Pilot Archive

Continued from Chapter 1, which can be found here: http://forums.station.sony.com/swg/board/message?board.id=Bria&message.id=1045338

Chapter 2 - A Rude Awakening

The Twi'Lek gyrated her hips in front of me, barely covered by a translucent, silk-like material that would suddenly change color and texture as she moved. The rhythm of the drums in the background made her motions almost hypnotic and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She leaned in closer as her outfit turned a bright shade of green and turned into what seemed like leather and she whispered naughty things into my ear.

As she stretched herself backwards I could see little spikes appear on what was now a leather bikini. She twirled and draped herself across me and I felt the sharp pain of a dozen pointed spikes pressing against my flesh.

"Ouch", I said as I pushed her away. She spun around and this time she had a spear in her hand and poked it at me. "Ouch", I said, as I pushed her away again.

Her face turned from pleasant to mean and she shouted "Bakta man doh batula!!!".

"What?", I said.

"Bakta man doh batula!!!", she shouted at me, "Dona lakto mara tatur gannno!!" With this she spun around again and a bucket suddenly appeared in her hand, drenching me with water.

I sat bolt upright, sputtering, with water dripping from my hair only to face a dozen spears poking at my chest. I was awake now, the sun already high in the sky. I blinked several times, trying to adjust my eyes to the light.

Another spear poke caught my attention. I looked up and into the face of what I can only describe as a Cro-Magnon or Neanderthal man. He was dressed in hides with a bright feathered headdress, surrounded by similar individuals, although the others were minus the feathers but plus the spears. He had a sloping brow, high cheekbones, jet-black hair all over his body and a prominent jaw. His face was highlighted by dark brown eyes that currently looked very angry. I'd say he easily stood over six feet tall.

"Bakta man doh batula!!!", he shouted at me, followed by another prodding with the spears from his henchmen.

"What the hell you sayin'?", I shouted back as I held my hand over my eyebrows to shield them from the sun. "Any of you speak standard, you freaks?"

The looked at each other then back at me. The spearmen pulled back for another round of jabbing at me and I threw my hands up and said "Hey, hold on, lemme get my protocol droid."

I struggled slowly and carefully to my feet. My head was pounding like a drum. Damn Denebian Ale did it to me again. The spears followed my movements and hovered a few inches from my vital parts.

"Take it easy," I said as I slowly backed up the hill to my AV-21. Toward the top I noticed another group of about a dozen Neanderthals gathered around the vehicle. I kept most of my attention on my friends with the spears pointed at me and reached into the vehicle and pulled out my portable protocol droid.

My protocol droid was one of the older portable models. Relatively limited number of languages and about the size of a book, but easy to lug around. A great droid once you got used to the tinny voice.

I slid the switch to "on" and the unit beep-beeped to life. A gasp went up from the spearmen and two of them stabbed at the droid in my hand with their spears, knocking it to the ground.

"Ouch.", said the protocol droid in its tinny voice. The spearmen, startled at the sound from the machine, took a step back, along with their feathered leader.

"Bakta man doh batula!!!" shouted the leader at me again.

"You steal our holy weed!!" came the tinny translation from the droid.

"What? I didn't know it was yours." I said, putting on my best innocent act. "I'll return it."

"You dirty up da holy space," shouted the leader "you gonna be punished by da chief!!"

As he said this, I heard the distinct scraping of stone against metal. I spun around and noticed three cavemen poking and scraping my vehicle with their spearpoints. One was making a very concerted effort to stab into the steel. A fourth one was taking roundhouse swings with an oversized club, putting huge dents into the fenders.

"What the hell are you doing you maniacs?", I shouted and jumped over the hood, pushing their spears away. "This is a brand new paint job! I still got payments this thing!"

I had more to say but was suddenly interrupted by a sharp pain to the back of my head followed by stars exploding in front of my eyes, then fading into deep, dark, oblivion.

* * *

I awoke to the sound of the drum in my head, pounding in rhythm with my heartbeat. The smell of burning wood filled my nostrils along with . . . oh god . . . absolutely powerful body odor. I could feel my nosehairs retreating in panic. I focused on the crackling firepit in front of me and took shallow breaths.

I wasn't tied up, that was good. I glanced around me. I was in a circular, mud hut with a domed ceiling, a smoke hole and a dirt floor. Lining the circumference of the hut were a dozen cavemen with their spears carefully aimed in my direction. That was bad. Across the firepit sat what looked like the chief. He was also dressed in skins, although they had been dyed purple and adorned with brightly colored feathers. He shared many of the same features as the other cavemen except that his hair was graying and he wore a beard. He also had on a necklace of precious stones - something I hadn't seen anyone else wearing so far.

"You dirty up da holy space," said the chief, leaning forward and glowering at me, the firelight glinting from the gems on his necklace. I could see his face more clearly now and it was painted with black ash around the eyes, giving them a frightening appearance. "We gonna have ta kill ya for dat.", he continued, spitting out the last of the words which the protocol droid tried to faithfully re-create, resulting in the chief sounding like he had a lisp. I looked at the droid and it showed several dents from what I assume were spearpoints and one big dent from the guy with the club.

"But first," said the chief, still glowering at me, "where you get dat magic box?"

"The protocol droid?", I asked, pointing at the dented lump of metal on the floor. "That's not magic, that's technology."

"What you mean Teknogy?", asked the chief, trying to understand the words. He looked around the room to a series of shrugs, causing the spears pointed at me to do a macabre "wave" around the room.

"Are you kidding?", I said, "you mean you've never seen technology around here?" I looked around the room. Another spear "wave" went around.

"That's incredible," I said, "considering there's an Imperial outpost not that far away from here."

"What be da Impeel?", asked the chief. Again he looked around and again the spears did the wave. "You a crazy mon?", he asked, making a circular motion with his finger while pointing it toward the side of his head. "You talkin' da crazy words?" A wave of laughter erupted from around the room, cut short by a wave of the chief's hand.

"Not Impeel", I said, "Im-per-ee-al. Stormtroopers. Soldiers." I took my finger and drew a crude shape of an imperial stormtrooper in the dirt. The chief leaned forward and peered closely at the drawing.

"Oh, dat not be Impeel, dat be Krabmon.", explained the chief. "Ya, we see da Krabmon before, but dey hard to find now."

"Krabmon?" I turned to the protocol droid. "Definition, please?"

The protocol droid beeped and its voice changed to monotone. "Krabmon: A word combination not found in the standard Mokk language dictionary. Fuzzy logic determines this term to be a local Mokk dialect concatenation of two words - 'Krab', meaning Crab or Lobster and often used to describe any crustacean or hard-shelled object and 'Man', a term to describe any creature with humanoid features that is not a Mokk."

"Oh, I see," I said, "it's because of their armor." I turned to the chief and asked "So when you see these Krabmon, they've never shown you any Teknogy . . . err, technology?"

"Noooo," said the chief, "you can't talk to da Krabmon, you dummy." He rose to his feet and motioned me to follow him. "Come wit me," he said, "I show you da Krabmon."

The chief and I walked out of the hut and into the bright sunlight. I blinked several times as we crossed a small clearing. I could see I was in a village full of Mokk. Oddly enough, I recognized totems that were clearly Dantari in origin. I turned to the chief to ask him about this but a series of spear prods quickly hustled me into another hut. It took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the sudden darkness.

This hut was similar to the chief's hut although only about half the size. It was illuminated by a central firepit. The chief took my arm and led me over to a section of the wall.

"Look, da be de story of da Krabmon." he said, motioning for me to read the wall.

A series of pictograms were visible in the flickering firelight. I could make out crudely drawn but recognizable Imperial stormtroopers in marching formation. The next panel showed the stormtroopers from the back, surrounded by Mokk with spears and clubs, apparently cleverly disguised as rocks, shrubbery and trees. A third panel showed the Mokk pouncing on the stormtroopers.

Seeing me looking at the third panel, the chief said "Oh, dat one important. See, ya gotta only use da club for da Krabmon. Spear ruin da Krabmon fer sure."

"What do you mean, ruin?", I asked, but the chief directed my attention to the fourth panel.

It showed the Mokk carrying the stormtroopers back to the village, tied to sticks and each one carried by two Mokk. The next panel showed them arriving in the village with a throng of crudely drawn, but jubilant Mokk welcoming them back.

The sixth panel showed a series of giant pots and the Mokk throwing the stormtroopers into the pots. Crudely drawn fires were shown under the pots and Mokk figures were dancing around each one, adding what looked like water and vegetables. The next panel showed the Mokk with what looked like giant shears, cutting the armor away from the boiled stormtroopers.

The chief saw the shocked look on my face. "Ya, dey be hard to hunt. Gabunga here, he da best Krabmon hunter." One of the cavemen with a spear stood up tall and tried to look as important as possible. Glancing past him I saw a pile of white and black stormtrooper armor. Pieces of armor were stacked nearly to the ceiling and each piece had a long gash, splitting it open. Next to the pile were several gigantic shears, fashioned out of wood and bone.

"You mean you EAT them?", I asked, incredulously.

"Oh ya, dey be delicious.", answered the chief. "But ya gotta use da club," he added in a serious tone, "'cause da spear kill da Krabmon an' den da meat all bad. Ya gotta boil da Krabmons while dey still alive. Dats for best taste."

A vigorous nodding went around the room. "I make da best Krabmon sauce too." said one of the assembled cavemen, followed by another vigorous round of nodding. Gabunga glared at him for trying to take the spotlight away from himself, the best hunter of the Krabmon.

The chief turned back to me. "So," he said, "I gonna ask you again. Where you get dat magic box? An' don't lie to da Mokk again wit some crazy Krabmon teknogy story. Da Mokk be genius people. We know magic when we see it."

A wave of his hand brought half a dozen spears an inch away from my throat. "You betta think careful," hissed the chief, "it bad juju to lie before you die."

Next Week - Chapter 3 - My Fate Is Sealed