Beyond Undeniably Evil; Mishy's carnage cost

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction- Before, Saga, and Beyond' started by aalagartassle, Jan 19, 2013.

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  1. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Set 18 ABY, just before Survivors Quest.
    A young Force user, Mishy Lakaylor lacks guidance. She is stranded with 60 'Survivors' in the storage container of the marooned vessel Outbound Flight which contained a Jedi praxeum. Mishy's story is the descent into evil.

    Undeniably Evil.

    Mishy Lakaylor wasn’t your typical seven year old. Although pretty and petite for a human she was insolent, tempered and mischievous. Her feminine qualities were somewhat looked past.

    Somewhat on the raggity side; though they were all raggity on Outbound flight due to poor rationing, Mishy was all muscle. She had a knack for mechanics and fixed most of the rundown household items at least once a month.

    At an early age Mishy did not exhibit the typical playfulness or bonding many children tended to inherit from their parents or friends. Some say she had Tradoshan blood running through her veins; cold and calculating she frolicked and chattered her gargled laugh when she took another child’s toy by her use of the Force.


    Countless times Mishy watched her older victims try to catch falling food from their lunch tray when she had secretly leveled a finger at them and thought ,
    push.
    She could do this at will and it was surprisingly effective to instill fear in her peers.


    At times she was well mannered, especially after dinner, fluttering her eyelids at her father Kenth whilst he asked her to put the dishes into the saniwasher located in the back room. She carefully and diligently picked up every dish and scrap of food, balancing all cutlery and morsels into the back cubicle away from prying eyes.

    This was her place, a place of solitude.

    Time and time again Mishy had been sent to the back cubicle for being naughty; sometimes she just wanted to get in there and be locked away from prying eyes.


    This was the only room in her habitat that had a lock, it was also the noisiest and dirtiest place; even the air scrubbers couldn’t penetrate the stench.


    Saniwashers, trash chutes and old food made this places aroma more than a little on the nose, but the solitude made up for everything. Most importantly this was a place to practice the Force, or what she had been told was the Force by some of the other people living as the survivors of Outbound Flight’s maiden catastrophe.
    They said Outbound Flight was ruled by Jedi, an idealistic and adventerous Force oreniatated religion that had insight into peoples lives. The Jedi could move objects with their mind, could influence people with their thoughts. They had many special abilities, with boundless telekinectic apitudes all packed into an elite sports star and monk. Unfortunately they killed 100,000 men and women on this flight due to a disagreement with a Blueskin admiral who was defending his territory.
    Some said the Jedi general in charge was insane. In the following altercation with the Blueskin general all the Jedi were killed, along with 100,000 other passengers and pioneers. Only 60 'rebels' survived the destruction as they were temporarily incarserated in the storage container for defying the rule of the Jedi.


    For four years Mishy had learnt how to push and pull objects to and from her with alarming accuracy and was now concentrating on lifting cutlery with the Force into the saniwasher. Many a piece of crockery had slipped out of her control and ended up harmlessly falling on the clothes and blankets she had huddled around the washer. Be that as it may there were so many chinks in the plates and glasses from slippage into the saniwasher slots that her mother thought she was actually throwing them into the air from afar.



    The trick was to first pull the push in rapid succession to create a bubble and continue this to create angles, more push on one hand made an object scoop up, more pull made the angle slide down and levitation was slowly but surely being mastered. This is what drove her; to create and understand new powers that everyone else was afraid of, to hear why everyone was afraid made Mishy want to get to mastery even faster. Every time she made a breakthrough she would redouble her efforts.




    Notwithstanding,On todays occasion of mischief she had been locked in the cubicle and she thoroughly deserved to be in there and she knew it.

    It had been one hour since she was last bothered by her mother, which was just to pop her head in and give her a filthy look to make sure she hadn’t escaped again.

    The grownups were talking about her in muffled hushed voices, she could hear the anguish and beratement of Yarvis "Crabman" Spring. Mishy’s spine tingled, her ears grew hot knowing how she had injured the old crabman Yarvis the day before. She had popped the old mans knee out. He had caught her pushing food with the Force from Adel’s chow tray at breakfast. Crabman recorded the trick on holcamera and had given it to commander Uliar and Major Ellan. He then laughed in her face as he retold the tale at lunch in front of everyone saying that her punishment would be the Zoo again.


    Mishy had fumed and simply sat in her diner cubicle with her embarrassed family, her mother weeping and her father standing over everyone; shielding his daughter and accepting some of the crowd’s vehement swipes. The little girl had sat face down staring in silence as dozens of beings openly spoke about her and her insolence towards others in the other occupied cubicles. The power inside of her was so hard to bottle up, she grew restless and tired.


    After a time tears had fell from her cheeks, her face red like someone who held her breath for far to long. Mishy had become sensitive of one and all around her, she did not need eyes to determine peoples focus or for that matter emotions. She could merely feel them radiating towards her; a hot and wet swath of abhorrence had circled around her forehead.

    Crabman, she had thought, has to pay and pay dearly.


    The old man had been drinking heavily, enjoying his merriment, he had considered to get up and go to the freshers’. Feeling the anticipation and the abruptness that goes with busting til one can't hold anymore Mishy’s legs had started to tremble with power . He went soon enough.



    Crabman had desperately swaggered out of the diner with everyone’s attention reverted on his back, the little girl quickly looked up and stared at his leg with intense focus and hatred, channeling her rage into a invisible blaster she pointed and shot as she quickly lifted a sneeky finger in his direction.


    The invisible but tangible power had exploded from Mishy’s brain, it was not a controlled ball that hit only it’s target, more like a fizzling firework like an old roman candle that arced out with jets from the points of a triangle which effected some of the people who were also wandering around. These innocents were clipped in the back of the head like a small crow peck, and others slapped like some old nemesis smacking their so called friend on the back without a shirt.


    Mishy’s centre of the malevolent power was focused enough that the greatest part of her aim was square on target. The old man screamed in anguish as he fell to the floor clutching his twisted knee. Notwithstanding, most onlookers jumped up to help Yarvis and berated the man for having too much alcohol and not watching where he was going. All except Mishy’s father who only looked at his daughter in shock and misgivings having caught her in the act.



    Her parents quickly ushered the girl back to her home and put her in the laundry for the past two hours.

    What little light there was around her seem to cloud over to a gray pall. This cubicle; a place with little ventilation, old food scraps that didn’t quite make to the trash compacter the cloying nature of air slowly turning putrid, dust motes that danced to the various vibrating sanitreatments, the noise being a low and constant thrum couldn’t block her parents anguish. Her scared mother cried, her nervous father fumbled out words to her intended victim.



    ” Mishy isn’t like us”,…”different” “too much thought for someone so young….loner…hasn’t got any friends….”




    Each of these phrases were regular, awhile ago each phrase would send a slither of electricity shooting out to dance on her fingers, but not anymore. Mishy knew who she was, who she was going to be; she was to be a Jedi.

    Mishy's hatred grew and she thought, It's time to show Crabman that I am not to be made a fool!



    The young Force user focused on the locking mechanism ; the lock sprung with an inaudible click, a slight smile of pleasure spread across her face. That old Crab has got it coming. Now what to do ,she thought slyly.

    Surely they will offer him a drink .


    Without opening the door Mishy pictured the next room, an orange tiled section for breakfast and cooking, hotplates in one section, food and utensils on a caf table with harsh right angles around hip height augmented by a sole chair.

    His knee would force him to sit soon enough.




    Mishy set to work in her mind, first she literally smelt the odors of the room whilst time and space awareness came after a slight warping of the chamber, she could see everything through the Force.Concentrating on the utensils, pushing with the Force the knives silently slid near the edge of the table. Mishy then focused on the levitation of a medium size rehydrated aloe mushroom, a particular opaque and watery cellulose plant. It stealthy moved towards the base of the chair and carefully hid behind the leg.


    Her trap had been set.

    Simple but effective.


    She could hear her mother pour the special drink to Yarvis, listen to his rumblings slowly dissipate as the amber liquid sloshed in his mouth, his urge was so great to sit now that Mishy slowly pushed the plant away from the leg and into position. Concentrating hard that sweat sheened from her forehead she sensed permeations in the air, a foot unavoidably about to contact with the plant. Mishy thought the plant to be ice and it was so. Instantly their was a shriek of a man falling hard onto the floor and a thwack as his skull harshly struck the edge of the table, she felt glee, her eyes went crimson.


    Mishy sensed panic and anguish and drank it in, prizing the emotional flood the feeling offered to her, but something was not quite right. Her mother shocked and screaming and an old presence dumbfounded and dazzled. Quickly Mishy peered through the keyhole, everything was ultra white and she couldn’t focus.


    Something in her mind was screaming. Mishy surged in the Force, uncontrollably her blood boiled and her arms inexplicably flung around her body. She obliterated the door with the power of a raging tornado push, snapping the hinges off. She rushed out into the blinding light and saw a puddle of scarlet blood slither across the room licking at the boots of Yarvis who was still standing bent over a non responsive corpse; her fathers temple oozing blood, his neck at an obtuse angle.

    What have I done,



    her only love, her protector swallowed up by her thirst for revenge for a stupid old man that did nothing but saw the obvious. Mishy felt as cold as the storage freezer, she shook faster and faster like the old clothes machine. An untamed inhumane shriek at earsplitting decibels came from her throat. Wind rushed around her causing small dust motes and debri to twist and dance around her coveralls. Larger objects detached and were caught up in the mayhem.


    Yarvis and Mishy’s mother turned around from the corpse and their jaws dropped even further, their eyes ever widening in terror. Blood began to be windswept and swilled around in a storm cell that rained hemeaglobin and plasma. Mishy’s hair stood straight up on end, her hands raised, trembling tendrils of electricity gathered in her fingers and she went taunt. Like a sonic boom she quickly released her misery in the direction of Yarvis.


    Bolts of crackling blue energy engulfed the old man, his whole body propelled backwards slamming into the hotplates, His clothes and skin were being ripped away, innards started to steam and still she pressed her powerful fury. The nblood rain feel in a torrent and she screamed a sirens lullaby. Her clothes were drenched, windswept and fluttering backwards, a powerful dark halo, the eye of the storm engulfed her head.

    Realizing that there was another primal scream to her side, Mishy released her left hand surge and pointed it towards the sound, instantly a gurgling noise was emitted. She raised her hand higher and turned to see her mother suspended two feet off the ground, her face blue, her eyes pleading for her to stop, her hands not wrapped around her throat but uselessly dangling with her palms open in sorrow. Instantly Mishy stopped, sank to her knees and sobbed, head bobbing downwards, hot gushing tears formed a slow eddy as droplets of blood smattered onto the tiles.

    Yarvis was dead, his stench was overpowering. Mishy’s tears were hot and salty, they drizzled down her ashen cheeks mixing with the blood to form a pink ripple. Her mother was whimpered like a sick dog but moved ever so slowly towards her daughter. Even though Mishy didn’t have a great relationship with her mother, little hugs were rare and cherished. Mishy thought this event deserved a whole hearted embrace.


    Her face still drooping down with tears still gushing, she raised her hands feebly like the child she was suppose to be and started clutching for her mother. Seshy was close but still had not made the distance, though close enough to Mishy to feel her heat signature and hear her internal wheezes. Mishy drew her head up just in time to see a knife plunging for her chest.

    In the instant the little blonde Force user reacted due to the last shimmering of the Force leaving her body and rose some five centimeters and swayed to the right. The knife penetrated her left shoulder under the collarbone and wedged in.

    Blood spurted but no sound emanated from either Mishy or her mother as they struggled with each other.



    Seshy twisted and silently used her larger frame to pin Mishy to the ground. An arrgh of finality escaped her mother’s breath as she achieved the advantage. Wiggling the knife in a circular motion to gain purchase, making the spurting wound grow in size. Seshy increased her advantage by straddling the injured girl. Mishy was too exhausted and feebly tried to raised herself, it was no good, her mother was too heavy and determined, dark blotches appeared in the young girls vision.


    In slow motion the knife slipped out of the oozing hole and was raised for a final stab. Mishy’s eyes were now pleading like her mothers had been a minute before, Seshy's were now crimson and dripping with blood.

    Events in ones short life defined Mishy’s existence, most importantly the hugs her dad gave her when she went passed middle grade and was accepted in advanced after two years schooling, Listening to Zimby about C'baoth , the dream, and learning how to push and pull with the Force went flashing through her mind.



    The blunt knife came crashing down, Mishy surged with energy, her mother who was once so heavy shot up. Desperately Seshy forced her blade to curve like a raptors claw from the thrust and clipped Mishy’s nose exacting a clean cut on her nose, no blood came from the wound immediately.


    Seshy rose so fast that she cracked the back of her skull with a loud thwack on the 8 foot high ceiling above. Gravity took hold and her mother’s chest came crashing down on top of Mishy, a jolt, broke her nose and sent two baby teeth straight through her tongue. Seshy didn’t get up and became very limp. The little girl slowly turned under her, heaved and clawed her way from under the weight.


    Slowly Mishy checked her wounds, her shoulder was bad, deep with blood leaking quickly. Her eyes were glassy due to the blood now pouring out of her nose and mouth, she looked like a deranged psychopath, her hair now plastered to her scalp in wet gore. Mishy looked at the back of her mothers head and saw the knife protruding, its pointed end encased with bone and carnage.


    Mesmerized at the butchery for some two minutes Mishy didn’t hear the crash and fizz from the entrance door. Only a magnificent light shook here from her stupor, beings were rushing around everywhere shouting at each other and to her victims on the ground.

    A large but gentle hand pushed Mishy back to the sitting position, she heard an echoed tone, “We got a wet here!”


    Everything became hazy and discolored Mishy’s eyes rolled to the back of her head when she drifted into the spacelanes.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, Sep 29, 2014
  2. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    “How can a man be electrocuted, even though the hotplates were off, but he landed near a power outlet that did not and I repeat did not emit a pulse?”Dr Darius Holland scoffed.

    He had studied and practiced for some forty years now and never had he seen such a bizarre amount of mismatched analysis from three corpses come through his medical makeshift laboratory. He looked down his nose and continued prodding and poking at hair follicles.
    “How does a woman have a knife go through her forehead; the strongest bone in the human anatomy when it is so blunt? How has her fingerprints been found on the knife and her and her daughters blood also on the same blade? I expect I can tell that poor Kenth slipped and knocked his head but how did Mishy get a decicred sized wound from the very knife her mother was killed by? This is perplexing to say the least”.
    Shimal dressed in less blood stained white robes looked at the corpses with what Darius tended to think was her wiffy nose face. Darius’s assistant scrunched up her nose ,examined the delicate fabrics and sinew that were prodded and poked. The wounds were swelling again especially around the head letting out some grey matter. The intense lighting added to the over sterile environment and the rest of the gore had started to coagulate . In a bland and very monotone voice she replied,
    ” Seshy Lakaylor seems to have two wounds in the back of her head, I think I have found some plaster from either a wall or ceiling. By the way she also looks like she had been strangled”.

    “What?What?What!”, exclaimed Darius who quickly peered over the young assistants shoulder, his bloody gloved hands delicately brushing around the corpses neck area and cranium.
    Indeed there was trauma on the neck and flaky residue from plaster on Seshy’s hair, but no wound or bump on the back of Seshy’s head to indicate another trauma , just blood and brain.
    “Why do you think, she had hit her head on a wall?” he asked thinking on all the years of experience he had.
    Shimal as nonchalant as possible came out and spoke.
    “This is the Force we are dealing with, remember a lot of the young ones show some Force characteristics that’s why most of their parents were brought on Outbound Flight”,
    Darius looked ashened, he wobbled a bit and examined the corpse hesitantly saying ,“Well we know the rumors Master C’boath was like this, has he come back to haunt us?”
    “PPHT”, snorted Shimal, “ghosts can’t do this, this is a person and it’s probably the person who survived”.
    Darius eyed Shimal and questioned her in a deliberately and slow context,
    “How do know this, are you Force sensitive?”

    Unperturbed Shimal in her monotone voice explained,
    “Probably,”, she stopped and her eyes gazed into the distance, “I feel things when something major happens to the colony, sometimes it’s good like when we found that crate with the carbonited Bota supply and medical equipment. I knew something good was happening and I was on the other side of the compact taking a sanistream. But last night I felt truly sick, so sick I had to look in the mirror and make sure my stomach wasn’t opened up, over the last few months I’ve had the same kind of feeling albeit a lot less powerful,” She hesitated and regained her composure, “I think we are seeing the results of a Force sensitive having a tantrum”.

    Darius nodded sagely and then inquired, “Yeah, well maybe glutinous maximus could lock her up in the Zoo? But why haven’t you got this Force thing checked out?”

    Shimal smiled, “Oh Darius you can’t check for the Force on a marooned vessel, we probably have the equipment somewhere”, the medical assistant looked around at the damp, cramped and dirty staging area someone said was an infirmary,” but I doubt they put it in storage, It probably got blown away by the Blueskins when they took out C’Baoth. And so you know,I have done every other test and they come back fine, every scan we have, I’ve done”.
    Darius lightened but still pumped Shimal for information,” Were your mum and dad Force sensitive?”

    Shimal hesitated and then nodded reluctantly, “ like a lot of others , remember even though I was a little girl it was only 15 years ago that they locked the Jedi container and got rid of all traces of Jedi paraphernalia. People didn’t just stop being force sensitive , although’ , Shimal raised a flirty eyebrow and her pitch started to play coy, “ Major Ellan and Uliar has certainly put a clamp on its use. And when you have law you have certain people that will break them”.

    Darius gave a wry smile and saw his most favorite glimpse of sensual paradise in the god forsaken rust bucket of a storage container, he tried to sound suave, but the tone was all wrong, plus he was covered in blood. He soldiered on, “Speak of the Twileck dancer , I was wondering when you would ask for results”.
    Major Ellan had opened the lab door and was smoldering, a human, she looked down her slightly smashed nose and with a hoarse voice barked,
    “Well? Where are they, what can you provide?”

    Darius seemed to enjoy to flirt with her, in a feral grin he proceeded,
    “Oh I could provide you with so much Ashanti oh err heh heh”, he chuckled like a school boy, “Major Ellan, but there is no real science that can explain what happened!". He beckoned the large female in with a wink, “What have you and your grunts got”?
    Oh god another black eye to Darius, thought Shimal, he never learns. Major Ellan flexed her huge biceps, cracked her knuckles and towered over Darius who somehow looked like the coward he was but also that he would enjoy getting walloped again .

    In an all together sickening , menacing and sexy voice. Ashanti replied, “You push limits don’t you doctor .“
    Darius somewhat trembling like a kibuck looked up and gave the widest grin anyone thought possible, and blurted with a mischievous smile,
    ” Anything to get your attention my grenade wearin gal!”

    Daruis then turned away quickly, trying not to notice the rising ire the previous contender of the pit ring of Tatooine contestant had and started to speak as if instructing a medical 101 to a twelve year old student.
    “I and my colleague have the way each victim died but cannot attest to who the killer or killers were, we have theories but cannot substantiate them with hard evidence”.
    Ashanti who was not the prettiest female, most of her peers and friends at one point in time gave a callous remark about her gender, and some found out that girls can hit rather hard was a little on the back foot, she creased her forehead and went red with uncertainty .Darius turned back and only grinned larger at her flush and pretended that it was some sort of weird mating sign . He winked at her again and quickly almost cowardly turned back to study the corpses.
    Being flirted with was something of a rarity, but being flirted, mocked, and then dealt with like a professional did Ashanti’s head in! She had fantasised about Darius a bit lately, due to his constant flirtasions to her only.
    Composing herself she weakly offered,
    ” We know it’s Mishy, the cam outside the compact indicated no-one came in or out and the heat scans confirm that there was only four people in the habitat at the time of the incident.”

    Shimal chimed in trying not to laugh or vomit, “We should have seen this coming, after all she has been doing really bad things to nearly everyone for at least two years now”.

    With a slight prod by Shimal to get Ellan out of her somewhat surreal sexual fantasy, Ellan regained some of her composure and stood behind Daruis who hadn’t looked back for at least a few heartbeats, ” I’ve put her in the holding brig at least 20 times ,sometimes the stay was for a week! But I’d never think she could hurt Kenth, she really loved him and even though he was a bit of a pushover he did the best he could with that feral, he asked me and others for help so many times that it couldn’t be passed over for bad parenting or lack of experience, the kid wanted to be a rancor! Every time we devised a new punishment or tried to sugar coat her, she was that sneaky she would unhinge even the most honest, courageous and open minded people we have”.

    Shimal nodded in agreement, Darius only turned around and mentally undressed her. Hotly Ashanti spat out,
    “We got her in the brig under heavy sedation”
    She stormed out, her face flush with embarrassment listening to the small chuckle that Darius issued and thought about putting one of her grenades somewhere where he wouldn’t laugh.
    I should have smashed him , or taken him to my room? She couldn’t decide MEN! And I’m stuck on a ship that’s going nowhere..
    Last edited by aalagartassle, Jul 9, 2014
  3. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    The Deaths Head hung in remote Chiss space, the modified Republic Corellian Cruiser was of Clone war origin housing 1000 of the best pirates the outer rim had seen for decades. She had extra shielding, long range scanners and modified to the hilt. Escape pods were gutted and replaced with the most expensive concussion and proton torpedo tubes on the black market.


    Armed to the teeth with turbo lasers and enough hangar space to keep an assortment of 24 hyperspace capable uglies, 4 drop ships, numerous speeder bikes complimented by 5 modified light freighters she was an antiquated force to behold.

    Deciman slowly puffed on his cigar, savoring the flavor as he viewed a lone gas giant from the bridge of his cruiser. He held great pride in what he had achieved; from a raggity, bloodthirsty and ultra smart youth to the mission he just completed, he always seemed so reserved, disciplined and proud. He drew a long puff and remembered how he acquired his leadership and vessel.



    A satisfied smile as callous as the day he became captain during the Clone Wars spread across his face. He remembered his indenture to Lord Tyrannous; a shady well spoken character that promised him safe haven and this very vessel; previously named The Rectitude . He needed to block the hangar doors of a clone battle station at Jambin during a predetermined strike.
    He had a full year to plan; Lord Tyrannous was anything but meticulous. He was aided by an unscrupulous Hutt named Filba who was quartermaster for the station. Deciman attached himself The Rectitude at every waking moment. He laughed to himself as he took another puff. The two fleeced everything they could from the civvies, gunners and conscripts. The Sabacc decks were always skiffed, the dice always gimmicked, the drinks always spiked and the spice literally brightened the bulkheads. They were paid in army commodities; Bota, credits, favours and information .


    Over time they had everything they needed to do in place.

    Deciman snorted to himeself
    What a ball we had, we were so corrupt and no one could do a thing about it.

    When the clones docked a thinly veiled presence of law and order was quickly embedded but this only drove up the prices. By eight months Deciman had full access to Cruiser security codes along with the space stations access codes and most of it’s other codes. His cover as tug barge captain, ferrying supplies from planet to base gave him access to all sorts or intel.


    Another long puff and Deciman reminisced the battle; he smiled at the audacity as he called in the favors one by one five minutes before the strike. He remembered that old Nikto Samy was so fleeced that the green eyesprout obeyed Deciman toshut down the turbo laser banks for maintenance while he pretended to partake in a large Spice deal. At the same time he watched from the Rectitude service bay as he called a mock evacuation drill to the hangar staff and ground crews .

    What a catastrophe, a simple art to cause chaos.

    He commed the separatists and watched hundreds of vessels decant from hyperspace as the last armored clone left the gantry deck when he called the last fake rotational change . The effect was the separatists fired so many incursion droids into the spacestation that the clones were stuck. Deciman merely entered the Bridge of the Rectitude within the panic and stated orders that the captain of the vessel had to engage the enemy, skeleton crew or no crew. He solely plugged a gimmicked computer virus into a lead terminal on the bridge and locked down the vessel by his code changes and overrides.
    The clones being so war minded and in their blind panic didn't even notice he was there.


    He captured the bridge easily as he watched clones die by rolling 20 gas grenades down the parpets. Deciaman fastened the only functional rebreather from the stow aways as he fired on the crew. He watched with delight as the surviving crew fastened their rebreathers looking in surprise as gas fogged their vision and nostrils. They slowly asphyxiated, within two minutes they couldn't even level a blaster at him. With his computer program in place he vented the gas when the battle was raging. The program gave him full control of the vessel within seconds, enough to haphazarly engage the so called enemy while pumping volleys into the interior of the spacestation itself.

    He dethatched the vessel from the station with the flare of 15 escape pods clanging and bursting into flames through the hangars, hitting personnel, fighters, droids and ordinance. The bright mini novas nearly split the station in two, space junk clotted bay doors exits and tractor beams could not get a hold on the vessel. Deciman remembered how he feigned death as he gave a finale transmission to the station saying he was going to ghost ship the vessel to the separatists flank. He spearheaded the Rectitude for the starboard flank of enemy assalt frigates and cruisers. The bombardment never intensified, the separatists just opened a vector for him and he jumped through to the Transistory Mists.

    He had secured the bridge, sat back and lit up a cigar and smiled his feral grin.


    The vessel emerged from hyperspace, she was boarded by thousands of droids and every remaining clone’s life expectancy was cancelled . Set upon by his partners the vessel was refitted and checked for every conceivable bug. All military encryption was just ripped out and taken away for espionage and the commboard replaced. With Lord Tyrannous overseeing the refit, Deciman remembered the fatherly pride the old man gave him. He eagerly asked for the next assignment. After careful consideration Lord Tyrannous announced that he should use the ship to harass shipping in the Outer rim.

    For nearly thirty years he had done what Tyrannous had asked, he knew the war was over and Tyrannous dead but the emotion had not left him.



    And he was so good at it.




    Though the Deaths Head was slower than most vessels in the Empire or New Republic now, her great shielding and captains hit and run tactics kept their overheads to a bare minimum. Deciman was shrewd, he never took on the Empire worlds or Republic planets front on, there were too many other worlds that had no idea. Most of the time he set scams up, bank jobs and a little piracy on the routes never went unrewarded.


    His Deaths Head had never been tracked, his base never located and he was always behind some other planetoid when his armada raided a bank on a planet. In space and the hyperlanes his quarry was mainly automated ore and fuel ships.There certainly were no survivors or escapees when capturing the behemoths of the stars.

    Life was good, the pay was fantastic, food was wholesome and they even took holidays !His men were respected but constantly drilled in warefare, it was a team sport as his Second in charge had once stated. . Their very lives as freelance profiteers or commonly known pirates kept the assortment of species on their toes or claws through the years. His second in charge for the last ten years, a rather wily Gotal nicknamed Speckles was next to his captain at all times, he could anticipate an opponent and was rather handy in a brawl. . They looked after each other as though they were brothers.

    Speckles interrupted Deciman’s reminiscing, he eyed the captain and pointed at the viewport. He grumbled in a low pitched shout.
    ” If they spot us, we wont be able to stop them, they are far to good, I’ve heard the stories and spoke to a couple of dead men about their encounters with the Chiss, they are not to be toyed with”.

    “Ahh Speckles”, his captain admonished with a smile, “would you rather have me set us a course to Coruscant or Bastion or the corporate sector? I heard they are so gracious to our kind. We need to be on the fringe and sometimes we have to hide a little deeper in the spiders web. After what we just got away with we really need to disappear for a couple of months and let Ord Mantell banks and fuel refineries cool off. They will set the hounds off hell against us if we keep popping up with regularity.”

    Speckles pleaded, “Let’s just go back to base boss, they haven’t found us ever.”

    “Now Speckles”, Deciman chided, “What did I teach you, they trace ion trails, afflux and signatures, if we just went home the goodies would get the baddies in no time at all”. He raised his arms, “Think devil man think! We hang out here cruise behind some gas giants and find out how much loot has to be given out, pay our creditors and drink till we drop. Two months max, it’s idle time apart from drills. The men are getting paid at half danger rates and that beats full base rates any day of the week. Look if they get cabin fervor we will go to some secluded world and have a hunting holiday whatdayasay”?


    Speckles looked upbeat and nodded eagerly.


    Deciman laughed,“Ow Speckles you just wanted to go hunting didn’t you?”


    Speckles grinned, “Yeah boss”!


    “Ya pirate!”, Deciman laughed in delight.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, Mar 17, 2014
  4. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Chas Ulair was livid, the man had generally portrayed many positive emotions; but this was a wild shock to the system. The small scar running down the side of his pampered cheek looked like a throbbing vein. The white skin pulsed, as if it recalled how it had been born. The final impact with a planetoid surface while inside a storage container, aboard Outbound Flight.

    Yeah thats a blender in colossal proportions .

    This coincided with the end of interstellar space travel for sixty other survivors.


    Ulair, normally would not bark and snap commands at will; that was not how the self-appointed leader of the ‘Survivors’ would act . Routinely for one of his own he would display some pity and err on the side of caution, but this time he thought he was justified for the verbal slight against the Force user Mishy Lakalyor. He paced his dilapidated office while Ashanti Ellan stood with her arms behind her back in an excruciatingly formal military stance.

    “How many times did we put her in the lockup hmm, how many ?Three times in the last 10 cycles ? No wait ,10 times this year, but twenty times, yes twenty times in the last three years and did I not say she needed to be permanently put in the brig”?

    Major Ellan stood with her arms behind her back, her huge biceps twitched as she was being partially berated by what she thought looked like a skinny version of a Kookwalian monkey lizard.
    Men! She thought.

    What came out of her mouth was a strong and determined,

    “By all indication it was Mishy who committed these acts”.


    Ulair eyed her and had already arrived at his decision, he raged,
    ” She goes straight to the Zoo; no nanny pansy baby lockup, the real Zoo this time. She’s been there once before to frighten her into submission, but old Piers Zimby actually made her happy in there”.

    He wiped his forehead in exasperation and grabbed a shot of strong homemade liqueur from the side of his desk.
    “ No one is to be put in with her, she see’s me and me only for two years, I’ll feed her and water her, I’ll treat her with the Bota we found in the carbonate hold; you know the one that gives us a headache and went haywire”.
    Ulair swigged a shot as he eyed the condensed liquid, “There’s no way in a Tatooine snow blizzard I’m giving her even a drop of Bacta before I throw her in”.

    Bota was largely an unknown plant drug found from the planet Drongar, it had many effects but mainly and antibiotic narcotic that sedated the patient. For the ‘Survivors’ left on Outbound Flight it was a last resort; this particular batch of Bota was lovingly coined “Bota blast”, from the extreme headache one got as a side effect.

    Ulair ranted gnashing his jaws together as if devouring an imaginary piece of nerf steak; droplets of spittle actually started to form on the side of his lips as he paced and spun about sloshing the bottle a little.
    “ That’s it, no discussion, no backchat! I don’t want to hear it, three die because of her; no one else will on my shift!”

    The veins in his neck pulsed, he was hoarse but he didn’t stop there,
    “I’m sick of the Jedi, anyone with unnatural abilities will be permanently housed in the Zoo, not no nanny Zoo. He paused and grimly looked at his shot glass, “yeah that’s good, that’ll have to do.”
    He smiled as he poured another shot. After an awkward silence he mumbled, “that’ll keep em quiet”.
    “Or insane”, mused Ashanti out aloud.
    Ulair stared laser bolts, Ellan stiffened even more expecting a tirade to be directed at her. Surprisingly she saw Ulair lowered his head; dejected.
    “Good point,” he mumbled as he poured another shot and got out a glass for her,” but I need You Major Ellan”.

    He sloshed the liquid into the receptacles.

    Ulair puffed up his scrawny chest as he swallowed another shot. He began to pace towards Ashanti, “ We need to protect the 60, no 57 other people still aboard this ship. We cant have these kids with massive advantages to be let loose, look what Mishy’s done; look what C’baoth did; they are a danger that cannot be trusted”.


    Ulair waved his free hand around his head, “ they act unnatural and how could they possibly act within the law? The only way to separate them and stay civil is to incarcerate them.”

    Ashanti stood solid, unmoved like the female mountain she was as Ulair got uncomfortably to close to her as he offered her the drink. She reached for it and downed the contents without so much as a battered blink. She reminisced, I had actually liked the stories of Jedi Jizler and some other Jedi that were aboard Outbound Flight, but because they were the root cause of her stranding she hated them.
    Ashanti fessed up telling herself she had no real fond memories of the powerful Force users; especially one Jorus C’baoth. She mused to herself as her shot was topped up.
    Taking a quick gulp of the powerful liqueur she thought, They were mainly self righteous men, not many aliens as I recall, not many girls except Gizler.

    C’baoth… Insanity…Self righteous. Killer .

    Men!

    She came to, the intoxicant nudging at her in the background as Ulair took the glassware back,
    “This is goanna hurt you sir when I say this so sit down and take it, because if you don’t hear it now , when it’s said by someone else you won’t know how to react apart from shooting them”.
    Ulair eyed her and spoke an unseen question of authority, but he had seen the best and worst of Ashanti Ellan and decided to take her advice, she was after all The Survivors only real military personnel. He turned his back on her and sat down in his worn dewback seat grasping for another shot of paradise.

    Ashanti was somewhat shocked at his genuine comradely; he actually respected her…
    hmm…

    No

    Just another man that wants something, probably to air his dirty laundry like they all do once they’ve had a few.

    MEN!

    Ashanti stood stoically and grunted out her meaning, “what you propose is what the Jedi propose, take away babies. Babies so their parents will never see them again.. You will be called every name under the sun and violence will inevitably ensure, taking away a love one, a baby is the cruelest thing you can do. What’s going to happen to the kids you lock up? Will they get an education? Will someone care for them? Who? Do you see the ramifications that your decision will bring?”
    Ulair leaned back, he was hit with a wet goober fish but as quickly as the shock in his face rose it subsided with a slackening tide of cruelness.

    Ashanti noted his scar again stretched, he didn’t look despondent, he looked triumphant. Ulair stood up quickly and poured two more drinks. He wandered around Ashanti and gave her a shot glass. He casually offered her the glass and when she procured the vessel he whipped around her flank and whispered icily in her ear,
    “Thank you, it will work, there are only four Force sensitive children on board and their mothers won’t leave them; well not all of them,” he adjusted.
    Major Ellan gulped down hard on the liquid, it felt as an army of Commenor knats flew down her throat, at the same time she was hit with the Goober fish from Ulair’s response, it smacked with villianary and it tasted with servitude to a dictator.

    Men! Awful… Men!
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  5. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Groggily, Mishy awoke as her face smashed into the sterile flooring ; a small yelp escaped her but in her minds eye she curiously felt no pain at all.
    Ulair’s booming voice assaulted her, the stereophonics with extra flange and distortion made for a heavy concert.
    “You will be repentant, you are now to be confined here for the next two years, I am the only person you will hear, and you will never see me or anyone else for that time. I will put the lights up in two days and give you food, you need to know that you will not escape and" He paused then bellowed into the microphone,

    " you will be repented!”.

    A small spark erupted in Mishy’s brain. Instantly she recognized that she was in “The Zoo” again. Her surroundings were Spartan; a small bank of refreshers, cots and a general purpose curved table with three chairs her only furnishings. The cell itself was makeshift but highly secure and well out of the way from any habitable area of the ship. A bleak prison of massive storage containers stacked up to the ceiling, heavy drapes silhouetted the crates, their soundproofing muffled even the most heartfelt screams. Slight illumination like a breaking dawn hung ominously overhead. One large door was made out, no hinges, not even slits to pass through trays of food like her previous facility. A thin girder stuck out at the very top of the ceiling crates, it’s design to drop food and water down into a Reeks nest. Mishy adjusted to the dreary light and caught sight of a microphone and broken view screen; it hung cracked , uselessly swaying near a slit of a ventilation duct of some twenty centimeters in diameter.

    Another spark jolted Mishy’s brain, like an aneurysm through her cortex. She tentatively massaged her temples and retraced her thoughts; she knew she was in trouble, knew she had been caught and understood she had killed. It was not the first time she was in trouble, not the first time she had been caught and apart from her dad the feeling of killing wasn’t something she didn’t enjoy.

    Crab man, deserved it, mum was always crying and ignoring me or locking me up .

    And well dad,


    well dad.

    Her thoughts hesitated with emotion, a single tear welled up in her eye but didn’t break. Minutes ticked by as if the were seconds and still she stared out into an abyss, thinking about her dad.

    Another jolt of electricity stung Mishy’s body, her mind became hyper alert. Ulair was long gone but somehow she could hear him finishing his remonstration again, “You will be repented”.

    Mishy thought she had already heard that line in what seemed now like an hour ago, maybe a day or a year, she had no concept of time for reasons she couldn’t understand. Her senses acutely shot up even further and started to dazzle, blinding her into a fiery morass. The phantom pain she felt electrified every synapse and nerve in her body. She lay very still, eyes wide open, too frightened to move in case she exploded.
    Her minds eye suddenly tracked onto Ulair who clicked off the microphone, punching in the last locking combination. He then casually hoped onto his swoop and drove off towards the facility.

    What was going on? How could she perceive this?
    It felt strange but she actually observed the punching of digits again. Deep down inside her stomach, energy started to snake out; it began to encapsulate her body. The single tear broke and ran down her nose over the space of a decade, she let it hang on her chin until it fell for over an eon only to burst onto the hard unrelenting floor . The drop shattered into a billion atoms and slowly dissipated from it’s epicenter only to be snatched up and devoured like plankton by the permacrete jaws of a Balleen whale in the floor. In that time Mishy felt her shoulder heal and her wounds rectify themselves. She was suddenly surrounded by a fiery void that sucked away her prison, the storage container ,the ship, the planet, the system and finally the galaxy as suns converged ontop of each other to smother every point of life and leave only an inferno of rage and malice. Through the fire came a phantom of which she could not see but had a powerful presence.

    The answer to her dilemma smashed into her cranium,

    The Sedatives, the phantom voiced whispered.


    Ulair had injected something into her.

    Bota, the apparition soothed.

    Somehow, Bota had gave her some type of new ability to see through the entire galaxy in space and time, Her journey in her mind raced; it narrowed sharply contracting to every facet of her new quarters and the entire 6 dreadnaughts that made up Outbound Flight's grave. Within the damaged Outbound Flight corridors was something remarkable.
    Mishy sensed motionless Force signatures scattered throughout the dormant vessels. There were so many new and powerful things that she would acquire, many crystals called to her, and a small cube just sung so sweetly to her senses that she started to go woozy with lustful apprehension. Her hallucination did not give her the ability to memorize locations within the vessels; but she could remember places with strange doors, hidden portals that felt as they were damaged beyond repair. Light emanated from her mind, her vision changed to her reoccurring nightmare she nicknamed The Dream . Quickly the dream raced through the sequences but this time it had six other alternative endings. Mishy’s eyes rolled back into her head, she began ripping at her hair trying to ward off the powerful Force drug. The vision abruptly changed and again she saw the galaxy with its unlimited stars ignite and disperse into the universe. She witnessed the birth of stars and the collapse of civilizations. Suddenly a world superimposed into her mind, a water world with massive jagged cliffs being relentlessly attacked by a hungry sea, a ravaged wind whipped up huge tsunami like waves. A massive broken bust of a Nautolan fell hundred of meters from a cliff top into a foamy ocean, gray clouds under the water engulfed a structure and within it a little black pyramid encased in magic sat on a pedestal. Mishy felt that someday she would visit this place.
    Having seen so many great things in the blink of an eye, she shook herself to the present and looked around at the Spartan area. The phantom had retreated, she smiled as the Force sprang to life in all directions, Technicolor rain drifted in a fog, spiraling around to form human shapes of past visitors. She watched their torture, their anguish and their suffering. The Force was puffing and budding like a new spring. Mishy thought inwardly at the sight; she had so many nightmarish but entertaining memories of this place. The first time, she was placed in The Zoo, she had the company of the nutter, the old broken Zimby. The Force signature that he left was troubled and inconsistent, winking in and out of the Zoo in flashes of green and gold.
    The lunactic was so battered from the disaster of Outbound Flight's final battle that only mind numbing pain killers and ale could elevate his pain. Regrettably the side effect to his medication was the intense violence and malice he had shown on occasions to people who looked at him the wrong way. For 5 days he ranted and raved about the Jedi and their insane sorcery, tricking him and his family to join Outbound Flight .

    “Go on an adventure of a lifetime”, he had once huffed, “new unexplored worlds at your fingertips they said . All they wanted to do was take my son and train him to become a killer; A Jedi”.
    Zimby screamed,


    “I hate them all!”

    his screaming didn’t stop even when he whimpered into a ball and rocked himself to sleep.

    Zimby had the right to go mad, he lost his wife, son and daughter and he blamed it squarely on the Jedi. In his intoxicated and self loathing murmurs he voiced how these syncopates to the senate could use The Force to push, pull, jump and run with unnatural ability. He saw the old Jedi master Jorus C’baoth strangle a man by just looking at him, being able to point a finger and stop another from moving or levitate him and fly him across the room smashing the victim against the wall, he even saw Jorus C’baoth crackle lightning from his fingers to display his power. This is how Mishy learnt that things Jedi did were possible for her.

    The old man continually shouted out to no one, for hours sometimes.

    Mishy liked Zimby’s stories, she was happy to inspire the old man. Subtlety she pressed him to divulge the sagas. For five days and nights she kept baiting Zimby to rise again and again, disclosing more information about the Force, Jorus C’Baoth and the Jedi until Zimby finally went catatonic.


    Mishy surveyed the Zoo in a nanosecond; the Force signatures were fading. Notwithstanding the Bota in her system expanded her Force sensitivity to unprecedented levels. In her minds eye she pictured double doors imprisoning her. She continued to be a font of Force power feeling very strange, almost invincible. Her hands began to stab into the air replicating a master locksmith, suddenly the lock on the door cracked. The Force manifested in Mishy, her manipulation of it spurred on by the Bota blast she was receiving continue to work wonders. By some feat of time travel or the Force whispering the code Ulair punched into the computer one minute ago had unlocked the outer door.

    The outside door opened but the inner stayed solidly shut. Not knowing what went wrong Mishy looked down at the table and felt rage. The curved table turned into a projectile and wisped away right before her eyes. The Force user leveled a malicious finger at the row of cots and stools, which automatically began spinning around into a vortex, tearing drapes away from the crates and webbing.
    A callous smile crept over Mishy.

    She looked at the large girder bracing the roof acting as the food drop off . She began to concentrate.

    Break and fall next to my feet, she thought.


    Within the blink of an eye the girders metal crumbled and twisted. It crashed on the ground, bounced up and levitated towards Mishy only to softly land next to her.

    She laughed mirthlessly and pointed a finger at the locked door, stretching out with her feelings of rage she channeled the Force.
    Lift.

    Lift !

    Lift !!!!

    The heavy door shuddered and slowly began to screech upwards. The Force flowed through Mishy but the door halted only to stop when it was 3 foot into the ascension. Mishy filled herself with rage, she snatched out with her left hand and levitated the broken girder to prop up the door.

    The girder flew into position and fused with the door by weight and pressure. Frustrated but completely satisfied Mishy simply bent down and slowly walked out of the Zoo. She looked back after five meters hiking and concentrated on the girder again.

    Break like Crabmans knee!

    The girder shot back with an almighty surge into the prison clanging into a crate while the door toppled down with a deafening clang. Mishy raised an eyebrow, her power was ever so off and dwindling. Notwithstanding, with a bit of refinement she broke storage crates at wim while she moved on into a vast complex that was the storage container of the doomed Outbound Flight.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  6. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Ulair sat down in his oversized chair and lamented, it had been two days since he literally threw that womp rat of a girl into The Zoo. He was so infuriated that he nearly forgot to provide nutrients to her and apply the dodgy Bota to her wounds. He had then unceremoniously hurled her limp carcass into the cell.

    A small pained smile crossed his face. Ulair thought a little starvation and only water would provide just the right message to his prisoner.

    You will be treated unfairly, you treated everyone else badly, now accept the communities anger. I am the man in power, you will be remonstrated for you actions.


    His previous stiff spine slackened, and slumped forward, maybe he was to harsh,

    she is only seven,

    a little girl.

    His eyes continually darted at the pictures stuck to Darius's coroners report.

    Grisly little so and so.

    He remonstrated,

    What this Force sensitive had done was appalling, she was even worse than that madman C’baoth and as arrogant.

    His back rose to the sturdy and high position,he thought about what he was doing.

    I’m doing the right thing, he admonished himself for second guessing especially on this girl.

    but what about the other four Force sensatives?

    Ulair knew life of the administrator was going to be tough, he always planned ahead and this felt right in his mind,

    but the others were not going to be convinced so easily,


    it was time to call on his position, to achieve what had to be done, to tell the survivors that this was the only way to guarantee no others would befall the fate that Yarvis Spring, Keith and Seshy Lakaylor and the other 10000 other dead souls that had been lost to the Jedi.

    He took out his electro stylus and began to write his epic masterpiece.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 6, 2013
  7. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    It was a maze of storage units all exactly the same mundane pattern. The packing crates went for kilometers; Mishy had been walking for half a day at least. The infinite power that she had received when she escaped waned quickly; after 10 minutes she no longer sensed the crystals and only faintly recognized the cube. As she trudged the little girl spoke to herself, grumbling and berating herself for not trying to memorize what deck and ship she needed to get to.

    But she was free; free of the Survivors and their rules, free to roam.

    I wonder when I’ll die of exhaustion?

    That in itself would take plenty of time,

    Two days?

    Maybe five.

    Who knows?

    Feeling desperation she climbed a stacked crate, peering out from her vista.
    Automatically she focused on letters etched on top of the crates, not previously seen from her previous vantage point. R, W, M, and T was inscribed on top of the stacks. Mishy hurriedly straddled a crate with the letter R, she ripped at it with all her might. It slowly opened revealing a large Ration well, she rummaged through it’s contents finding no variation to supplies. She ripped open a packet and woofed down the contents in a heartbeat, it had no taste but she felt sated. After a brief contentment, doggedly Mishy threw endless packages to the floor. Next she went to another crate marked W and took one large satchel and one small satchel, Mishy then did the same with marked M and T crates, finding three glow lamps and power packs one pillow and 3 air masks. She made them fit into the large satchel, in the small satchel went the hydration pills and medical supplies to keep her once open wound clean, some sythfesh for latter she argued with herself. Having enough supplies for a week at least and by all accounts able to come back but with the chance they would catch her, she jumped down and spoke to herself again.
    I need to move up to a level they wouldn’t dare go to, no power ,no atmosphere and oxygen. But how?

    Mishy trudged on towards the next bank of units. Two hours later, after picking her way through broken and torn crates she wished she had not packed so many amenities. Most of her necessities lay scattered in every single new room. She sat down, demoralized and rested to replenished herself. After a time she drove a lanky arm into her satchel and pulled out another bland ration pack. She found out a long time ago she didn’t like food per se, it was a means to an end. She took no pleasure in what the grown ups called delicious nerf steaks and just as well, these ration packs were awful.

    The hydration pills were somewhat tricky.

    Thankfully Mishy had the presence of mind to read the label out aloud,
    ‘take only two every 6 hours unless under extreme heat conditions’.
    She kept on reading the packet which virtually implied that if humans took more than two they would die.
    “Wow my cells would explode within”.

    Three little water pills could kill me but two would sustain me, that’s creepy.

    A wave of cold uncertainty came over the young Force user, she started shivering and rapt her arms around her body. The phantom that haunted her so recently touched her mind with ice. She put down her pillow and slept to dream.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  8. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    “The dream”.

    Frost was being expelled from a nighttime blowhole, the freezing atmosphere had a subtle hiss to it. On the outskirts of her vision supple arms were clad in black skin tight sleeves. Wisps’ of blonde curly hair ever so slightly danced at the top corner of the appearance. Within the background inconsistent noises echoed into hums that eerily became a melody. It penetrated her ears sending phantoms of electricity coursing over her body. A slender electric red lightsaber, started to dance in front of her; a twist here, a chop there, it becomes panicked and unpredictable like a dancer out of time.
    A beautiful ashen smell like pure fire assaults her nostrils, the red sword illuminates some more of the murky night desperately weaving around to parry. Suddenly the air becomes as hot as lava. Instantly an electric golden sword smashes down as fast as lightning; its zagging chop hums into a metal pipe inches away her head. The thunderous crack is heard well after the Titans battlecry. In the small illumination of gold and red flashing hues a giant carpet of auburn fur closes in on retreating black arms. A thunderous roar from the right can be felt and herd. The red sword skitters to the ground, a sirens scream of terror shatters the punctuated melody . Open bloody splayed hands offer a last resistance to white dagger teeth that rush into view. Determined intelligent blue eyes surrounded by the same gold auburn hair previously seen before covers a colossal beast. The golden sword shimmers in slow motion, crashing straight down to cleave the middle of the vision which screams again, the vision turns instantly black. The only trace of what’s left in the darkness is the heaving hot wet breath of a haggard and slowly dying sentient.

    Mishy slowly fluttered her eyelids, wishing away her aching body. She slowly rose and started to stretch her tendons. She stretched out with her awareness and found no trace of the cube anymore. Notwithstanding her resolve was unwavering and she quickly consumed some more rations and popped another hydration pill; just one to be on the safe side.


    Thinking out aloud she said to herself, “there must be a way to get up level!”
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  9. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Unthinkingly, the little girl packed her scattered kit and trudged on through the storage container; Outbound Flights labyrinth. In the distance, chaotically stacked and partially felled storage crates started to take shape like some new terrain. The topography slowly adapted to a more definite ruin of an ecosystem. The felled stacks created a murky environment full of caves, splintered like stalactites and eddies of damp ankle deep liquid runoff. Light from the ceiling was phased out under a naturally forming ravine from what looked like a flash flood had gorged out a desert stream. Mishy followed it as best as she could, thankfully it had the least impediments compared to the surounding view.
    Finally, through the crevices and pokeholes the young Force user spied a bulkhead with a dreary gray wall. She reconnoitered along the massive ten story bulkhead and saw a smashed light wrapping around tube like extremities containing an unbuckled doorway and two other clearly pulverised lift entrances.. She quickly deciphered the source of the dried out creeks origins. It reminded Mishy of her arm tendons when she flexed and rolled her fingers. She quickly redoubled her efforts through the maze and somewhat backtracked to find a route to the extremities source . She got closer and found a natural clearing around the doors. Once there she spied a button and quickly ran to it slapping it with gusto.
    Nothing happened.
    She slapped again.

    No power.


    No power, but I have the Force.

    Mishy concentrated on prying the door apart , Sweat quickly trickled down her nape as she held her fingers taunt before the access. The door creaked an age old groan of sufferance and retracted some two centimeters. The young siren was at her peak ,her body was trembling and her mind was in overload, she could not handle the size of the door and unbeknown to her the large weight behind it.. The entrance did not gyrate another inch. Notwithstanding, the entry fortunately did not slide shut. Mishy stared at her hands with indignation, she wondered just how two days ago she literally snapped the hinges off a blast door without so much as raising an eyebrow.

    Exhausted she turned her back on the doors and gazed upon the clotted ruins,

    my life of struggle had better be more than this futile attempt of escape ,she thought.

    Desperately she concentrated of how to open the door. At last she calmed and suddenly brightened as she spied upon a small metal girder of 4 feet in length. She managed to pry it from the debris and with her new improvised lift opener she slowly and surely retracted the door through brute strength and the tool she deftly weld. Before she was half way through, massess of rubble tumbled out and attacked her; large and small boulders of electrical wiring and smashed alloys flooded the new entrance creating somewhat of a cascading waterfall, the door burst apart in a deafening clang. Mishy danced out of the way and backflipped towards the ruined landscape behind her in lightning speed. She landed awkwardly overextending herself, her momentum enabling her to backroll back into the small peekhole which she scrambled up and over to ovoid an onslaught. She turned to watched tonnes of matter disgorge from the new entranceway like a raging torrent, crashing into already smashed crates and debri, piling the rubbish up. The sound was deafening and the sheer energy being released charged the air. Thankfully it lasted all but ten seconds. Exhasberated, Mishy moved forward again towards the lift doors.
    She started picking her way through the mess, casings and rubbish kept on falling at irregular intervals, every time a larger piece was moved a deafeneing crash rocked the newly formed cesspit , it quickly became a futile errand to find a way up and into the lift tubes.

    Two hours later with no headway in extracting a tunnel from the lift opening she decided it was somewhat pointless to go on. Mishy began to cry, sobbing pathetic tears onto her knees. She looked up through dust gouged eyes and found no sign of the lift cars she desperately wanted to find. There were no cracks of light, no area or openings to give a hint that the chamber in the lift was anything but packed with rubble and not hollow as she presumed. All she was doing was getting hurt by falling debri, coughing and spluttering because of dust inhalation.
    She sat exhausted and bloody.
    Time went by, not a sound was heard from the dormant ship.
    In the silence Mishy pondered what to do.

    I couldn’t go back and others would catch me eventually if I stayed on this level.

    Mishy stared at a crate for an hour without blinking. She sat helpless.
    Her mind calmed over the next hour and she reminisced about her survival lessons that her dad had taught her. A small tear welled up thinking about her father, a teacher who new everything about survival, mechanics and even had a degree in astro physics. So many times Mishy would read her fathers students essays on ‘Advanced mechanics’ or ‘Survival in a low radiation leak’, she had laboriously read the books her father had given to his students. She found them a little confusing, constantly asking her father poignant questions but with little understanding, but her father would smile at her and say in his quasi teacher voice,
    “You have solid grounding in the basic principles to rebuild this rust bucket and get us back to civilization”.
    Mishy smiled and cried at the same time, her emotions about her father did not seem to pass.

    At her own level Mishy was the top student, she aimed to please. She found learning easy and had skipped many grades finding herself only two more years away to take the finals and gain entrance to the advanced classes her father offered.

    A world away the little girl heard a faint mechanical noise trundle past her, groggily she snapped back into reality past her own self loathing. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a maintenance droid scuttling along the outer debris. The robot kept a solid pace through the debri, winking in and out of perception as it rounded crate after storage crate.
    Mishy quickly stood up and took up the chase , following it by the subtle whirring dynamics the gears emitted. She used the Force to augment her athleticism , bounding and hurdling over smashed crates and open ravines. She quickly caught sight of it and immediately recognized the make and model number from her schooling. The droid, a GT 573072 made by Soro Sub engineering was about a foot high and had two foot wide, it’s chief purpose was to be a squat loader. With it’s distinct hydraulic arms to screw and handle large loads it resembled a large amphibious creature on treads. Only one scarlet sensor light emitted from its cranium. The yellow colored droid careened with two loads of welding equipment. The 3072 was moving quickly towards the end of the crate lines when it abruptly vanished into a hole 2 foot high.

    Mishy relaxed and jogged the rest of the way with a heartfelt smile on her face, she had found her reckoning; a droid service manhole that linked levels and ships! Emotion flooded the little girl and she began to shout with glee, she sung whimsically
    This was it this was a way to go undetected through the levels,
    through the levels ,
    through the levels.

    This is the way to get past the inhabitable areas,
    the inhabitable areas,
    the inhabitable areas .


    Away from Major Ellan.

    Second verse, same as the first.

    Mishy moved up to the hole and used her tiny hands to unfasten a magnetic flap to allow herself an uninterrupted view of the chasm.
    Slowly she trotted back to the crates and casually took 10 satchels, filling them with various equipment including hydration pills, ration packs, rebreathers and medical supplies. She tied them together by use of a length of defunct electrical cord and patiently waited near the hole. Within the following hour Mishy haphazardly applied a fresh patch to her shoulder wound whilst waiting like a vulture over the entranceway.

    Twenty minutes later Mishy perceived the tread of a droid coming towards her. The bot shot out of the manhole and staggered, getting caught up by the satchels stashed next to the entrance. It opened its hydrolic arm and moved the impediments to one side and then noticed the girl with fire in her eyes. The droid focused it’s own red eye on Mishy and exerted an electric beep of confusion. Mishy only smiled as she patiently waited for bot to finish its errand.

    Another 10 minutes elapsed, she made her lasso trap from more shredded wires. Lastly she fastened a scavenged rebrether to her face . Inevitably the droid trundled with two small stacks of nuts and bolts in its arms. Mishy simply tied the loop over the droid as it passed and let the satchels be dragged by her automated workhorse. It struggled forward, gears exerting.Notwithstanding, it made steady enough progress through the manhole. Mishy, though cramped put a double checked respirator on and followed on all fours; crawling dutifully along the supply hole. Sometimes, she had to brace her legs and arms, shimming upwards.

    Within two minutes the lights faded and the pain began to set in.

    The droid apparently had no concept of fatigue and slowly pulled away from the floundering little girl. Its magnetized frame simply rode up a vertical portal. Mishy’s pain increased every second as the distant red light of the droid faded up the crevasse. She clamped down on her anger and pushed further and faster, shimmying and straddling vertically as sweat readily dripped off her cheeks. Her hair stuck to the nape of her neck, she twisted, fought for purchase to keep up with the ever fading light. Slowly she was being left behind, watching dark blotches gradually disappear up the droidspace.
    Her plan was falling apart.

    She screamed a sirens call in anguish and pain.

    But still she soldiered on in the dark vertical crawlspace.
    At times she slipped, only to brace herself and fight for purchase and continued in the pitch black darkness. Vertigo started closing in and she lost her concept of which way was up or down. Pain and slippage quickly got her back on track. Eighteen gut wrenching minutes later, covered in sweat, Mishy heard the droid tootle and the tell-tale treads lumber back into the droidspace. A bright red light engulfed the space and all she could do was squint at the oncoming circle of fluorescence . Mishy let the droid pass between her legs and body, she was relieved that the hole she craved for was within ten or so meters. Suddenly masses of satchels smashed into her cranium pushing the her downwards. Mishy plummeted but instinctively grabbed anything for purchase, she pushed her legs out and spied the red light of the droids cranium. Quickly through the turmoil of falling satchels Mishy grabbed for the descending droid and latched on. The droid froze automatically, recalling it’s programming about human interaction and servicing. It’s magnetized treads stoically held onto the crawlspace. The satchels attached to the droid continued to fall only to suddenly snap like a hangman’s noose. The electrical wire stretched but held.

    Mishy desperately hugged the droid and eventually found purchase. She was infuriated, her eyes burning and her heart pumping, she stared into a red dot that mirrored her own eyes, that being the droids own infrared eye.

    “Stupid droid” she spluttered. .
    Instantly a metallic echoing voice spoke above her.

    “Orders sir?”

    So startled she banged her head in her effort to locate the sound. Another red eyed droid peered through an access hatch some fifteen meters above her and remained staring at her unblinking.

    With a feral smile of acknowledgement, Mishy’s small quest was made easier.

    “Where am I “she asked.

    “D4 deck 1 floor 14 hatch 14 ” shot back the vocab droid.
    “Perfect”, Mishy responded, “ Get me outta here and take me to the next breathable, clean and unused crew quarters, that is not I repeat not found in the storage facility. Oh and get this piece of rust I’m holding onto to carry my bags once I manage to get to you. Now stay there.”

    In no time at all Mishy forgot her pain and quickly traversed the fifteen meters of vertical paneling



    “ Very good sir”, the droid chirped, “If you follow me and mind your head when you come out I have the perfect place for you”.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  10. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    In the sanitized corridor a blue skinned humanoid, glowing with ruby red eyes paraded a practiced military march. The echo of his boots reverberated off each illuminated window pane giving a constant low drone along the pristine but heavily guarded causeway. Wearing a form fitting military uniform identifying his syndic with a green sash over a black tunic, the confident humanoid marched towards a similar but taller male who stood, staring out into the void, arms locked behind his back and feet in a strict military stance.
    Saluting and speaking in heavily accented Chenth, he spoke to the stationary commander.

    “Aristocra, the first defensive screens are in place and are now at 100 percent battle ready”.

    Cho’bard’anthumby of the sixth ruling family informed Aristocra Cha’form’biaroo son of the latter great name and household. His presence was controlled and formal while he surveyed the orbital choke point within the Chiss redoubt. Aristocra stood in an elegant white uniform with a small burgandy patch , a sign of his leadership and commanding power. His bodyguards lined the corridor holding their charrics in honor position. The sheer number of Chiss guards had little to no effect on his outward presence, but as was custom he inclined his head and in a bland but authoritative voice acknowledge the lead engineer.

    “Excellent work Cho’bard’anthumby you have delivered this on time and within agreed parameters. The ruling families will acknowledge your families and syndics efforts and will so be noted for posterity and your honor”.

    Cho’bard’anthumby saluted and turned crisply on his heel marching back to his duties.

    After a long day tour examining all defensive positions within the redoubt Aristocra Cha’form’biaroo was indeed impressed with the overall layout of this station, he could find no fault with the emplacements and shielding of the platform. It had a natural position to intercept any intruder. A smile crept over his face as he thought,

    What happens once the dathwit, actually catches the mizzle?


    The Dathwit was the top predator found in the Csilliain caves, an arachnid type of creature possessing the ability to defend it’s lair and strike with devastating efficiency. The arachnids only natural enemy was a small and threatened species of arthropod, the Mizzle. It possessed quick and violent mandibles, but it’s great asset was its defense that attracted Cha’form’biaroo’s attention. When entangled it had the ability to drop its poisonous outer shell and slide down the snare unharmed, only to watch the Dathwit devour the husk and die. The Mizzle would then consume only the eyes of the Darthwit.

    Staring out into the myriad of planets and suns, Aristocra Cha’form’biaroo decided that in the near future some sort of test was in order. Whether it be within the parameters of the Chiss Expansionary Fleet or not; the site was too important not to have a passage borne of fire.

    ***************************************************************************************
    Ulair called the emergency meeting an hour after the funerals, it was time to strike. He walked up to the rostrum and called out to the crowd.

    “People hear me,” he exalted, waiting for the murmurs to fade, this was the 15th time the whole habitats compliment of adults came together to hear important information.

    They should have known the drill by now , Ulair thought.

    “It is time to face facts, the Jedi doomed us all from the beginning of this flight. Our population as you know has stayed relatively stable. But until 4 days ago we had sixty healthy survivors of Outbound Flight, who had bred and kept the faith. We all know the Jedi’s arrogance and nearsightedness brought the wrath of the blue colored general against this flight. Jedi are suppose to protect, not direct, Jorus C’baoth and the his so called masters were not generals, they had no idea how to fly these ships, they detained the captain and ordered the technicians to be locked in the storage decks to rot!
    Their so called proud traditions had no value on this assignment but still they were made leaders and alas they thought that they could defeat any being that stepped in their way. As Jedi they failed their first hurdle outside the sanctity of their cushy Republic. He paused dramatically and continued, “ And they condemn thousands to die. I know I didn’t sign up for the Jedi to control my actions, take away my sons and daughters away and deliver me to the so called enlightened path”.
    With emotional gusto Ulair fired up the crowd.
    “ I wanted a new life, a life fraught with tough decisions that I could have made.

    Me and my family could have made. The Jedi took it away that choice from me, from you.

    As I stand before you I come to you as a friend and leader, I will not make excuses for my actions, only that my ideas are conceived out of necessity, not a knee jerk reaction, but a continuation of persecution from the Jedi enforcers. Your children have a chance to survive and be free of Jedi persecution, that’s about one of the only real positives having to live in this place. But again the Force has reared its ugly head, in the shape of Mishy Lakaylor who has been in constant odds with this commune from the day she could walk! Not three days ago she took the lives of 3 innocent beings, her parents Keith and Seshy Lakaylor and Yarvis Spring , their lives came to an abrupt halt due to the unchecked power of a Force sensitive.

    This girl Mishy, is only 8 years old and though bright and academic, she has been put in the brig 10 times for gross assault to children her own age or to the adult population. This does not take into consideration of her first 4 years when she was considered a troubled child one who had fits and tantrums. Mishy Lakaylor is now been incarcerated for at least 2 years outside the habitation area, she will be fed and clothed, she will recieve a rudimentary education and some entertainment will be provided”.


    It was hard to believe, Ulair looked upon the crowd and saw people’s expressions of control and the undeniable look of awe directed toward him. They actually wanted him to do this. They had confidence in his decision.
    A few people murmured that it was the right thing to do, others had only razed their eyebrows in a slight show of dismay at the penalty for someone so young. As the murmur died down the assembly took notice of Ulair as he cleared his throat to add more.


    “I ask you personally to look in your hearts and answer these three questions. Question 1, how much have the Jedi taken away from you? Question 2 Is it wise to keep Force sensitive’s within the general population? And question 3 should we separate Force sensitive’s so that they cannot maim, kill or upset the natural balance in the confides of this ship?”
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  11. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    A hushed gale swept through the room, parents turned to converse, their icy and frigid mannerisms rolled off each others skin. Some swung towards each other, mouths set on overdrive to discuss this course of action others merely turned to the parents of Force sensitives and started to surround them. Their tone rapidly increased. Ulair immediately lost control of the crowd as he belatedly shouted for calm. The crowd didn’t respond to his enchantments, the congregation were like a packs of slashrats, coercing a parent away from their partner and verbally abusing them about how their child may cause this community to finally die. The packs ripped every decent argument from the defender. Soon enough the ringleaders went for the kill, hounding the parent to hang their head in shame. So vehement were the accusations that a partner was not allowed to search for their spouse in the encircled position. Ulair couldn’t believe his own good fortune, but he gave the remonstrators a few more precious seconds of blind hatred.

    The floor quaked as Major Ellan as loud as an Ithorian let a large whoop for control. The sound wave reverberated through the tiny confines, Survivor’s heads whipped back to the podium, eager to hear from the head of security. Ulair barely could hide the smirk running across his face, Ellan would say everything that she had said a few days before, haunt him, belittle the premise and mention the Jedi taking babies, this would illicit revenge not sympathy to the Force sensitive’s parents. People would be united and divided at the same time; perfect for his political guile to influence the outcome he intended to come to fruition.


    Ulair satisfied that his dealings were being argued and accosted by the community slipped out to gloat to his prisoner. It only took twenty minutes of foreshadowing his plan, giving them some say and having them think.
    He murmured to himself satisfied,
    “Soon they will think it’s their idea”.
    He hopped onto the only swoop the Survivors had scavenged from the storage container in order to gloat to his little murderer. Reving the engine in triumph Ulair shot off .

    If only I could do it face to face, to see the vague recollection in her eyes that she would never set a foot back into the community.
    Ever .


    Mishy sat hunched on her new cot overlooking her fresh furnishings, slowly chewing on a flavorless ration candy,.
    Her mind though was indeed racing.

    “I need to reach the crystals and Cube”, she said out aloud,

    What Mishy could remember was that they were scattered throughout the 6 different vessels, there was one or two crystals in this ship and maybe 3 or 4 apiece in the other ships, her prized cube was 3 ships over in D1. Nonchalantly while she was masticating, her eyes meet the red photoreceptors of a repair droid an M3578 with voice vocalizer.
    tt squeaked,
    “Orders sir?”
    Mishy looked at the droids slight frame, this was not a robust droid but an interaction droid; a tool to be used. She announced,
    “Take me to the weapons blister”.
    The droid sat motionless as two ultra sonic high pitch beeps was heard in the next moment.
    “Negative sir the blisters are not fit for human interaction”.
    “Explain,” asked Mishy.
    The droid sent another beep out and was met again with another burst.

    “ Negative oxygen, Negative life support, Breached hull”.

    Mishy continued the tedious discussion with the droid about the spaceworthness of the vessels, constant questions were met with constant flash bursts, nothing good was coming from the droids vocabulizer. In the so called conversation Mishy asked about the turbolifts and their condition, it was met finally with a positive response of,
    “One can be operational in 10 months”. Mishy obliged the droid to fix one turbo lift but not to extend its range to the storage core area, the droids were halfway towards the chute starting to trundle off, Mishy yelled to out,
    “Status every three days!”

    The vocab droid tootled acknowledgment as a mass exodus of the twenty scampering and trundling robots left her room. Her quarters quickly reduced to an eerily quiet tomb. Her heartbeat and breathing the only sounds that could be perceived. After a time and only intermittently Mishy could overhear other droids using the shaft to get to a destination.

    Satisfied Mishy hopped from her bed; It was time to practice her push, pull technique and then apply it to spin. She had to remember how she created things to vortex, lift enormous objects and after that she could in theory try to find the crystals and Cube.
    No noise, no distractions no person knocking on the door, no secrets.

    A great chance to practice at the pace she wanted to, to focus for more than 1 hour here and hour there, this she hoped would go on for the next 10 months.

    Pure training.

    She began in earnest.

    After five hours sweat poured from the little girl, she was a hum of activity, jumping here and springing there Mishy was but a blur. She felt so alive and craved more interaction with her surroundings and herself. It was like an endless sea of potential was being journeyed through, a mapmaker for her brain she began to memorize technique. The young girl committed to memory how to flip forward, tumble, spring and stick to the ceiling in fluid motions.
    Mishy had stuck to the ceiling thirty two times beforehand when she finally leveled a hand and with her mind unleashed a push of exacting nature. Small dust motes flickered fifteen meters away. To mix up her routine even more the young Force user pulled paper or small bolts towards her while flipping up and sticking to the ceiling.

    Twenty minutes later she felt as if she was floating on a cloud watching herself go through the practice routines. She enjoyed the ever increasing focus in the Force coupled with the pain she endured. Her exercised sculpted both body and mind.

    She at last thought of Crabman and let forth an almighty tendril of electricity that danced up the metal struts occupying her room. Mishy howled in delight as she memorized how to create the spark that caused that worthless excuse of a man to die.

    She pictured Ulair with his cocky grin, the electricity arced from her hands and hit the struts with much more intensity. She smiled as sweat dripped down her face. Casually she walked out of her room and found a rundown corridor with debri scattered around. She inhaled a mighty breath of stale air. She was so calm as she exploded and went on a rampage.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  12. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Ulair hopped off his personal swoop and swaggered up to the small well built security door.
    Casually he pushed the plate insert and watched the door swoosh upwards. Within the viewing sections of double-sided reinforced glass the old man barely looked at the vocabulizer and smashed screen. All seemed to be in order, though still a bit dreary in his minds eye.

    Slowly and begrudgingly he set up two days rations and placed them into the galley girder which would drop from the ceiling beam long after he was gone.. He knew Mishy would be hungry, it had been a couple of days since he threw her in the Zoo and had only given her food via drip only two hours before her real incarceration began.

    He cautiously eyed the locking mechanism of the great double doors on the monitor and saw nothing untoward.
    Ulair breathed deeply and centered himself, it was time to start his so called rudimentary education. He snickered to himself as he chose a high pitched sickening frequency to broadcast with. His voice morphed into that of an old bass baritone while he could casually speak into a worn microphone.

    “Mishy… Mishy.. I bet your hungry” he taunted,

    Chuckling, Ulair listened for a response.

    Nothing came back.

    “Now Mishy you know you were the person who put yourself in this predicament”.

    He teased into the silence looking for a ruffle of clothes to come into view any moment now, “Its now what the whole community wants, they don’t want you, they don’t need you and best of all they will forget you”.

    Ulair stretched his fingers and dialed the vocal setting to a more standard setting,

    “Mishy answer me this, what did you think you would accomplish? No, no sorry let me rephrase that into child speak, what do you think you would get for hurting Yarvis? A candy? A book? A hug from your dad?

    Hmm I’m waiting” he chided.

    There was only insolent silence.

    “Ahh well Mishy I guess this will be your homework, in three days I will be back, if you don’t give me an answer then ill have to give you detention”, he chortled.

    Ulair took a bow before his imaginary crowd and raised his arms, cocking his head back hearing the imaginary roars of laughter and applause for his lame joke.

    Frustrated at no response, Ulair turned the volume up and boomed.

    ” You will ANSWER ME”.


    He clicked off and scanned the Zoo, too many bumps and hidy holes in the gloom he thought,
    Next time I visit I’m gunna turn the lights up to maximum

    Nonchalantly he sauntering out the door which immediately swooshed down the instant he left. He pretended to be merry, dancing with an imaginary princess towards his swoop bike. Slowly he straddled the oversized swoop giving a mock wave to the large door and kicked off back to the community, non the wiser about Mishy’s escape.

    ***************************************************************************************
    Major Ellan was sitting in the mess hall with the normal lunch crew, she fumed hotter than her soup she was holding.


    Her speech had swayed the crowd to the wrong conclusion. Ellan knew she was no orator, lacking the finesse to convince anyone with platitudes. She was a forceful person, someone that saw results by the amount of sweat it took to gain the prize.

    How could you be so naïve, she thought, how could you not see this coming.

    She stabbed at her soup which retaliated with a customary backsplash down her trousers.

    “Aww great” she yelled as she looked down at the newly forming stain.

    An educated voice retorted from the casual crowd.
    “You know when you act, there is always a reaction good or bad,” Tarkosa admonished.

    His thin frame coupled with grey hair and thick black bushy eyebrows made him look almost comical. He stood with a slight gaint awaiting an offering to be seated.
    Ashanti rolled her eyes and nodded, resigned to the fact that this man was not a favorite of Ulairs and could possibly want to oppose him on many issues.
    He looked at her in the eye and hastened,
    “I know I know, my agenda is to make a law charter, yours is to uphold the current law through military codes, I get it I really do”.


    He rushed on in silent utterings only Ashanti could pick up on,


    ‘But you can’t have one man make the laws all the time, he becomes a……”,

    A small hollow choke made her look up and he mouthed the word

    dictator.


    Ashanti didn’t recoil from the word or from the event old man who the closer he got to her the more smelly it became; rust mixed with manure.

    Tarkosa brightened when he understood he would not be getting the soup in his crotch for talking politics to her again.

    Ashanti being a staunch supporter of Ulair finally admitted,
    “I know, he’s becoming power hungry,

    he’s obsessed”.


    Tarkosa all business and shrewdness cryptically proclaimed,
    “All the more to let him get an inch of what he wants but make sure certain conditions are met before we take it all away from him”.


    Ashanti snapped quickly rising and bit out too loudly.

    “What you want me to do is jump into bed with more devils”!

    Most of the survivors in the room turned there heads around and leered at Ashanti who suddenly went as red as pulped tomat.

    She was not in the mood, it wasn’t embarrassment that they saw, the flush of pure hate and malicisious sneer gave no compromise.

    The survivors quickly found something more interesting to do, their eyes on anything but Ashanti’s hulking frame. Nothwithstanding, they were indeed eavesdropping.

    Tarkosa bade her to sit and calm down with an unperturbed peace hand signal. He continued a little more casually seeing most people were in attention anyways.
    “Look, you know what I think, we need a council, and we need a proper citizen force to ensure peace and stability. We need men and especially women to lead us, what Ulair is doing is surviving, he’s not innovating, he’s happy the way things are but we haven’t even got a connecting turbolift working and far to few droids to help us with the day to day running of this place. We have seen more than enough rogue droids to at least clean this place up and stop putting a burden on the sick and weak. We are smart people but haven’t been put to a great task, sure we teach but we don’t upgrade our facilities I want to utilize all the dreadnaughts not just D4, It would be good to one day get out of here but we can’t do it if the top individual doesn’t want to, no one individual can get us out of here, it takes community.”

    Ashanti mulled it over swirling her spoon into the creamy soup; just as everyone else was doing too. It made sense, they were smart, although the survivors had made progress at the beginning of their destruction and small victories over the years, looking back it now seemed to be in a lull for the past seven years at least. Tarkosa continued,
    “I think everyone wants you to head the security still and have that good boy Pressor under you. You would be on the council, that would be a guarantee, and to show that I would make this a community not a triumphforate I would like 12 places in all to head the council. This community should decide peoples fate, not just one man, Ulair may get Mishy in the zoo for two years, but I seriously doubt that all Force sensitive’s should be locked up, they are not all bad, they have merit and can improve all of our lives if treated with respect and dignity”.

    Her decision made she nodded.

    Ashanti hoped people like Tarkosa would be on the council in order to stop men only seeing the final solution and not any mediation in-between. She got up and slapped Tarkosa on the back with a hearty whack, Tarkosa let out a whelp but stayed composed. Ashanti cleared her throat and said
    ” Next time you do the speeches, I’ll just be the brawn”
    All the people in the crew room brightened and from behind a pillar a high pitched whisper came out
    “You could be so much more than brawn to me my little Ackalay heh heh heh” .

    “Darius wait until I get my hands on you” shouted Ashanti her anger renewed as everyone started to stifle a chuckle.
    The same whispy voice of I’m still hiding pronounced in the most overacted flirtation demeanor
    “Oh I can’t wait my love”.
    The crowd burst into fits of laughter and Ashanti could picture Darius cheekily bowing to the crowd and running out the back door as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him, she smiled.
    MEN !
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  13. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Spending three weeks behind a gas giant would normally initiate a pirate crew to mutiny, but the crew of the Death’s Head wasn’t space crazy and had no real cabin fever. After tallying the loot, Deciman divided the crew into 6 shifts. 1 days work per 3 days and 3 days straight every 2 weeks. Beings manned the essentials and fitted parts to the armada, some repaired droids and serviced the vessel in a never ending cycle of glitches faults and capacity overloads. After a 12 hour shift was completed the crew of said shift had at least 56 hours of anything goes without weapons. The retiring crew were normally found in the empty forward hold appropriately called “The Innards”.

    Aptly named, it was set up for an all cycle party where the usual drinking games, card games, intoxicants were supplied at cost rate. Every other conceivable vice was available at a price, the ships prostitutes were some of the finest escorts in the business and were regularly changed for their extremely high priced services.
    There was an offshoot to all this vice and spice; the depravity of the captain, who kept more than a few soldiers not returning to a second duty on ‘The Deaths Head’ .


    To this the frivolity of ‘Iron guts’ had no equal.

    It was an ultimate drinking game where only the toughest and craziest survived. In fact more than a few pirates died from trying to continue once their body shut down. For all its grandiose fanfare and betting at nearly every checkpoint the game itself was pretty basic, drink and run through a series of obstacles.

    The rules were pretty simple, if a being had even one drink during their stay on the Deaths Head they had to participate in the heats of “Iron guts”. Normally it was held throughout their one off four day carnival. Aptly the finals were set just before the mandatory drills set by Speckles would into effect. To prepare for this event it was encouraged to participate in crazy races through the levels of the Deaths Head ; challenges if won wiped the individual pirates drinking tab for the week; this was always highly sought after and the gambling was to make or break a bank account.
    Furthermore the first 3 competitors in the heats could participate in Iron Guts.

    Every week Decimans challenges would get more and more sadistic, by week 3 his “Iron guts finals” race was the worst ill conceived drunken, nasty and hilarious game a captain could force his crew to participate. Notwithstanding, it wasn’t the Correlian ale that the participant must consume each time they arrived at every one of the 12 checkpoints, nor was it the corridors littered with obstacles and traps; some sections in zero g's, some in pitch black darkness. The nastiness was what was in the ale or what was next to it which also had to be consumed.

    The Final race started off all helter skelter at checkpoint 1; just sprint to swill an ale whilst eating a handful of fudge. Everyone bustled, barged and tripped each other up for positioning, the slapstick comedy was always entertaining for those not so serious about the finish.. But when checkpoint 2 came it became slightly disgusting; another ale but in the glass was a piece of meat. By checkpoint 4 Chili and exotic spices were added to rock hard biscuits followed by the customary ale, by checkpoint 7 the nightmare began in earnest, most crew members were far to intoxicated to continue and couldn’t even taste the seaweed and fish stew. But some had expelled ale and food through any number of orifices and still stumbled, threw up and banged down the corridor, all for the entertainment of the crowds and for their ultimate win. After eight checkpoints large obstacles became the norm so as to jiggle the guts around, high platforms that one must leap from caused more than a few injuries such as snapped bones and dislocations; in some cases death. By checkpoint 11 if the pirate still survived and were in the lead or in the top 20, a running drunken firefight would ensue.

    It was expected that if at all possible a buccaneer be given the ultimate one shot cartridge found in checkpoint 10’s glass of runny porridge with ice, followed of course by the customary ale. The pirate that had enough sense to strip down the one piece and reload it with the single shot on the run normally got at least 3 positions ahead. Many a times it didn’t happen and the resulting competitor lost ground trying to use the weapon or concentrating on defense or attack. Notwithstanding, in many more times after the gun was discharged, the piece was used as a weapon by itself. The bloodthirstiness of the finals was not encouraged however. All pirates at the beginning of the event were checked for weapons and as per rule A; a competitor could only hit another three times per checkpoint. Having said that the violence was rarely the issue; it was the chunky fish in the ale from checkpoint seven that made most beings turn yellow. Finally at checkpoint 12 a being must consume a Fish chili Bantha balls milkshake followed by ale then race the straight into The Innards to finally down a last glass of ale. Most made a terrible disgrace of themselves, but the elite, they won thousands of credits.

    By the end of competition the fetid smell in the corridors was too immense for anyone to stand and spectate, only droids were allowed to clean the mess or stay in the corridors monitoring the action, most of the crew retreated to watch the finals through the in built monitors stationed throughout the Deaths Head. For those that didn’t want to participate or make the finals they were slugged with a tax for the whole day and nights frivolities; every one credit having a fifteen percent surcharge for drinks, gambling and any other vice. The tax went to the winner take all prize pool. But when the winner woke up he or she was given double pay no tab for anything for the next campaign and the prizemoney. 1000 men on the sauce normally made 5000 credits to the winner. On rare occasions though, the prize was substantially higher.

    Betting made one rich.

    Deciman made the shifts just right that everyone had a go in the end. The captain thought it saved on beer and as much as a weeks drinking money for his comrades, he figured this that if a pirate could have 12 ales a night easily enough for 2 weeks he thought why not save three days rations of it per person as once they participated in the challenge no-one drank for at least 3 days after that. Many had tried but succumbed to their body outright saying NO! Everyone knew the drilling would happen 5 days after the last challenge and a week after that they went back to base to cash their loot however they pleased.


    Deciman entered The Innards to a rousing reception, chinking plasform cups of ice cold ale with a blast of smoke to boot affronted his senses, intoxicants wisped around ‘The Innards’ and the odor of thugs he so came to adore gave off a delightful hedonistic perfume. Many of his brethren were around the tables of sabacc or watching numerous cams highlighting the insect coliseum in the middle of the hold. The beings were entranced, waving on wildly and shouting for a deformed piranha beetle tearing into a sturdy but hapless insect that was just gore now; it’s teeth still gnashing.
    The captain smirked at the frivolity and was handed a crackling microphone and tapped it to be certain it was in order.

    “Kill the music will you Xex,”

    He waited till the crowd put down their drinks whilst the Sabacc table kept everyone’s cards in stasis.
    In a controlled but almost paternal tone Deciman addressed his underlings,
    “Fellow scoundrels, it’s been three weeks and you have been a most entertaining crew, our loot is safely stowed and accounted for, and we have yet again baffled the men that want to incarcerate us. Though we have two more weeks to prepare ourselves for back to base, I need to remind you that the intense drills will start in two days, you already know the rules, if you don’t give one hundred percent I don’t give you your cut, you argue, you get spaced, I am your captain, I am the only one who decides!”
    The beings looked at their leader and begrudgingly gave their accent to their captain, they knew he was the best chance to have longevity in a cutthroat enterprise.
    Deciman swiped his card and was given ale by an attentive serving droid, he raised his glass and uttered,
    ” May fortune save us from the life of misery”.
    Heartfelt cheer sang a daunting chorus, the music started playing and The Innards started to heat up and smell like it was suppose too.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  14. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Perspiration covered Mishy for more than eight hours, droplets fell to the floor slicking the ferrocrete. The little girl vigorously went through her exercises. Her movements began to become fluent. The Force wielder started to dance and pretend to fly, hands stretched out, legs trotting, possessed with unbound happiness. The freedom of the Force was unrestricted and obliged her to glide around her cot.

    In reality Mishy was a blur of pumping legs. She raced so fast that even the most acute eye could hardly keep focus on the little girl. Humming a wayward tune she began to grab tidbits of debri and stacked the parcels onto the cot.

    It was time to push and run , she took two stuttered steps in her otherwise loping form and pretending to be a gunslinger, upholstering her finger pistol she shot at the rubbish shouting,
    “Pweuon, pweon!”
    Metal shrapnel pinged a foot or two backwards.
    Instantaneously she raced, catching the metal while blistering around the cot. She snatched at it and Force whirled the bolts out into the open corridor dully clanging into the bulkheads with thud.

    All of a sudden, Mishy frowned and stopped immediately.
    She reminisced back to the power she once had when Ulair threw her into the Zoo; she recalled she was unstoppable.

    She thought of how her head was unlocked all at once, but now her mind felt tight and constrained, something was missing.

    In a huff she decided not to play anymore, one hundred and ten percent effort was called for. Mishy slowly and precisely restacked shrapnel back onto the cot in line with many other bolts and crumbled girders.

    She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, cleared her mind and then thought of her father; how she had expectantly killed him. Tendrils of power encompassed her.

    She thought of Yarvis and how she purposefully killed him. A fiery morass engulfed her.

    She thought of Ulair and how she was going to kill him. An explosion burst in Mishy

    The Force flowed through a channeled river of rage, she opened her eyes, crimson and orange corneas focused on individual bolts, they shot off into the bulkheads sparking and ricocheting across the room with a fantastic sizzle.

    Focus on hate to bring out her best ,she told herself .

    She remembered Yarvis face the day she was caught; she looked at her pillow and thought push
    Her pillow rose quickly however suddenly exploded into shards of processed chemical engineered and genetically modified feathers. They rained down on the room, slowly dissipating to the slickened ground.

    Mishy glowered at her failed attempt to control her anger; she needed a teacher and quickly.

    Sweat again washed over her body and soaked her raggedy coveralls, however she pressed on and practiced what she knew. Running and jumping, using the Force to push masses of feathers into a spiral of cyclonic storms. She created some impressive powerful burst lighting to explode the clouds.

    In the back of her mind she knew she had to find a new power and quickly; otherwise Ulair and Major Ellan might just kill her.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  15. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    *************************************************************************************************************************************************
    Tarkosa waited patiently for his sparring mate to return, they were old friends who had butted heads against each other too many times not to give grudging respect. Over the last three years though they had divergent thoughts about the running of the community. Tarkosa perceived a swoop turn around the massive stacks in the storage area, he hastened to intercept it

    Tarkosa knew Ulair was a shrewd technician and a great fighter but he had a short fuse; it would be best to bring the news to him as if showing some sort of allegiance to the man. He entertained the thought that Ulairs course on the swoop was much like the mans overseeing of the community, a solo rider, turn here, back off there and never go over or move an obstacle, just find another way.

    Tarkosa had found the other way, he vowed that one man should not run the community and had his speech and allies were at the ready. The thrusters heightened and Tarkosa stepped into the straight in which Ulair powered down. Ulair caught sight of Tarkosa and gave him a nod of respect. He hoped off and strode at a slow pace that was easily matched by Tarkosa.
    The conversation began in earnest with Ulair taking the initiative,
    “So what news my friend? Have they acknowledged the proposal? Do I make it law yet?” .
    With the ensuing silence Ulair eyed Tarkosa whom seemed to be hiding his eyes towards the floor.
    “No?” Ulair continued,” They didn’t want it? Oh well I can’t have it all my way,” he shrugged.

    “No you can’t,” Tarkosa bluntly wayed in.
    A blunted stare from Ulair was met with a confident and renegadious eying back. Ulair then did the most uncharacteristic thing he had ever done in his life, he blinked.

    Tarkosa spoke to Ulair in an unconciliatory tone.
    “ Ulair, people are starting to fragment, they are becoming complacent and not trying to take an active role in their wellbeing, as a whole we should be much further advanced in claiming D3, and D5 and D6 for parts and quarters, furthermore with this inactivity the community are also giving up hope of rescue“.

    Ulair was trying to pipe up, but Tarkosa raised his hand in a gesture of silence, “Take it from me first that there have been whispers about you for more than four years now, they are likening you to C’baoth!”

    “What!” Raged Ulair.

    “It’s true, they say you command everyone and don’t take anyone’s opinion into account. Hey look,” Tarkosa appealed to his friend, “You’ve done a fantastic job for the last 14 years, but times and needs are changing, everyone wants an opinion and a say in the running now, they have ideas and some are great and some not so. But at least now they need to be thrashed out in an open vote or committee”.

    Ulair cursed, “Didn’t we hop on this ship to leave the politics to the Republic?”

    Tarkosa inclined his head, “We did but that’s because it was corrupt and bloated that it became stagnant. With only 57 on board it can’t get bloated at least”.

    Ulair shouted,“Are you saying I’m corrupt?"

    “No, no friend but you are making all the decisions without any repercussions if they are wrong, we now need checks and balances to move forward, get a council of 6 or 12 and debate what we are going to do, vote on it and then do it or try to persuade others to vote on it in the next time it comes up for debate”.

    Ulair stopped dead, “you are talking about the Republic and committees as if it is already apart of the law.”

    Tarkosa didn’t look frightened and said,
    “There won’t be a coup, but rest assured you won’t be the only one running this community anymore”.
    With that Tarkosa stopped a full length in front of Ulair and shielded his passage. “Make the council, be part of the solution not the problem, I'm your friend and I know right now it doesn’t feel like it but we will vote for the incarceration of the Jedi, You can have Mishy Lakaylor as your pet subject if you want but if you don’t form a council you will lose everything and may find yourself in a cell yourself!”.

    With that Tarkosa tried to pat Ulair on the shoulder, Ulair jerked away as if it was fire. Tarkosa sighed and started retreating back into the storage maze.

    “Well my friend it’s your call, I suggest you speak to Ashanti, Darius and Shimal and Young Pressor’s son, for they will be on the council by sheer popularity alone, see what they are thinking at least”.
    Tarkosa turned to watch Ulair’s expression,

    Ulair obliged, he staggered and looked punch drunk.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  16. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    ******************************************************************************************************************************************







    Constant running and stretching had made Mishy’s room somewhat of a tropical humidity, she had been training for more than 180 hours in the last 2 weeks and effects of her exertion slicked the walls with a cloying stench. Her whole body ached, her mind was numb and the unfulfilling rations tasted just plain awful . A body shake sometimes slithered from her legs to fingertips from the newly stretched muscle tendons and the immense pressure and perspiration gave her a headache. Unperturbed she knocked back two more hydration pills and drove her body to create new and powerful connections to the Force. Mishy’s mind was racing trying to think of how to create a swirl on the run; an intense push then pull every half step for 2 strides followed by a slow and constant pull and push every two intervals in-between. It worked on flimsy however bolts and rivets were not so obliging.

    She continued to trot around her cot and slowly swirl flimsy .

    A scratching noise aroused her from her workout, the vocabulizer droid trailed a piece of wire stuck it’s treads. The noise was like nails down a chalkboard stopping Mishy’s training in her tracks. The droid finally clogged only a meter away from the little girl and announced,
    “Three days have expired sir, an expected 17 more weeks to configure the turbo lift. Droid 7287-325 has expired and droid 7287-321 is working at 20% capacity”.

    Mishy flicked sweat out of her eyes and observed the droid,
    “Bring both droids to me, find 10 other dead droids for spare parts, I want this completed as the highest priority. She considered the droid with a paternal affection, slowly she diminished her voice to a purr.
    “Come here so I can get the wire out of your treads,” she scoffed.

    The droid sent a burst transmission and scritched towards its new master. Mishy looked it over and found various debris hanging of each and every rivet, she lifted the heavy but durable droid up onto a bench where she proceeded to extract tidbits of detritus . The young girl started to fuss over the droid, asking questions while she was grooming her new pet.
    “Where are some polish and cleaning oil and fluids?”

    The droid answered in kind taking cues from Mishy’s demenour. Excited like a pet awaiting a pat “You will find them in the maintenance room 2 access stations over on this D4”.

    “Set up the place for an overhaul of yourself first and all other functional droids”
    .Mishy thought back to her fathers teachings and exclaimed, I expected to see the cleaning equipment on the bench in the next two hours.”

    The vocab droid sent another burst transmission to it’s counterparts while Mishy smiled
    “I will name you ‘Static’ and you will not call me sir but Officer Lakaylor”

    “Affirmative” tootled the droid “Turbo lift estimate is now 18 weeks. 10 deceased droids will arrive shortly. Where shall they be stored?”.

    Mishy thought for a second, going up and around service hathches took a lot of work and she thought about efficiency, “What I want you to do is cancel the last maintenance order and set up the next room to mine as a maintenance room with work benches and storage capacity. I then want you to bring all cleaners and other maintenance items to this facility”.
    “Affirmative,”, the droid replied in it’s monotone synthetic voice, “in which time period officer Lakaylor?”
    “Now”, Mishy countered, “but do not use droids getting cleaning equipment or droids in need of repairs, only use droids assigned to turbolift reclamation to help ”.
    The droid tootled and sent out another burst transmission replying to it’s new master,
    “Estimated time of set up is 128 minutes, estimate time of turbo lift access is 23 weeks”.

    “I think your logic circuit has blown Static, why is it going to take more time on the turbo lifts?”
    The droid stayed silent for two seconds before it replied,
    “Droids will become less efficient the more work hours used”.
    Mishy laughed out aloud and spitting out over her callous grunts, “You silly droid I’m the one whose going to fix you all. How much time at full capacity have you been working on the turbo lifts, I mean all the droids?”
    “Negative officer Lakaylor, no three droids can work on the same duty at one time as per last programmed action by Officer Reter”.

    “Ohh, Mishy said surprised, “How long ago was that?”, she pondered more to herself.

    “41 years 13 days 12 hours three minutes” the droid answered flatly.
    So shocked Mishy let out a small electricity ball that shot up the metallic cot she was working on.
    She looked stunned and then smiled,
    “Lucky those are rubber treads eh?”

    She scoffed at herself and tuted to the droid waggling her index finger in the age old demeaning shake.
    "Time to change the programming parameters. In two hours time bring one droid to the maintenance room then a droid every hour for the next 8 hours, then wait for 9 hours and repeat previous maintenance order , do this until I have repaired and serviced all droids that can be salvaged. Each droid will also bring a deceased droid of the same model with it.”
    It was going to be a long couple of days thought Mishy but patience is the price you pay when you have to rely on others and further your ambitions.

    Plus her legs were killing her!
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  17. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Chapter 7


    Ulair was in a foul mood, he hopped off his swoop and punished it by standing it on an uneven slant. I’m about to be usurped all because of another Jedi! How he loathed the word Jedi , every letter, every thought about them felt like rusty ice picks raking his bare back coupled withn an intense fire in his mind.

    A council!
    A firfek council, he jarringly thought, Dam Mishy it is you who is going to suffer for this.

    Ulair punched the control button in the Zoo’s operational centre. He schuffled in and continually chastised himself with half grunts and shambling whines.


    A muffled mutter with malicious intent escaped into the air,
    What education are we going to give her? Yet again the Jedi have somehow became an even bigger thorn in my side, I just kept on rubbing the wound until everything good and bad flooded out, when am I going to learn they always bring bad news even when I thought everything was at last at peace?
    Ulair bellowed into the microphone ,
    “Mishy Lakaylor!”


    The echo and reverb bounced endlessly in the silence.


    “Stand up and move to the centre of the room, I will lower a camera through the food drop, we are to communicate through this device”.


    Activating the holocamera he put it into the slot and sent it on it’s way. Using an old slightly rusty and definately aged remote monitor he peered into the gloom. Bent wires hanging by a thread silohetted the lense, steel as pristine as it was layed created a specific contrast. The auto adjust focus slowly got a clearer picture but it still looked rotten and terrible. Ulair winced as he saw the travelator, its black rubber treads slightly warped but functional enough, cautiously he continued to peer into the gloom, his eye caught a rumbled package, then another, his forehead creased with uncertainty. It was the nutrient satchels he was supposed to lower for her three days beforehand,

    Maybe I’ve starved her to death, he thought with an ever rapid heartbeat.
    He shouted with excess timbre,
    “I said get up girl and move”.


    He started to panic witnessing on screen a twisted path of metal and all of the food packages pushing into an abyss at the end of the girder. The travelator started a slow forward movement extending to the centre of the room. The camera trundled along at a snails pace, the carry case caught on the edge of the twisted metal. Treads kept moving, the camera stopped and tipped at the very edge of the precipice hanging over and displaying the entire Zoo's contents.

    Horrified at the sight Ulair gasped ; apart from the some food and water bottles strewn over the flooring, he saw the rest of the girder at the far end of the room.

    He cried into the microphone, “Move, Dammit girl or I’m going to shoot you!”

    There was no sign of Mishy Lakaylor, no sign at all.

    Quickly ,he called up for full illumination and panned the camera to take in the whole complex.


    His forehead wrinkled and a cold sweat covered his entire abdomen. Unable to move as if held down by unseen forces Ulair stared at the screen in terror. The white phasing and foci of the camera tormented his mind. He thought he saw Mishy as a ten foot behemoth, however it turned into a wraith and quickly formed into the refresher station. Ulair gasped. He saw pieces of bones edged up along the buttresses of walls, but they again turned into discarded pieces of chairs and tables. Alarm bells rang in his mind

    Broken chairs and empty tables.


    There was no of evidence suggesting Mishy was alive in this prison.

    Ulair swallowed hard and kept searching the room frantically zooming in on anything that was an obstruction and prayed for some little dark spot that Mishy would be hiding in.


    He shouted again.


    “Get up you little Tradoshan!”


    The lights were bright, there was nowhere to hide, there was no sign of the little Force sensative anywhere. Ulair felt a despicable sensation creep through his bones, a unsympathetic and harsh wind went up his marrow, he broke into an even colder full body sweat thinking Mishy had escaped.

    Aboard this vessel, uncontrolled, untroubled and unequivocally calculating his demise.


    He painfully rose out of his seat by sheer willpower, the tendrils of the Force ghost loosened it’s grip with every creak of his aching joints. He powered the massive double sided door to rise and quickly slid the remote into his sleeve.


    Unholstered his blaster, he set it for stun.

    Ulair cautiously moved into the Zoo, the lights made him squint as they were powered up to extreme.

    It was the silence that made him so nervous.


    The doors slowly gyrated down behind him with a slow diminshed thunk, sealing him in with a murderer.


    Ulair shook his head and cursed at himself; he knew he was no warrior. Jorus C’baoth had already known that so many years ago.
    The sound of his heartbeat and own nervous footsteps penetrated the Zoo , it echoed off bare walls and durasteel crates. Piles of fabric lay crumpled in sections. He set the blaster with a shaky hand and shot at the piles hoping to flush her out. The blue phase punched into the fabric and suddenly died.

    “Nothing alive in there”, he shouted nervously into the prison.

    His forehead was awash with sweat, it trickled down into his eyes as he looked around and witnessed smashed stools and furniture strewn this way and that. Pillows of shredded drapes resembling curled forms of Mishy lay in a predetermined patterns.

    He shot each and every one.

    Ulair quickly trod and flattened every piece of cloth, even the ones that could not possibly hold a rock nats larvae let alone a seven year old child. At every phantom form there was one constant behavior of Ulair ; leveling the blaster , firing and then solidly stomping the living daylight of the fibers.

    He crept around , whipping his weapon this way and that, pulling the trigger three times as he passed the fresher’s. Nothing moved and everything stayed hidden.

    Eventually Ulair tiptoed over to the smashed piece of track that was lying at the end of the room and tried to give it a nudge.
    With all his power he tried valiantly to move the one and a half meter piece of girder with his foot. It didn’t so much as budge in the general direction his foot was going.

    He cursed louder and in even more languages he never thought he knew.

    Ulair thought to himself, The heavy piece of durasteel was sheered off by unimaginable hands from the Zoo’s only exchange point 20 meters vertically in the centre of the prison .
    He gasped, looked up then down and towards the double sided door, he imagined what had happened but couldn’t believe it, a seven year old Jedi had somehow just used the Force to kill three people, escape a heavily fortified prison in five days and is now probably plotting against him to exact a highly painful revenge. He clicked the button attached to his quivering sleeve, heavy double sided doors whooshed . He scuttled out and fled to the comfort of the somewhat fresh recycled air saying to himself, I think I need to gather an army, but first and stepped towards the control room.I need time to think, need time to plan. The council needed to be notified.

    He shouted as the thought arose, “Oh Gawd the firefek Council. Great, just Great”.



    Ulair then proceeded to continually punch at the corner of a console, bleeding profusely.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  18. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    The stench of oils, lubricants, cleaning fluids and soldered parts had finally got to her; she hated doing mundane work.

    In her delirium Mishy thought, it is time to pick up the trail and find the Cube .

    Stained and bedraggled, the young girl was only up to droid 22; this a cam droid she desperately needed to be repaired to survey the service hatch outlet. Her callused fingers finally attached the relay box into the servo unit.

    She had practiced a lot while tinkering, keeping her focussharp. Within the Force she practiced her pull and push routine to levitate parts. With effort she began to screwand unscrew bolts off droids. Somehow she even managed to lift the last two droids together and hold them for 30 seconds. The strain on her powers slowly ebbed and flowed, though she still marveled at her development.

    During the last 3 days Mishy had been thoughtful about the many points of light from her Bota induced trance.

    They must have been Jedi’s weapons and the Cube, she thought.

    I have a fair idea where some of the prizes might be, she surmised.

    Static patiently parked itself at her work desk, staunchly eying it’s new master.

    Finally Mishy began to open up to the droid,
    “Where were the Jedi last seen in the vessels?” she asked.

    Static did not respond for what seemed an eternity, a meer twenty seconds of private burst transmissions to it’s counterparts finally determined an answer,

    “ Unable to give a definite answer although Housing Jedi had been confined to each vessel in living quarters 1, room 1.”
    Mishy eyed the droid,
    “Is there any Jedi weapons in the weapons blisters?”

    “Affirmative” tootled the droid.


    Mishy brightened and issued orders,“Bring me as many as possible in this vessel only, use only three droids for this mission. Do this immediately, there is no higher priority. You will stay with me and show me Jorus C’baoth's quarters. I require a satchel of air masks, a fusion cutter and supplies of food and water for the journey.”
    “Affirmative” tootled the droid.

    Static sent a multitude of burst transmissions and waited patiently at it’s master side. Slowly a crescendo of small droids rumbled in on new treads and tweaked motivators. The fine tuned droids had dropped what ever they were doing instantly and went onto the new objective.

    “How long now before the lift is operational?” Mishy asked.

    “6 days,” answered the Static, “accounting for 10 droids working constantly.”

    “Good”, Mishy said brightening, ” that means I will have 9 droids and you to accompany me on my journey”.

    She paused in thought, “No wait, how long will it take for the first two weapons blisters to be searched?”

    “Approximately 1 hour,” came the Statics monotone response.

    Excitedly Mishy whispered, “I’ll wait just in case I’m right. I think I’ll need some new toys for the journey”.


    Mishy sat cross legged to calm herself, she focused on her breathing and like a droid, powered down to wait the hour.


    How she longed for a Jedi’s weapon.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 10, 2013
  19. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Chapter 8

    Ulair smashed his head through the control panel as blood swelled his vision. It was erriely silent next to the 'Zoo', the only sounds were his muffled shuffling and whimpering. He brought the holocamera down from the girder carelessly and looked into the focus making sure it was turned off .
    Summarily, with a stiff lip and controlled malice he destroyed the cam on his left shinbone. Instantly he screemed in agony, the metal laiden gore welted and chinked; his bone filled with bits of shrapnel.
    Although bleeding heavily, Ulair proceeded to fall on the ground and turn a circle as if some strange avian dance that one does when they have drunk to much intoxicants; one elbow and ear and one leg staying firmly planted and the other arm and leg frantically spinning in a circle. The blood and destruction slicked the floor and his torn tunic.

    A little woozy and still contemplating his next move, Ulair hopped up and looked around, he slowly limped towards his beloved speeder bike leaving a trial of splattered blood. With haggard breaths and articualted fumbling for the ignition button he aimed the antiquated swoop back in the general direction of d4 base and took off with a jolt.

    It took a good 5 minutes to traverse through the corridors to get back to the habitat. He purposefully banged into a few crates here and there, leaving a spotted blood trail for others to find.
    Weakly he shouted, “She’s escaped”!


    He croaked it out again as soon as he saw masses of survivors around the cantina, their eyes instantly glued to the moving violation . Ulair looked awkward, barely hanging on and tweaking the steering controls a little too much right. The swoop yawned to the left haphazardly. Many of the Survivors noticed his driving style more than the croaking repetition of his lines he had rehearsed. Blood still streaked down his face and his shin was now openly rebelling with massive bits of glass remaining in his bones slowly burrowing in even more.


    His own lightheadedness made him formulate an on the spot plan, slowing down to a fast running pace he pretended to pass out and aimed his bike for Major Ellans bulkhead. After three seconds of closing his eyes and sliding off the bike Ulair finally hit the ground in a perfect spin. He dampened the tumble by correctly rolling and making his body limp. Thankfully the spin did not abrupt any more wounds, but rather accentuated his performance. A loud bang was followed 2 seconds later as the unmanned bike hit perfectly next to Ashanti’s door.

    What a performance Ulair thought, this would win a best actor award at the Corusanti ‘Flash’ awards. He could hear peoples feet scamper towards him and groaned,

    “She’s escaped, she’s escaped”.

    Fluttering his eyes to the back of his head, pretending to come in and out of consciousness until the stretcher arrived. Ulair thought to himself

    Surely this is a performance of note.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 15, 2013
  20. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Throughout a long tenure, Chom’barda’nthumby had risen to dizzying heights in the defense of the Chiss territories and expansion fleet. His ruling family stature seemed to revolve around Bardan’s ability to create tight defensive barricades. Much of the work was considered ‘behind the ice’ and not frontlined or prestigious until now. Although not a battle hardened fleet commander, his main talent lie in defense positioning of orbital spacestations. With a keen eye and extra ordinary attention to detail when running simulations of all kinds of attacks, Bardan wrote and implemented many of the trainer programs for the Chiss defence .

    His meteoric rise now revolved around the current project located in the ‘Redoubt’; a plethora of planets ripe for colonization which could be strategically defended at one choke point in space. Although the spacestation was in it’s infancy, only built to level two complexities, his fortifications made even the second stage of the redoubt defense a tough cnso nut to crack. For tireless hours Bardan had built to exact specifications in what he thought was total secret. The whole area of space had been cordoned off with discreet patrols and active and passive radar detectors ensuring his work would benift the Chiss for generations. For the last cycle he had been more efficient than usual, installing shielding and relay boxes that slowly crept up to level three criteria. But today Bardan was nervous for a Chiss, all his expertise at construction was second to none. Unfortunately when he had to break bad news to his commanding officer he became a shuddering mess.
    In his Ashen pale blue face, lines crinkled around his ruby red eyes, the data he was about to read made his intestines turn, his fingers trembled as he took three deep breaths before marching up the gantry high above the hangar bay to meet with his Crahsystor ; Aristocra.

    In a monotone voice to try to hide his anxiety of both heights and bad news, Bardan said.
    Crahsystor our long range sensor array has been set up for two cycles and we have detected an anomaly 5 lightseconds away from our current position, a small heat signature of an old Republic ‘Crellian’ Cruiser has been detected. Futhermore, two burst transmissions from this vessel located behind Chenthutti Iris 13 has been intercepted, analysis indicates that it may be spies from the Empire, encrypted transmissions in an timeworn code has been directed towards their territory.”

    Aristocra mused, holding his chin with deliberate deference,
    “Old Crellian cruiser transmitting to Empire space?”
    An inner thought hit him in the flank, with this knowledge he replied elusively,

    “Did you manage to decrypt the transmissions?” His all white uniform somehow seemed to become even more radiant as he glowered into his second in command eyes.

    Bardan caught the glint of his commanding officers stare, quickly he shot his red eyes downward answering,“ In part sir, the decryption has proved very difficult due to tight beam transmission characteristics, it seems it has a jamming device built into the frequency.”

    Abruptly Aristocra senses and military instinct cut in, “Send a copy immediately to my private quarters, although it sounds like the Empire is the instigator in this spying foray, it seems a little sloppy for even them to be intercepted and detected so easily”, he paused, noone sends burst transmissions anymore”.

    Aristocra lightened, laying a hand on his underlings shoulder sash, giving him reassurance and commonality, Aristocra ushered the leading hand for Bardan to walk and relax along the gantry decks of the hangars with him, treating him as an equal. The two officers silently surveyed construction of maintenance pods and associated activity that came within a space stations infancy.

    Aristocra paused midpoint along tilting gantry, a slight breeze hushed around the couple as they surveyed the scene below
    He thought to himself,

    Tiny Darthwits below, what about the Mizzles?

    Bardan interrupted his thoughts as if almost insipidly reading his superior officers mind, “ Their reliance rely on stealth and cunning far outweighs their expansion aspirations. There is no diligence and discipline in it, Crahsystor it maybe common pirates hiding out to escape detection, it’s starting to become commonplace nowdays. “

    Aristocra lent on the railings of the gantry and let his body sway a little, his posture became undone slouching like a common citizen. He folded his hands over the ledge and let them dangle as he looked down on the activity far below.. In an shrewd and calculating tone he conspired,

    “We must alert the families and deal with this incursion swiftly, without delay.
    We cannot let the Empire or Republic , Hutts or Bothans Corporate sector or pirates gain intelligence on our most valuable asset”.
    He paused and faced his brother, “Run all diagnostics, I want whatever we have built so far to be running at optimum levels. This might create an assault situation, we must prepare for this at once”.

    Th Crahsystor blew out a long breath as a sign of building tension,
    “How long do you think they have been watching Brother?”

    Crahsystor, with all due respect I have no talent in this matter, I can only speculate that since the fleet did a sweep 3 midcycles ago then they must have arrived within midcycle one as we had the sensor array functioning at midcycle 2”.

    Aristocra chided, ” cut the formalities and titles brother Bardan , try to think this through with me, unless they have been here all along and we have missed them in the sweeps, it seems unlikely that they pose any real threat. Every square decinin was covered in the initial operation and no sentient species has been found near this location, they have no port of call and reinforcements would be severely constrained if we were to move on them”, he paused and looked down his slender nose and cocked an eyebrow exclaiming slowly, “Efficiently…., to our hunting grounds. . There have been no transmissions detected apart from the last two in the last 100 cycles.”

    Silence enveloped the two humanoids, Bardan looked abashed, his facial expression for a Chiss looked comical, staring disbelievingly into the eyes of his brother and superior officer. A sudden urge to twitch and pick up his jaw seemed in order. While by custom it was a heinous crime to look at ones superior in the eyes unless relaying an order by another of the same rank or higher, even Bardan knew boundaries of rules and regulations when issuing a direct order to deploy an assault..
    He tutted in nervousness, quickly speaking,
    “Sir we could have spies in our own ranks, they could piggyback the transmission back to our base, then send it to the Empire which will bring another set of spies”.
    Aristocra favored his right side and stretched to the bulkheads, casually talking to his younger officer and brother,
    “An old trick for sure, but I’m more worried about the echelons of power. What I’ve heard it was an Empire with a Jedi leading them, and they can out think even us from time to time. I don’t want them to have any advantage”.

    Bardan looked confused at the new term, trying to form the word
    “Jediiiia?”
    Aristocra explained, “ that is what Mitth'raw'nuruodo experienced when an incursion from the Old Republic forced him to use unorthodox tactics which inturn as you personally know led to his exile to the Great Mists. He predicted under interrogation before we sent him that beings called Jedi were powerful and cannot be taken lightly, they would rise to be the new leaders of the Republic. Although,” he paused and spoke inwardly but still whispered, ” he mentioned a Sithjedi which may be an higher ranking Jedi would hold the fate of their galaxy in his hands for some time, my guess is that was the Emperor who has been killed or exiled, intelligence is somewhat scanty. Nonetheless, the Jedi possess a unique power to harness and destroy, they can choke someone by merely looking at them and can influence trillions, they may not be as advanced at space battles as we are but may possess enough conviction to prepare us for a fight we may not be victorious in. We can’t let them gain intelligence on our exposed assets”.

    Chombardanthumby looked dumbfounded again, staring blankly at his superior.

    Aristocra saluted, ending the conversation abruptly.

    Bardan, knowing protocol and procedure by wrote, curtly saluted and dismissed himself with a formed military march along the upper byways of the space stations hangar bay.

    Bardan’s face was stone-cold as he reached the upper communications relay some 10 paces away from his previous meeting, he clenched the microphone and hailed the loud speaker,
    “All personnel, I repeat all personnel, operational system check in four minutes”. He clicked off as a flurry of activity ensued down below; keeping perfect rhythm with his pounding heart .

    At the far end of the gantry Aristocra thought to himself and warmed to the situation at hand,
    I think its time to pay a visit to our old commander Thrawn, he may be over adventurous ………….but loyalty runs in his veins. If he still lives, my cousin probably has learnt from his trials in the Mists. I think he would like a friendly chat about his escapades with the wild animals and the old republic Jedi ,Crellians and the Sithjedi alike.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 19, 2013
  21. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    ***********************************************************************************************
    Panders, a humanoid from the planet Rori in the Chommell sector, had a hangover that had lasted almost 5 days. Finally the vibrocutter had finished with his bowels whilst the pulse emitter in his ears had subsided to background levels. He stunk of vomit and stale fish and his bones ached. Pander’s view of the hangar aboard the Death’s Head was from pinpricks of eyes, he squinted the last vestiges of alcohol poisoning from his blood reddened vision as another profiteer gave him the universal sign of being a sore loser, the third finger or appendage in this case.

    He was champion, finally.

    He drearily thought to himself as another pirate verbally assaulted him from afar, Iron guts was the worst bet I ever took but what a profit it made in the long run.
    I don’t care what language they use, I’m the ultimate winner. Suck Bantha turds the lot of ya.

    Having come 10th, 15th and 8th previously he was in the market but at relatively large odds to claim the winner take all prize. Most pirates wagered on who would win, some even made bets who could vomit the most times ! The odds of Panders to win in the market was a juicy 33 to one. And a measly 2 to one on to finish.
    Of the bets laid by Panders ,only 2 were by him personally; 1000 credits on himself to finish and 100 to win.

    However, his other investments had more meat .
    Panders remembered through bloodshot eyes and minor bouts of nausea how he schemed to set the betting plunge.
    His craggily face cracked a smirk as he remembered how he had given his sabaac buddies money to place small wagers on other competitors. This really kept the odds high on himself and the scent low. Just before the race, a outlandish plunge for Grodo “The invincible” a 3 time winner and twice runner up came in;everyone jumped onboard the Grodo “Gravy train” or just took themselves to finish. Tens of thousands were laid in the last two minutes, the frenzied emotion of the ring had poor old Roko the bookie and marksman in a tizz. He was happy to get so many credits from drunk, drugged and concussed pirates that he didn’t realize while tumbling in the odds in on Grodo to even money , 3 distinct large wagers had been put on Panders at the death at thirty three to one; 5000 a piece.

    The juicy odds were to make a fortune.

    Panders smiled to himself again, he remembered how he shot Grodo in the foot when they rounded the last corner together; sometimes the last shot was the best. He heard the competitor curse and scream in the background as he passed the finish line, what a sound the crowd made, boo’s, jeers and the inevitable silence of disgust as if a planet had been blown away with no survivors when they ripped their betting cards up.

    The hum of his hangover threatening to engulf his mind but he continued to reminisce and vacantly stare at his beloved ARC 170, Ah Roko, You really shouldn’t have tried to steal my ship now should you!”

    Panders had the only working ARC 170 fighter in the fleet and it was his pride and joy. Deciman had given it to him for saving his life when they were engaged in a firefight on Nal Hutta some years ago.

    On the last bank bust on Ord Mantell, Roko had purposely volunteered as gunner for the ARC, he was in all intense and purposes an excellent shot so he normally got to pick and choose where he wanted to go. But Roko had a greedy side, hence his bookmaking enterprises. He had brought along a deadly surprise for Panders in the form of a Tikulli worm. That day, had fortune not been on his side the blighter would not have bit into the ear chain Panders wore macabrely around his neck as a trophy from his kills .
    For the life of me I couldn’t sense the worm or feel the highly venomous creature digging its fangs into the flesh of one of my past victims. It was only when flying back that the thing actually reared up and showed itself when it attacked a fresh Torganians ear. Panders shivered to himself and spat a mixture of bile and steak onto the hangar floor, he reminisced, I thought that the alien ear had metamorphosed and was actually seeking revenge. Thankfully with his lightning reflexes and a large shrill of falsetto he executed a snap roll that dislodged the beastie onto the console.
    His best friend and copilot, a Weequay named Funsuhh clobbered and squashed the thing while he heartily laughed and called him a Girl.

    Only after they set down and analyzed the smashed goo did they recognize the enormity of their luck. One false move and click, lights out. Funsuhh turned from grey to white for a couple of heartbeats and then chuckled and punched his friend on the shoulder joint again yelling,
    “Girl!”

    It was Panders and Funsuhh’s dream to leave the pirate life and go semi legit, a life of smugglers was their calling. Ever since they came aboard the Death’s Head they were under the control of Deciman. Admittedly they learnt all the tricks of the trade and honed their skills of quick insertion and reversion. But independace was everything to them.

    With the windfall of all the credits Panders won, all they had had to do was wait until they got back to base, get paid by Deciman and collect the remaining $165,000 from Roko. The two had sealed the winnings in the ARC and vowed that nobody would crack the security. Two more weeks and they could have “Manumission with honors” as Deciman described it.


    Panders bloodshot vacant stare continued to focus on the landing strut, the pulse emitter in his ear hit a solid ping as klaxons wailed from thirty meters above the hangar floor.

    Deciman’s and Speckle’s drills had started.

    He thought to himself as the wail finally subsided, Best get the ARC primed, lotta people know what’s inside and that shielding may not last.

    He fiddled with his freshly embalmed good luck charms and got to work with the hydrospanners.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, May 30, 2013
  22. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    In the only medical room within the Survivor habitat, Ulair lay on a fifty year old cot. Sterilized by every device the doomed Outbound flight medical staff had scavenged. The stench still didn’t cover the taint of the dying or sick . Tarkosa, Ashanti , Shimal and Darius and a constant stream of well wishers checked on him. The doctors fussed and constantly screened his wounds or made a drink of noxious pain killers and fluids that would send a Wookie to sleep.

    Ulair thought through the bedlam,
    feigning severe headaches and pain I thought would be hard, but my own self-mutilation has more far ranging side effects than I dared think about..

    Unperturbed, he continued with his lie as best he could, crying out to the gathering,
    “She’s a witch I tell you, she came out of nowhere and actually flew towards me. Beforehand, I pointed the holocamera down the chute and well I couldn’t see her, I wanted to be safe, I used the cam to pinpoint her position and the microphone to issue orders. Somehow she stayed hidden behind the fresher’s or somewhere, when I couldn’t find her I bellowed into the mic and waited for two hours and well nothing happened! No response ,no sign of life , even the internal cams showed no life readings.
    I finally opened up the door and stepped in and all I hear is this shrieking wraith in my ear saying,

    "Everyone will die, but you will be the last”.

    Ulair clapped his hands together and continued in a dazed and agitated way, “whammo she hits me with the camera in the back off my head and smashes me in the shin so I can’t move. Somehow she knocked me out,” he paused and paced himself before continuing,” some Jedi trick”.

    He let the audience let the words sink in and waited another five heartbeats before continuing to the entranced listeners.
    “ I think she moved me a few feet somehow and I finally woke up to feel her picking my pockets, taking my stun cuffs and remote.”

    The crowd was in utter silence ,all hanging on his every word as he continued to feed their appetite for sensationalism.

    “Then she kicks me, so hard in the guts I swear she was a shock ball player. Again she knocks me out somehow and all I can remember is being flung into the surveillance room and eating control panels!

    Ulair felt his forehead and feigned more dizzyness by holding his forehead like a holo- star, , “The blood was everywhere! I shut the door and barricaded myself in. Only after 10 minutes did I venture out and find my bike untouched and no sign of that little Jedi.”

    “ She’s loose!” Ashanti blurted,

    Pleadingly Ulair asked the crowd in a whimper, ”What are we going to do?”

    Shimal laid him backed down and soothed his head,caressing him as only a doctor could,
    “You need to rest, you’ve lost a lot of blood and those stitches will pull if you don’t settle, only two more days and then you can move. Two weeks and you can lead the search.”

    Ashanti cut in abruptly her harsh voice eradicating the sympathy in the cubicle, “I'm not having a politician technician lead the search, Stars explode!”, she fumed, “I’m the one to do it at the front and Darius cause he can shoot anything and patch them up quickly, Ulair can do logistics but he does not lead, as you can plainly see”, she pointed at Ulair’s injured physique,” he’s not built for it and well you can see for yourself, that this little Jedi may not be someone to bring back alive”, Ashanti paused and looked at her new confidant, “Tarkosa?”.

    Tarkosa cleared his throat with a sickening guttural phlegm cough, the sound made the others wince in disgust,

    ” hrrph---rru-----ph-----hkkmmm “ he hacked up and swallowed unperturbed, sending everyone’s mind into a riot.
    “Lets get this council in, right here,right now, no more idealizing that one leader can get us through the next 40 years stuck in this vessels tomb. It’s not time for democracy though , it’s time for timocracy. We need to sign and settle this now, whose with me?”
    Unanimously they agreed, if only to stop his vile evulsions.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, Jun 11, 2013
  23. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    Chapter 9

    Within the eerily silent bulkheads of D1, Mishy had all but witnessed a vessel pulverized by unnatural forces of high altitude inversion. Corridors were twisted inside and out, electrical cables hung like overgrown vines and long ago evaporated fluid laid a heavy stain on all surfaces. Mishy’s tainted and depleting oxygen was pushed slowly through the rebreather and into her ever increasingly desperate lungs. She continued to squirm her way through countless corridors of destroyed and warped metal. Hazardous acid puddles littered the ground, the slowly decomposing bile of a vessel eating itself from within. Every so often she would chance upon a clearing to recuperate and take stock on the best possible route towards C’baoths cabin. Her breathing apparatus chimed that it was about to run out of air again, it had been fifteen hours and she was in need of replenishing the tanks for the second time.
    Droids scampered under her feet, their constant motion giving her some form of companionship, one handed her a tank for her rebreather while others tried to remove a piece of debri to clear the way, others packed and repacked equipment whilst many just crusied up the droid entranceways and waited patiently for their human to catch up. Two scavengers however, were on special assignment to collect lightsabers from the various weapons blisters they passed.

    The entourage slowly moved on through the muddled mess..

    A few hours later a light silver encased pommel, cold to the touch was presented to Mishy by her second favorite droid she named ‘Finder’. The handle was inscribed exquisitely , having an intricate design, scrolled cursive around the hilt coupled with a inlaid golden griffin with outstretched talons. The solid block of lightweight metal was of simple construction, one button and a recharge point. While studying this weapon Mishy changed her rebreather canister. An expressive smile crept over her face as the new oxygen pumped through her blood system. She appraisingly and loningly thumbed her new toy with a deadly snap hiss, An electric blue shaft extended from the pommel extending some three feet, it dazzled in the murky underworld of Outbound Flights corroded underbelly. The feel was so astounding and mezmorizing that Mishy gulped with apprehension, she breathed heavily as she centered to feel the weight of the blade. She waved the iridescent saber around with effortless ease, deeming it as light as air. Cold heat radiated towards her face as she brought the ice stalagmite closer to her skin. The blinding blue light hypnotized her for minutes. She stood stoically appraising the blade and it’s certain power.

    Finally I am a Jedi.


    Minutes later Mishy snapped out of the trance and swung the saber with incredible speed at a corroded junction box, the strongbox was instantly decapitated by the powerful energy blade, sheering away the housing and leaving only molten embers falling chaotically to dance around the surface of a defunct and dusty corridor.


    Mishy smiled through her rebreather, What power, what a tool!


    In the hours that followed, Mishy finally realized the enormity of her lightsaber, she marvelled at it's structure and effective cutting capacity. How she dreamed of holding one of these weapons for what seemed eons. There were so many stories the survivors of Outbound flight regailed to her about the Jedi and their laserswords. She despertately wanted to be one of these superhuman heroes or villians.
    Finally she thought she could become Jedi!

    She was so happy that she had lost hours in hacking away detrius from the destroyed innards of Outbound Flights corridors. Mishy only stopped to replenish her taunt body, discard her rebreather tanks or excrete waste fluids and solids. During this time she was presented with two more working lightsabers, one from D4 and another from D2 weapons blister. Furthermore a charger was also recovered. The droids had found three failed weapons which were discarded after close inspection ,being regarded as thoroughly destroyed and virtually unsalvageable .

    Mishy had become adept at squeezing and squirming in the last few hours, her muscle tension improved and started to become almost rhythmic in her evasion of choked and littered causeways. Every now and then when there was no way but through a bulkhead or a crumpled pylon, Mishy thumbed her new blue lightsaber and got to work at eliminating the problem. In her first attempts she just hacked away, but as more time passed and more pylons blocked her way, she started to refine her cutting skills and practice direct slashes and thrusts. Though she knew this weapon was a Jedi’s and thought that she should have the expertise to wield it properly already, her inner self told her she could not.

    Mishy spoke to herself, Practice, Study, Practice, gain, try, use, practice, refine, use, master! As the monotonous work piled up it became a ritual augemented witht the Force, slash, hold , slash pivot, push, step, slash, pull ,step, thrust.



    The more she moved forward the more drain it had on the weapon and her morale. The cuts and slashes nevertheless became deeper and more practiced but at a cost to the life of her first weapon of choice and her inner demons. Frustrated, Mishy stopped and took a last look at the blue hue she so marveled, it’s radiating infinity of light, it’s soft and effortless lines contrasted sharply to the lethal and ridged intent the weapon was known for. Finally she sheathed the blade with the flick of a button, the hue instantly vaporized down the shaft making D1 blackened except for pin pricks of photoreceptors from her droids. She hunkered down, laying her sabers next to her and settled for some well deserved sleep.

    Three hours had passed when Mishy suddenly awoke,her ignited green lightsaber already at hand. Instantly she leapt into the air with ferocious intent. An earsplitting screech echoed down the jumbled corridor as she slashed at a disappearing wraith. The demon had faint smells of musky perfumed fur that bled into the luminescent corridor.

    She had had her dream again, as vivid as her first time.

    The young girl landed awkwardly, and began to shake as a cold sweat poured from her follicles, cascading down her jumpsuit. Her breathing was labored due to the masked rebreather she constantly had to wear. It felt as though a horrible bargain was struck between a masquerade party attendee and a safety officers prop. She cleared her vision by blinking back tears furiously. Slowly she calmed her rapidly beating heart and took perspective of her situation. The demon had retreated, more startled than anything she thought as she spied her weapon.


    Mishy still held the saber close, it cast a green tinge through the littered corridor, sending a warning to future wraiths to melt away. She focused down at the brute of a weapon she was holding so tightly, its handle almost as long as her thigh bone. Its heavy pommel was charred and tattooed over by absent leather strapping. It contrasted so much compared to her little exquisite blue blade. Mishy fumed at herself, she couldn’t believe’ the dream’ had got the better of her again, With orange fired eyes she hefted the behemoth saber and slashed at an offending mega pylon. The emerald green light vanished with a crackle and buzz as it devoured the huge plinth. With a satisfied smile and determined pursed lips, Mishy used the Force to levitate the halved metal framework over her head and pushed it behind her position with an almighty surge, clanging and scarring the already beaten terrain. With a satisfied smile she said to herself,
    See, I’m calm and in control, no- ones gunna mess with me anymore.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, Jun 18, 2013
  24. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    ****************************************************************
    Static eyed his master and ran one last spectrum analysis . It's outdated circuits still came up with the same answer.

    After two more minutes of surveying, the droid finally announced,” Your objective is within three arms length, just one more pylon and the door is behind it, though it is manaufactured of an unknown metal”.


    Mishy, exhausted, let out a Whoop of joy.

    Her body ached, her mind had started to go into it’s own recesses and she just felt plain gritty all over.
    But finally, she was to collect the cube she had seen in her Bota induced Force vision.
    This, her greatest prize.

    She slashed at the offending pylon, quickly it succumbed to the intense heat of her green lightsaber. Lifting the larger pieces with the Force, she hurled them again down the corridor with renewed conviction. A sortie of droids removed the smaller pieces with steady efficiency, unfazed by the child’s Force brutality. The young girl stood in front of the door with a feral smile, her sweat had dryed her hair flat and her irises became slitted with hunger.
    Mishy feverishly ran a palm over the door, the cold touch and fine texture made her believe it was as brittle as any other door. She raised the behemoth green lightsaber over her head for a powerful chop intended to pulverize the door in one swoop.
    She plunged quickly.

    The lightsaber connected to the door with a deafening jolt. The unstoppable power of the lightsaber pulsed through her body, an impenetrable door held stoically. The blade did not penetrate the surface or even scar it. Her body flung backwards quickly as she let go of the hilt and watched it fall towards the floor in slow motion, still aglow. The emerald green cold fire Bisected two droids as it clattered next to her foot.

    Her respirator snaggled off, hanging between her crutch. In panic her mouth instinctively took a gulp and sucked in atmosphere. The Blonde murderer went bright blue and constricted into herself, writhing in pain and terror. Unseen molecules evaporated in her inner linings. Her lungs and waterly orifices started to explode with pain. Within the Force she surged, as bright as a sun going nova, her fear and anxiety had taken over normal senses.

    The lightsaber rolled and almost tore her knee away as it cantered to the opposite bulkhead. She gulped again and the pain heightened tenfold. Within her scream she quickly stuck the mouthpiece back in and spluttered the foul tasting gas out, fogging her glasses with bloody spittle.

    Mishy laid down spread eagled on the dusty floor and sobbed, she tasted rust in her mouth. Within the Force she held out a hand and clicked her fingers. The blade that had clattered to the ground extinguished, leaving the dormant innards of Outbound flight in darkness.

    She closed her eyes, tears streamed down her cheeks and into her respirators apparatus,

    An unstoppable door.

    What is this metal that a lightsaber can not cut through?
    She preened and went into a slow quasy trance, trying to block out pain and anxiety

    I’ve read from the manuals that nothing short of the Cortosis could stop a lightsaber, but this is not Cortosis; it had no grainy sand like texture, no filaments just a dense type of metal.
    She brightened in the darkness,
    Ohh, I remembered dad had told me that he had seen a new type of metal when he was on inspection with a highly independent Senator who was discussing with Jorus C’baoth before the mission. I remember he told me the senator was Palapitine and he was examining the ore while C’baoth was asking for the whole weapons systems to be fitted with it. Of course the wily senator had adopted a shrewd vocabulary of the word no and expressed it in a well verse matter. C’baoth had been furious when the senator said the cost would far out way the benefit, why would he give new technology to someone that was going outside the known galaxy? The senator took a sample and said that this new alloy was to be classified and that no one will use it in the Outbound flight project. Obviously, Mishy thought, C’baoth had other ideas and fitted out his door with the alloy.

    I wonder how would a Jedi Master open an impenetrable door?

    ******************************************************************
    Chombardanthumby stood with military stiffness, looking forward into the void beyond the holoprojector,

    “Sir, warning klaxons have been used by the offending vessel, we have been breeched. Intelligence suggests that the enemies have still been eavesdropping on this position and have seen our troop deployment. The enemy is preparing for battle Sir, the vessel is pre- empire at least 32 Doubhans old, analysis of the vessel indicates their shields are of high quality, though their engines are of a low standard. Unknown amount of enemy fighters, or ground offensive weapons. Your orders?”

    Aristocrar’s blue image flickered as he debated this revelation;

    I am lightyears away in Transitory Mists, the burden of war is on your shoulders brother. I order you to .detain them Chombardanthumby. Jam all communications and pursue them with all haste. Encircle their position so that they are inbetween the gas giant ,your ships and the redoubt. Funnel them back into the redoubt and ensnare them. Do not use coronor nets, use only the interdictors to stop their escape, use all resources available to the station once they are safely in the redoubt.

    Blood your men! I will inform the ruling families post haste, I have other serious business to explain to them as well.

    Aristocra mused, “ It will be interesting” ,he surmised with candor, “a vessel that size might be able to inflict serious damage, be careful and use the flotilla if the need arises to scuttle the vessel, take the survivors into the holding cells for interrogation.”

    Aristocra’s holo image flickered again as he looked off screen with hesitancy ‘peace brother’ his final statement before he flicked off . Bardan flinched as his shoulders dropped . It looked like he was very uncomfortable indeed but his splendid uniform and colorful pattern did not reveal anything but confidence.

    But I can sense that not only this event was on the Crahsystor’s mind.
    Mitth'raw'nuruodo is probably dead, they had only sent him out with two generators, and well....... I was ordered to sabotage. It was Bardan's unenviable position to jury rig the generators to fail at 500 cycles. Although Mitth'raw'nuruodo was a genius, the pressures of so many predators and virus’s on that planet meant certain doom.

    Chombardanthumby nodded to the communications officer who shut down the link. Issuing orders for war was not what he was bred specifically for, but all Chiss officers were masters of warfare, he could use the defenses he made along with his level 1 spacestaion . He could rely on other officers to do the round up, that’s what they were there for. The interdictors were but a microjump in place; the defenses were already primed and charged.
    Bardan still had sweat slither down his blue skin, he said to himself if any ship escapes it is the whole of the Chiss that would suffer, my family honor will be shamed.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, Nov 18, 2013
  25. aalagartassle Jedi Grand Master

    Member Since:
    Jan 11, 2011
    star 4
    thankgod for bots [googlebot in this case]


    Chapter 10

    Ashanti yelled in her corse voice,
    “Weapons check”
    “System Check”
    “Rations check”
    “Medic check”
    She was locked and loaded, carrying her full arsenal of weapons. The hunting party of seven all linked their commlinks. Her strategy was simple; search and destroy.

    Checking
    Checking
    Checking
    Checking for sexy
    Che…ahh shutup Darius.. Checking
    Checking.

    They all responded.

    Darius slewed away from the pack to come up behind a storage crate, “Hey, baby you know I can talk dirty to you now!,, heh heh my little Ackalay, this is going to be fun!”

    Caitlan cried laughing into the link, “Shutup Darius, everyone can hear you”.

    There was a brief silence and then a monotone deadpan reply Darius said,
    “Even better”.

    The closed council voted on the measure with a 9 to 3 verdict. Three naysayers, whomever they were wanted the girl incarcerated again. Ulair and even Tarkosa dramatically used their oratory skills to persuade Ashanti and the others that this had to happen. However it was clear to Ashanti as she pondered that Ulair was genuinely scared and Tarkosa used this to cement the council.

    She also pondered on Darius for a while and smiled.


    Another measure was also put on the table but not voted on was the incarceration of all Force potentials. It was some two hours of bitter debate before it was obvious that the numbers were too even and never going too make a two thirds majority decision. They had adjourned until after the capture or incarseration of the Force user Mishy Lakaylor.

    Ashanti also wondered why Tarkosa insisted on her taking Protor and Caitlan who were not qualified to even find a fresher block,

    they have friends on the council, were probably the naysayers she surmised.

    Everything is a political shockball these days, Tarkosa wants to be King Poodoo of this little enclave, Ulair a dethroned emperor. Shab we wasted so much time in fierce debate that even Darius asked for a stay of proceedings until Mishy Lakaylor was to be found. Hmm Darius, wonder where he is now? The little perve, but cute.
    Ashanti smiled again.

    She stepped out with her crew behind her, all walked with high spirits into the silent storage maze.

    This little saga would be over in a few hours, after all where could Mishy go, it’s not like there were any new habitable areas, no one has had the time to fix anything other than this level. No air no Mishy, she assumed.

    Protor nervously followed as he halfed tripped over the weight of his pack,
    “Hey why do I have to lug the med kit? It weighs a tonne!”

    From the back of the party chuckled Darius,

    “Look at it this way pup, you are green as and probably the first one who will get shot. So might as well be near the meds”.
    The whole troop laughed except for Protor who simply looked at his feet and thought they were probably right.
    Last edited by aalagartassle, Nov 18, 2013
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