Strange Angels: The Secret History of the Sith

<<<Just something EXTREMELY SHORT to bring this back up. (It took a lot of searching to find this infernal thread!)>>>

Jastiss fell back onto the stiff bunk that was leant to him during his stay at the temple. He sighed, then looked up at the dull grey ceiling. Karik's words before he bade him goodnight still remained freshly planted in his mind.

"Can we do this her way? For her?"

Jastiss squeezed his eyes shut as a growing sadness crept in from the back of his mind. He dropped his hand from the bed into his bag, which rested on the floor, and removed a small peice of cloth. He crumpled it up and held it in both hands. It's the only thing I have left of you... Jastiss thought, I have nothing else.

The cloth had belonged to Zemai long ago, and she had used it to tie her hair back. Jastiss had acquired it during an incident on Tatooine that forced her to use it as a bandage.

Jastiss heaved another heavy sigh. How do I do it, Zemai? How do I stop him your way? What would you do? The Jedi Knight sat up slowly and looked at his feet. "I'm afraid, Zemai," Jastiss whispered, "that I'm all out of ideas."

 

Cool stuff.

 

<<<A nice loooong post from me, to keep this up.>>>

He wondered what he was getting himself into.

Coris stood on the balcony of the Jedi Temple, hands resting lightly on the railing, watching the sun come up. A faint glimmer on the horizon foretold the dawn of a new day. Already the sky glittered with sparks of silver as the first of the morning Coruscant traffic started on their daily routes.

The breeze played with his hair, blowing whisps of it into his face. He caught one strand with his fingers. It came off easily, allowing him to look closer before he let it flutter away.

Another gray one. They'd been gathering en-masse ever since he'd hit his fiftieth birthday. Now he was pushing sixty-two, and his brown hair was streaked with silver.

As much as Coris hated to think about it, he was getting older.

He laughed quietly to himself. He and Jastiss weren't exactly in the prime of youth anymore, and he doubted Karik had been tutored with anything beyond minimal training with a lightsaber, if that. A motley group to face a fully-capable Sith Lord.

A Sith Lord that Zemai had trained.

He drew a deep breath to ease the tightness in his chest. The thought of Zemai - his Zemai - instructing a student of her own was something that he had always regarded with a mixture of joy and dread. Joy that she might have the chance to experience the other side of a Master/Padawan bond, the wonder of seeing a pupil learn and mature and come of age. Dread that what happened once - what happened to them - might occur again, and that fear grew when he discovered that his former Padawan had not only strayed from the beaten path of Jedi teachings, but had left it completely.

Having Zemai as an apprentice had brought about both the best and worst events of his life. Zemai's apprentice had done worse. He had put an end to his master's life, period.

He stepped away from the railing and turned toward the door. The sky was bright now. Rays of light cast shadows on the towering buildings surrounding the Temple.

It was time. Jastiss and Karik were likely to be waiting for him at the spaceport. They had agreed to leave as soon as the sun was up.

* * *

"The trip will take two days or so. Nal Hutta is a fair ways away from here. Maybe during that time we can give you a few pointers on the use of a lightsaber." Coris glanced at Jastiss for confirmation. "Just in case."

They stood on the gang-plank of their ship, a Stalwart-class light freighter. It was the best that Coris had been able to obtain under short notice. Hydraulics hissed and groaned all around them, but as far as other people went, the landing pad was deserted. Coris, not wanting any extra ears around to hear anything they talked about, had specifically ordered that no technicians be present to assist them.

Karik nodded slowly. "We have to try to avoid drawing attention to ourselves."

"Which rules out rushing in there and slashing up everything in sight with our lightsabers." A thoughtful pause. "You said Borliash has another man who manages all his affairs. Who is he?"

"Yes, he has a cover-man. His name is Cardell. He keeps the books. Borliash has kept his trail clean so no one can trace anything he does back to him.?

"So our first plan is to locate Cardell," Coris said. He turned to walk inside the hatch. "Borliash supposedly has dug himself into a nice little rut in the slave market on Nal Hutta. We'll start there."

Jastiss looked at him. "Then what?"

"I have no idea." Coris shrugged. "I don't know about you, but I'm making this up as I go."

 

Jadule Wilder never cared for the swampy land that covered Nal Hutta. Getting from one place to another on the horrible moon almost always turned the smallest errand into the largest trek, in search of higher ground, and drier pathways.

She wanted to go home.

Jadule brushed a strand of auburn hair from in front of her face and sat down in front of the only window in her tiny quarters. It was raining-- did it ever stop?-- and water ran to the window pane in sheets. She sighed discontentedly as she turned away from the window and headed for the door.

As she reached for the knob, (The building they stayed in was very low-tech, and she hated it.) it suddenly swung open from the other side. Jadule had to jump backwards (half from fright, half from necessity) in order not to get bowled over by the moving door.

But, the clumsy twelve year old caught her foot in a tear in the carpet, and fell on her back. She winced, rubbed her behind and looked up at the person who had opened the door.

There he was, as silent and frightening as ever.

His frame filled the doorway, and his face, hidden by his black hood, was facing in her direction.

He lifted an arm, pullinga fold of his robe up for a moment, giving Jadule a full view of his lightsaber handle, glittering in the dim light.

How she longed to have one.

The lightsaber was synonymous with power, it's shining blade able to cut through almost anything with ease. In the hands of most people, it was simply an extremely dangerous tool. In the hands of a skilled warrior, however....

"Come with me," Borliash said quietly, interrupting her wishfull thoughts, "we have training to attend to."

"Master," she said thoughtfully as she returned to her feet, "I've been thinking."

"If I have told you once, I have told you a thousand times," Borliash's voice cut deep into her, his strict tones wounding her more and more with ever word, "you are too young to own a weapon such as this. You are clumsy and a daydreamer. Maybe, should you someday rid yourself of these imperfections, I will allow you to construct one." He turned his back to her and disappeared into the hall. "And," his voice floated back into her room as he headed down to the first floor, "for your sake, I hope you do."

Jadule tightened her fists into balls and gritted her teeth. She hated the man, but he was the only one who ever cared whether she ate or went hungry, whether she was safe or in danger.... She looked down at her feet. Whether she lived or died. Jadule stepped through the door after her master, and as she left, she dug her finger nails into the wall, leaving a long scratch mark.

Her day would come, and when it did, she would wield the power.

Not him.

 

Alright! After a lo-o-o-ng hiatus... good stuff, guys! Let me see if I can follow it up.
---------
Karik held the lightsaber naturally and easily. He had never held one before, but he had watched Mother. She had a quiet place in the house, and sometimes, he would awaken in the night, and hear the low humming, and go to watch her, unawares, from the door, as she went through the beautiful and deadly dance of her practice. He had tried to mimic her movements, using a light steel rod he'd found, and he must have picked up more than he thought, because Father was marveling at how fast he was learning.

Or was that what fathers were supposed to do?

Karik sighed. He didn't know. He couldn't feel whether or not his father's obvious approval was for the actual act of learning, or just for the joy of having a son to teach. Either would have made Karik happy, but the latter wouldn't help him prepare.

Coris Hakim insisted that the training take place amidst distractions, so while Karik was parrying with Jastiss, he was also conversing with the computer (and Coris) about Borliash's man, Cardell.

"I don't even think that Borliash likes him." Duck, parry, use the momentum to pivot and change position. "He's an accountant. Good with numbers. He keeps Borliash's money clean."

Father swung, and forced another pivot of positions. "Do you suspect he'll be guarded?"

"I suspect he's -- " Jump over the low swing, step aside. " -- careful."

Coris looked up. He was smiling at some memory, and Karik's wondered if he was remembering Mother, if she had been like this when she was learning. A wrenching pain went through his wrist, and his lightsaber flew into the air.

Father snatched it from the top of its arc easily. "You lost concentration, Karik."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You're doing much better than I did the first time I ever tried. And I wasn't too bad."

"I used to watch Mother."

"I thought so," Coris said, then went back to the business at hand. "When we reach Nal Hutta, we'll need to be discreet in getting to Cardell. The most likely place to find him is the slave market -- "

"Would he go himself?"

"His job is protecting investments." Father's lip wrinkled in distaste. "Where did Zemai find this apprentice of hers, anyway?"

Karik shrugged, and blandly answered "Coruscant." In fact, he knew Borliash's story -- Borliash himself had left it at the Tr'astari'shal. But he wasn't quite ready to discuss the Tr'astari'shal with Father, let alone Coris. He laughed briefly. If anything, he thought, this should remind them of Mother. Secrets wrapped in half-truths packaged as lies.

He was apparently not the only one struck by the parallel, though Coris and Father were not amused (neither was Karik, when he thought about it). Father shook his head and looked away. Coris merely stared at him until he thought he might simply burst open under the steady gaze.

"You need not hide anything," Father said.

"Karik will hide what he believes he needs to," Coris said simply. "Meanwhile, Borliash's origins are not our concern. His whereabouts are."

 

To the eyes of an outsider, Nal Hutta seemed to be permanently cloaked in night. Even during the day the sky was obscured by smog and starship exhaust. The roads were dirty, filled with garbage, and the beings that scurried through it all weren?t much better kept. Crime was common. Any legitimate justice system was virtually unheard of.

The Jedi Council and the Senate were aware of this, of course. Nal Hutta was looked upon as a lost cause. Past attempts to change things had only met with failure or disregard. Coris was disgusted with the Republic?s ?leave it alone and it might go away? approach, but there was little he could do about it. The world was a haven for all that the Jedi Order opposed.

All in all, a perfect location for a Sith Lord.

They reached their destination a few hours ahead of schedule, though the extra time had evaporated by the time Control had cleared them and transmitted their landing coordinates.

The docking bay where they birthed their freighter wasn?t too impressive either. Everything seemed to be corroded or in some extended state of disrepair. As Coris walked down the ramp, he had to repress a cough. Even the stale recirculated oxygen of the ship tasted better than what passed for air on planet.

As he took in his surroundings, his companions finished sealing up the Stalwart and joined him on the ground. Jastiss' nose wrinkled. "Not much to look at, is it?"

"It?s name means ?Glorious Jewel? in Huttese,? Coris said, half-smiling.

The other Jedi Master snorted as he watched a trio of gray rodents scuttle across the floor. ?I?ll bet.?

They all wore unremarkable clothing, garb more suited for spacers than Jedi, which would keep any unwanted attention away that couldn't be repelled by the Force. Coris' hand rode the holster strapped to his hip. Blasters were awkward things and an inconvenience, but he couldn't exactly wander the streets of Nal Hutta with a shiny lightsaber swinging from his belt. That was tucked safely away inside his jacket.

Just in case.

Karik glanced at the chronometer on a wall. "It's mid-morning, local time. The auctions should be getting underway soon."

"Auctions?"

"Slave auctions. They usually start before noon. More customers tend to come when it?s cool, rather than in the afternoon when the sun?s completely up."

Coris grunted. ?We?d better be going then. According to Karik, Cardell has some of his people check out the markets every day, looking for new? merchandise.? He paused, not satisfied with his choice of words. ?If we can locate one of the scouts, we?re one step closer to finding Cardell.?

And Borliash.

Outside the dock, Jastiss hailed a hover-cab. It was a half an hour ride to the market. They climbed out to find the scene already swarming with people.

The slave market was little more than a bunch of booths and stands set up in what might have once been a traffic circle. The inlets to the circle had been blocked off. There was a grand stage set up in the middle of everything; a huge crowd was congregating in front. It appeared the bidding had not yet begun.

Pushing his way through the masses, following Jastiss and Karik, Coris felt something tickle his Force-sense. He dismissed it out of hand, but it returned a few seconds later, and this time he couldn?t ignore it.

He pretended to stumble over the gutted skeleton of a droid lying on the sidewalk, taking the opportunity to glance over his shoulder. Coris glimpsed a young Human male in a nerf-hide jacket lingering farther back in the throng.

A few minutes later, he saw Nerf-Hide again, this time in deep conversation with a Rodian and a Defel. And then again, leaning up against a wall, idly surveying the street.

As they ventured deeper into the slave market, Coris glanced at Jastiss, caught the other?s nod in return. Both of them were sure of it now.

They were being followed.

 

Up. I will get to this thread. I will, I will, I will...

 

Oh, thank the maker!

For a moment i thought the possibilites of finding this thread were approximately three thousand, four hundred and twenty... to one. But, luckily this scrap heap managed to get it's rusty inards in gear and find this beloved fic of ours... All I need is inspiration, people... is that too much to ask???

 

Whew, I thought this thread was gone for good! I thought now that summer's here, there would be some more work getting done on this and the Sith Order. I wonder what everybody's doing (just got back from vacation, myself.)

 

Coruscant is blanketed in beautiful darkness as many ships speed through to and fro. It is indeed different from other planets within the universe, for Coruscant is known as the jewel of the core worlds. There is no known shades of blue or green suggesting natural earth of watery terrain, whenever any sentient being passes or even approaches this world, all they would see is the sunlight reflecting sparkling gleams of metal to create a crystalizing effect to amazed even the most unimpressed.

Galactic City, however continues to shine through the darkness. Not too far from the main senate building stands the Jedi temple. Tall and imposing, the home and headquarters of the order of Jedi Knights stand ever ready to defend the Republic from all foes whether foreign or domestic. Within this beautiful temple of knowledge and enlightenment...all is silent as many of the inhabitants are either resting or in silent meditation. The only ones awake are those who are instructed to stand guard on their respective post. Regular Knights or Masters do not have curfews as the younger students or chosen Padawans have.

Within the many halls walks a lone figure. This particular being moves at a slow pace as if it is in a reflective mood, surveying the things within the temple. The entity soon comes towards a large door which slides slowly open. The person walks through and disrobes. The balcony window is open as the entity walks outside to gaze at the nighttime skies of galactic city. The sounds of tiny footsteps approaches. The entity turns to see a small furry feline child gazing with large hazel eyes. The tan color of her fur almost glowed with many of the lights from the open balcony,

" What are you still doing up, my beloved Anaisha-Din ?" Speaks the soft spoken voice of Jai'ana-Din Ronin, who is surprised to see her youngest child up at such a late hour.

" I couldn't sleep, mother." the tiny voice of Anaisha-Din Hakim replies meekly. At ten years of age, Anaisha-Din is bright and energetic..sometimes maybe a bit much for even her own mother to handle. Coris, however enjoyed her spirit and was smitten every time she showed him something new she learned. Her Jedi training with Jedi master Utari Asim goes as well as can be expected. Jai'ana-Din walks over and kneels to gently rub the fur of her daughter,

" You have had a very busy day, Anaisha-Din." She says gently, " Do you feel any fatigue at all ?"

The small child slowly shakes her head as Jai'ana-Din rises to pick up and hold her daughter. Anaisha-Din holds on to her mother and rest her head onto her bosoms,

" Mother...when shall father return home?...I miss him dearly."

At those very words, Jai'ana-Din walks off the balcony and towards Anaisha-Din's sleeping chamber,

" I too miss your father, but he is away on a very important mission." Jai'ana-Din consoles, "He will return soon, beloved Anaisha-Din. For now, you must get back into bed. I still have some work to accomplish before I retire to my bedchambers."

" Yes, Mother." Anaisha-Din says softly as they both walk inside the children chambers as both Aiko and Chander sleep soundly within their beds. She carries Anaisha-Din to her bed which was on the opposite side of the large room,

" While you wait for sleep to finally overtake you," Jai'ana-Din says as she puts her daughter into bed, " Your assignment is to safeguard your niece and nephew from harm."

" But mother, I would need me a Lightsaber to do this." Anaisha-Din says jumping up.

Jai'ana-Din chuckles at her daughter words as she gently pushes her very excitable child back to bed, " I doubt that you would need one at the moment. Worry not, child, for your master shall teach you on how to construct one of your own. For now..you must rest. May the force be with you, my darling Anaisha-Din."

She kisses her daughter and rises up to walk over to her two grandchildren. Jai'ana-Din smiles down upon them as she gives them both an even softer kiss. She soon leaves the room and heads into her bedchambers. It is the largest chamber within their

 

Jastiss caught the warning glance of Coris and passed it on to Karik. His son nodded, and glanced idly over his shoulder.

As Coris and Karik walked farther off into the crowd, pretending to be interested in the "merchandise". Jastiss glanced around, trying to act suspicious. He then quickly ducked into a darker alleyway next to him, slipping into the shadows. He then turned, and pulled the darkness around him more, rendering him nearly invisible.

And then, Jastiss waited. After nearly a minute, a young male stepped swiftly into the alley after him. The nerfide jacket he had been wearing was now gripped in his hand, obviously because of the growing humidity.

Jastiss waited for the human to grow closer, and stepped out of the shadows. The young man reeled back in fright, stumbling over a pile of refuge behind him. After he regained his footing, he turned and began running--

--but crashed directly into Karik's chest. Jastiss was surprised to see the young man nearly bounce right off of him, and go sprawling into the permacrete. Karik bent over, grabbed the young man's collar and stared icily into his eyes. "Who are you?" he said quietly, never releasing his grip on the frightened boy.

The young human opened his mouth once, closed it, opened it again, and finally blurted out his name. "M-my name's Ink, sir."

"Your REAL name," Coris said from behind Karik. Young streetgang members often had "Handles" which they were given by their gang leaders.

"Kav, sir."

"Alright, Kav, why are you following us?" Jastiss prompted as he approached the young man from behind.

"'Cause I was told to."

"Who told you?" Karik asked.

"A guy," he responded vaguely.

Jastiss stepped up to the young man and tore his collar from Karik's grip and lifted him up to his eye level. Jastiss was a fairly tall man, so eye-level brought the boy nearly a foot off the ground. "WHO?" he said ominously, glaring at the frightened boy who was futilly wrestling with his grip.

"Cardel. CARDEL!" he choked.

"Well," Jastiss snarled as he dropped the gasping boy to the ground, "that was easy."

Jastiss caught a disapproving glance from Coris. Perhaps he HAD gone too far.

"Where is he?" Karik prompted.

The boy sat there gasping for a moment before he replied. "Four blocks down. But you're not going to be able to get to him just by knocking on the doors. He's a careful man. You only get in if you work for him, or you're a slave."

Jastiss saw Coris lift an eyebrow. *What are you thinking, old man?*

Coris looked at Jastiss, then motioned for him and Karik to follow him. The let the boy scurry off into the darkness of the alley as they stepped back into the sunlight.

"How are we going to get in?" Karik asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"Oh, that'll be easy." Coris replied slyly.

"What?" Jastiss retorted, "you heard what the kid said, it's nearly impossible to get in there."

Coris smiled. "That's why we're going up for auction."

Jastiss nearly laughed. "Are you suggesting we impersonate SLAVES?"

"Yes, and that's the easy part. The hard part," he said, turning toward the auctions, which had just started, "is making sure we get bought by Cardel's people."

 

{I like the twist, Loka!}
----------------
Karik hadn't been able to look into the eyes of the slaves when he'd been pretending to inspect them earlier. He had noticed the same thing in many of the real buyers. If you didn't see their eyes, it was easier to pretend that you were inspecting droids or machinery, instead of gaping at sentient creatures put up for sale like unwanted ships... some of which might be sold for scrap. Karik had heard of such things in the gene labs.

But now, he was to become one of them, and he looked up, wondering if the look of sadness and shame and rage would be reflected in his own eyes when he sat in one of those solitary cages, too short to stand up in and to narrow to sit down in.

This would be an uncomfortable plan, and one that seemed unlikely to succeed.

Yes, these were definitely people who had studied the same strategy books as Mother.

At least, he thought, the plan by necessity involved freeing three of them. They would have to be human males -- that much would be in the written records -- but beyond that, Coris had said that they should choose the people who looked like they could least tolerate further confinement. Karik had the distinct impression that it would be a temporary situation at any rate; he was traveling with two Jedi, and they were, to put it mildly, displeased with the situation. In one of the brief flashes Karik sometimes got of the future (though sometimes, it was just wishful thinking), he saw all the cage doors swinging open, and all the slaves stepping down into freedom.

At first, Karik had looked to the old and the sick, but many of these had simply given up. He was afraid that if he opened one of those cages, the man inside of it wouldn't know what to do, or be able to do it quickly enough.

_Later,_ he silently promised each of them, and realized that he wasn't even really planning on getting cooperation from Coris and Father, unless they wanted to offer it freely. _Later. And you can go to anyplace that is your home, and if there is no such place, you can come back to La'azum with me. The Ka'alyan will accept you, as they accepted me._

They didn't hear him, just stared back with vacant eyes.

At last, he found the right person. The cage was swinging off in one corner, and the man inside it looked like he was about to go mad. His face was bloody where someone had punched him through the bars. Dirt had matted itself into his dark hair and mud and other things Karik preferred not to think about clung to his vest and shirt and boots. He was a shipmaster, if Karik was guessing the color of his vest right. Probably a prisoner then, not originally a slave.

Karik went over to him. "Do you want to trade places?"

The man turned on him with flashing gray eyes. "What kind of game are you playing?"

"No game." Karik used the Force precisely as Father ahd shown him to pop the lock, then opened the door. "Get down. We're trading." He pulled off his tunic and boots.

The shipmaster stumbled out of the cage, his legs too cramped to straighten up. "What do you think you're doing? You're out of your mind."

Karik shrugged mildly. "Runs in my family. Give me your clothes."

"My clothes..."

"Just the shirt and the vest and the boots. I think my pants are muddy enough to pass after walking around this place all day."

The shipmaster just shook his head, but proceeded to pull off the requested items. "What do you want in return for this?"

"I want you to get out of here before someone notices something weird is going on. Now scram. Get back home." Karik held his nose against the smell of the clothes. He was afraid for a moment that the long shirt wouldn't cover the lightsaber on his belt, but it was very big on him, and hung halfway to his knees.

"You'll need me later. I pay my debts."

"I need you now. I need you to be gone."

The man pulled Karik's clothes on -- Karik felt a momentary twinge; they were his favorite boots, and he'd miss them -- then looked up, bright eyes serious. "This is a bloo

 

Up

 

The man Coris had chosen to replace had been all too glad to switch positions. Being let free and offered clean clothes for his dingy rags astonished him to silence (a silence Coris was very thankful for) and the transfer was completed quickly without mishap. Once outside, the liberated man paused long enough to reach inside the bars and clasp the Jedi's hand fervently.

?Thank-you,? he whispered, ?for giving me my life back.?

Then he faded away into the crowd, and that was the last Coris ever saw of him.

The Jedi hunkered down inside the cage, balancing with his back against the rear bars to take some of the weight off his ankles and feet. He reached out, taking some of the mud from the ground and smearing it over his face and into his hair. He needed to blend in as much as possible.

The slaves on either side of him had taken no note of the change. They stared strait forward, eyes shifting neither left nor right, limbs hanging listlessly. Looking at them, Coris was overwhelmed with pity, but there was little he could do for them now.

*Now is never a good time for anything.*

With difficulty, he concentrated at the task at hand. There were some obvious flaws in his plan and Jastiss had wasted no time in pointing them out. It wasn?t going to be so hard for Karik to pass himself off as a slave for one simple reason: he was young. It was going to be harder for the Jedi Masters.

He and Jastiss had to *prove* they were still strong and capable of doing the work required of them. Old or young, it didn?t matter, as long as a slave could still do his job, he was still useful. Both Coris and Jastiss were in excellent physical condition. They could do what was needed.

But how to go and show that?

Outside, a fat man with no shirt was strolling along the line of cages. A pair of toughs accompanied him and all three of them leered at the slaves, sizing them up before auction. Coris? neighbors shrank away from the slavers as they passed. Seething inside, he did the same, turning the scowl on his face into a cringe. He wasn?t noticed.

The fat man and his associates returned to the front of the line. Opening the doors of the cages, they began hauling out the wretched occupants, binding the slaves? hands in front of them with rope and stringing them one behind the other in the street. Sale Time was approaching.

One little girl was too slow. The head-slaver dealt her a slap that sent her reeling to the mud with a cry. Coris ground his teeth, fighting back outrage as he watched the child picked up and shoved unceremoniously into line with the others. Through all the dirt and grime, she looked the age of his youngest daughter, Anai'sha.

When his turn came, he couldn?t help it. As the slavers reached in to drag him out, Coris lunged forward, catching the nearer of the two men off guard. They tumbled into the road, punching and kicking and yelling in a barbaric display that would have appalled the Jedi Council to find one of its own involved.

Coris knew the blow was coming, but made no move to avoid it. The fat man's vibrowhip caught him square across the shoulders, lashing him once, twice, three times. The shock sent every nerve in his body firing simultaneously, effectively paralyzing him, allowing the man he'd attacked to get up. The tough lingered long enough to kick him *hard* in the ribs before tying him in line with the others. Then the three slavers walked on, apparently unfazed, leaving Coris bruised and smarting and feeling more than a little foolish.

But at least now he had an idea about appealing to Cardel.

 

Once again... *sigh* UP!

 

Arrgh, Real Life is moving too fast for me right now. I can't seem to find time to write for Strange Angels or the Sith Order. Im TRYING tho... but, Im gonna be gone for another week, since my dad just LOVES camping... ah well, Im gonna try to post something, but I dont know if I can find the time, since Ive used up all my hours and can only go on after midnight.

Ah well, eventually....

 

That's okay Loka. Just glad you're okay. (This is where I prove I'm 30. I worry when people drop out of sight. )

 

Jastiss saw a young man, in perhaps his twenties sitting there uncomfortably in a dirty cage. There were bruises covering his body, and blood pouring down his nose. His lips were swollen to three times its original size, and his knuckles were battered and bruised. In spite all these wounds, the man still had spirit in his eyes.

He was a fighter.

Jastiss felt for the man, and swung the door open without a second thought. Without thinking, the man jumped out and high-tailed it down a dark alleyway, not once looking back.

Calmly, Jastiss took his place.

Using the force, he fooled his body into thinking he had taken minor injuries all over his body. Blood immediately rushed to these spots to heal them, effectively creating large bruises. He felt his lip swell slowly, and tilted his head against the bars. Now he only had to wait.

Soon, he saw groups of slaves being slowly herded toward the intersection where they would soon be sold off.

Soon, a burly looking man approached his cage, and ripped open the door. Jastiss didn't resist as he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him face-foreward into the mud. Jastiss winced as he felt the man's boot heel dig into his spine. "No tricks today, fella. This is your last chance."

Jastiss was right. That man he replaced WAS a fighter, much to the annoyance of his owners.

Suddenly, Jastiss was pulled forcibly from the ground and pushed in the direction the other slaves had gone.

<I hope you know what you're doing, Coris,> Jastiss thought as he walked slowly toward the sales area.

 

I'll post soon, I promise! Things have been kind of hectic for me of late, but I'll pull together some ideas eventually.

 

up you go

 

once again, up...

 

An actual post! Wow!

* * *

The auctioneer bellowed and slammed his fist down on the podium to quiet the noisy throng that had filled the square for the next lot of sales. The air smelled of sweat and anticipation and despair, assaulting the senses and permeating even the Force with the fetid stink of corruption.

Coris stood at the edge of the stage with the remainder of the slaves that had yet to be sold, watching as the last group of merchandise departed with their respective owners. Some resisted openly. Others plodded along, heads down: old hands at the game. Coris clenched his jaw. How could the Republic willingly let such atrocities continue?

He caught a painful glimpse of the little girl from earlier, the one that had gotten pushed down, being led off with several other children by a Rodian. Thoughts of sweatshops and mining tunnels made his stomach twist in a knot. He searched desperately for an opening? found it.

Coris reached out with the Force.

A moment later, the Rodian slaver?s feet inexplicably tangled in the long robes he wore, sending him sprawling flat on his snout.

The blaster the alien held went skittering across the sidewalk and his young charges - unbound since their purchase on the auction stand - saw their chance for escape. They ran into the streets, disappearing into the crowds. The only one of the children that lingered was the little girl. She hesitated, glanced back at the slave stands.

At Coris.

He caught her eye and shook his head, shouted to her through the Force. *Go! Get out of here!*

She faltered a step, her hand going to her head. Hearing voices in one?s head was always a strange sensation. The girl chanced another look over her shoulder, stared at Coris more intently than before, and he nodded, confirming her secret suspicions. He felt something stir within her, an uplifting sensation which eventually blossomed in the form of a smile on her face.

*Thank you, Jedi.*

Then she vanished.

Coris didn?t have time for celebration. He abruptly felt the butt end of a stun baton jab into the small of his back, propelling him forward into the center of the stage. Two more slaves stumbled after and one of the toughs cut the line that connected them to the rest of their group, leaving them tethered together on the auction block, a spectacle for all to see.

The crowd murmured impatiently. The auctioneer smacked his fist on the podium once more. ?These next items are three Human slaves,? he bellowed. ?All in good health, fine condition. Excellent for labor, mining, or? recreational pursuits.? The man leered at the person directly to Coris? right, a young blond woman in her early twenties. She turned her head away, unable to contain her revulsion.

?The bidding will begin at two hundred. No Republic credits!?

 

C'mon, you guys! Let get this topic moving again!

 

Up!

 

Nice work guys, from what I've read so far. You remember me, don't you?