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darkforcerising
13 February 2006, 10:52 AM
Here's my first foray into the field of Fan Fiction. Hope you like it and I would love to get any feedback you might have, even negative.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

A damaged passenger liner careened wildly through space, pursued closely by a lethally armed craft, the sort of predatory ship favored by pirates. Electric blue lines of ionization shot through the passenger liner’s hull, shutting down its systems and rendering the liner dead and defensless. A moment later, the frightened passengers trapped inside felt a thump as the pirate craft began to dock. Inside the main passenger compartment frightened groups of various beings clung to one another in fear and dread of what they knew was next. Someone whispered,“Pirates!” A moment passed in fearful anticipation. The people inside heard a sudden explosion and a flurry of laser fire as the invaders breached the bay door and the hired security strained to drive off the menace. Someone sobbed hopelessly. A dark moment passed, then the door of the hold suddenly opened, and a tall man walked in. He was young, perhaps no more than twenty. He was dressed in brown swashbuckler’s garb and had a rugged handsomeness about him. In his hand he held an ignited yellow lightsaber. “Greetings to everyone. My name is Amaric. Some of you may have heard of me as a cruel and merciless pirate. I assure you that all of these rumors are utterly and completely based in truth.” A hushed cry of despair swept through the passengers.

A man stood up. “Please spare us. Take what you will but, please, spare our lives,” he begged.

Amaric gave him a sad smile. “Your petition is duly noted-“

“Thank you!” the man cried. “Oh thank you!”

“But denied.”

“What? No- why? You can’t just-“ the man shouted.

Amaric laughed, “I’ll do whatever I damn well like. Gentlemen, if you please.” He said as he motioned to his henchmen to begin collecting the valuables.

In one of the rear seats sat three children, female and identical. Their mother and father were sitting on either side of the of the triplets. The parents gave a meaningful look to one another, then their father knelt down beside them, “Bristyl, Maryn, Aryka, stay here. Your mother and I have to take care of something.” He glanced up at his wife, then looked into each of their eyes. “And whatever you do,” he told them, “don’t look.”

Amaric felt a tremor in the Force. Jedi, here? Suddenly, a man and woman dressed in brown leapt into action. The pair drew lightsabers, one blue, one red, and struck down two of his henchmen. Amaric felt the familiar anger of loss rush through his body. Killing his men, his soldiers. How dare they! And Jedi, taking lives, they should be ashamed… no, punished. He leapt forward, the power of the Force propelling him toward the pair. “Stop!” he commanded.

“Stand down, pirate,” the woman told him.

“No.” Amaric swept his lightsaber in a wide arc and feinted an attack on the man’s left, then suddenly reversed the strike and turned it into a swift poke at the Jedi’s chest. The man stared straight forward and crumpled to the ground.

The woman screamed in anguish, startled by the speed of the attack, and charged Amaric. One of the children moved her hand from her eyes and watched. Watched her mother’s body struck and torn by the lightsaber, saw the resulting spray of blood on the wall. The expression of pain and loss on her mother’s face as her mother dropped lifeless atop the girl’s father. She saw the pirate’s expression of sorrow and pity, as if somehow he regretted what he did. But Maryn didn’t cry. She covered her eyes once more.

A moment later Amaric walked over to where the girls sat. “I’m very sorry I did that,” he told them kindly. “Your mother and father were trying to kill me, so… I had to. Please don’t hate me. Hatred leads to the Dark side. And that’s bad. You don’t want that. You want to grow up and be good little Jedi Knights, just like Mummy and Daddy were, right?” The triplets still covered their eyes. One trembled in fear. The other simply sat crying.

But Maryn didn’t cry. She stood up on her seat and looked up at the man’s eyes, and told him, with all the sincerity a six-year-old can muster. “Right now, if I could kill you I would. But I can’t. So I’ll just wait till I’m older and then I’ll kill you and then you can rot in hell forever.”

Amaric looked down at her, a smile forming on his lips. “What about your sisters?”

Maryn replied. “Bristyl’s afraid to die and Aryka wants Mom and Dad to come back. I can feel them.”

Amaric smiled at her, “And you?”

“I said, I just want to kill you.”

Amaric thrust his lightsaber forward through Aryka. Bristyl screamed and burst into hysterical sobbing, but her hands remained tightly clapped over her eyes. Maryn’s face softened in confusion and hurt. The pain of her sister was too much to bear. “Why?” she asked.

“Because you do not yet understand the Dark side,” Amaric answered. “But you will. I don’t even need the Force to see that.”

Yan Kai
13 February 2006, 04:06 PM
Very well written darkforcerising. As you may be able to tell from if you've read any of my stories I like to involve the dark side, as you have.

darkforcerising
15 February 2006, 06:36 AM
“It was a dark and stormy night,“ Maryn began. The rain beat against the windows of her throne room and endless waves pounded against the supports of her fortress. The gray light from the dark sky outside came through the large windows casting the black-robed girl in shadow slouched in her black throne. Maryn stood up and faced the window, allowing the light to reveal her face. It was a pretty face. Her hair was a perfect black and hung straight. Her eyes were rimmed in black and her nails painted black. Dull black metal rings and studs adorned her ears, and sinister tattoos covered her bare shoulders and back. A lightsaber hung on her belt. This was Maryn Katana.

“Menagerkat, write this down, I’m off to a good start.” She waved at a man sitting at a table with a quill and scroll. “It was a dark and stormy night, and the Queen was immensely bored. Her impenetrable fortress sat high above the waves on Kamino, the home of a once proud civilization, now lost beneath the waves forever. Now the home of the infamous Dark Queen. Or am I princess? Menagerkat, what do you think?”

The man at the table shrugged, “You’re whatever you want to be, milady.”

Maryn laughed. “Quite right, then I shall be the Dark Queen.” She dropped heavily back into the throne. “The Dark Queen was in the midst of a dastardly plans to steal things and kill people and commit various other capital crimes. Among these plots was one that has gone a bit amiss. Unfortunately, smuggling parts for assassin droids was frowned upon by the Jedi. Now this was in fact part of the Dark Queen’s plan, that the Jedi would track the smuggling operation to a certain Besalisk named Vurtenian, and kill him and thus the Dark Queen could take over his market share.” Maryn huffed and drew her knees to her chest. “It was not part of the Queen’s plan, however, for the Jedi to track the operation to Maryn Katana. And it was most certainly not part of the Queen’s plan for them to send an operative to take her down. Menagerkat, who did they send?”

The pale man picked up a datapad and sift through a number of screens. “Um,” he began.

“Kyle Katarn? Corran Horn? The Solos? Or did Luke Skywalker come himself?” she prompted.

“Um, none of the above, as it would appear,” he replied.

“What?” she shouted.

“Well, nothing’s been reported by our sources; all Jedi have been accounted for.” Menagerkat told her.

“Damn, their on to us,” she sulked.

“Well that might not be true, just because they’re being careful in how they track you doesn’t necessarily mean they have rooted out your sources,” he reminded her.

“True.” She thought for a moment, “I’ll need mercenaries.”

The pale man looked up. “Mercenaries?” he questioned. “You’ve never had need-“

“Yes, but I would far prefer it if no more of this nonsense was traced to me,” Maryn interrupted. “I want to make a number of commando raids to ensure that all the loose ends get tied up, shot, and burned. And for that I’ll need mercenaries. Where’s the nearest planet for mercenaries?”

Menagerkat shuffled his data pad. “Exxalis,” he reported after a moment.

“Good, we’d have to make a stop there anyway. Prep my ship, we’ll leave in an hour.”

darkforcerising
15 February 2006, 06:37 AM
Luke Skywalker was stressed out. It was tough being the leader of the Jedi Order sometimes. Various things pressed on his mind, Yuuzhan Vong, and among other things one of his young students a certain Bristyl Katana. Blonde, nervous, sensitive, and pretty this day marked her sixteenth birthday, as well as the tenth anniversary of her parents’ and sister’s death. Despite the tragedy Bristyl had proved to be a model student. Her surviving sister, on the other hand, had spent three years at the Academy before running away. The Dark side had a hold on that one. Luke spotted her. “Bristyl,” he said. “I’m glad I found you. I just wanted to express my support to you, I know your birthday can be an especially difficult day for you.” He squeezed her hand.

She smiled. “Thanks.”
“And especially now, since Jannerik is gone has been gone.” Luke looked around. “Hey, where’s your other friend though?” Usually, Bristyl and her Chiss companion were inseparable.

“Oh, Chwenh’s not here right now,” she said.

Right. Luke thought. Very informative. Oh well. “Hey chin up, Jannerik’s only been gone for two days, I’m sure he’ll come back soon.” he told her.

Bristyl forced a smile, bowed and walked away. Luke shook his head, wondering if he really was getting to old to relate to kids anymore. Jannerik was one of his most mature students, but still young. Luke had not yet felt comfotable sending Jannerik out to face the still mysterious Yuuzhan Vong. Yocim had made the plan sound good, and it would give young Jannerik the testing he needed, to determine if he was clear-headed and compentent enough to carry out the orders he needed to. Luke, however, still felt a twing of guilt because of Bristyl’s worry. Rumor had it that the two had been carrying on a romantic relationship. Was it unfair to distress the girl and but so much pressure on the boy? Jannerik had thought of the assingment as a betrayal of Bristyl’s trust until Yocim had convinced him otherwise. Luke knew Jannerik could handle the assignment, but he was concerned about how it might change the young Jedi. He sighed, What’s done is done.

darkforcerising
17 February 2006, 06:53 AM
Chwenh grunted and let another thirty centimeters of liquid cable slip through his fingers and up through the open ventilator shaft on the wall. He glanced around the deserted halls of the Jedi Academy, and whispered through the opening to the Qwohog at the other end of the cable. “Hey, Qwohog. Hurry up, they get out of class in five minutes.

A voice came back, sound tinny and metallic through the ventilator shaft, “Qwohog hates nasty baths. Qwohog likes his water salty.”

Chwenh rolled his bright red eyes. “Right, just get on with it-“ A door beside the Chiss suddenly dinged and opened. Standing on the other side was a 1.1 meter tall Qwohog with a harness holding a security kit. The door led into one of the Academy’s sparsely decorated student dorms. This one happened to be Jannerik’s, who had disappeared from the acedemy two days earlier under mysterious circumstances. Bristyl had called upon Chwenh and his sidekick to investigate.

“Qwohog open door, precious. Yes he does. Qwohog get pretty present treat now, yes he does,” the small amphibian said as he groped at Chwenh’s pocket.

“All right, all right.” Chwenh said as he dug in his pocket for a Qwohog Qunchy (which in fact was nut-butter and sugar dried into a wafer) and tossed it to Qwohog. “Good boy. Now just rig the door lights so it looks like the door is still locked and then we’re good to go.”

“Okay,” Qwohog obliged and begun rewiring the lock panel while Chwenh casually kept an eye out on the hallways.

Chwenh suddenly jumped when a voice came beside him asked, “Did you get it?”

“What? Oh, Bristyl, um yeah. Got it. Take a look,” Chwenh motioned for her to enter the room. “So actually, didn’t Skywalker and them already take a look at the room? And didn’t they actually already not find anything?” he said.

Bristyl nodded and walked around the room, her eyes searching for details, “Yes, but two things: First, none of the Jedi who investigated were Corran Horn, so they might have missed something. Second, they searched the room with the preconceived notion that Jannerik ran away, I don’t have that bias.”

Chwenh smirked. “Right, you just have a different one.”

“One what?”

“Preconceived bias,” Chwenh answered. “You think he was kidnapped.”

“Which may bring me to uncover evidence that the Masters didn’t find.”

“Which may or may not have existed before you entered this room.”

“Are you suggesting that I might manufacture evidence?”

“I’m just saying that you just might not have your head screwed on
right about this guy.”

Bristyl tore her eyes away from the room to glare at the Chiss, “Jannerik would not have just run away.”

Chwenh laughed shortly, “Why not? Because he loved you? Face it, Bristy you just didn’t know this guy as well as you thought. End of story.”

Bristyl, glared at him a moment longer and looked back down at the room. “Don’t call me that,” she said quietly.

“What, Bristy?”

“Yes,” she answered. “My name is Bristyl.” She suddenly knelt down beside the bed, “What’s this?” Qwohog (standing on a chair, of course) and Chwenh looked over her shoulder to peer at the thread in her hand.

“So, it’s a thread. From people’s clothes,” Chwenh said.

“But it’s blue,” she argued. “Jannerik never wore blue.” She stood up, I don’t understand how anyone could have missed this.”

Qwohog butted in for the first time, “Maybe Skywalker didn’t want thread found, hmmm? Mayber Skywalker did it hisself, hmmm?”

Chwenh didn’t bother to grace the little alien with a glance, “Right Qwohog, Luke Skywalker kidnapped one of his students.”

“Still,” Bristyl said studying the thread. “I think I’ll have a word with him.”

Chwenh stepped in front of her, “Before you do that, I’ll analyze it, just to see if it came from a Jedi robe.” He snatched the thread from her hand. “Who knows, it could have come from one of the Jedi Investigators. They tend to use that rough homespun stuff.”

Bristyl looked at him blankly, “It sounds like you don’t even want Jannerik found.”

Chwenh stepped back stunned, and Bristyl walked past him. “Why does Chwenh even like mean Jedi girl?” Qwohog said.

“I don’t,” Chwenh said, his eyes following her out of the room.

“Right, Qwohog is stunted but he is not totally oblivious.”

“Shut up,” Chwenh said, and walked out of the room.

Qwohog hissed and followed him.

PsychoInfiltrator
17 February 2006, 05:47 PM
First comment: This is more of a taste thing, but I'd prefer if you didn't have any swearing.

Second Comment: Lightsabers don't leave blood. They cauterize everythign they touch.

Third Comment:
: First, none of the Jedi who investigated were Corran Horn, so they might have missed something.
Mark of a good storyteller. :);)

darkforcerising
18 February 2006, 02:40 PM
Bristyl walked rapidly away, her footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Nerfherder! How dare he- ! She stopped, did an about face and marched back to her room. “Chwenh, give it back now!” Bristyl glanced around, the Chiss and his sidekick were nowhere to be found. She paused to think for a second and then whirled around to dash down the hallway to a different part of the temple. She skidded to a stop in front of Chwenh’s door. “Chwenh you – you – Open this door now!“

It slid open and behind it stood the Chiss, leaning against the doorway with the thread in hand. She charged him and grabbed the thread away. “Just what the hell are you trying to do?”

Chwenh backed into his untidy quarters, his arms held up in an expression of innocence. “Hey, I was only trying to help. If you don’t want to know what I found then I won’t tell you.”

She glared up at him. “What?” she said fiercely.

“I don’t know yet.” She raised a fist. “But – “ he added as she prepared to wale into him. “We’ll know in thirty minutes.” She settled back into glaring. “Just give me that long,” Chwenh pleaded. “Please.”

She stepped into his room. It was identical to hers and Jannerik’s apartment in its construction, but its décor was far different, designed as a bachelor pad/laboratory for a Chiss and a Qwohog, neither of whom put very much stock in tidiness. Test tubes and a small mainframe took up on corner, while unwashed clothing and empty food containers took up the rest. She cleared a place on Chwenh’s bed and folded a shirt absentmindedly as she sat down. “What do you think you’ll find?” she asked.

“Hard to say,” Chwenh replied, as he bent over the table. “Preliminary testing reveals some kind of acidic substance soaking the cloth, as well as possible attached food particles. Probably vomit, if I had to guess.” Bristyl made a sick face.

A few moments passed in awkward silence as Chwenh and Qwohog worked. Chwenh broke the quiet, “Yup, that looks like it. Genuine human vomit laced with alcohol traces. Qwohog’s looking into that right now.”

Bristyl looked at him quizzically, “So?”

“So,” Chwenh said as he removed his lab gloves. “Looks like our perp spent some time in a bar or cantina before the crime.”

“Looks like our Chwenh has watched too very much of CorSecInvestigators: Coronet. Perp.” Qwohog muttered.

“Yeah right, like it isn’t your favorite show.” Chwenh shot back.


“Qwohog does work. Qwohog discover barfy, but all Chwenh do is yell at poor little Qwohog,” the little amphibian complained. “Qwohog just watch for grisly murders, not stupid crimebabble.”

“But that’s what-“ Chwenh started.

Bristyl interrupted what must have been some kind of ritual for the pair, “But there aren’t any cantinas on Yavin 4.”

“I know that,” Chwenh said, turning back to look at her. “That’s why I’m having Qwohog analyze the food particles and alcohol type to see if we can determine a likely planet of origin nearby.”

“And if the kidnapper didn’t come from nearby?” she questioned.

Chwenh smiled, “Then we’re EV without life-support, but I have reason to believe he did.”

”That being…?”

“Well, would you want to take a long hyperspace trip in vomit-soaked clothing?”

Bristyl made a face. “I see your point.”

Chwenh continued, “Plus the fact that if he had his own ship he certainly would have changed on the way, so I’m thinking another transport.”

Bristyl looked at him skeptically, “What about a fighter craft? He wouldn’t have been able to change if he was aboard a one man ship.”

“Yeah,” Chwenh said. “He also wouldn’t have been able to fly away with Jannerik in tow. When did the last supply run come through?”

“Yesterday,” Bristyl’s mind began to work. “So you think they grabbed Jannerik, hid out in the jungle overnight and got out on the supply ship.”

“Right,” Chwenh said. “And they probably came in on the supply run before.”

“Sos alls we needs to do is find what planet nasty perp-stowaway stows away on,” Qwohog said.

“Right, and we do that by matching the organic samples from that thread to the local tastes. I mean, if theres tchanzick pollen in the sample, then there’s no way it could have come from a poor planet. So if we know the possible ports of origin we can narrow it down.” Chwenh said proudly as he pulled out his star charts. “Bristyl, can you get the transport’s itinerary?”

“Well, I can sure try,” she replied.

“Great, Qwohog and I will keep up on the sample.” Chwenh slapped her on the back and grinned. “We’ll find your missing boyfriend, I promise.”

“What – he wasn’t-“ she protested.

“Yeah right, like we didn’t even see you two during your ‘research project.’” Chwenh accused. “What were you researching anyway, ‘cause to me it certainly didn’t look like the major imports and exports of the Hapes Consortium.” His voice was half-mocking, but half-pained. Qwohog snickered.

Bristyl’s face turned red and she opened mouth to shout in protest, but nothing came out. Instead she took off down the hallway at a run while tears began to run down her cheeks.


Thanks for the input. I don't mean to do that, it's just that sometimes my characters get angry and I try to write the dialogue as naturally as possible. I don't mean to offend. I could've sworn that I remember somebody bleeding from a lightsaber wound somewhere along the line (and Ponda Boba has blood on his stump in the cantina, doesn't he?).

Rostek
18 February 2006, 03:40 PM
Quite nice- cursing's cool with me, as darksiders don't tend to be fastidious about their language, and even the good guys frustratedly "damn" and "hell" things ;)
And you're right- it's partial cauterization according to Zahn, and the unfortunate victim of Obi-Wan in Ep. IV was bleeding rather profusly (well... his severed arm was).
Keep up the good work!

darkforcerising
21 February 2006, 08:43 AM
Bristyl walked back into Chwenh’s apartment a half hour later. “Here’s your list,” she said, as she tossed a datacard onto the table.

Chwenh looked up. “Thanks,” he said. Silence.

Qwohog mumbled into the quiet. “Awkward.”

Chwenh gave him a glare of loathing. “Here,” he told him, “run these through the system and tell me what you get.”

Qwohog grumbled and inserted the data card into the mainframe and started to work.

Another minute passed.

Chwenh broke the silence. “Look, I’m sorry,” he began.

"No, don’t be.”

"But I am, I shouldn’t have said what I did, and I’m sorry.”

“’Sokay.”

Silence.

“But we weren’t,” Bristyl said.

“What?”

“What you said, that we were- you know- well we weren’t..”

“Yeah.’

“We weren’t”

“Yeah.”

Qwohog snickered, and Chwenh slapped him across the head. “It looks like,” Chwenh began as he tapped the screen on his computer, “we have your planet. Exxalis. Just a few parsecs from here.”

“Well then, I better get ready to go.” Bristyl said, and she stood to leave.

“Qwohog and I will come along,” he called out as she left. “The Outer Rim can be a rough place, you might need us.”

“Right.” Bristyl breathed to herself.

darkforcerising
21 February 2006, 08:45 AM
Jannerik hefted his rifle and shifted in the unfamiliar armor. All around him were the busy sounds of the rim spaceport on Exxalis. He looked around him through the visor of his helmet at the criminal types of the Nuw Crescent mercenaries surrounding him. They were likewise heavily armed, and painted with a green Nuw Crescent on the back of their armor, as was Jannerik and his rough companion, the professional who had helped him slip out of the Academy. The plan was simple. According to the mole within Katana’s network, Katana was going to be hiring mercenaries to commit a series of commando raids to cover her tracks on a certain smuggling operation gone sour. The same assassin droid smuggling operation that the mole had intially revealed to the Jedi to put them onto Katana’s trail. Yocim, Jannerik’s contact, had secured positions for Jannerik and himself within the Nuw Crescent Mercenary Corporation in order to get close to Maryn Katana. Close enough to kill.

Jannerik was jerked from his thoughts by a sudden silence. A long, sleek, shining gray shuttle had landed in the hangar where the mercs had been waiting. The hatch opened and a girl in black walked partway down the ramp. At her side was a pale man in robes. The girl spoke, “Hello everyone,” Bristyl, Jannerik thought. But colder, harsher. “I am Maryn Katana, your employer for the next two weeks,” she said. “Our first target is here on planet, against a certain Senator at his summer home. You will receive your briefing on what your specific assignments are to be once we are aboard my ship, the Mastercraft Katana. I will be assissting you in this raid, because I have a rather personal case against this particular Senator, that I would like to carry out myself. After this, we will be going off-world, but we will be leaving a little more discretely. No sense in explaining it to all of you now, since a few of the weak will not be leaving with us tomorrow. Any questions? Good, get on board.”

darkforcerising
22 February 2006, 06:41 AM
Maryn looked over the group, thirty soldiers. No wait, thirty-one.Three squads of ten, as promised, but there was one extra man. She looked over the group again. The second squad had one too many. Interesting. Which one didn’t belong? The young man with the shiny armor? No, too obvious. She mentally tallied them off as they boarded her shuttle, making special note of the second squad. Interesting.


Chwenh stepped off of the transport into the dirty metropolis that was Exxalis. Qwohog followed, holding his hand. Qwohog choked and coughed obnoxiously, “Fah, koff. Too dusty for Qwohog is this place. Much too dusty, yes, indeed.”

“Duly noted Qwohog.” Chwenh looked around at the thousands of fellow travelers. Great, he thought to himself. This seemed like a great idea at the time, but this place is a lot bigger in person. “Bristyl?” he called out back into the ships hold.

“Coming,” her voice called out from the cargo bay, and a moment later she stepped forth dressed in nondescript farmer’s garb, that was both functional and anonymous. Her eyes widened at the sight of the bustling spaceport. “How are we going to find Jannerik in this place? We might as well be searching for an idiot on Ossus. He could be anywhere!”

“Who, Jar-Jar?” Chwenh asked. Bristyl glared.

“Qwohog feels bad when you say idiot and Jar-Jar and Endor and scuzz and chump and ceiling and –“

Chwenh cut off Qwohog with a slap across the head, “Shut up idiot, Jar-Jar, Endor and-“

“Shut up both of you.” Bristyl said as she walked away. “We’ll check the spaceports first.” Qwohog hissed and he and Chwenh followed the girl.

darkforcerising
22 February 2006, 06:44 AM
Maryn stepped forward and jabbed her lightsaber into a man’s gut. Behind her, someone fired. Without looking she reached behind her and deflected the bolt and then swept her saber through a Togorian’s neck in front of her, severing it. She blinked deliberately and ahead of her another member of Senator Vash’cun’sil’s personal security detail dropped clutching the base of his spine. Darth Vader had made an art of crushing tracheas, but Maryn broke whatever caught her fancy at the time. Collapsing lungs, stirring brains, rupturing arteries, and severing brain stems, it didn’t really matter. Each one sent a chill up her spine, a matchless high brought on by the rush of the Dark Side. She knew it would lead to her ultimate destruction, Skywalker had said so when she had stormed out of his Academy four years ago. Bring it on, better to have lived but for a short time than to have never lived at all. Something was bound to get her eventually, the Dark Side might as well join the hunt. And who knew? Perhaps she could discover secrets lost and cheat the destroyer that sought her. Worth a shot, she considered it.

These thoughts ran through her mind as she shouted and hacked a Bartokk warrior into pieces. “Die! Die! Die, you little-huh-“ she grunted as her saber finally found its mark in the creatures brain. “Duff, burn this before it gets back up, please,” Maryn commanded as she killed her blade and put it into her belt. An obliging underling pulled a flare from his pack and set to burn the already regenerating Bartokk. Bloody hard to kill, those, and even if you do they can grow back to life.

She wiped a stream of blood from her arm (not her blood of course) and walked over to Menagerkat who was conversing over a headset with different squad of the strike team. “How did the mercenaries perform during the raid?” she asked.

“Actually, ma’am, they are, uh, still engaged with the remaining members of the Senator’s security,” he answered.

“Why? Don’t the guards know they’ll just die defending someone that I already killed? Resistance is futile, why not surrender? Not that I won’t execute them, but they wouldn’t know that.”

“Perhaps they only seek to die a noble and worthy death fighting for what is just, rather than simply giving into the attacker that claimed the life of the one they were proetecting.” Menagerkat offered.

Maryn whirled around and grabbed the man, causing him to drop his datapad. “Just?” she spat.

“For what – what they believe is just, milady. Your cause is not unjust milady, and never would I insinuate such a ridiculous notion as such… milady.” Menagerkat said quickly.

Maryn shoved him against a wall and smirked. “Don't suck it up ‘Kat,” she said, and walked away. “And nothing anybody does against me is ever noble or worthy or anything but hopeless. Remember that.”

darkforcerising
28 February 2006, 10:22 AM
The next day, Maryn sat aboard the transport, waiting to take off. Her business on Exxalis was finished. One track had been covered, and she was on step closer to getting the Jedi off her case. She had lost three mercs, two dead and one wounded. He was left behind in a local hospital. She saw a number of the mercs sitting together masquerading as a traveling athletics team, on a world such as Exxalis such a thing hardly received a second glance. Large equipment bags were unsuspicious and would not attract attention from the casual observer, and a few credits ensured that the equipment any serious inspection. Among 1500 other travelers, who would notice. Nobody had betrayed her during the first raid, at least not openly, but the mystery of the extra man continued to bother her. She leaned back, set her danger sense to high, and closed her eyes. She would not sleep, Maryn did not survive for sixteen years by being foolish, rather she rested. A sudden motion in front of her drew her from her half-asleep state, and she opened her eyes just in time to see one of the mercs trip and fall into her lap. Danger! She caught him by the shoulders and his hand struck quickly toward her abdomen. She felt a sharp prick and then a wave of dizziness. She reached out with the Force and blinked, trying to find a part of this traitors body to destroy. Her consciousness was slipping. Maryn desperately tried to turn the Force inward to fight the toxin.

“Is there something wrong with her?” asked a female voice that seemed to come from very far away.

“It’s nothing Just a little food poisoning,” the assassin responded.

“Would you like to take her to the infirmary?” the woman asked.

“She’ll be fine.”

Suddenly, the rest of the Nuw Crescent Mercenaries stood up from their seats and drew blaster pistols. “This is a hijacking! Everyone stay seated, and hand over your valuables, please. Where’s Menagerkat? Maryn thought. He betrayed me. That son of a rancor. He sold me out to these pirates. Or else he engineered the whole thing to knock me off. But the eleventh man. What’s his connection? Does somebody else want me dead? Coincidence? Actually, I think that’s -cough- doubtful.