Saga The Sandtrooper's Story - Part II

I just started reading this fic and you've done a great job, Terek! I love this! Could you add me to your update list please?

 

I noticed the thick smell of medications and disinfectants hanging in the still air as we all weighed what Holder had just said.

It was Felth that spoke up first. “People get themselves killed every hour of every day in the Outer Rim worlds. What makes this murder so special?”

A small pump beside the bed switched on for a few seconds, then off as Rogue shook his head in amazement. “Killing a Hutt is no small thing, no pun intended. Jabba and the rest of the clan would never let that go quietly. If they even suspected Black Sun was behind it . . .”

“There’d have been a small war fought between them” I said, finishing Rogue’s sentence. He nodded in agreement.

Blade was scanning the screen of his field holonet pack, his thumb scrolling through screen after screen. “I don’t see any record of a Matalla the Hutt anywhere.”

Holder turned his head toward Blade, then cut his eyes to Rogue, “You won’t. From what I learned, Jabba kept his ‘brother’ hidden, as he was a bit of an embarrassment both personally and to the whole of the Hutt clan.”

“Embarrassment or not, there would have been immediate and bloody retaliation against Xizor, Kaird and all of Black Sun if they had known what we know” countered Rogue.

Felth impatiently blurted out, “You know, this information is twenty years old. Why do we care about it? There was no war between the Hutts and Black Sun and the clan doesn’t seem overly concerned over Matalla’s disappearance.”

Holder became visibly concerned and agitated now. “We should care about it because I picked up a tracking signature two days ago on my armor’s signal receiver. Everyone that was on base at the dig site had an embedded tracking unit implanted in their head, but they must be an old, outdated technology by your new standards. I doubt anyone uses them anymore. I also doubt Kaird even remembers it’s in that skull of his. I’ve been watching for changes in his signal, but there hasn’t been one. Just before we headed out to where Watcher’s body was dumped, the Port Authority contacted me about someone taking an interest in Kaird’s ship. They confirmed that Xizor’s personal ‘droid assistant, Guri had arrived and had made an inquiry about it. Both of them knew what Watcher knew, and one of them killed the old guy looking for it.”

He looked across at Rogue, handing him the small signal tracker. “I know they’re both here searching for the recording; it’s the only thing common to them both. For some reason it must have become important again, and make no mistake about it; either will kill to find it and keep it secure once they do.”

Etz leaned closer to Holder, “When you were talking about the Hutt, why did you say ‘brother’ that way?”

I was turning away from the bedside, stepping toward a ‘droid busily cleaning the empty autopsy table as I interjected the answer. “He did that because Hutts are hermaphroditic.”

Etz and Blade stared blankly at each other, then turned, twisting their heads to look at me as Rogue and Holder nodded knowingly.

Doc Shurte, who had been standing behind me listening, stepped forward into the empty space I had vacated, interjecting at this point. “A hermaphroditic animal is one that has both male and female reproductive organs and sexual characteristics. Basically, a Hutt’s apparent gender comes from a conscious decision made by each individual Hutt as to which gender it identifies with.”

“Didn’t see that coming” commented Blade.

“Didn’t want to see that coming” said Etz.

There was a moment of silence as the doctor adjusted one of the monitors, and checked a lead connection on Holder’s chest. “Let’s let him get some rest. We can continue this conversation over there” he said, indicating a young woman working at a desk across the room near the morgue drawers.

“One last question”, said Rogue. “Were the Banthas used a the dig site tagged in any way? How will we find it?”

Holders eyes were shutting as he answered, “No tags. We didn’t use tags. We may not be able to find this, but luckily . . . they may not be able to either.”

With that, we all filed away from the bed as Holder closed his eyes and the doctor drew a curtain around the bed.

One of the student archaeologists was seated at the desk, silently cataloguing a recent find. Felth sat down on the corner, flipping the power switch of his blaster on and off, on and off impatiently. When she continued working, quite unimpressed, he stood up abruptly and walked through the door to the waiting area.

Rogue pulled Blade aside as they walked toward the desk. “Have 4120 and 0600 pay a visit to the Port Authority. They’ve developed such a wonderful rapport with that office now. And I want 1265 keeping a visual on both Kaird and Guri’s ships.”

Blade nodded as he stopped beside the desk, leaning in close to Rogue, not realizing I could hear. “I can do that sir, but may I offer the services of my ‘shadow’? At the moment, she’s laying low at the Dowager Queen with nothing to do, and she has no discernable ties to any of us. It also keeps 1265 free for us to use.”

Rogue considered the suggestion, then quietly replied. “Can you trust her?”

Blade looked away momentarily, then back to Rogue. “I trust her, sir.”

“Do it, but have her take one of them, and put 1265 on the other. We have enough people going with us; he’s much better utilized to keep watch on them.” replied Rogue. “We’re going to need to move on this fast and find it first.”

The student spoke up, keeping her attention focused on the relic she was cleaning in her hands. “If you’re looking for something old out there, we can help.” She looked up. “It’s what we do. If it’s a dead Bantha you’re looking for, local legend tells of a Great Bantha Graveyard littered with the bones of a thousand dead Banthas. When a Bantha knows it’s time is drawing to an end, it journeys out into the Dune Sea in search of the graveyard, and its place to die. We’ve been looking for their graveyard as part of our study. We could work together.”

Rogue looked at me, then to the student, then over to the doctor. “Doc, they’ll be working with us for a while.”

He shifted his attention back to the student. “OK, kid let’s get your group together out front for a quick briefing. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

She stood up from the desk, hurrying off to gather her friends.

I leaned closer to Blade as we walked toward the door. “Your shadow is here? When did that happen?”

He looked back at me. “I uncovered her in the marketplace. It isn’t common knowledge to anyone but Rogue, and now you. Keep it to yourself, OK Deck?”

I nodded silently.

“Her?”

He shot me a blank look.

Rogue headed through the door to the front of the building. As we followed him out, I paused at the doorway, turning back. “Doc, keep that old man’s corpse on ice and protected in case we need him.”

He nodded, glancing back to the drawer that contained Watcher’s body, his forehead creased with growing concern.


* * *

 

Luke struggled to lift R2 over a rockslide that blocked the already rough path to Kenobi’s home. The little astromech bleeped his thanks. His lateral hover jets had been removed years earlier by the director of the labor pool onboard the Tantive IV during a re-fitting with tool arms for certain mission specific duties. If it was possible for a ‘droid to miss something, he surely missed his jets.

He waddled after his new master as he entered the stone dwelling. The twin suns had already set and the sky overhead which had been ablaze with staccato streaks of oranges and purples, set against the dark blue sky was now fading into blackness, pinpricked with starlight.

Luke closed and bolted the door behind the little ‘droid and walked into the darkness of the main room. Nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. Slowly he sat down in the spot Ben had occupied on that tumultuous day they met, and rested his head back against the stone wall. A wind gust made a whistling sound as it was forced through the small space around the door, breaking the silence. The stone building felt so empty with Ben gone, so much smaller now, as did most of his old life. His Aunt and Uncle were dead, and his closest childhood friend was also gone. Biggs had always been the big brother Luke always wanted. He missed that, and was angry at having been robbed of the opportunity to have great adventures with him; all those adventures they had talked about and he had dreamed of while staring off into the countless sunsets over the years.

Pushing those thoughts back in his mind, he stood, making his way to the back room where Kenobi’s modest bed sat neatly made. He sat down on the firm surface, rolled onto it, and stretched his legs. In his hand was the small cube-shaped holocron Ben had left for him.

At that moment, R2 rolled into the room beside the bed, making a small nervous scraping noise. Luke closed his eyes and allowed his neck muscles to relax as his head sank deeper into the pillow. “We’ll head out there tomorrow R2. Go out into the main room and power down to sentry mode, OK?”

The little ‘droid bleeped again, whirling in a tight circle, scooting away into the darkness.

“That’s right; big day tomorrow.”

The rest of the muscles in Luke’s body slowly relaxed, and he drifted into a deep and much needed sleep.


* * *

Snow blasted across the nose of the fighter as Solo maneuvered his Y-wing through the whiteout conditions of the blizzard blasting the surface of Hoth. His face, dimly illuminated in the small, dark cockpit by the instruments, revealed his elevated level of concentration. He would rather fly by sight any day, but he found himself needing to dust off his old skills and fly by instruments only, as he made his way toward the encrypted beacon heading and the obscure base the rebels were building.

Slowly out of the darkness and speeding fury of the Hoth night came the dim glow of the cavern entrance and open shield doors of the base. He cut his engines and extended the landing gear as he passed through the doors, drifting noiselessly through them on his repulsor field into the slot designated for his ship.

Ice that had formed across the Y-wing’s skin cracked and fell away as he pushed open the canopy. Dack slid by, rotated slightly, and set his X-wing down in the open slot alongside Wedge’s shredded bird.

As the two pilots powered down all systems, members of the flight crew that were still on duty moved quickly beneath both ships. They scraped the ice away from the metal skin where it covered power and fuel ports, and connected the necessary feed lines.

One of the deckhands moved out from beneath the Y-wing, secured a ladder to the side of the ship just beneath the cockpit, then turned and gave a nod and thumbs up to a tech inside the control room along one side of the hangar. Moments later, as Solo descended the ladder, the massive outer shield doors lurched with the sound of metal scraping on metal as they began to slowly creep closed.

He unzipped the front of his orange flight suit as his eyes moved to Dack’s ship where Toryn Farr was waiting for the young pilot to climb down to her. His eyes darted to Wedge’s ship, and then to the empty slot where Luke’s should have been. The Corellian smuggler pulled his arms free of the flight suit, folded it down, and tied the sleeves around his waist half wishing the Princess had been waiting for him.

He still wasn’t sure exactly how he had gotten mixed up with the Rebellion, but at least no bounty hunters had caught up to him yet. The time would come when he could no longer wait, and he’d have to settle things with Jabba properly, Princess or not. He shot a sideways glance to the crew member working on his ship. “Where is Lu . . . Commander Skywalker’s fighter?”

The tech continued screwing shut a small control panel on the underside of the engine, answering Solo without looking. “The word that trickled down to us from General Rieekan was not to expect him.”

“Rieekan huh?”

Han sharply turned and caught sight of Dack and Torynn walking away together, talking quietly. He watched the pair as they disappeared into a dark hallway on the far side of the hangar. Pushing thoughts of Leia to the back of his mind, he hastily exited, heading down the narrow winding ice corridor that led to the Command Center.

As he disappeared from sight, high up on the opposing cavern wall there was movement in one of the small control rooms. A figure moved out of the shadows and stepped toward the transparisteel. Leia Organa watched Captain Solo through her own reflection. When he could no longer be seen, she dropped her eyes and leaned her head against the pane, rolling uneasy thoughts over in her mind. Abruptly, her eyes flicked up and she stepped back, disappearing once again into the shadows.


* * *

 

Great to see the PM. Your quote on the prior posting of "people get themselves killed every day... what makes this so special..." Interesting observation.

Leia watching from the shadows... well done.

 

Thanks, my friend. More soon!

 

Zu was the last one of the small archaeological team in, and she closed the door to the small bunk room. The evening winds were kicking up, and a spray of sand had blown in across the floor. She walked past her friends to her trunk, stripping off her jacket and shirt.

Ashkii stowed some of the heavier gear away as Daegan paced back and forth, his thoughts boiling over into words. “What the hell were you thinking, telling Imperial troops we’d help them?”

Erek slid the sun visor back off his eyes and chimed in from where he reclined in his bunk, “Yeah, what made you think you could speak for all of us?”

Even Miren was frustrated with her team mate “Come on Alina, you need to think, girl. I don’t like the idea of getting involved with them.”

‘Lina looked up from the artifact she was cataloguing, shot a harsh glare at Miren, and addressed the room in general, “You guys, I don’t like it any more than you do, but the one thing that flashed through my head while they were talking in there was that they have resources we would never have access to. Helping them helps us. If we find the graveyard together, it’s a huge coup for our team, and they find whatever it is they’re after.”

Ashkii leaned against the wall, “Do you even know what it is they’re after?”

‘Lina rolled her eyes, “Does it really matter, Ash?

Zu pulled a shirt on and sat down on her bunk, “Yeah, it could matter a lot. Looking for the graveyard on our own is one thing. Dragging Imperial troops across the sands looking for it is another. Imperial Troops ‘Lina! Are you crazy? Whatever it is they’re searching for could be really dangerous.”

Bem, who had been quietly standing in the shadows of the corner listening, interjected. “You know, it’s not what any of us would ideally want, but ‘Lina’s right. This does help us.”

A frustrated Daegan threw his goggles across the room to his bunk. “Come on, Bem. You know we don’t need any extra attention, especially from the local law enforcement.”

Bem shifted his stance. “The rest of us aren’t necessarily squeaky clean, I know, but I think what you mean to say is that YOU don’t need the extra attention.”

Daegan’s eyes narrowed a bit as he stared across the room at Bem. “That’s no secret. Everyone knows why I wanted this location.”

Bem stood a bit taller, slipping his own goggles into a baggy pocket on his thigh and turning to face Daegan. “That may be, but you’re the only one on the team that’s hanging out in the Outer Rim because things got too hot at home.”

Daegan’s eyes darted from face to face around the dim room. “I’ve got news for you; all of you are hanging out with me! We all agreed this was a great hiding place for me to lay low where we could also get some work done. Nobody entertained the idea of partnering with Imperial troops until now!” He turned his head, and directed his glare toward ‘Lina.

It was at that moment that the door burst open and Doc Shurte hurried through, sand blowing and wind howling in the darkness behind him. The old man closed the door quickly and turned, glancing around the room at the troubled faces.

“Ah, yes. I thought there might be a bit of unrest in here.” He walked toward the center of the room and came to stop between Bem and Daegan, turning to look at the latter. “Son, I wouldn’t let you do this if I thought there was a problem. I promised my sister that you and your friends would be safe here.”

Daegan turned away, pointing at ‘Lina. “That’s great, but she’s all but delivered me to the Empire!”

Doc looked around the room, over his glasses, as he spoke, “I can tell you something is up. These troops aren’t following a normal Imperial protocol. If they had been, they would’ve never sought my help for their comrade lying in that bed inside. Under proper protocol, the circumstances under which I came to be needed would have surely meant Holder’s evacuation from this place for de-briefing at least. At the very least.”

The doc lifted the glasses from the bridge of his nose as he rubbed the skin where they had been resting. “No, I believe these troops are somehow operating outside the realm of the Empire, and have very little, if any, interest in you. With that said, ‘Lina threw the barn door wide open when she volunteered to help them. They’ll be back in a few days geared up and ready to go.”

He replaced his glasses, looking through them at Daegan. “Don’t make more of this than it is. In this case, any fight you have with them will be one you brought on you. The best thing you can do now, my boy . . . is get some rest . . . and help them.”


* * *

 

Interesting twist... Getting greedy and now I want more

 

Thanks O.N.


Here's a bit more:



Chapter 32 – Inchoation

Sand was held out by the magnetic shield as the overhead bay doors drew together, sealing out the dark sky and wailing winds. Topolev was waiting for us, and as our speeder settled to its repulsor-field hover cushion, he popped open a small port in the hull, securing the charging cables.

Etz cut power and those of us that had been riding in the exposed rear portion of the transport pulled off helmets and shook sand from beneath our armor plates in the still, dank air of the bay. Topolev hollered back to us as he returned to his work in the adjacent cache supply room. “How’s Holder?”

Danz pulled off his gloves and hand armor, stuffing them inside his helmet, looking around at the rest of us, “Is it just me, or was that wind actually a little bit cold?”

“You turning into an old woman, Danz?” laughed Blade. I laughed a bit too as I pulled off my gloves and watched for a reaction.

Felth jumped in before Danz could respond. “No, he’s right. Some of the locals on the street the other day were talking about getting the harvest in before winter hit. It must almost be here.”

“What do they grow here anyway, this place is one big sand pit” said Etz, jumping down off the tailboard.

Felth began explaining to them about hydroponic crops as I looked across to Danz. “I don’t know about you, but I could stand some cooler weather.” He nodded his silent agreement.

In the cache room, Topolev sat down next to 4120 and went back to cataloguing the holo-cards. “I guess nobody heard me.”

4120 stood up as Topolev returned to their desk in the main cache storage room. “I heard you.” He walked past me to Rogue as he re-wrapped the synth-skin at the wrist of his cybernetic hand. He repeated Topolev’s question. “How’s Holder?”

Rogue, preoccupied in semi-deep thought replied rather mechanically. “Recovering . . .” He hesitated a second, staring off into space, then turned to 4120. But we have a bigger issue.” He looked up, locking eyes with 4120. “What do you know about the death ritual of the elderly, indigenous Bantha?”

4120 looked a bit puzzled at this random and bizarre question, and was at a loss for a reply. We were all listening now.

“Exactly” said Rogue. “Not one of us knows anything about it. So . . . we’re going to need the insight and guidance of a local in addition to the scientific approach of that group of kids on the archaeological team. They’re not from here either. They’re from Balmorra.”

“Archaeological team?” asked 4120.

“It’s a long story. I’ll explain, but we need all troops recalled from their patrols and duties. Based on the players already looking for this thing, there’s a good reason it was hidden, and probably an even bigger reason to find it, and find it first. We’re going to need everyone’s help. Call them back to base, and get Garindan in here. I need to put our snitch to work.”

4120 nodded. “Right away.”

Rogue pulled Blade aside. “You need to have a conversation with your shadow. We don’t need any friendly fire accidents” Blade nodded.

Felth watched 4120 as he headed for the upper level comm center. He couldn’t help but wonder who else Garindan might already be helping.



* * *


The still quiet of the darkened med lab was broken only by the occasional whine or flutter of a machine or ‘droid. Holder lay in his bed thinking. Kaird was here, now on this planet again, and while it was likely that he didn’t even remember about the tracker in his head, for Holder, the elapsed twenty years since the implant was fired into the back of his head only seemed like days.

He stared at the ceiling, with half memories still flashing and falling into place in his head, keeping sleep just out of reach. He gave up trying to get rest and instead, slid a hand under his pillow, retrieving a sheathed knife. As he turned off the bedside monitors, he ripped off their leads and pulled out his IV lines. Rolling to a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, he allowed himself a moment to adjust to being upright. He stood up, feeling the cool stone floor under his bare feet and the ID tags around his neck sliding back and forth across his chest as he walked silently toward the ‘fresher.

Once inside he carefully closed and locked the door. A lone luminary winked on as the door closed, its intense light streaming down from just above a wall-mounted mirror. Silently, he stepped in front of it and locked eyes with his reflection. He hadn’t aged at all, but felt incredibly lost. He didn’t really belong in this time, and yet he no longer belonged in the past either. Twenty years gone in a flash.

He closed his eyes and raised his left arm to his head, running the tip of his index finger slowly back across his scalp; over the top and toward the base of his skull. He was almost to the soft tissue of the neck when he felt the slight bulge beneath the skin, sitting up just above the bone. His eyes opened slightly as he slid his fingertip back and forth several times across the bump to ensure it was the right spot.

Once convinced it was, he held his fingertip on it as he slid the knife from the sheath with his right hand. Carefully, and with a firm grip, he raised it to his head. The blade slowly pushed through his hair until the sharp, pointed tip came to rest on the bump as he saw the scene in his minds’ eye. Sliding his left finger out of the way, he firmly pressed the blade into his skin just below the knot. He slid it slightly so the blade sliced through the taut flesh, which split open under the sharp edge and parted cleanly.

Blood instantly welled up in the crude incision and began to flow freely and in great abundance. With the sharp tip of the blade he probed the bloody opening, scraping through the tissue and bone until it found the edge of the small metallic tracking implant.

Sliding his left hand around to brace his forehead, he forced the tip of the knife between the small, tubular implant and the bone of his skull and began carefully prying it out with short jerks of the blade.

His hand glistened with blood now as he worked, dripping from it down his back in a steady, near-constant flow. Finally he felt the tiny cylinder dislodge from the bone. Carefully, he pulled the knife away, bringing it around under the lamp for a look. On the bloody blade sat a narrow cylinder about two centimeters long. He rolled it slowly with a bloody fingertip. It was still intact and still transmitting.

“Perfect.”


* * *


It was nearly morning when Chewbacca rolled out of his modified crew bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon and noted that Solo’s bunk had not been slept in. The gentle giant stepped out into the main walkway that encircled the ship. As he stepped onto the smooth deck panels, he raised the strap of his bandolier with attached satchel over his head and situated it properly on his shoulder.

Powerful Wookiee hands pushed one of the thick metallic erg clips back into its secure, centered position in the leather bandolier as he took a quick look into the cockpit. Solo was not there either.

He gathered up the tool kit and welding set he had left on the gaming bench and headed for the main boarding ramp.

The segmented, circular hatch rotated up into the ship, revealing the ramp, as the Wook stepped out onto its frigid, inclined surface. Once out, he closed the hatch, sealing in any heat to be found inside the ‘Falcon.

It was very early and activity was sparse within the hangar. A few technicians worked on repairs to Wedge’s fighter and the ice cutting crew was assembled in a meeting huddle discussing the layout of the lower levels. Everyone wore thermal gear. Even in the relative protection afforded within their ice base, temperatures were still cold enough to cause damage if you weren’t properly insulated. Being a Wookiee, he didn’t have to worry about such things.

A young rebel ran past with an armful of Tauntaun harnesses and waved to the hairy Wookiee.

“Good morning Chewbacca.”

Chewie woofed a pleasant grunted reply as the young woman continued running toward the corral. If Solo wasn’t around, this might be the perfect time to work on that faulty central landing claw. As he stepped off the ramp and crouched to move beneath the ship, his eyes peered under toward the claw . . . only to see Solo, in his parka with the hood up, sitting atop a supply crate with his is head resting against the extender hydraulics of the claw, fast asleep.

A woof of frustration escaped the Wook’s lips as he turned away, quickly deciding instead to work on upgrading the ancient cooling lines that snaked across the upper hull.

Only moments later a claxon screeched once, and the shield doors began to retract, opening up to another Hoth morning. The noise awakened Solo, who rolled his head to watch the doors open. The morning sky that lay beyond didn’t look any different than the dark, stormy sky he had flown through returning to base the night before. Winds whistled and groaned, blowing snow and fog inside the huge cavern.

A blast of the cold air streamed through the hangar and across his exposed neck. Shivering a bit, he secured his parka up to just beneath his chin and pulled the furry hood nearly closed across his face.

Mercifully, the haunting images of the nightmare he’d been having of his childhood on the streets of Corellia were fading rapidly as he began to fully awaken. Like shadows hiding from approaching light, they fell away from him. As they did, a new set of nightmarish thoughts slipped in to take their place; thoughts of Jabba The Hutt and how he must be hunting him over dumped cargo.

It was something that needed to be taken care of, and soon. His reward money would more than cover the payoff and Fett was temporarily out of the picture until he could have the outrigger on Slave I remounted and repaired.

His eyes darted to the edge of the hangar as a small group entered. Mon Mothma and Leia, flanked by Alia and Yane’ made their way slowly across the hangar, looking at the ships and discussing various plans and strategies.

The base was still rough, but slowly beginning to come together. He decided to wait until the recon flights were completed and some sort of perimeter defense system was in place. He didn’t want to leave Leia behind until at least that level of protection was up and running.

Leia.

Thoughts of her raised a whole other set of issues. What about Bria? He had just learned of her death. Had she meant nothing to him? And what about Jenny back on Tatooine and all the others strewn across the galaxy? Was he ready to give them up for her?

His eyes moved to the two techs working on Wedge’s ship and the empty space beside it. Why would Luke just disappear like that without any warning? The kid definitely had skills, but he also had a knack for needing a safety net. With Kenobi gone, he somehow felt compelled to step up and provide the backup as he had in the Battle of Yavin.

Did he feel some kind of obligation to help this kid? His thoughts drifted away to another kid in another time; one whose face had haunted him in the murk of his dreams mere moments ago.

He had been one of many street kids that night, out scavenging for food. All were too cocky for their own good; all were that way to hide the bottomless fear that threatened to consume them. On that particular night he’d found himself stuck watching out for that younger kid. What was his name?

The shifting images of years long blurred began to coalesce, slowly revealing unpleasant and untidy memories of that ink-black night in the forgotten alleys of Corellia. Memories of that older gang member with the drawn blaster, accusations about them being in the wrong sector.

Han was just a boy, but he had tried to be the honorable man. He had a small makeshift blaster, cobbled together from spare parts found in the scrap heaps near the shipyard.

As terrified as he had been, with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, he kept it holstered on his hip. He was just a street kid, but he still understood the concept of honor. He never revealed his fear, and he promised himself he wouldn’t kill on a hunch or a gut feeling.

How utterly wrong that naïve little boy had been.

It was here that the memory remained fuzzy. Time had seemed to slow that night in the alley. The older kid drew on them, followed by a flash from both the muzzle and rear of his gun. It discharged a bolt, but the energy coupler in the discharge chamber had exploded in the process, temporarily blinding the boy holding it.

The smell of ozone rushed over him as he covered his eyes reflexively. As he did so, the youngster in his care crumpled to the street, having been hit at close range.

In the confusion following, Han ran, as fast as he could away into the night, the sound of his heartbeat slamming against his eardrums. He hadn’t stopped running until he saw that small, dark space under the naval loading dock and scrambled inside.

Ever since that night, whenever those neck hairs stood on end from a hunch, that life or death, knotted hunch in his gut . . . he took care of himself and those with him.

He didn’t hesitate or think. He shot first, and worried about the details and the mess later.


* * *


The small belt hook ring on the lightsaber trembled, but would not rise. The weapon rested alongside Luke’s holocron atop a small bench. Luke sat on Kenobi’s bed, focusing intently on the lightsaber. His arm was extended toward the hilt, calling it, willing it into this hand.

Obi Wan’s voice spoke again from the holocron. “Feel the Force push and pull like a great wind or the absence of air. Like water washing in and away from the shore. Feel the object’s energy and merge it to your own. Become one with it.”

Still the belt hook merely trembled. Luke relaxed his arm. He was exhausted.

Master Kenobi spoke again. “Do not think of the Force as a tool to be wielded. Think of it as an extension of your own energy, extending and BECOMING the tool. It will obey your commands just as your arm or your hand would because it is part of you, and you are part of it.”

Luke took a breath and raised his hand again, relaxing this time and visualizing what he saw in Kenobi’s instruction. He imagined his own reach extending out to the hilt. The belt loop trembled again, a bit more agitated this time. He relaxed further, breathing evenly, envisioning his fingertip raising the loop.

Across the room, the tiny ring snapped up to face him just as R2 rolled whistling through the doorway. His concentration broke, and the ring dropped. He exhaled, clearly frustrated. “Yes R2, we’re leaving soon.”

As R2 rotated to leave, one of his outer feet struck the base of the bench. Both the holocron and the lightsaber were jarred and fell. Luke lunged forward making the split-second decision to grab the holocron, allowing the saber hilt to fall to the stone floor with a loud clattering.

“R2 be careful!”

He put the holocron on the bed and knelt down to pick up his lightsaber. When he picked it up, several small pieces of clear glass fell to the floor. He rolled it over to see that the ancient glass sensor eye had shattered.

Shielding his eyes and holding the hilt as far away from his body as he could, he pressed the activation button. Instead of the normal, meter-long energy shaft, a small needle-thin shaft of barely twelve centimeters appeared.

Sparks popped and fell from inside the shattered lens as the blade suddenly stretched out to full length. Just as quickly back to the short length, and began cycling between the two length settings.

Disgusted, Luke switched it off as he shot R2 a look. The little droid rotated his dome away, avoiding eye contact.

“Great. The length adjustment is shot. Now what am I going to do? You broke it R2!”

Suddenly, above the holocron, the image of Kenobi flickered and disappeared, replaced with a display of schematics; lightsaber schematics. Luke leaned in close, studying them as Kenobi’s voice whispered.

“You will need the tools and parts from my home and the cave, and then . . . you will need to take them to one final place. Find those pieces and I will guide you the rest of the way.”



* * *

 

R2... so many little problems he solves and causes eh?

Time for Luke to control his temper...

 

The calm of the empty street was broken as Etz, Danz and Blade stepped out of the barracks into the still morning air. Though ambient sunslight now filled the sky, the gleaming twin suns had not yet arisen beyond the horizon.

As the door slid shut behind them, a cloaked shape walking their way hastily slipped into the shadows of an alleyway further down the street. Etz and Danz slipped on their helmets and set off for the morning patrol loop of the spaceport, having missed the figure’s quick retreat into the darkness.

Blade stood in his black flight suit, watching as they walked away. Then he turned sharply, heading off in the opposite direction, making his way toward the center of town. He was preoccupied, having promised Rogue he would speak to the shadow; the incredibly attractive shadow woman that waited at the Dowager Queen.

For the upcoming mission, he would need her to stay behind and not trail him, for her own safety. The search for the lost security recordings could be very dangerous, and he needed to be sure that anyone tracking his group was a target, not a friend. He shook his head; he didn’t even know her name.

Holder peered from beneath the deep cloak as Etz and Danz disappeared onto an adjacent street. He watched silently, deep in thought, as Blade moved further away. Should he follow him, or the other two? He looked down to the small cylindrical transmitter in his palm, and then back in the direction the others had taken. Having made his decision, and when he felt comfortable with the distance between them, he pulled the thick cloak in closer around his face and cautiously stepped out into the empty street to follow Blade.

*

The vivid people and situations that fleshed out my dreams began to evaporate into darkness as I mentally ascended toward consciousness. In those last few moments of sleep, I could hear the sounds of morning in the barracks before my eyes ever opened.

When my brain was fully functioning at a level that told me what I was hearing was real, my eyelids slowly parted, letting reality in. The still dim room was fairly out of focus, so I blinked again. This time I opened my eyes to crisp detail.

Topolev, 1265 and Falker were carrying supplies from the front office through to the storeroom in the back.

4120 was sitting on the bunk adjacent to mine. He had the small metal case containing his cybernetic replacement hands open, and was unwrapping the synth-skin at his wrist. “Finally decided to join us, eh Deck?”

My eyes fell shut again and I rolled onto my back, feeling the bones in my neck crack as they realigned. I exhaled slightly. “Yeah, and lucky me, the first thing I see is your sorry ass.”

We both grinned without seeing the other do so, and he continued. “You know, you snore like a dying Bantha.”

He shot a look my way as the artificial skin came loose from his arm revealing the implanted metallic stump and the attached modular hand. He looked back to the gleaming joint as he moved the hand around. Rogue and Felth walked past discussing supply needs for our search party.

I was still grinning a little as I lay a forearm across my eyes. “Well, I guess that’s better than taking after you; looking and smelling like the other end.”

Again we both grinned.

I moved my arm off my eyes and sat up. “What’s wrong with the hand?”

He scratched at his real skin where it disappeared beneath the stump cap. It was bright red and looked swollen.

“It’s been irritated for a week or so now; it itches something fierce. It’s giving me a banging headache and the synth skin won’t stay attached.”

I leaned closer for a better look. “It looks like it might be infected. You should have the doc look at it before we head out. We may be gone a while. You don’t want that thing getting any worse.”

He attached the sticky end flap of a new roll of synth-skin to the back of the cyber hand and began wrapping the joint. “If I have time to, I will.”

I looked around; making sure the others had emptied from the room before turning back to him. “Do you get a weird vibe from Felth, or is it just me?”

He kept wrapping. “What do you mean?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Something just seems off about him. I can’t put my finger on it specifically, but there’s something about him. Things I’ve seen him do or not do, messages he’s sent over the holonet. Maybe just keep an eye on him?”

He looked over to me as he kept wrapping and nodded slightly, “Yeah, sure.” I nodded back as Felth and Rogue walked hurriedly through again, heading for the rear storeroom.

We both silently followed him with our eyes.


*

 

The elusive shadow of Garindan slunk almost invisibly through the streets. He knew where to find the pack Eopies needed for the journey, and was running through a mental list of people who could possibly lead the troops and scientists on their search as he walked. There were several crusty old scrap dealers he knew that had crisscrossed the Dune Sea in search of salvageable parts. On any given night, after a few drinks, they spun elaborate tales of an immense boneyard out in the ‘Sea. No one had ever taken the drunken fools seriously, until now.

As he was nearly to the first of the parts shops, another person suddenly came to mind with a flash. He stopped short in his tracks, his mind reeling. It baffled him why he hadn’t thought of the ‘Sandman of Tatooine’ sooner. Delighted with the recollection, he disappeared into the shop to interview the first of the parts men on his list. His questions would reveal if they were promising, and a good fit for the team, or merely a drunken cantina storyteller.



*


Doc Shurte held a hand up before his face, deflecting the fine sand spray thrown up from the departing ‘speeder. He watched it accelerate away across the flats as his Rodian assistant headed for home.

Holder’s bed was empty and he was gone, as was the swoop bike that had been chained up out back. The aging doctor sighed. Hed have to call rogue and let him know the Commando was missing.

A slight wind carried on it the distant wailing of womp rats as Daegan approached him from behind.

“Uncle, it’s time.”

Shurte looked from the horizon down to his feet. “The clinic is locked up, are all the supplies ready?”

“Everything's ready. All supplies are packed and on the repulsor sled. It’s nearly midday and the crew is irritated enough about having to go to the troops instead of them coming here. They’re anxious to head out so we can make it to Mos Eisley before nightfall. It’s going to be slow going dragging that overloaded sled behind your old speeder.”

The older man nodded silently, his brow furrowed with unspoken concern.


* * *

A mixed roaring of both the new energy blades and the older mechanical cutting claws rebounded from the frozen walls and ceiling as the crews scraping the base layout from the ice continued their work. The newer digger models used energy blades that vaporized the ice on contact, but there were only two of those and funding wasn’t there for more.

The older diggers were far cheaper and easier to come by and were equipped with long rows of spinning durasteel blades which ground deeper and deeper into the ice walls as it advanced. All the while, a fine spray of ice shards was ejected from beneath them until the repulsor bins attached below were sufficiently loaded. When they were, a small sensor within the bin activated an alarm on the operator’s datapad console as the cutter was automatically disengaged and the digger shut down.

Once released from the main vehicle, the robotic bins wound their way through the tunnels and hangars of the slowly growing rebel base to the outside. As they traveled, the container full of ice shards was slightly heated and compressed, and then allowed to re-freeze in the frigid Hoth air, creating large ice blocks. These were then deposited for ground crews outside the base before the bin returned to its digger. The blocks were then used for creating ice walls around lookout posts and along the fronts of the defensive trenches.

This small piece of Hoth was slowly and begrudgingly giving up the shelter and storage they needed to house the rebel forces. Leia watched as one of the robotic bins returned from the main hangar level above, reattaching itself to its digger which immediately resumed cutting.

“Progress is being made Mon Mothma, but perhaps not as fast as we might like. The crews are working nonstop in shifts, but most of the equipment is outdated. They can’t go much faster.” The Princess was nearly shouting to be heard over the noise.

Mon Mothma’s aide, Alia, who had been standing quietly between the two women, took a step back so as not to block the eyeline between the two leaders. The slightly greying, more mature rebel leader responded slowly, carefully selecting her words.

“I have no doubt they are working as quickly as they can, Leia, and I’m sure the base will be completed soon. However; my time here grows short. I must soon return to the rest of the command fleet. Admiral Ackbar has quite a task trying to keep a group of ships that large from being discovered, and there is work still to be done bringing new systems and resources to our cause.”

Leia was watching Mon’s face as she spoke. “There’s something else. Something you’re not saying. What is it?”

The older woman cut her eyes quickly away to the ice shredding machines. “Walk with me, Leia.” She turned to her aide, raising a gentle hand in the air. “A private moment please, Alia? This will only take a moment.”

Alia bowed her head and stepped back, “Of course, milady.” Her eyes followed them as they turned to walk out into the privacy of the hallway.

Thankfully the dim corridor was a bit quieter, affording them a calmer exchange. Mon glanced back into the room to see Alia taking an interest in the cutter machines and talking with the crew. The noise level in the adjacent room was sufficient to cover their conversation anyway. She turned to face Bail Organa’s daughter.

“I hear Commander Skywalker has disappeared again.”

“Mon, I’m aware of this as is General Riek . . . .”

“I know Leia, I know. I do not question your ability to lead, but I am quite concerned with our newest Commander. There is no debating that his actions at the Battle of Yavin saved us all, and the Rebellion. And yes, I know he has left us to further his understanding of the Jedi way.”

Leia cut in, “In order to be a more effective opponent of the Empire.”

Mon Mothma took a few steps away, looking off down the corridor, far away as if looking into another time. She took a moment to draw in a slow breath from the frosty air, and then exhale deeply.

“What troubles me is not his current absence; it is the ghosts of the past that he and his antique Jedi weapon have resurrected within me. It could be brought to bear on us as it once was many years ago against the members of another group. He wields his lightsaber for good, but that weapon has caused more agony, anguish and turmoil than you may realize. Seeing it on our young Commander’s belt raised the hair on the back of my neck, Leia. That name, that weapon; we must be certain. We must be certain of his intentions, and he must be watched closely going forward.”

“His name? Why do you fear him so?” asked Leia. “He was led to us by Obi-Wan Kenobi. Surely he knew what he was doing and was a powerful enough Jedi to see a favorable future with Luke on our side.”

“I have known General Kenobi for many years, and I am confident that he had only our best interests in mind where Commander Skywalker is concerned, but . . . it wouldn’t be the first time he put too much faith in a pupil.”

She dropped her gaze to the ground, again choosing her words very carefully as she danced around the painful truth and past she and Leia’s parents had fought so hard to keep hidden. She mentally worked to bury her thoughts, her emotions. They could be read all too easily.

“Leia, for all that you know of the birth of the Empire and the Rebellion, there is much that you do not. There are only a handful who knew all the entanglements and complexities surrounding the descent of the Republic into the darkness cast by the Empire. Most of those who do are now dead, leaving only myself and one or two others. Trust me when I say it is neither a weight that can be shared with you at the present time, nor a mantle you would want to be burdened with. As a bit of a Force-sensitive myself, I can tell you that the ebb and flow of the Force can pull strongly to dark areas we may not wish to go. Vader and his Emperor are both ruthless and must be stopped at all costs. We cannot risk losing young Skywalker to that dark path. Watch him closely. He could be our salvation, but if he turns . . . he could also be our undoing.”

The last of Mon Mothma’s comments lingered in the air, increasing in weight as the moments passed. Suddenly that silence was interrupted by a hideous roar, immediately followed by screams and blaster fire coming from the room they had just left. Both women turned abruptly to look.

Bright flashes and the sound of more blaster fire was immediately followed by first one, and then several from the ice cutting crew running out of the room into the corridor toward them. Another loud howl echoed off the walls.

The running troops stopped just short of where Leia was standing and turned, dropping to one knee, leveling their blasters. One of the ice cutters ripped off his goggles and turned his red face to the startled women as he powered on his blaster, “There’s ice creatures in there! One of the cutters broke through into a natural ice cave behind one of the walls. When it pulled back to take a look, they came pushing through!”

“Let’s get you both out of here” insisted one of the troopers, attempting to herd Leia and Mon Mothma away to safety.

“Where is Alia?” screamed Mon, wide eyed. “Where is my aide?”

The trooper turned to her grimly, “One of them took her; back into the cave. We tried to stop it, but it grabbed her and was gone. It all happened so fast.”

More howls rolled down the corridor as one of the beasts made its way into the hall. A flurry of blaster fire erupted, bright crimson flashes illuminating the dim space, as the creature howled louder before stumbling to his knees and crashing dead, face-first to the durasteel floor grates.

A second of the huge beasts burst through the opening, followed by a third.

“Retreat!” yelled one of the cutting crew as they stood up and turned to run.


* * *

 

Terek,

Thanks for the PM. Your Hoth post could be its own short story. I really liked this point. I still think the one about how they power the shields and Ion Cannon make a great story, but this little dialogue with Leia/Motha was golden.

 

Chapter 33 – Enter The Sandman

Blade looked quickly to the left, then the right and exited the small room into the hall of the Dowager Queen. Two Jawas leaning against the dusty wall several doors down stopped their jabbering and turned to watch him go, their amber eyes piercing the blackness of their cloaked faces. Their gaze then moved slowly to the still-open door he had come from.

His auburn-haired shadow, ‘Sabela Arlen, slid into the narrow gap between the door and frame he had vacated, watching him go.

As the doors of the turbolift closed with him inside, she silently disappeared behind the closing door of her room; echoes of their brief conversation playing over in her head as she leaned back against the inside of the door. It clicked shut and she locked the heavy bolt. She needed to know more about Kaird and Guri before heading to the spaceport to meet 1265. If they were tailing Blade’s group, she needed more information.

She thought about him again; Ardan Drone, aka Blade. He didn’t want her to follow; he wanted her to be safe. The more she thought about it, the less she could fight the smile creeping across her face. He was worried about her.

She went to watch, leaning toward the window pane, her face pushed into the musty, diaphanous curtains that hung to the floor. As he walked away into the masses on the sandy street below, a bent, hooded figure bumped into him in the street. Reflexively she jumped, but the stranger retreated immediately, bowing and apologizing. Flipping the safety back on, her hand moved slowly off the grip of her blaster and she relaxed as Blade disappeared into the crowd.



*


The door to our building slid open, and Garindan entered, trailed by a crusty, weathered old man in a hooded cloak with desert wraps covering his body and face, and dark goggles shielding his eyes. Rogue and Felth looked up from their seats at the holonet console, as the door slid shut behind their snitch.

Garindan began speaking in squeaks and squawks as Rogue motioned for him to wait. “Hold on.” He reached inside his helmet, turning on the translator and switching to broadcast speaker mode. He looked back at his Kubaz spy nodding for him to continue.

The translated voice came from the helmet speakers. “I have found your guide, sir. For years he has claimed to have knowledge about the location you seek.” Garindan stepped aside, bringing the man forward.

Rogue looked him over. “Who are you?”

The old man lifted and pushed back his hood, then pulled down the wraps from his face, revealing a leathery, crease and wrinkle-ridden face, and a thick head of stark white hair. He grabbed his goggles, pushing them up into the snowy tangle, revealing two ice-blue eyes that stood out against his dark, tanned skin.

“Most folks around here call me ‘The Sandman’ ‘cause I generally live outside the towns, out in the sand. Why don’t you call me Sandie? It’ll make things easier.”

Rogue stood up. “OK Sandie . . . I’m Rogue. Why don’t you tell me what you know about the place we’re looking for.”

The old man got a twinkle in his eye, and a slight smile crept onto his face; only the very corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “The place you seek hides from everyone.”

He looked off vacantly into a scene from his mind’s eye, a sandscape from somewhere in his past travels.

“It sends instruments reeling, readings spike and fall off, and false headings breed confusion. The first time I found it completely by accident; after a sandstorm. An entrance was revealed to me when the ‘Sea shifted. I quickly noted the rock landmarks, and it’s a good thing, because another storm blew through soon after, covering the entrance I had found while simultaneously revealing another.”

He looked back to Rogue, “The sands both conceal and disclose in their own time, like the swelling waves of a vast liquid ocean rising and falling; those things caught beneath lie patiently; waiting to be discovered.”

Rogue interjected “It has many entrances?”

Sandie nodded. “I told you, it hides. It doesn’t want to be found.” He pulled a small collapsible bladder from his belt and took a drink. “Do you have water for a refill?”

“I’ve got this” said Felth, taking it from the man, and disappearing into the back.

Garindan spoke up, looking toward Sandie. “He’s a little rough, but if anyone knows where this place is, my money is on him.”

Rogue leaned to his right, unlocking a small box on the console. He reached in a pulled out a small wrapped parcel which he then placed in Garindan’s hand. “I think this should catch us up on what we owe you.” The Kubaz eyed the unmistakable package of wrapped spice sticks in his palm.

Felth reappeared, handing the container back to Sandie and taking a seat behind the holonet console.

“Thank you. Oh! It’s cold too!” Sandie looked gratefully over to Felth, then back to Rogue. “I am at your disposal. When do we leave?”

Rogue nodded. “At first light. We were planning on leaving tonight, and get some traveling done when it’s cooler, but we’ve had reports of increased Tusken activity once the suns go down, at least around here. Felth will be air-lifting us to a point out of the city, at the edge of the Dune Sea. We’ll leave from there. Maybe when we get out a bit we can switch to nights.”

Garindan jumped in as he turned to the front door. “I must leave now to bring your pack animals around back and ready them.”

Rogue nodded as the snitch through the front door. As he exited, Holder stepped in, pulling back his hood. Ddraig, Etz and I entered from the back with a crate. Etz released the crate, turning to face the commando. “Hey Holder, you feeling any better?”

He nodded once. “Yeah, much better.”

Rogue flicked his eyes to Holder. “Is Doc here already? I was expecting him shortly, but not this soon.”

Sandie watched with squinting eyes as Holder responded.

“No, I left last night; wanted some time alone before we left. Doc should be here soon though. You said sundown, right?”

Rogue nodded. “Right. This is Sandie. He’ll be our guide for the search.”

Holder looked at the old man, reaching out a hand. Sandie took it, giving a firm shake; his ancient eyelids trembling a bit.

“Is it OK if I get him his gear?” asked Holder.

Rogue nodded. “Sure.”

Holder led Sandie into the back as Ddraig, Etz and I continued loading charged blaster clips into a crate with Topolev keeping count. When we were done, and had sealed the container, Topolev turned and handed the page to Rogue for his inventory.

He was heading toward the bunk room when Rogue stopped him. “Tops, have you seen 4120 or Blade? We’re almost ready and they’re not here.” He handed the count to Felth.

Topolev stopped, turning back to reply. “No, I haven’t seen them.”

Ddraig jumped in, “4120’s with Garindan out back in the courtyard harnessing up the Eopies. Blade said he’d be back soon. One last sweep I guess.”

Rogue nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “OK” remembering that Blade was going to speak to his “shadow”.



*


Tiny blue sparks popped and fizzled inside 4120’s mouth as he quickly re-wrapped the last remaining spice stick in his hand. Several of the Eopie’s grunted. One spit into the sand as it shifted its weight on long legs anxiously. Garindan’s eyes, hidden beneath his black goggles, darted from one side of the courtyard to the other as he secured a buckle on the last animal.

4120’s eyes rolled back in his head a bit, and he leaned back against the half wall of the loading dock, savoring the strong flavor on his tongue and the rush as a wave of chills swept over him. His heart began beating a bit faster and the intolerable itching at his wrist began to slowly subside.

The cloaked snitch took a handful of credits and passed him two more darkly –wrapped packages before disappearing into the shadows. 4120 pulled himself together as he stood up straight, stuffing the spice into an empty belt container. As he did, Falker came out of the narrow, side alley into the courtyard. “Hey, c’mon and grab your gear. Rogue just said Doc and his crew are almost here. We’ve got to figure out a place for them to bed down for the night since our evening departure has been canceled. How many of them are there? I thought maybe we could put them in . . . .”

Falker and 4120 headed out through the narrow alley toward the front door leaving Garindan behind with the animals. Blade watched silently from the shadows across the courtyard. Even the Kubaz spy didn’t notice him.


*


The Emperor sat alone; motionless with eyes closed. He was as still and rigid as the carbonite-entombed captives that populated the macabre garden surrounding him. Behind his closed eyes, a vision began to emerge from the ever-changing clouds that were the future. He saw himself, overseeing a confrontation between Vader and the missing son the Sith Lord sought.

The boy in question, Luke Skywalker, snapped at something his father said, attacking in an anger-fueled rage, driving the Dark Lord back. Lightsabers slashed and sizzled as his apprentice stumbled and fell. Luke aggressively took advantage of this, continuing his attack with a flurry of saber hacks, ultimately severing his father’s sword hand. He held the tip of his blade to Vader’s throat in certain victory as the image began to fade into more clouds.

A smile formed on Palpatine’s warped face as he realized the potential in Luke as a new apprentice; potential he had once seen in Anakin. He cackled in amusement; his evil laughter echoing off the stony walls, glass floor and carbonite slabs. Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.

Beneath the glass floor of his Carbonite Garden, two Royal Guards in pressurized breathing suits moved carefully over the rocks and around the scattered bodies of dead Jedi until they were directly beneath the Emperor.

One looked up to adjust their position, making sure they could be seen just in front of the throne. When he was sure they were in place, they both knelt with the capsule they carried. On activation, it slid open. The second guard reached in, pulling out an armful of tattered brown cloth. The other guard reached in now, pulling out more brown cloth. Carefully they laid it out on the rocks. Both pieces came together at a clean, burned slice in the center.

Once arranged, it was clear that the cloth was in fact two halves of a heavy, brown hooded cloak. Although a body had not been recovered, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Jedi robes, collected by the recovery team onboard the Death Star were finally a part of the Emperor’s grisly display from the Jedi Purge.

It was at that moment that they saw Lord Vader enter the garden above, walk to the spot directly above them, and come to kneel before his master.


* * *

 

Terek,

Great to see you posting again. I loved the arrangement in Palpy's garden; truly unique in all of fandom. His vision is short sighted too. The adventure with Sandy seems to be interesting too. Hey, I um sorta used a couple of your troopers in a story I am finally finishing. They show up in a paragraph.... hope it is ok... if not I can go back and edit it.... thanks Again for the PM .... ON

 

Thanks for reading.

I don't mind you using the characters, but can you post a link to your story so I can check it out, and maybe give me credit for the characters?

 

Inside the crumbling ruins of the tiny B’Omarr shrine, backed as far into the corner as he could get, the little blue astromech awaited his master’s return. The extended lifeform scanner, slowly turning back and forth above his dome revealed his master, beyond the stone wall beside him, and several dozen meters below.

The shimmering blue of the Tatooine sky would soon fall victim to the ambers and reds of another blazing decline into the black of night. Recalled memories of another night on Tatooine coursed through the little droid’s processors. Memories of roaming the empty canyons alone in search of a settlement; vivid memories of descending a sloped stone, right up to the instant the hidden Jawas fired the immobilizing ray at him.

His frame shook a bit, and a very slight electronic whimper escaped from somewhere beneath his dome, which now turned nervously, this way and that. If a ‘droid could hope, he was most certainly hoping that Master Luke would return quickly.

Far below, his master carefully followed the stony, descending path in the dim light of Obi Wan Kenobi’s youthful image floating above the activated holocron. The young Alliance Commander gripped the luminous cube in his right hand. In his left was a small leather pouch of tools from his mentor’s home.

Kenobi’s voice echoed off the walls in the still, quiet air, “Continue down this grade and through the opening in the wall ahead.”

Luke stepped beneath the dark stone arch and through the twisted breech in the downed B’Omarr starship’s wrecked hull into the emptiness of the even darker room beyond. The holocron sensed its proximity to a small metallic trigger placed somewhere among the rocks to the left; just where Ben had left it.

The glowing image flickered and fluttered before disappearing, almost immediately replaced with a new and different image of Kenobi. The one that appeared was of a much older Kenobi with white hair and beard, as Luke remembered him.

The image smiled, “Hello Luke. The fact that this recording has been triggered indicates that you have found your way to my training arena.”

Luke reached down into a calf pocket on his flight suit and removed a rescue flare. He twisted the metal end cap, activating it, and stood up straight, raising the brilliant white light high above his head to get a good look around as Kenobi continued.

“I converted this wrecked cargo bay into an instructional space many years ago, when you were still a toddler. I did so with the hope that someday your uncle would allow me to train you as a Jedi. With each passing year, that possibility decreased exponentially as his dislike for, and mistrust of me grew. I will also assume that since my marker triggered this particular recording, and that the holocron has led you here and not me personally, I am gone. Consider this place an extension of my home and the cave. All three are yours to do with as you see fit. Take notice of the cables overhead for balance training. The trees positioned around the arena are Bafforr trees.”

Luke moved the flare to one side and the other, revealing the trees suspended around the room.

“Within their branches live Ysalimari; small creatures that not only shroud themselves and the trees from the Force, they also create an area surrounding themselves that is a deadened zone, where the Force is not rippled or disturbed; effectively concealing a meditating or practicing Jedi within this ring from unwanted detection by others.”

Luke glanced around the room at the trees as the holo continued.

“On the bench to your left are several lightsabers for training. Any one of these should yield parts useful for repairing a hilt.”

Luke wedged the flare between the planks of a large crate beside him and stepped over to the waist-high bench, setting down the holocron beside a small blast furnace, some dirty rags, and a piece of folded cloth. Carefully, he unclipped the damaged lightsaber from his belt and placed it gently on the cloth.

Silently he unrolled the bag of tools, and reached down to the shelf below for one of the training sabers, carefully laid out on another piece of folded cloth. They were all the same; the simple, tubular hilts nearly smooth except for several small protrusions sticking out as he rolled it over in his hands.

The black grips on the trainer were tightly screwed in place to the metallic tube of the nondescript saber. He nodded approvingly as he glanced over to his own weapon with grips that were quite loose and hopelessly askew.

As he studied the trainer, he noted that it had no glass eye lens and no bubbled activation stud, only two knurled metallic knobs with inset red buttons like the one found on his hilt and a simple circuit board activation sensor strip, but it looked to be part of the clamping collar.

Aside from having a textured band around its center, the clamp was the same as his. There was definitely nothing elegant about it, but he figured it would get the job done if he could simply swap his for this one.

He turned to the patiently waiting holographic image of Kenobi and spoke aloud, “Lightsaber repair.”

Ben’s smiling image retracted into the cube, replaced with detailed schematics as Luke grabbed one of the tools from the bag and set to removing the silver screws from the notched grips.

Hopefully the repairs wouldn’t take very long.


* * *

 

I like the idea of a training arena, I wonder if Palpy used something similary to keep the Jedi from finding him?

 

Thanks.

The storyline of the arena is actually revealed earlier in the story as our troops question Mamow Nadon (the Hammerhead from the Cantina) about his friendship with Kenobi. We then visit the arena as he gives us the information in a flashback with Kenobi in it.

Nadon is an outcast arborist and befriends Kenobi, helping him with the trees and Ysalimari.

 

I remembered that part with the Ithorian, but I still wonder if the Jedi never detected Palpatine because of a similar Sith training facility.

 

The spiked cleats strapped to Solo’s boots dug in to the sheer face of the ice wall, and he slammed the pickaxe into the frozen slope, pulling his way up the slick trail toward the mouth of the cave. The rest of the search team was below him, beginning their ascent.

Just outside the rough cut opening ahead he could see several soldiers standing guard with rifles drawn and energized; two facing the room, and two facing in toward him. Behind the guards he made out the figures of Leia and Mon Mothma. Both of their faces wore the pallor of extreme concern and worry as they paced; expectantly awaiting his return.

He emerged from the dim passage, breathing heavily from his climb, pulling off his goggles and hood as he stepped into the room. One of the guards shouldered his rifle and offered him a drink of water as he sat down on the idle ice cutter’s treads.

Leia caught his eye, looking for a clue, anything; and for an instant he returned her worried stare with a solemn one that offered no hope. Mon Mothma also saw his expression as he looked up. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as tears fell, realizing Alia was gone.

Han took a breath and began as delicately as he knew how. “We followed every path, every corridor down there, and they’re extensive. We killed several of those things, but there was nothing, no sign of her . . . until we came to the spot where it empties to the outside. There was . . .”

He paused a moment, staring off into space at the image of her mangled remains stained across the ice; staring vacantly at him, and now forever imprinted in his memory.

“There was . . . evidence . . . that she was gone.”

He looked down at the goggles in his hand as Leia comforted Mon Mothma, helping her from the room toward her quarters.

Han exhaled hard. That poor kid didn’t have a chance against those things.

 

I had to back track on the story to remember it was Mon Motha's aide who was missing. Good to see the fresh post.

 

He watched them disappear into the hallway. Several moments later, the rest of the search team emerged from the cave opening. They silently made their way past him, carrying a black body bag. Two of the guards followed them out, and two remained behind.

The Corellian smuggler sat in silence atop the cold tread plates of the ice cutter. All he could see was Alia’s dead face, her vacant eyes open and staring up at him. He had seen more than his share of death over the years. Hell, he had looked through the smoke curling from the barrel of his blaster into the dead eyes of many he had helped along their journey to death, but it was always the innocent ones that got to him; the ones in the wrong place at the wrong time. The sound of his heart pounded louder and louder against his eardrums.

A group of techs startled him out of his daze as they entered the room followed by several loader ‘droids. The mechs that brought up the rear were lumbering creations and carried large crates of equipment; panels and electronics for installing a locking power door over the jagged mouth of the cave to keep those creatures out. He stood up, goggles in hand as they set to work sealing the opening.


* * *

 

The rear courtyard was now completely submerged in shadow, and Daegan was fuming and muttering under his breath as he stepped from doc’s speeder. “I don’t get it, what’s got us stalled here tonight? Doc was told to be here by sundown, and we all rushed to get here on time.” He checked several straps across their loaded down supply sled.

“It was as much a change for us as for you” I said, watching the heat trails rippling off the speeders’ side thrusters as they wound down. “Rogue told us we were leaving tonight, and then suddenly changed his mind based on some information about increased Tusken activity in the area; raiding parties coming in closer and closer every night. He felt, since we’re traveling with you civilians, it would be safer to set out at first light.”

I turned my head back to him, “We’re not leaving from here anyway. Our drop ship is going to put us on the ground outside of town, at the edge of the Dune Sea. Our guide, Sandie, says there’s a Tusken stronghold not too far out where several Bantha herds are known to gather, and thinks that it should be a good place to begin.”

“Fort Tusken” confirmed Daegan. “I know the place. It dates back about 100 years or so. Some of the settlers from Bestine Township built it and gave the name Fort Tusken to honor the island of Tusken on their homeworld, Bestine IV.”

“A new island in an altogether different sea. So is that one of the places your team is studying?” I asked.

“Yeah” he nodded “but from the surrounding hills with macros. The Sandpeople guard the place pretty fiercely. It’s rumored that in the lower levels it houses a spring-fed pool of water. Whether that’s true or not has yet to be proven. You think this place is desolate now? Back when the settlers were still in control of the fort, they were all alone out here. The Sandpeople attacked and raided it relentlessly, eventually earning them the ‘Tusken Raider’ nickname. ‘Lina knows more about them than I do, though. She was here studying them on her own once before. I’ll let her fill you in on the details. I’d probably get them wrong.”

I stretched my neck to one side and then the other, cracking the stiff vertebrae. “She may be interested in a series of caves we accidentally found out in one of the nearby canyons. They’ve got burial chambers and cave art from some of the earliest Sandpeople, and structures that pre-date even them, going back to the Ghorfa and Kumumgah. At least that’s what we were told by some of the local moisture farmers. I’ll have to show her and the rest of you sometime, maybe when we get back from our little expedition.”

Daegan grinned, almost laughing. “Sandie? Are you kidding me? Sandie? Is that really the guide’s name?”

I concealed any amusement as I responded, nodding my head. “Our snitch, the one who found him for us, says he’s known around here as ‘The Sandman of Tatooine’. The old guy suggested we call him Sandie for short to make things easier. He never did give us a real name. I guess it’s not really important though, as long as he knows where he’s going and how to find what we’re looking for.”

“So, what are you looking for? ‘Lina knows, but she’s not talking.”

Now it was my turn to grin as I dodged his question, “That’s a bigger question than I’m cleared to share right now. C’mon, let’s head inside, the morning’s going to come early. If Rogue gives the OK, I’ll let your whole team know.”


*


Felth nodded, agreeing, “I’ll have the ship ready for the morning, but there’s something wrong with the thrust sequencer on the starboard engine.”

Rogue shook his head as Felth read his silent concern.

“It’ll be ready, but I need to get over to the docking bay to make a few repairs and adjustments and give it a test flight.”

A moment of silence passed, then Rogue gave a nod. “Go ahead. I’ll have 4120 finish the packing out back.”

He paused and Felth turned to go, then he continued. “Just make sure it’s ready to be loaded by dawn. We’ll leave as soon as everything is aboard.”

Felth gave a half-hearted wave of his hand and nodded without turning back as he opened the door, pushing past me and Daegan. Rogue exited the front office, disappearing into the bunk room to find 4120 as I closed the front door. Daegan followed after him and I brought up the rear a few moments later.

Every spare bunk we had in the next room was now occupied, and several bed rolls lay on the floor. ‘Lina and Miren sat on Ddraig’s bunk, fascinated as he worked on the astromech, explaining to them what he was doing and why. ‘Lina was young, probably mid twenties and quite flirty. Miren was in her early thirties and quite attractive, but was clearly an archaeologist and scientist first.

Blade entered the room from the front, moving past me as Daegan sat down and joined Bem, Erek, Doc and Ash in their game of Sabacc. Danz and 1265 stood watching the card game while Zu sat adjacent to them on her bunk, cleaning her field stripped blaster and occasional eyeing the cards in play herself. Blade moved through the crowd, pulling 1265 aside for a brief, private conversation.
Etz, Topolev and Holder were busy packing their gear bags, while Falker and 0600 stretched out on their bunks, relaxing and watching everyone else. Sandie lay on one of the bed rolls in the corner, trying hard to watch the group, but fighting a losing battle with heavy eyelids and sleep. 1265 nodded twice to Blade, then returned to his bunk to grab his helmet and head out through the front.

At about the same moment, 4120, wearing only his black flight suit and boots, entered from the rear store room, heading past me toward the front.

“Hey, is Rogue still back there?” I asked as he passed me.

He looked back quickly, but kept moving, “Yeah but he’s headed down to the cache.”

I watched him disappear through the front door and then noticed Falker also watching him.

“Deck, does he look OK to you?”

“I guess so. Why?”

He shook his head slowly as 0600 cut his eyes over, listening. “I don’t know exactly, can’t quite put my finger on it. I mean he’s usually pretty laid back, but lately he’s looking a little rough around the edges; seems preoccupied and jittery; kinda on edge.”

I looked back toward the front door. “Huh, I hadn’t noticed.”


*


Keeping his distance, so as not to be discovered, 4120 followed Felth through the twisting streets and hallways to the spaceport, watching as he descended the steps to the docking bay below. Something just wasn’t right. There had been nothing wrong with the starboard engine thrust sequencer the last time HE had flown the ship.

Each step he took following Felth down to the bay was taken slowly and deliberately to avoid detection until he could safely watch from behind several cargo containers in the safety of the shadows. Crouched down behind them afforded him a clear view.

Felth glanced up and around the walls of the pit as he opened the maintenance hatch on the side of the engine in question for a quick look. Almost immediately, he pulled his head back out and stepped over to the toolbox, grabbing a small device with coiled cords leading to a probe.

4120 immediately identified it as a sequence analyzer and calibrator, but a puzzled look took over his sweaty face, and he pushed trembling fingers through his disheveled hair as Felth reached back inside the hatch to use the tool.

He appeared to be taking a reading, and making adjustments, then replaced the tool with the others in the box and cut only his eyes up to hovering security ‘droids near the rim of the pit. He closed the access panel and wiping his hands together, disappeared up the boarding ramp into the ship.

4120 heard the power plant come on-line from somewhere within the ship, followed by the engines. They steadily rose in pitch as he rolled the whole situation over in his head. What was Felth up to? He held the swollen, red stump above his cybernetic hand, wincing as a sharp pain shot up his arm. The ship lifted from its landing gear, slowly at first, simply hovering, and then rose with certainty above the rim of the open pit, disappearing into the darkening sky as the main engines engaged.

As Felth slipped away, a perplexed 4120 walked over to the tool box, looking at the tool that had been used. It was clearly marked SEQUENCE ANALYZER/CALIBRATOR, but something was very wrong and 4120 knew it. With shaking hands, he quickly unwrapped a small stick of spice, pushed it in his mouth and bit down hard, crushing it in a shower of blue sparks that spilled out over his lips as he scratched at his infected wrist. The rush was immediate, and the pain in his arm quickly faded away

He had used that same tool before, many times at his post on Ralltiir, but it was for analyzing and calibrating the firing sequence of onboard mounted guns and cannons; it had absolutely nothing to do with engine thrust sequencer calibration on this, or any other ship.



*

 

the mystery continues... Analyzer used for weapons being used on engines?.... HMMM

I liked the sandie dialogue.

Funny, at work we have a guy named Sandy, He benches 400, cut like boxer and plays hockey, it always catches new people off guard when they expect to see Sandy. let alone a tough guy with a funny nick name.

 

‘Sabela Arlen, in a black hooded robe, sat motionless in the shadows of the spaceport watching Guri’s ship. The small communicator in her palm began to vibrate. She held it close to her mouth, barely daring to whisper, “Are you in place?”

1265’s voice whispered in response, “I’m in place. Kaird’s ship is looking pretty quiet. You OK?”

Without taking her eyes off the ship, she replied as there was a small movement in the cockpit, “I’m good. Let me know if anything changes, otherwise silence.”

Inside the vessel under surveillance, Guri sat forward in the cockpit to the edge of her seat, positioning her face into the range of the holo-receptor’s scanning beams. She appeared human, and was athletic with strong features. The hologram of a restless figure paced on the console before her. He was a tall, green-skinned Falleen; humanoid in appearance with the subtle, residual features of his ancient reptilian ancestry. A thick topknot of black hair erupted from his otherwise bald head. He turned, looking to one side as Guri began, in a warm, throaty voice.

“Kaird is here, sir. The Port Authority confirmed that his ship is here now.”

He thought carefully, replying slowly at first; surgically selecting his words.

“The conversation”, he paused. “That brief conversation with the Hutt, and the events that followed on that recording must never again see the light of day. Matalla tried to tell me about the Jedi, but I silenced him. He tried to warn me that the Jedi he had seen carried with him an infant, and how uncharacteristic that was for a Jedi. I couldn’t be bothered with his observations of some warrior refugee; that was the obsession of the Emperor’s new Dark Lord.”

He took a few steps, lowering his gaze, but still staring off into nothing, as if once again visiting that dark hallway in his mind.

“I had no way of knowing then, but I now believe that the Jedi he saw was Kenobi, and the child mentioned grew to be mentored in the Jedi way, and went on to obliterate Tarkin and his Death Star.”

His eyes darted from side to side. “If that were to be revealed to Vader; if Kaird were to recover that recording and present it to the Dark Lord, all of Black Sun’s contracts that I worked so hard to negotiate would be finished, and the Emperor’s servant would hunt me relentlessly.”

He turned to look squarely at her now, his perfect white teeth gleaming as he spoke.

“If Kaird locates that recording first, he’ll destroy me with it. He’ll be searching alone, though; he won’t involve the Hutts. He can’t afford to bring them into it. I thought I was rid of this concern long ago, but now he’s determined to dig up the past for his own gain. You know what must be done where Kaird is concerned.”

She nodded, “And what of the Imperial troops also searching for it? How should they be dealt with?”

He looked off again, “Even if they make the find, they may not know the full extent of what they have beyond the evidence of murder, but that’s a chance I am not willing to take.”

He turned back to her again. “That recording can never leave Tatooine, Guri, are we clear?”

The blonde-haired human replica ‘droid stared back with pale and clear blue eyes. “Clear as Adegan crystals, Prince Xizor.”

His holographic image dissolved, and she took a deep breath, mimicking human behavior beautifully.

*

“Yes R2, I was able to fix it this time, but you need to be more careful.”

The little ‘droid gave a sheepish groan of apology as they made their way down to the X-wing fighter below. It sat waiting, atop a flat stone clearing at the base of the canyon.

“C’mon around here R2, and I’ll quick-charge the repulsor packs so we can get you loaded in and . . .”

His sentence broke mid-stream as he noticed a figure dressed in black leaning against his boarding ladder. He reflexively unclipped his newly restored lightsaber, igniting it. The milky blue blade flashed out from the hilt, illuminating his face and arm in the dim twilight of the canyon; the low rumbling snarl of the energy beam cutting through the silence between them.

The dark figure stood up straight, but drew no weapon. Luke listened as he strained in the dim light to see; there was no cold, mechanical breathing; it was not Vader.

Suddenly it spoke, “I’m not armed. I was hoping to meet you. You are Skywalker, right?”

The voice was not menacing or threatening. Luke stood in silence, wondering who could have known he was here, let alone his name. He did not reply, allowing the silence to stand as he waited for more information. R2 whimpered slightly.

“I received a holonet message from ‘BASE ONE’ advising that you were on-planet. They gave me the coordinates to locate your ship. I’m the one that’s been funneling information to you and the rebellion.”

He paused for just a second and stepped forward into the saber’s glow as he continued. Luke lowered his blade slightly, looking the other man in the eyes.

The figure took another step closer, staring back at him.

“My name is Davin Felth.”


* * *