Hello. This thread is going to contain my very first fan fic. (I know, I'm excited also... ) It is a work still in development, and no doubt there will be some minor difficulties. Essentially I just wanted to "give it a go" after lurking here for some time and reading other peoples efforts. Without further delay, I will post the epilogue of my ff - "Paths of Vengeance." But first, the setting and the Dramatis Personae.

Setting: NJO year 1 timeframe: towards the end of Jedi Eclipse and before Balance Point.

Title: Paths of Vengeance.

Dramatis Personae.

Alec Lindale; Jedi Knight (male human, from Fondor)
Amiri Silko; Jedi Knight (female human, from Bespin)
Kati Rothke; Smuggler (female human, from Fondor)

Breca Rikeiser; refugee (female human, from Ord Mantell)
Urst Kinnell; refugee (male human, from Dubrillon)
Sarinah?kile; refugee (female Twilek, from Ryloth)

Ornar Neale; Peace Brigade (male human, from Coruscant)
Raven Sheer; Peace Brigade (male Rodian, from Rodia)
Yuush?el; Peace Brigade (male Trandoshan, from Trandosha)

Vlakalos T?aar; commander (male Yuuzhan Vong)
Moortain Shai; warrior (male Yuuzhan Vong)

And now....

 

I'm first!

 

Prologue, part A.

* * * * *

Breca Rikeisar thought her ordeal couldn?t get any worse. However, as she surveyed her new surrounds, she figured it would.

Breca was one of some 200 newly arrived refugees; crammed shoulder to shoulder into a storage hold of an old Bulk Freighter that had seen better days. In fact, judging by its condition, its best days must have consisted of one test flight.

But it wasn?t the condition that alarmed her the most - it was who owned the freighter. For Breca was captive aboard a Peace Brigade vessel, no doubt finally en-route to a secret destination where she, and her fellow refugees, would be handed over to the Yuuzhan Vong.

Glancing around, and trying to ignore the stench of fear and unwashed bodies, Breca gazed casually at some of her "cabin mates" in the dimly lit hold. She could see some of the captives praying to whatever deities they followed, while others stared out openly at nothing in particular. Some wept, while others sat in a resigned defeat.

Humans, Bothans, Ithorians, and several other species of aliens made up the detail. Supplanted from their homes, torn like babes from the breast, all were tied together in the ignominy of capture. Everyone was certain as to what fate had in store for him or her once they were handed over; pain and prolonged suffering beyond their imagination, if the stories were to be believed.

Breca wished the decrepit freighter would lose hull integrity and disgorge her into cold space. That would be a far more preferable end to what lay ahead.



Breca had been on the move ever since the Jubilee Wheel, a space station that orbited Ord Mantell, had been molested by some Yuuzhan Vong nozzle-like protuberance that had literally sucked from the station scores of inhabitants.

A single glance out of her cabin portal had caused her to jump to the inspired conclusion that running was decidedly smarter than remaining.

Fortunately, she had avoided being scooped into the maw of the creature, and had managed to navigate her way to a small docking bay on the opposite side of the station. Breca had used her "charms" to gain passage aboard a rather shoddy YT-1300 Corellian light stock freighter that had similar plans to hers; flight from the Jubilee Wheel with all possible haste.

However, in retrospect, her epiphany of hitching a ride on that particular ship turned out to be a short sighted one.

After spending a small amount of time on the YT-1300, Breca had been deposited on some un-important planet near Bothawui. After relieving some unsuspecting locals of their credits, she had scrimped together enough funds to pay for passage on a star liner headed towards the Core - basically as far away from the Yuuzhan Vong as possible.

Not long into her journey, the star liner had been wrenched from hyperspace prematurely, courtesy of an interdiction cruiser parked ever so conveniently out system to ensnare unsuspecting vessels. She had thought about resisting the boarding party, but two expertly placed blaster bolts into the chest of an over eager passenger had put paid to that idea. If she had known the boarders were Peace Brigade, she would have swapped her current predicament for those blaster bolts.

After several weeks of being bounced around the Mid Rim in different vessels to avoid New Republic picket ships, Breca now found herself currently in the dingy hold of the Bulk Freighter.



Breca drew her long black hair back into a hurried knot, and racked her brain for ideas. As usual, she could think of none. Something about being confined with no privacy, hardly any food or adequate sanitation, leeched her of her inspiration. Better come up with something soon, thought Breca. Or you'll be one more nameless death in this whole messy affair.

 

Yeah, it's my first - so please be gentle!

R.

 

Good start.

 

Hey, thanks Frey!

R.

 

Hey, very good start, R_S! Keep on writing more!! I want to know what happens next!

Jae Angel

 

Prologue, Part B.

The sound of metal scraping on metal caused Breca to turn her sharp, aristocratic features in the direction of the main hold door. The door, which was some 35 feet to her left, was opening at a painfully slow rate, as if it was in danger of surrendering to entropy and remaining forever half ajar.

It finally struggled into a fully open position, and she could see a number of bodies on the opposite side. Narrowing her blue eyes, she focused on the figures stepping through.

"Looks like our host as decided to grace us with his presence. I?m gonna love what he has to say," said an old, dark skinned man who had appeared at her side.

Breca could only grunt an affirmative as she studied the human male who sauntered in last. The last figure took in the sight of the captive refugees with all the emotion of someone who had just woken from a large slumber. She noted that he kept himself between two lackeys armed with mean looking blaster rifles.

The "host", as the man at her side had called him, cleared his throat and considered his words. A short, squat, and wholeheartedly un-attractive man in his late 50?s, the "host" positively reeked of cruelty. His red hair was receding at an alarming rate, and his paunch was losing the battle with gravity as it eclipsed the belt line on his tight pants. He also sported a rather unremarkable goatee, which he no doubt thought enhanced his profile. He was, Breca thought, quite disgusting.

Voice cleared of whatever obstruction had blocked it, he spoke in the clipped tones normally associated with Imperial types. Perhaps he was an ex-Imperial officer, or maybe he wanted to be.

"My friends," he began. "Allow me to introduce myself to our new initiates. I am Captain Ornar Neale of the Peace Brigade. You may call me 'Captain.'"

"I thank you for your immense patience and thorough good manners on this testing voyage. I assure you, your journey will soon be at an end."

Breca couldn?t believe what she was hearing. My Friends?, she thought. She strained her ears, not wanting to miss what came next.

"However," he continued. "I'm going to have to ask you to be patient for just a little while longer. You see, we have run into a, ahh, slight delay and our rendezvous with your benefactors has been postponed." Neale looked genuinely apologetic. "So I thought I would be courteous and come down here personally to inform you of the bad news. I?m terribly sorry. But the moment I hear anything of importance, I will be straight down here to fill you in."

Smiling to the refugees, he gave the impression he was conducting a tour of the Imperial Palace. As he turned to leave, a small Rodian male rushed forward in Neale?s direction, clearly intent on inflicting some serious damage. He had barely completed two strides before a stun beam from one of the lackeys stationed at the door caught him in the neck.

The Captain turned and considered the now catatonic Rodian lying on the deck. Giving a slight and disapproving shake of his head, he turned and continued out the door. The refugees were as one muted in stunned silence.

"Well, he seemed like a nice man," spoke the dark skinned stranger at Breca?s right hand side, with only a slight hint of sarcasm. "If only he hadn?t chosen a life of crime, what a fine outstanding citizen he would have made. His mother must be very disappointed in his career path."

That comment made Breca snap out of her silence with a short laugh. Imagining Ornar Neale having a mother was quite a challenge. Several refugees looked at her and gave her the slightly condescending "she's lost it" look of pity. Breca ignored them and regarded her new companion more closely.

He was slightly smaller than she was, and about twice her 30 years of age. Streaks of grey shot out from his temples and cascaded like electric coils over his tightly curled black hair. He was average looking, but his eyes shone with permanent good humour and childish mischief. His face was starting to show signs of advanced m

 

Thanks, NJ! I'm glad you like it so far.

R.

 

I like the old man...did you ever notice that in SW the females are always the ones acting grumpy?

Good update.

 

Up.

 

Not a bad start. You've got my interest. What happens next?

 

Hey R_S! This is pretty good, gonna post more?

 

Thanks, people. I thought I had lost my next installment when my computer went haywire - but here it is.

CHAPTER ONE, part A.

Pursued and hunted like a lowly animal, the chase was relentless.

The young woman was so close to giving up. But she wouldn?t give them the satisfaction. Not yet.

Her lungs ached with every breath, and her legs were heavy like sodden bantha hide. She was not even sure how long she had been running for. Two? Three cycles? With her chrono missing, judging the time was impossible. Not that it mattered.

On several occasions she was positive she had successfully evaded them. Hiding out under damp, fallen trees, pausing only for some stolen breaths and frantic gazing.

However, each time they had disturbed her sanctuary, and each time the pursuit had continued.

Five of her companions were dead. Now it was just her. She remembered that the men had tried to give her time to make good her escape. The men?s sacrifice hadn?t even brought an hour.

Their blasters had proven to be woefully inadequate against the...armour? It certainly hadn?t looked like any armour she had ever seen. The men had been cut down within minutes by monstrous looking humanoids. Then those monsters had come for her.

She crashed through a row of shrubs that were covered in stinging nettles. The short nettles raked superficial, but no less painful, streaks across her out stretched arms. Her blonde hair was matted with sweat, dirt, leaves, and dried blood. Bruises mottled her gentle face. Her clothing, once a brand new black coloured jumpsuit, was now a ragged mess of fabric hanging by strands. And still she ran. And still they came.

The alien grunts grew louder, so close now; she could almost feel the hot breath on the back of her neck. She instinctively flinched upon hearing the by now familiar ?wurring? of their missile weapons.

Glancing down at the ground for the nearest item she might use as a weapon to protect herself, she clutched at a thick, rotting branch that had long been discarded from the tree that spawned it.

Slick with moss and fungus, the woman held it in two hands, and turned to face the missile. It was almost upon her. She swung her improvised club, but fatigue had made her reactions a fraction too slow. The "cutting beetle", as she had come to call it, whirled over the top of her swing.

It lanced across her left shoulder, and sliced into the soft flesh. Pain shot down her arm, and the woman cried out in agony. Dropping the branch, she clutched at her wound with her right hand. The bug had gone, no doubt recalled to its master, waiting to be unleashed again.

Through clenched teeth she screamed out at her tormentors. Tears rained down her cheeks, causing the dirt and caked on mud to streak and smear her face. She saw through a clearing the silhouette of one who had been hunting her. Although the sunlight peaking through the gaps in the trees made it hard for her to pick out facial features, it was clear to her they were definitely not human like she was. It called out in an alien tongue, and came bounding toward her. Other excited voices joined in, echoing through the forest like some childhood nightmare come true. How many are there?

The war cries startled every creature in the immediate area. Small carnivores shrieked and howled, while birds took flight towards the heavens. All life gave these aliens a wide berth. It was as if they were a black stain, seeping out onto a pristine landscape, souring and tainting everything it touched. With a defeated and bone weary sigh, she accepted her fate, and decided to make her stand here.

"Keep Running!" The woman was not sure if she had heard the voice at all, but it was enough to make her snap out of her mindset. "Hello?", she called out to no one in particular.

"Run!" This time clearer, more demanding. The woman turned and took off once more. Not knowing if this voice was some mad delusion, she decided to obey regardless. He

 

Uh oh. Great story I can't wait to read more.

 

Great!

 

Thank you Mayo, Freyja. Here is my last post, as it is Christmas soon and I shall be indulging in festive activities. So consider this post an early Christmas gift. Hope ya like it.

*****

CHAPTER ONE, Part B.

The woman liked this world she now found herself in. It was far more calm down here, than up above. Small parasitic creatures bobbed up and down on the current, going about their own cycle of life. They were totally oblivious to the large flesh and blood creature?s intrusion into their realm, which was now engaged in it?s own life and death struggle. Must get up!

The woman pushed up on hands and knees, water gushing from her body. Her shoulder still bled profusely, causing a red slick to drift downstream with the flow of the river.

Behind her she heard a loud splash, and assumed the aliens had figured out what had happened, and followed her down.

Not looking back, she spied a flat of rocks on the far side of the river. She didn?t know why, but she hobbled off toward them. Seems like a nice place to die, she thought.

She reached the bank, and staggered out of the river. Falling onto her back, breathing came in long, drawn out gasps. Every inch of her body throbbed, and breathing caused severe pain. At a guess, she figured that at least four ribs were broken.

Even though it caused a wave of nausea to wash over her, she managed to raise her head as three of them came into view. Wading serenely with all the time in the galaxy, they measured her up. And they looked disgusting.

Their armour was some kind of animal 'shell', almost crab-like. Snake like creatures slithered around their arms, forked tongues darted from their maws, sensing and probing. It was if they could taste her fear.

The aliens stood taller than a human, and they sported all sorts of skin markings and barbed implants. The largest, and middle one of the approaching three, stopped to regard her more closely. Her vision was now doubling up, but she could see his nose was twisted from numerous breaks, and his hair cascaded down his back from a glorious topknot. Finally it spoke:

"A good chase, human female. But no more running for you. Now we will deliver you to the gods."

The woman was so horrified, her breath caught in her throat. The alien had spoken in basic. The snake like creature slid down his right arm into an extended hand. It then morphed to become a rigid, staff like weapon.

The large alien raised his staff above his head. Arm muscles became cocked and ready, waiting to unleash the motion that would severe her head from body. As her vision became worse, she looked into his eyes and faced death with courage. This last act of defiance seemed to bring a hint of grudging respect, but he said nothing. As the staff swung down from its great height, she saw her end.

The blow never landed. A great shaft of green light, which burned through her failing sight, intercepted the staff barely a foot from her head. She heard the warrior call out in shock, and issue a hurried challenge. He had barely spat the challenge from his mouth, when his head was dispatched in a clinical fashion from his body.

"Stay down!", a feminine voice instructed.

The green light leapt over her, and raced out to the river to join another shaft of light, this one blue coloured. They each lined up an alien, and engaged in a deadly combat.

The two light shafts created a hypnotic, hieroglyphic display through her blurring sight. They seemed to draw great patterns of figure eights and ellipses, as they parried and thrust with their opponents.

One of the aliens fell. Green Blade and Blue Blade then joined together against the one remaining alien opponent.

It was soon ended, and she could just discern the figures that wielded that glorious light, wading back toward her. One male, the other female.

Vision was now totally gone, and her hearing became a distant sensation, almost like listening to a holo-drama from a distant room.

She pic

 

Wow! Now THAT was a close call. Good post.

Merry Christmas Everyone

 

Good update.

 

Thanks. I'm glad people are liking it thus far. I'll try and have the next update soon.

R.

 

CHAPTER TWO, part A.


Kati Rothke pushed a stray lock of brown hair from her eyes in agitation. But her hair intruding into her field of vision was the least of her worries. What agitated Kati was the instrument panel situated in front of her.

The panel, normally docile during hyperspace travel, was flashing in ever increasing intensity. She typed in some instructions on the panel?s keyboard, but all this served to do was further antagonise the machine.

"Blasted piece of s-", she began.

"- No need for profanity, young lady," said a deep, masculine voice from behind her. "I?m sure it?s just a minor glitch. Navicomputers are prone to do that. Especially ones that haven?t been serviced since the Clone Wars."

Not bothering to turn and face him, Kati lashed out with a gloved fist at the panel, striking it flush in the middle of the flashing light display - silencing the machine.

A smug, self-satisfied grin crept over Kati?s face. She spun around to face the male, and fixed him with a curious stare.

"Alec Lindale", she said in a chastising tone. "Firstly, it?s my ship, so I?ll use whatever language I choose. Secondly, the navicomputer has been serviced since the Clone Wars. At least once. I think," she added for good measure, not sounding entirely convincing. "And thirdly; how is our passenger?"

Alec waited a while before replying to the small woman. He had known Kati for as long as he could remember. She was five years his senior, but they had become firm friends almost immediately upon meeting.

The age difference had never become a factor. However, he had never felt any amorous feelings toward her. And from what he could tell, the feeling was mutual.

"It?s touch and go," he finally replied. "Amiri is still with her, but I?m afraid she will need to spend a long time in a bacta tank before she?s up and running. And that?s just her physical injuries."

Kati nodded grimly. "I?m afraid the Typhoon has a somewhat limited medical bay."

"It?s fine for stabilising her condition," said Alec. "But it?s good we are reasonably close to Yavin, otherwise we would be pushing it to get her somewhere farther with adequate facilities."

"Yes", agreed Kati. "After what we went through to get her, it would be cruel for her to die from her wounds now."

"It was the Force?s will that we found her before she became another slain innocent. She will survive," said Alec.

Kati rolled her eyes. "You know, honey - I?m gonna put a plaque on a bulkhead that says 'No Preaching'. Seriously, that is the biggest load of Sith Sewage I?ve heard this week. She lived because she got lucky, and could run faster than they could. Plain and simple. None of this 'Force' stuff."

Alec kept his face impassive throughout her rant. Waiting to see if she had finished, he lowered his voice a notch, and spoke evenly: "Kati, we are not having this argument again. It?s obvious we have differing views on the Force, and I will respect your opinion. But please, I don?t ask you to believe, just be supportive of me."

Kati looked into his deep brown eyes and stood up from her chair. She walked over and embraced him in a fierce hug. She only came up to just below his chin height wise. "Alec, I didn?t mean to deride you. It?s just sometimes I wish the hermit and that stern looking woman had never came that day. Then you would still be that same Alec that I knew."

Alec chuckled into her soft hair while he held her. "You mean Streen and Kirana Ti? I sometimes wonder what would have eventuated had they never come. But I?m still that same Alec you knew. I just have more responsibilities now. It wouldn?t do the reputation of a Jedi Knight any good if I were still getting into cantina fights. Or, for that matter, selling dodgy merchandise that had mysteriously fallen off the back of a freighter."

Now it was her turn to chuckle. As she had her head buried in his neck, it sounded muffled and far away. She looked up into his face, a smile stretched across hers. "Aww, you can

 

Lose weight. Hehe! Good post. Can't wait to hear what's a friednd on teh Peace Brigrade freighters fate.

 

Thanks, Mayo.

I assure you, Breca and the others on the Peace Brigade freighter have not been forgotten.

R.

 

(repeating good post gets tiresome)

 

Cool. Emoticons are fine, as long as they aren't or [face_shocked], I'll be happy.

R.