now that I’ve made a real mess of things with my presence,” Zeke said, sighing. “I need to fix my life before everything I once cared about disappears forever. I’m going to tell Jenna that I’m sorry for ignoring her all this time, for abandoning her when I got caught up in all this, and try to make things right in my life for once.”

“What about our mission?” Ondal asked.

“That’s in the past,” Zeke said. “Gotta fix things now when I still have the chance.

“So you’re abandoning us, then,” Me’lin said, coming to the awful realization that Zeke was leaving and not coming back.

“You could say that,” Zeke replied.

“What about Gark?” Me’lin asked angrily. “You’re just going to leave him in limbo while you go off and make things right with your girl?”

“Pretty much,” Zeke replied in a deadpan voice.

Me’lin couldn’t believe this. Zeke was going off to make order in his life . . . but what about hers? Zeke had dragged Gark into this whole mess by asking him to help. So now, when Gark was the one who needed assistance, Zeke was turning his back and going off on his own? And what about her? She had just seen the traumatizing scene of her husband being frozen in carbonite, and not knowing if he was still alive or ever would return from his induced sleep; why didn’t Zeke care about someone else’s girl, especially of the guy who had done enough to help him out in the first place? How was Jenna more important than her? She wanted to smash Zeke in the mouth with her fist, break his jaw, make him bleed. Because all hope she had was bleeding dry, and one more major hit against her chances of rectifying that just made the situation worse.

“So you’re just going to leave us here . . .” she said, on the verge of tears at this point.

“Pretty much,” Zeke replied. “Later.” He then stalked off across the landing pad, leaving the other two behind at their shuttle. Me’lin couldn’t take it anymore; the waterworks began, and she covered her face in her hands to try and stem the tide. Ondal made sure to hold on to her, to try and calm her down.

“It’s all right,” he said in his smooth-talker voice. “I’m here.”

Me’lin looked up at Ondal, still saddened by the whole debacle, and Ondal made sure to kiss her lightly on the forehead.

---

Next Day

Me’lin awoke in a soft bed, staring at the ceiling. Early morning sunlight was filtering in through the window at the side of the room, its rays giving off a very soft feeling. It seemed like some of the disappointment from yesterday had subsided; she actually felt somewhat good. Was she dreaming, because this bed felt soft . . . and she was not alone. It must have been Gark . . . seeing him in there next to her would be a welcome sight. She looked over, only to see Ondal’s smiling face next to her. Then everything came flooding back, the terror, the angst, the loneliness. Just seeing him brought her back into the dark place. She then looked under the sheets and found that she was devoid of clothing; no, that couldn’t be. It wasn’t true, was it? She had just cheated not only on her husband, but also herself and everything she stood for. She turned away from Ondal, trying to keep his face out of her line of sight as she was hit by the gravity of the moment.

“Morning,” Ondal finally said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Me’lin replied sullenly.

“Look, I . . . I don’t need to say much about it either,” Ondal said, his tone a lot less cheerful. “It’s obvious that you were never interested in me to begin with; I was wrong to do this to you.”

“You were,” Me’lin replied.

“Is there a way I can make it up to you?” Ondal asked. He sat up, the sheet falling off somewhat to reveal his bare chest to the sunlight outside. “Breakfast, perhaps?”

“You agree to help me save my husband,” Me’lin replied. She then rolled over to look Ondal square in the face. “Don’t be like Zeke.”

“He’s a lucky guy, having you there to support him at all times,” Ondal replied. “Wish I could say the same about my own life.”

“You play your cards right, and you never know what’ll happen. Look at me; I’m married to a superhero,” Me’lin said. “And now I need to be every bit of one to get him back. So, will you help me or not?”

Ondal sat there for a few moments, pondering his options. “All right,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

---

Zeke looked out the window at the utter blackness of hyperspace. He was on a shuttle en route to Onderon; he was hoping that taking the initiative here would pay off with Jenna. Undoubtedly she thought he had abandoned her in the attempt to rescue his father. Well, now that the truth was out that Ciscerian was behind all of this, Zeke knew that he had to cobble together what he could out of his former life. Making things right with Jenna would go a long way towards that.


NOTE: But it's a game-changer!

 

Ondal! How could you!

 

jcgoble3, Admiral Volshe, Trieste, JM_1977, epithree

Zeke took a deep breath. It was now or never. If he blew it this time, he might never have another chance at it. Everything was going to hinge on his success here. He ruffled his shirt and then rang the doorbell, hoping that things would turn out in his favor. It had been hard to find in the ever-creeping darkness of the night, and thus he hoped that he had caught his quarry at a time when they were home.

Several seconds passed, and a lump formed itself in Zeke’s throat. He was going to end up having to walk all the way home in defeat . . . Then the door opened, and Jenna Leed stuck her head out. “Zeke?” she asked. Zeke noticed that she was wearing what looked like pajamas; a tank top, athletic shorts, and no shoes.

“Mind if I come in?” Zeke asked in a quiet manner.

“What do you want?” Jenna asked in a standoffish manner.

“Look . . . I’m sorry for what I said . . .” Zeke said. “When you walked out my door all those weeks ago . . . I did some soul searching, and figured out that I have nothing more special in my life than you. And I want you to know that you mean a lot to me . . . even more than my father.”

The next thing, he found that Jenna was giving him a bug hug. He embraced her back. “I knew you weren’t breaking up with me,” she said. “I just knew it.”

“How are things?” Zeke asked. He knew that he would have to keep Jenna on this train of thought, and make sure not to let her lapse back into her anger towards him.

“Fine,” Jenna said, releasing Zeke as she spoke. “I’ve been so worried about you . . .”

“I keep meaning to call . . . but things kept getting in the way,” Zeke replied. “I know it’s no excuse, but please believe me.”

“Did you find your father?” Jenna asked.

“Yes,” Zeke said in a deadpan voice.

“And . . .?”

“He’s dead to me,” Zeke finished.

“Was he alive?” Jenna asked.

Zeke didn’t want to answer this question, because now things were popping into his head like mad. He didn’t want to say that Ciscerian was dead, because that would be a flat-out lie, but he was at the helm of the Double Threat Duo, who had made it a priority to make his life hellish. What could he say?

“No,” Zeke finally said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jenna replied.

“But I’m not going to let it bother me,” Zeke said. “You’re here, and that’s what matters.”

“I forgive you,” Jenna said, kissing Zeke lightly on the cheek. “Come on in.”

Zeke sat down on Jenna’s couch, and his fiancée then leaned on his side, her feet up on the couch. She had on a terrible movie on the HoloNet, but neither of them minded. After a while, both of them ate a little bit of dinner, which was mostly just soup from a can. Jenna apologized for not being ready to feed Zeke as well as herself, but Zeke told her that she didn’t need to be bothered by it. The food she offered was enough for him; he really cared about her, not the food she had in her apartment.

Finally, at about 2200, Zeke knew that it was time to leave. He sat up on the couch, causing Jenna to almost fall over on her side. “It’s getting late,” he said. “I should come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t go,” Jenna said. “You can stay here for the night.”

“Thank you, but I have to decline . . .”

“Zeke, take my offer. I’m asking you nicely,” Jenna replied.

“OK,” Zeke said, slightly taken aback. “Do you have a spare blanket? I’ll sleep here on the couch . . .”

“Then I’ll sleep here on the couch with you,” she said.

“Hunh?” Zeke asked. “Jenna, I don’t think . . .” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence before Jenna’s lips hit his own, and all thoughts in his mind instantly fled away. They were replaced by very lovely thoughts, of he and Jenna together, sitting in her apartment, making up for lost time in their relationship. Slowly, but steadily, his mind changed from being apprehensive about the situation to being downright lustful; it was obvious that Jenna wanted him now, and he wanted her as well.

The next sequence of events was a blur. Zeke couldn’t really feel anything but love for Jenna as they clumsily teetered off to the bedroom, still locked in an endless kiss. Both of them wanted the same thing, and were ready to go all-in. No more letting each other be worried that the other was seeing someone else; they were held together by a mutual passion that was stronger than any passing fancy. Somehow Zeke’s clothing hit the floor without him feeling a thing, and he stroked Jenna’s body as she came closer to him, her unclad body trembling slightly as he moved his hand up her side.

“I love you, Jenna,” Zeke whispered.

“I know,” Jenna said.

Then they slipped underneath the sheets, and Zeke’s worry about the situation with his father disappeared, replaced by this moment of pure bliss. Gark had mentioned that he should make it up to Jenna any way he could; well, he was certainly doing his best.

---

Zeke awoke the next morning, the Onderon sun shining in through the drawn curtains in a happy manner. He could feel Jenna’s body in the bed next to him; what a good feeling that was. What had happened the night before had not been an accident; it was the culmination of all he had done to try and get Jenna back on his side. He could feel her gentle body as it lay there, asleep; he had fallen for her so long ago, but he hadn’t truly loved her until now. Now he knew that he couldn’t blow it.

Jenna finally stirred, and Zeke made sure to withdraw his arm from her body. She then turned over, a grin on her face. “Morning,” she said.

“Morning to you,” Zeke said.

“Zeke . . . I don’t want this to be the end,” Jenna said. “We should go through with our wedding soon . . .”

“And we shall,” Zeke said, kissing his fiancée on the cheek. Jenna smiled again. “I won’t let anything get in our way.”

“Speaking of which,” Jenna said, trying to get out of bed. But Zeke held her in there with his arm. “Oh, stop it,” she said in a playful manner.

“No, allow me to get you breakfast in bed,” Zeke said. He got out and then tossed on the pants that had been ceremoniously thrown to the floor before last night’s adventure.

“Thank you,” Jenna said. She then paused for a moment. “Zeke, what about the Bothanman?”

This stopped Zeke dead in his tracks. How did Jenna know about Gark’s involvement in this whole mission? “Um . . . I don’t understand,” he said.

“I know you asked him for help,” Jenna said. “Where is he? You could have at least invited him over.”

“He . . . he . . . fell behind,” Zeke said. How did she know about Gark’s involvement in all this? He hadn’t said anything . . . had the Bothan talked to Jenna or something?

“How so?”

“That’s not important,” Zeke said. “Only you are . . .”

“What happened to him?” Jenna demanded, her happy demeanor now changing into a more vicious one. She was getting tired of Zeke’s charade . . . she had to beat back another incursion of thugs while Zeke had been away, but this time they had let slip that Bothanman was on the case against them. She had easily beaten them back as well, but this left her wondering what exactly was so important that the superhero would get involved with an otherwise minor issue for someone like him.

“He sacrificed himself to make sure that I was able to get out alive,” Zeke finally said. “He was frozen in carbonite.”

“How awful!” Jenna said. Then a more concerned look came to her face. “You’re saying that you didn’t try to save him?”

“I didn’t have a chance. I barely made it out alive,” Zeke admitted.

“But you do plan to save him, right?” Jenna asked. When Zeke didn’t answer immediately, she got even angrier. “Right, Zeke?”

“Not really,” Zeke said. “He served his purpose for me.”

“He ‘served his purpose’?” Jenna replied, bunching up her sheets in anger. “Zeke, do you know what you just said? You’re saying that someone you brought into your stupid mission to save your father took the fall so that the idiot you could escape unharmed! Do you have no shame?”

“And his wife was there,” Zeke said. He hadn’t wanted to mention that, but it slipped out anyways.

Now Jenna was going berserk. Zeke finished putting his pants on, because he didn’t know how she would react. He might not get another opportunity.

“So you let him be sacrificed not just to save your sorry hide, but in front of his wife?” she almost screamed. “Zeke, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t trust you . . . all of this was a lie. You aren’t really sorry about what you did . . . how can I love a man who won’t even save someone who pledged to help you, and in front of their spouse to boot? And then you come crawling back to me, and instilled in me a sense of hope that you were over your false impressions. But now I realize that I really am just a one-night stand for you . . . and I don’t want to be victimized again by your lies. Get out of my house.” She was literally crying rivers right now, her tears dropping down onto the sheets in droves.

“Jenna, I . . .”

“GET OUT!” Jenna yelled at him.

Zeke didn’t even take the time to put his shirt back on as he slouched all the way to the front door. As he passed, Jenna spoke one more time. “Zeke, I’m breaking off the engagement . . .”

Now Zeke was very depressed. He had done his hardest to try and win Jenna over again, but obviously he had now completely blown it. It was like someone had tossed him out in the cold without any clothes on . . . which, oddly enough, was almost the truth in this instance.

“ . . . unless you go and save the Bothanman,” Jenna finished. “If you do, I’ll consider taking you back. But if you don’t, never show your face to me again.”

“Understood,” Zeke said as he walked out of the bedroom. Perhaps he had a safety valve now, courtesy of Jenna’s last statement. He didn’t want to risk his neck to save Gark . . . but he wanted to get Jenna back. A wave of guilt then washed over him . . . what was he doing? Gark had been nice enough to help him in his time of need, and when the Bothan needed him, Zeke had turned his back. What had he done? Then his conscience kicked into play . . . it was time he made things right, not just with Jenna, but with Gark, with Me’lin and Ondal. It was time for Zeke Barbosa to right the wrongs he had done and limit the damage done to his personal life.



Author NOTE: I'm surprised you guys reacted more to Ondal than to Zeke's actions in my previous post.

 

I thought we agreed to do this scene later on

 

So Zeke's back on the job. Wonder how this will go? Perhaps it will end up in a Hutt palace.