Smuggler Archive

Hush, it's coming. I'm working on it right now. Might have to leave though, work shift is ending.

finished, will proof it tomorrow...

Message Edited by FrankLee on 10-18-2004 11:01 PM

Peer pressure is a terrible thing. This may not be the best place to do it, but allow me to dedicate my work of fiction tonight to another work of fiction; the character Kah D'Argo, Luxan warrior of Farscape fame. May he rest well. He was our instructor's namesake, and now he is no more.


Dallet 2.3

Tatooine, Dune Sea

"Smell the sand, and the wind, and the rocks, " he said, calmly and for about the billionth time. "Feel the wind and sun, the heat above and below, and be them. Breathe when the wind blows, and empty your mind. Think of nothing, except the stones and sand and wind. Be these things instead of yourself. This is how to hide from a Jedi." Kah seemed certain about that, but he wouldn't tell me what proofs he had that his little philosophy worked as advertised. I tried to tell him that philosophies like that are just like drugs and spaceflights. All trips are considered successes until the moment of impact. After that, apologies to the passenger are no longer meaningful.
"Like I said Kah, I'd hate to have to test it the hard way. Besides, I'm not particularly concerned with being invisible to Jedi so much as oh, I don't know, learning how to _be_ one."
"Proof, your kind always needs proof." It didn't seem so much a condemnation of me so much as a resignation. "And I teach you what I can, Dallet-cha. I am no Jedi. I know a little of them, and I know well how to hunt them, so I teach you these things."
"I hope it'll be enough." I wasn't being contrite, I was being sarcastic. Some folks like my dry sense of humor, but Kah's was so dry that it seemed to double back on sarcasm. We were in quite a pickle though, and we both knew it. The desert was peaceful enough, maybe even provided me with a good place to get my feet beneath me and learn, but we both knew I wasn't staying here. Kah wasn't didn't know enough about Jedi to be a real instructor, but in a galaxy that had a 'shoot on sight' order out for Jedi, he was about as close as they come. I frequently asked myself what kind of drugs (or the painful lack thereof) could lead me to the belief that this was a good idea, or that the training would be enough. The businessman in me knew it was a very risky investment.
"If it is not, then it won't trouble either of us for too long, will it?"
"It's times like these make me wish we were back in a city, near an honest bar. I could use a drink, " I said. I guess it wasn't really his fault so much anyway, and he was doing his best to help. In fact, he was doing a damn sight more than I would have done for him when we first met. I didn't like him then, and my opinion hadn't improved all that much. It had hit a low point when he'd had me drugged and then proceeded to pound some sense into me (quite literally) before our little foray into the desert. I respected him, I admired his determination, but 'like' was going a bit far. Besides, this was the same guy that had calmly considered torturing me as being possibly beneficial to my training.
"You may have your wish, Dallet-cha. We have come to be within a few hours' walk of a town. We may purchase some supplies there, perhaps learn something of recent events, and prepare for more training time."
"More time? How long do we have to stay out here?"
"Until you are ready."
"How long till then?" I couldn't help it, I was being petulant. Neither petulant or sarcastic works particularly well with the ladies, and I should have figured it wouldn't work with Kah either.
"If I had to guess, I would say no more than five standard years. Possibly less, but you are a very slow learner."
I said something that doesn't bear repeating about his lineage. I guess that kind of thing doesn't bother reptiles so much. Five years? I didn't like to contemplate five more days.
"In any event, my student, " he continued when I'd finished ranting, "we may find you a sordid watering hole. But first I will wander into the desert and hide, and you must find me. I will take the water with me, as an added incentive. You will see that my method works."
I knew it was futile, but I said the bit about his mother's mother's vocation again, and he ignored it again. Mostly. He spilled about half of the water out onto the sand, and re-capped up the 'still's catchbasin. I wasn't dead certain, but he might have been smiling when he did it.

"Sir, " the weary man said to his slightly less weary commander, "I've got them again, this time the lizard is moving closer." He lowered his macrobinoculars, and slid backwards down the dune's leeward side. His voice was very low, pitched only to carry as far as his comm and the Lieutenant at the bottom of the dune.
"He won't find us. They split up?" The officer's already creased forehead furrowed into another frown. The desert had etched lines into his face the way the wind ate away the weaker strata of rock along cliff faces. What was left might not have been as smooth and pleasant as before, but it was well tested and durable.
"No sir, the Lizard took the supplies, and the human is just standing there." He paused, thinking as furiously as his tired brain would allow. "Maybe they're on to us, and are splitting up to spread us out." He looked to his frazzled commander, weariness ground into his faded uniform (the parts of it that were standard issue and not civilian garb) like the uniform brown of the desert.
"They're about the lousiest spies I've ever seen, it they're spies."
"Yes sir, but what else would they be doing out here?"
"I don't know, maybe they're on a religious retreat or something. Lots of people come to this ass-backward planet to do a lot of different things. They certainly do enough meditating."
"Yes sir."
"We're fighting to protect that, don't forget it. It sounds stupid, but if Palpatine has his way, that Trando'd be wearing a slave collar, and the human would be working his assigned profession, on his assigned planet. Oh yeah, and we'd all be dead; shot for traitors." He laughed, real mirth edging in around hit bitterness.
"Yes. Sir."
"It's alright corporal. Leave them be, maybe they'll start fighting again. What's the pool up to?"
"Hundred and five credits sir, but only Sifer backed the human. Rest of us figure the Lizard for crippling or killing the other guy first."
"Heh. Put me down for ten on the Trando too, he looks like one mean scyk. Human moves pretty well, but the Lizard looks like one of those tsa-tsa snakes when you tick them off."
"Sure sir. Ten on the Trando."
"If they turn back towards the town, let me know. We take them if they move to make contact with civilization." He chuckled again. "Such as it is, anyway."

Kah was, as bloody always, right about the invisibility trick. Mostly right, anyway. My senses were good, when I was off the sauce and clear of the Muon Gold most of the time. They'd recently gotten a whole lot better when I'd learned to listen to something new. Much as I'd hated the idea, I could feel the truth of the situation, and I could sense beyond my strictly natural talents. I couldn't do any of the stuff that the holovids show all the time, like when they murder people from a system away, or when they pull ships out of orbit and make them crash into planets. I couldn't corrupt decent folks' minds... well, yes in fact I could, but there was nothing unnatural about that; just good old fashioned temptation. Who knew how much of that was propoganda and how much was real, but I knew I couldn't do it, none of it. But I always have had one hell of a kind of sixth-sense, and it was getting keener.
I could feel the little animals in the desert when they came out of their secret places to hunt one another. I could almost see them, even in the dark. I could hear the more dangerous predators, dull minds made sharp with the thought of nearby prey. I could usually feel Kah as if he'd just cleared his throat behind me, or tapped me on the shoulder. When we fought, sometimes I could even feel what he was thinking, sometimes I knew where he was going and how to be out of the way by the time he got there. I still hadn't won, but I'd given him a hell of a lot more fight than someone with my few months of training had any claim to.
That night though, I couldn't feel him. In the general sense, I knew he was nearby. He couldn't have gotten that far, and I could still vaguely sense his wary and imposed mental silence. It came to me without direction or distance though; he could be anywhere. The thing he couldn't account for though was the animals.
Animals don't like it when you mess with their territory. I don't suppose we do either, as sentients. I remember rigging my first apartment with a few strands of micro-wire, would have been quite a painful surprise for anyone trying to enter without proper knowledge of the setup. I don't think anyone ever did. Anyway, the animals knew where Kah was, and they were nervous. Or angry, or curious, as they ranged in size and predatory capacity. They made no attempt to mask their feelings about us intruding upon their territory. Some of them looked upon us as dinner delivering itself. They could smell me coming too (did I mention that I hadn't seen a shower, sonic or otherwise, in a long long time?), but I was expecting that. I began to piece together a kind of mental picture of where the animals were either nervous or simply gone, and used it to track him. You'd think that the desert is mostly vacant, but it's home to a whole host of strange and wonderful things, some of which might not consider you a food item or plaything. Since a big chunk of the food chain involved carrion-eaters, I smelled like a feast to most of the population.
As I wandered down into a sand-bottomed ravine, I could begin to feel the other margin of awareness from some high-lurking bats in their aeries, watching me approach lazily. They were not disturbed, meaning that Kah hadn't left the valley. Meaning I had found him, despite his assurance that he would be invisible to my fledgeling powers. Oh, victory would taste almost as sweet as the remaining water.

They were a ragged bunch, to be sure. Most of them had traded their immaculately clean uniforming for some hybrid native gear, and it made them look more like Rebels every day. Commander Tarq was not best-pleased by the situation, but he was a pragmatic man. His squad's most appointed lieutenant had met with an unfortunate accident on his third patrol. The replacement didn't even make it two trips, but died to a hostile sniper after a disagreement with Sergeant Debs, better known as VK-441. Apparently the sniper was a good shot; he'd fired only once, on a clear night. He'd fired from a concealed position that handheld scanners could not probe, meaning he was at least two kilometers distant, perhaps more. Perhaps much less though. Debs knew better than to let his men be ruled by some scatterbrained idiot in the field, and Tarq learned quickly enough that the squad was not above exterminating a shoddy officer. Tarq sometimes led them himself, but mostly he let Debs run the show; the squad had never failed, was rarely pinned down or required support, and almost never lost an enlisted man. They chewed up officers like a bantha chewed fodder, but they were about the best commando unit that the Empire could field on Tatooine. They had to be, they were operating with their hands tied most of the time.
"Your report, sergeant." Tarq was letter-perfect when being observed by his underlings; he tried to set an example for them. In some ways they took notice, in others they disregarded. The wearing of nonstandard apparel was one of the little things he let slide, but it still bothered him. At least Debs still saluted when he reported, and if his display of respect was an act, it was a damned good one. Solid man, that Debs, thought Tarq. Solid and dependable when there's a spot of dirty work to be done. Might want a bit for some diplomacy and manners, might be impossible to bring back to civilized society, but a good man in a tight spot.
"Sir. No contact with active terrorists to report. No intelligence suggests they are even in this sector."
"What about that information we... " How best to phrase that little encounter, thought Tarq, for the posterity of droid recordings? "The information we ah, obtained from the Jawa natives in sector G1?" Obtained. The only thing Tarq knew for sure about the fiasco in G1 was that he didn't want to know anything about it. Four Jawa mangled in an 'agricultural accident'... on a planet that boasted little or no agricultural industry, let alone equipment.
"Their information might have been outdated Sir."
"Certainly it might, Sergeant. This is what you are paid to ascertain."
"Sir."
"What about the two subjects we observed last night?"
"We are continuing surveillance on them Sir. Would you like them apprehended? For questioning?" The last added late, asking for a tacit approval for 'questioning' methods that Tarq could not openly admit to.
"Negative 441. Observe them only, and report if they do anything illegal or suspicious. I want human eyes on them at all times, with the damn flyover blockade in effect, I don't trust the satellites."
"Very good Sir."
"That will be all, Sergeant."

"You did very well by finding me, Dallet-cha. A pity your senses have not yet grown to allow you to find us some more water."
"Sure. A pity." I hadn't actually seen him drink any water in my entire stay out in that oven of a training ground, but apparently while Kah was 'being the sand' he got a powerful thirst, and drank all the water. All my water.
"A true Jedi could no doubt supply us with more water. Not to worry however, we will be able to make Buzzard by nightfall."
"Buzzard?"
"The town. The town with the bar you so earnestly desire."
"I didn't think birds made it this far into the desert. Why call it Buzzard?"
"A local story perhaps? We should get moving, Dallet-cha."
The walk would have been dreadful had I not spent so long becoming adjusted to the desert. Walking on shifting dunes is tricky and tiring, but I'd been doing it so much over the last weeks that I was getting the hang of it. While I walked, I let my mind wander. It was getting easier and easier to drift off into something like meditation these days. I didn't know whether to blame the training or the lack of food. Either way, it was getting to be second nature. We walked, sometimes Kah would tell me a fable about some great Jedi Master, usually one who'd fallen from honor and favor into some kind of corrupt villainy that needed to be dealt with by the Teras Kasi. Not the brightest of subject matter, but an important lesson to be sure. I'd felt the lure of drugs and the peaceful oblivion they promised, I imagined that the Dark Side and all its subtle seductions would be much like it. Later I'd learn just how wrong that supposition was.
I still had a problem though, and it obviously bothered Kah. He was no Jedi. I sure wasn't, but I needed training, badly. Kah could, bless his frozen little reptile-heart, train me expertly in how to _kill_ a Jedi, but held nothing save fables and witticisms about actually being a Jedi. Well, that and an unhealthy respect for them. I personally didn't want anything to do with the notion of glory and power and fame, but I wouldn't mind learning something that would give me an edge. I also wouldn't mind doing a little right once in a while to help repay the debt I owed Petra, even if she was far away or dead. Or worse.
Petra. I missed her and I feared her at the same time. She'd known things about me that she never let on. She'd wrapped me tightly around her by saving her life, then snapped and run. Part of me hated her for being weak, and it made me hate myself more because I knew she was stronger than I was. I learned what I learned, I sweat and toiled and burned so that I could become whatever it was that was required to get to her, and... and what, I thought, rescue her? Like some bloody princess in a bloody fairy tale? Like one of Kah's fallen Jedi? Nah, I thought, just like Dallet. That's all, and that's all it needs to be. This new awareness was a little awkward at times, and harder to predict than drugs, but sometimes it just stepped in with a powerful feeling of 'you're doing the right thing' and I relaxed, and stopped craving the booze. Mostly.

I was pretty relaxed when the shooting started. I probably would have felt it earlier if the shooters had felt strongly about me, and really wanted me dead; I picked up on that kind of thing fast... but to whoever pulled the trigger, I wasn't anything but a target. Nothing personal, I thought, but BANG.
I didn't consciously dive for cover. I was already there when my mind caught up with my gut. I reached for a gun. I hadn't brought a gun. I don't think I even owned a gun anymore. I really, REALLY need to consider bringing a weapon with me, I thought wryly.
"Master Kah!" I shouted, no response. I figured the old stealth game was pretty well screwed, so shouting didn't bother me. Kah should have figured that out too, so his silence was a bad sign.
"Stand up, walk out, and put your hands up where we can see them!" A voice, human, probably male.
"Sure thing, bantha-freller."
"We mean you no harm, come out with your hands up and you will not be hurt."
"Like my buddy Kah? I don't think so. Why don't you come down here and we'll talk about it?" I doubted I'd actually get to see anyone before they figured out that they could just drop a few grenades into my ravine and collect what was left over afterwards. It was worth a try though, and maybe I'd get a chance to see how badly hurt Kah was. My suspicion was that he was dead though, and it bothered me.
"We just want to talk to you, ask you some questions. Come out now and there won't be any more shooting."
It's wierd, how little I liked him, and how cold I started to feel when I thought he might be gone. Shot in some senseless hold up or scan, probably by some idiot kid who barely knew how to use a gun. If I'd been trained properly, they never would have gotten the drop on me. If I'd been trained properly, I thought, I'd be yanking their asses down here head first and beating them to a pulp. My gut grew colder still. Kah was undoubtedly dead, and I could hear my would-be assassins moving on the shelf of the ravine, probably in preparation for the previously mentioned detonator-party, or a better shot at sun-baked-smuggler. I drew in some deep breaths, hoping to steady my nerves and figure something out. If only I'd been just a little bit better. Still nothing from Kah, he couldn't be ten paces away, I should almost hear him breathing, or thrashing about. Nothing. I suppose a Jedi would have been skilled and calm enough to reach out with the Force and realize that Kah was merely unconscious, but I wasn't a Jedi, and I sure as hell wasn't calm. Somebody'd gone and killed all the Jedi, and left me in alone in the dark. I blame what happened next on that, since it's easier than blaming myself.
I stood up, gut turning over like I'd swallowed a canteen full of iced brandy. A voice at the end of the ravine, the closer end said something to me. I didn't translate the sound into words. I felt the oxygen exchanging in my lungs. I felt the fueling of my muscles, the pumping of my blood, the power of the machine that was me. I began to walk towards the voice. It wasn't a man, it was a woman. A distracting thought for another time. She lowered her gun, said something to someone up above. She must have thought I believed her story about wanting to talk. More's the pity for her, at least I'd get to close with her before someone realized I wasn't compliant and submissive; I was angry, thirsty, and looking for payback. One of the boys up top must have realized pretty early on that I wasn't going to step forward and have tea; I felt his anxiety spike (I must have felt he was a man too, since I never saw him to get his gender) and fired. I wasn't there where the round lanced into the sand, I'd already moved on. Same with the second shot, and the third. By the time one of them smartened up enough to lead me a little bit, I was on her.
Kah would have done it better, I'm sure. Kah would have been more fluid and graceful, but Kah wasn't so hot at dodging blasterfire, so I did it my way. She already had her gun climbing to address me, but it was pitifully slow, and I was so terribly fast. The faster I moved, the faster I wanted to move. I slid by the gun, slapped the muzzle aside as if it were an insect. I slid by the arm, twisted it on my way by. The muzzle twisted in, then up, pointed briefly at her face as it registered fear and shock. The gun spun away from her hand; it was a human response to me breaking the wrist. Part of me, a large part of me, urged me to twist it further, cripple it forever. It wasn't that I had any objection to it, you understand, but it just seemed wasteful. I wanted the time it'd take to do that used in other ways. Things like trying to figure out where the next shot was coming from. The impressions of shock and ill-intent were humming into me, feeding my churning gut. I released the broken limb as I slid in to position behind her, hand already snaking over her shoulder and around her neck. My left hand, still stinging from slapping the muzzle away, came around to provide the anchor for a very effective choke. I tipped her head forward, and hung my wieght on her neck. It gave me time to look around. Some calculating part of my brain told me to keep her in front of me, she'd make a good shield. I suppose that should have bothered me too, but at the moment it didn't.
There were four muzzles pointed at us, and the two forward men had already started to move out in a flanking motion, to get a better shot at me. I was sliding back slowly to counter them. I could see Kah's shoeless, clawed feet sticking out into the ravine, his upper body had fallen behind a rock. Strange, I must have had to step right over him to get to the woman, and I didn't remember it.
Don't worry about it, I thought to myself. Just squeeze and squeeze until this one is dead. Cast her down, pick up her gun, and kill the others. You owe them for Kah. The cold fire in my gut raged, and the twisted logic appealed to me. I might even have done it, if Kah hadn't chosen that moment to sit up groggily, and look about. My chokee was just about done for, she was going limp. The other men stared hate right through me, but didn't want to shoot the woman. My grip slackened. Kah wasn't dead? I still had her in front of me, but I'd given her enough respite to get her bearings.
My intended victim apparently had enough breath left to yell.
"Shoot, you idiots!"
And they did.

In the darkness that followed, Petra came for me. Later a medic would tell me that all sorts of things happen to the human brain when it has been shorted out by blasters or stunsticks. I guess I knew all that already, but it didn't make the vision seem any less real.
Her eyes had changed. That shouldn't have been a shock to me, she was on the run from the Empire, on the run from us, and I suspected on the run from herself. Her eyes said it all. They say that some of the newer protocol droids can identify a person who's undergone extensive reconstructive surgery, based on a combination of historical data and biometrics. I say they're bunk, because if someone can program a droid to do something, someone else can program another droid to interfere. Such is the way of things. Petra had it down though, and she wasn't trying. Petra hadn't changed one whit so far as biometrics were concerned, but looking at her I knew there was damn little left of the woman I knew. Or thought I knew, anyway. The color wasn't different, the spacing, the eyes were identical. But they weren't, there was something foreign and malign in them. Maybe it was a tightness of the skin, maybe the degree of a squint, the angle of the head, the ambient light, some trick of the shadows, or some of that industrial-strength cosmetic paste... maybe it was a lot of things, and my rational smuggler's mind knew a dozen ways to make a face look a little different without leaving signs... but she'd done nothing. There was a hardness there, a cold surety that put me on edge. I wasn't sure why, but I thought immediately of the image of two large ships docking, and the metal airlock-rings slamming together to form a spacetight seal. Her eyes had all the implacable strength of that union, and they made me feel like I'd just thrust my hand in between the rings as the gap snapped shut. Two blunt steel blades closing, rending...
"You don't know what you're playing with, Zillik. You and the old fool should get out of it while you can."
"Petra, what happened to you?"
"Nothing that I wouldn't have done myself, if I'd been left alone long enough."
"What the hell does that mean, where are you?"
Her eyes started to burn, like metal caught in reentry. "I told you not to try to follow me!"
"I'm not, just tell me where you are! Are you safe?" In retrospect, I know it sounded stupid. Remember I'd been stunned into oblivion, and confronted by a vision. I was not playing my A-game.
She approached. She was cloaked in some billowy kind of clothing. I got the impression that my mind didn't feel it was important enough to fully visualize. Into her hand sprung a lightsaber, blade red and angry.
"Petra, please! I just want to..." She closed in, and my feet were welded to the floor. She raised the saber, thrust it towards me at eye-level, sinking at the last moment a few inches. I began to block, but knew my hands would do nothing to the blade. I tried to step away, but couldn't move. She eased foward, an inch every heartbeat. She slid the saber into my open mouth, I tried to turn away... she laughed. My tongue boiled away, my teeth charred and burned, the blade slid into my neck...

"Lay back down, Dallet-cha. You have had a bad dream."
"Thirsty, " I croaked out, "throat hurts." I looked around. Adobe walls, adobe floor. Sand outside the window. Same desert, same planet, same hunk of nowhere.
"Yes, I would imagine it would. You have been asleep for several hours, and would not wake to drink."
"She stabbed me." I drank some of the water he proffered. "She stabbed me right in the mouth."
"She did nothing of the sort! She was stunned right alongside you!"
"Not her, " I said remembering the woman in the ravine, "Petra. I saw Petra."
"Perhaps you should rest, my student. Your system has endured much today."
"What about the other woman Kah, what happened to her?"
"Sergeant Pemwik? She recovered hours ago, although I gather that she will be quite some time living the situation down."
"Huh?"
"She had to order her own unit to shoot her, so they could detain us. Not exactly a command performance on her part."
"Who is she? What unit?"
"Oh, I thought you realized. They are a local attachement of the Rebellion; they're the Resistance. They've been following us for days."
"Why?"
"We were training in their patrol area. The did not wish to bother us until we turned for town. We might have been spies."
"Great Rings! Where are they holding us?" Kah was laughing, a rare thing for him. "What's so funny?"
"Dallet-cha, when I explained things, they apologized profusely and offered to get you medical assistance. I had them bring us to Buzzard instead."
"Why not have them look at me, wake me up?"
"Because I needed to think about something, Dallet-cha, and Miss Pemwik needed the attentions of a doctor more than you did; you broke her wrist."
"She was trying to kill me."
"She was not, she meant what she'd said about not shooting you. It matters little. I question your use of that technique."
"Master Kah, I did the technique perfectly."
"I saw you in action Dallet, I have had no more proficient student."
"Thank you Kah, that means a lot. So what did I do wrong?"
"I do not question your talent in the technique Dallet-cha, I question why you needed to resort to violence at all? And why persist when I was obviously unharmed?"
"I... I was so angry. It was so easy, and you were shot, maybe dead..." I rambled a bit, but wore down fast. My throat still ached.
"I see, Dallet-cha. It has started more quickly than I could have imagined."
"What did?"
"The lure of the Dark Side, Dallet-cha."

Thank you for taking the time to write this wonderful story.

Violet Vette, Radiant

Rock on! New converts!
I'm working on the next one already. No promises, but I wouldn't be shocked to see it here tonight or tomorrow.

I have a problem though... very soon this will no longer be strictly smuggler fiction. I believe every Star Wars story neds to maintain its smuggler quota, but the main character is trying hard to be less... scruffy looking, if you know what I mean. We're about to see the introduction of a new scoundrel into the mix, but I'm wondering how long this is going to be relevant to this board.

Anyway, cheers, and thanks for the responses.

I could wait to proofread this, or I could send it up right now. Forgive me if there are typos.


Dallet 2.4

Buzzard, Tatooine

"You say your name is Dallet Greenstar. It is not listed in the citizen's registry." The woman spoke with a precise kind of clip, a tone that brooked no nonsense. She probably had to practice it a lot. You just got the feel from this one that she was only a few breaths away from saying something that made her... so beautifully normal. But she never let her mein slip. She was all business, straight backed and straight-laced. Still though, I thought pointedly, her eyes just look like they're ready to let you in on the joke, her lips like they want to crinkle up into a laugh.
"I'm not a citizen of Tatooine." I shrugged. That part was the truth. My name really was Dallet too, I guess, but it hadn't always been. In fact, up until a few months ago, it'd been Zillik. Zillik was a bad sort. The jury was still out on Dallet.
"What's your business in the Dune Sea then, mister Greenstar?" I would have sworn to you at the time that she was making fun of me, or maybe making fun of herself. There was just something under the surface, something not quite tangible, but a powerful impression. Always the cynic, I tuned it out for a moment, and relied upon my dealer's instincts. I'd made plenty of drug sales to no-nonsense types, the sort of business folk that nobody suspects of being addicts. People were an open book, if you knew what to look for. So I looked.
Frowning lips, furrowed brow. Probably because I was just staring at her instead of answering her question. Let her stew. Set of the shoulders told me she was tired. Clenching of the jaw said she was starting to get angry. Stiffness of posture implied that she wasn't the buying type. She probably didn't have the weakness of character that makes some of us addicts, and the rest normal. Or maybe we addicts were the normal ones, and the others were just unusually strong. Still, my drug-dealer's mind saw nothing to be happy about in this woman, yet I had the overwhelming impression that she was a fountain of happy. Why? I finished my cursory examination of her (I lingered on certain spots, I've been in the desert with a naked Trandoshan for weeks, you can't blame me). I noted an oddity on her right arm.
"What's that on your arm?"
"It's called a cast, you moron." Smuggler-Dallet would have been offended, but I was still getting the sense that there was no ire in her tone, that it was all show.
"What the hell? Kah said you were going to see a doctor." I didn't have to feign concern.
"I did see a doctor. This is what I got."
"What, was he out of mud and leeches or something? By the Nine Rings, I thought they only used casts when they couldn't saw the limb off or drive away the evil spirits." Doctors have droids and probes and wierd words and funny clothes. Doctors do not put things in casts, or brew potions over a fire. This resistance movement must be in worse shape than I knew, I thought to myself.
"I'm allergic to bacta, if you must know. I'm allergic to all the medicines with bacta in them. So I get a cast."
"Cripes. That sucks. How long, days?" Days would be a long time to be down with an injury. Most droids could fix up minor breaks like that in a few minutes.
"Six weeks."
"Six - lady, I'm really sorry about that. I didn't know."
"I know that. Kah told me, you've told me. Maybe next time when you hear 'come out with your hands up' you should consider not trying to kill the people trying to help you. Idiot." Ok, maybe the bubbly personality was finally tanking. The wrist obviously hurt her. I did something completely out of character and shut up. It didn't last forever, but I guess it could have been called a respectful silence.
"Hey, wait a minute! What are you doing on a battlefield if you can't be treated?" Seemed like an honest enough question, but I could feel her resentment flare up hot... must have been a touchy subject.
"I don't know, maybe it's because I think this war is a hell of a lot more important than just me." Well, I thought. Maybe she's had this argument too many times. I chose a different tack.
"Didn't they give you any painkillers?"
"Only kinds with no bacta and nothing illegal. You know what those are good for?"
"I heard if you feed enough of them to a rat you can give him a buzz."
"Yeah, " her shield cracked, just a bit, " well, they don't do squat for me. And this hurts like a gronda sat on it." Her eyes, green by the way, were equal parts blame and hurt. I could sympathize, a little. She really had been pointing a gun at me when I snapped her wrist, it was pretty justified.
"You got a first aid kit around here?" I asked, a plan coming together.
"Yeah, but there's no painkillers in it."
"That's fine, if it's got sprayderm, little solvent..." She pointed it out, I opened it. This was a very informal interrogation, perhaps I should have explained that. We were in a little hut quickly assembled from locally available material... adobe or static-bonded sand, for those of you who have yet to be cheated by an architect. It had windows, and a door, and a central room not much bigger than a 'fresher cabin on a luxury liner. Ok, maybe it was a little bigger than a bathroom, but damned little.
"Here, hand me one of your mini-painkillers." She did. We were seated on opposite sides of a table, in that little room. At least we were out of the sun. We were in a town called Buzzard. It was called that because some genius had encased a buzzard in carbonite and had it mounted above the only well in the vicinity. Who encases an ugly bird in carbonite on purpose? Who even does it by accident? The ugly thing was encased upright too, a tall cylinder with a long black neck and head, complete with beak and beady little eyes. The other side sported a large Buzzard's rump, tailfeathers spread in an eternal fluster.
In any event, she was making sure that my story matched with Master Kah's story about what we'd been doing in the desert. Due to a little lack of communication, her team had stunned the hell out of Kah, making me think he was dead. Something snapped in me (something not good) and I attacked the woman. Her name was Pemwik. Something Pemwik. She hadn't introduced herself. I crushed her painkiller (a pitiful little single-doser) into dust, and mixed it with some solvent. I poured the slurry into a bottle-lid, and let it evaporate. While it was doing so, I decided to play interrogator.
"I didn't get your first name, miss Pemwik."
"Sergeant."
"I'm sorry, I didn't get your first name _Sergeant_ Pemwik." Sticklers for titles never impress me. Kah doesn't get upset when I forget to call him Master, and he could kill me with one hand or strong language.
"No, you can call me Sergeant if Pemwik is too much for you. I only tell my friends my first name."
"I said I was sorry about the wrist." I mumbled the last while I emptied the liquid suspension from a sprayderm applicator. Got to love these military kits, utilitarian to the extreme. I poured the slurry in, and some more solvent to liquify it a bit more. I rolled the applicator back and forth quickly in my hands, trying to get it warm enough to aid dissolution.
"I.. what are you doing with that, anyway?"
"Making you a huffer. Ever done one?"
"Hell no, I don't use drugs!"
"I used to. Lots. I try not to now."
"I'm not going to use that, it's illegal."
"Pemwik, you don't look like an idiot to me. You saw me making it, does it look like I just dumped a kilo of glitter in it?" Listen, I know it must have sounded like a common argument for drug-dealers to use on prospective clients... because it was. I'd probably used it fifty times before. Usually at that point I'd slip into my famous 'listen, this isn't costing you a credit.. you don't like it, you don't have to pay' speech, but I wasn't trying to get her addicted, just a little less uptight.
"Where did you learn to do that? What exactly did you do?"
I decided to let the origin of my professional expertise slide by. Plenty of time to tell her about it later, and the interrogation table, informal as it might be, was probably not the best place to admit to habitual drug manufacture, sale, and prolific use.
"Most of that pill was stuff called a binder. There's almost enough medicine in it to do what it's supposed to, but the binder makes it into a pill. That way it dissolves slower in the gut, and takes longer to affect you. That'd be fine if they didn't give you this itt-bitty baby tablet, but it makes this one almost worthless. So I got rid of the binder, see?"
"Is it dangerous?"
"It's a drug, they're all dangerous."
"I'm not using it then, you could be poisoning me."
"C'mon Sarge, you've been watching the whole time. Do you really think they load these first aid kits up with poisonous crap?"
"How does it work? I mean, how do I take it?" She was still rubbing her wrist. I wanted to tell her that rubbing wasn't helping, and that most of the pain was probably coming from her own tension and muscular strain... how in the nine hells did I know that? I knew how to make drugs, how to jury-rig applicators, but I was no doctor. It was just like being able to feel her nature beneath her mask of professional scorn; I could feel the strain in her wrist the same way I could feel that she was still nursing a headache from the stunning beams.
"Well, two ways. First, we spray a little right on to the skin near the wrist. The skin's thin, there, and you don't have hardly any meat on your bones anyway."
"Food gets a little thin sometimes, " she said angrily.
"Consider it a compliment then. Lots of women pay money to look that good."
"Whatever. What's the other way?" Guess you have to turn the old 'charm' on pretty thick for angry broken-wristed interrogators. I let it drop.
"You spray a shot into your mouth or nose while you breathe... it gets to the lungs and into the bloodstream faster."
"No way."
"Listen Pemwik, just try the wrist first, then tell me if you want the rest for the headache."
"I didn't mention the headache. Who told you? You were supposed to be isolated."
"Nobody told me, but I got stunned too, remember?" Well, that should cover it, I thought. Got to remember to sort what I should know from what I do know. Maybe another lie would help. "But I can tell you have one anyway. You don't strike me as someone who goes around angry all the time, no matter what you want me to believe. Must be the headache."
She elected not to comment, and sprayed some of the concoction onto her wrist. She stared at it blankly. A whopping 3 seconds later she spoke.
"It's not working."
"Palpatine's Ass woman, give it a few seconds... here, let me see." On an impulse (one that mght have gotten me shot had I not broken her gun-hand's wrist) I grabbed her wrist across the table and started to work the drug into the skin below the cast. I could feel my own fingers going numb, maybe not my brightest move. She stiffened for a second, obviously realizing that she'd have to get her gun out off-handed. She must have realized that I wasn't going to perpetrate any more acts of violence upon her person, because she relaxed. She seemed to enjoy the numbness. Maybe she even enjoyed the closeness, but I wasn't getting any real impression from her. Of course, several seconds later she remembered that I was the criminal, and she was the interrogator, and snatched her hand away. I winced for her, it probably would have hurt even with the dermal painkiller.
"Where are you a citizen of, Dallet Greenstar, and what is your business on Tatooine?"

"Alright, " Commander Shedfall said, "you and your student are free to go. I remind you to be careful out in the Dune Sea. Aside from the heat, lack of water, native predators, and sand people, there've been reports of increased Imperial activity in the area. I sincerely doubt that they'd let a little 'misunderstanding' like the one you folks had out in North Gulch go without a firing squad. If they even let it get to being a firing squad, and they didn't execute you on the spot. We investigated a little interrogation of theirs a while back... they practically shredded a few jawas alive just to find out where we might be operating. Nothing deserves that treatment. You take care out there, and you never saw us. Even if you did, we won't be here by the time you can report."
"Sure thing, Commander." I decided to skip my customary snarkiness and go for polite. Since I'd struck out with Sergeant Pemwik, maybe I could score some points with her boss.
"You'd best be moving on then, gentlemen."
"Certainly, Commander, " Kah said, "may we take the time to purchase some supplies from the town?"
"Sure, and if they don't have it, let Sergeant Pemwik know. We're overprovisioned since our last skirmish, and we're going to be leaving some behind anyway."
"It is much appreciated Commander."
"Just make sure you don't have anything with our ident numbers on it if a patrol spots you. It'll earn you a world of trouble."
As we left, I felt the Commander's hand rest on my shoulder. Funny, I hadn't _sensed_ that one coming. I turned to look at him. He had a sense of solidity, a bearing that bespoke supreme confidence and capability, but it was pretty well hidden beneath his pseudo-military uniform and exhausted demeanor. He looked like the desert had gnawed on him for a while and spit him back as too tough to swallow. Even durasteel can be etched by acid eventually, I thought, and this guy's been in the vat a long time.
"I thought I recognized you son. You sold one of our men some explosives a while back. Said you traded squarely with him."
"I might have Commander. I don't discuss my business with strangers though, no offense."
"Understood son, but it puzzles me why the second deal fell through."
"Deals fall through all the time," I said, noncomittally.
"No, Red noted in his report that you were solid, and dependable. Red doesn't make mistakes in judging character. He used to work in recruiting for us, and I think you can imagine what kind of recruiting he did. His notes say he considered giving you the pitch, but that you let a bigger munitions deal take a dive."
"There were some problems, Shedfall. Lots of problems. Did he tell you I got all busted up?"
"He did."
"Did he write in his pretty little report that I got my 'bot fried all to hell, and my ship stolen? Did he note that my girl got kidnapped too?" I was starting to get angry, being taken to task by a stranger. Even a benevolent stranger.
"He did, Greenstar, and it sounded pretty serious. There was some other serious stuff on there too."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Like you being a raging alcoholic, like you murdering someone in orbit."
"I didn't murder him, he ejected."
"Sure he did. I'm sure he sent his own pod into a burn-orbit too. Do you realize that the pod came down not ten klicks from here? Or what was left of it anyway. With the Hutt no-fly zone in effect, that little intrusion caused quite a stir."
"Gee, I'm sorry I made so much trouble. Did Red happen to mention that the guy in the pod tried to kill me? Re-peatedly?" I emphasized the last, probably because when I get angry I seem to develop a negative people-skills rating.
"He's very thorough, son. He covered it."
"Maybe he should have been an accountant instead of a terrorist."
"Maybe you should have been a comedian instead of a murderer. Or a drug dealer. Or a drunk."
"Whatever. You said we're free to go?"
"You are."
"Good, I'm gone."
"Just wanted you to know I've got my eye on you, son. Whatever Red thought of you or might have told you, I've got the measure of you. I don't want to see you around here again, ever. My boys just forgot how to set for stun. You understand."
"Roger that, Chancellor." I snapped him one of my best field salutes. My old Imperial drill instructor would have been proud.

Debs saluted Tarq crisply. Tarq returned the salute as crisply. He must have information, Tarq thought.
"Foward scouts reported in sir. The two possible spies were intercepted by our elusive Rebel patrol. There was gunfire, but it appeared to be a confusion. Our men held back too far to be sure, but they noticed that one of the two men appeared to be unrestrained, and not a prisoner. Later scouting reports confirmed that both men are alive and well, and free in the village of... " he looked down at his datapad "Buzzard in sector G2."
"Very good 441. Very good indeed. I trust you have assembled a strike force?"
"I have taken the liberty of doing so sir, and they await your inspection." Tarq was pleased, Debs was following the letter of propriety.
"That will not be necessary Debs, I trust your inspection will suffice."
"Yes sir, very good sir. By your leave then, I will take the town immediately, and question Rebels and sympathizers alike."
"Affirmative VK441. Catching them in an information exchange may provide us with a wealth of data about their spy network and other operative cells in the region. I only wish we had air support."
"Not required sir, " Debs interrupted, "reconaissance indicates a light force, no more than a patrol group, probably one officer and a handful of men."
"Sergeant, I believe that this region is infested with sympathizers and that they are subjugating the loyal servants of the Empire. Make an example of them. And do make sure that your men are properly attired this time, I want no confusion as to which side we are on."
"Certainly sir. I understand completely sir." It was poor form to smile when addressing a superior officer, so Debs didn't. But he wanted to.
"Commence immediately then Debs. I hope to note a commendation in your record by nightfall."
"Sir." He saluted again and left.

"We ain't taking any supplies from them." I was being stubborn, I know. The old Dallet wouldn't have cared where the help came from, but I didn't want anything to do with Commander Shedfall's goodwill. This whole sense of shame over being called something that I actually was... it wasn't exactly pleasant. No wonder so many decent folks turn to drugs to cope, I thought. Kah either didn't hear me or was ignoring me. Again.
We were in a storehouse, Pemwik acting as quartermaster and security for the excess stores. It was a slightly larger version of the rounded sand-hut that Tatooine seemed to sprout wherever people stayed too long. The larger central section was dug out deeply so that supplies were stacked from several feet below to several feet above the entry level. They did seem to be well provisioned, for a unit that endured sporadic hardship.
"Why all the spare supplies, Pemwik?"
"Why do you think, Greenstar?"
"Maybe your accountants aren't as hot as the Empire's?" I was back to being witty, I knew I'd struck out with her. I knew the Petra issue was still hotly contested, but I am a man, and men like to know where they stand with attractive women, even if they have no intention of... well, you understand.
"Or maybe we took withering fire and lost a third of our sun-blasted unit, you idiot!" Oh, I thought. No wonder everyone was so tense. Before I could say something else stupid, Kah climbed partway back up the ladder from below to argue with me.
"Dallet-cha, be reasonable. There is food and water, and a more efficient vapor-harvester. It will enable us to stay afield far longer." Oh great, I thought, just what I needed. More time afield with a naked lizard. Maybe if we were really lucky we could land a few pounds of the tasteless protein-nutrient that actually made sun-baked womprat taste good.
"And they have protein bars, much simpler than hunting, " Kah said pleasantly. Oh yes, I could see it would be another thrilling adventure. "You do not need to eat them if you do not like, Dallet-cha. But you must carry them, because _I_ like to eat them." Another of his rare and generally unpleasant lizard-chuckles. As I arranged my thoughts about what Kah could do with his protein bars, I turned back to the low arching doorway. This was not going to be a pleasant journey. Maybe I could get in touch with NC, hammer out some kind of arrangement... I stepped back out into the blistering sun, and leaned back against the doorway.
Kah could take what he wanted, and I'd carry whatever he asked, because in the end I needed the training if I wanted to see Petra again. I drew in a resigned breath, and it caught in my chest as I looked down the wide street. Not a hundred meters down the street, a pair of Stormtroopers ran across the street, crouched low as if they were about to take fire. I backed into the hut slowly, trying to convince my lungs to process the air and let it out. We were in trouble.
"Dallet, stop." It was Pemwik. I'd almost backed myself into the supply-pit.
"We've got problems. Big problems. Where are the guns?"
"The Commander didn't say anything about guns, just gear."
"There stormtroopers outside." She had the nerve to give me a look that asked if I was joking. When she figured out that I wasn't, I felt her anxiety spike with my sixth-sense. Great, I thought, just great. Now I can be nervous for both of us.
The ever-stoic Kah had climbed the ladder to stand behind me.
"A shame, " he said wryly, "that we didn't leave without these supplies. We might be gone by now." Like I said, sometimes he was so sarcastic even _I_ didn't think it was funny.

"Yes sir, understood sir. May the Force be with you." Pemwik was talking into her comm, then stripped the thin wire from around her neck and set it down. Maybe she thought she wouldn't need it.
"What'd he say?" I'd been hoping Shedfall would own up to us being prisoners and that maybe he'd negotiate for our safe passage.
"He said you were still free to go." Guess not.
"Thanks, that's very kind of you both."
"Actually he said that I had permission to shoot you both if it looked like you were going to make contact with the enemy." She crouched low in a window, moving side to side to try to get a better view of the street. Kah and I finished moving another crate up to block the doors. Once in place, I yanked the power cells out of the anti-grav pallet lifter, and it sank to the floor with a dull thud. A few hundred kilos of dead weight in front of the door ought to slow them down.
"That's funny, Kah just said I was allowed to break your other wrist if you stopped being so friendly."
"I said no such thing, Sergeant."
"I know Kah, " she said with a half-smile. "Maybe if someone hadn't screwed up my arm, I'd be in a better position to fight!"
"Well maybe if you hadn't shot at us-" I was interrupted by the dull thud of an explosion. Seemed to be on the other side of the town, because I could feel it as much as hear it.
"So really, what did he say Pemwik?"
"He said I was to shoot you if you game me trouble. And give you a gun if you wanted to fight."
"We want to fight, " I said. Even if I hadn't made up my mind, or formulated my plan, having a gun was a good idea.
"We will stand by you." Good old Kah, I thought. Couldn't blame him though, his people had no spare love for the Empire. Pemwik fixed us both with her penetrating glare, trying to figure out if either or both of us was lying. Probably hard to do in my case, because I hadn't decided yet.
"He's going to flee, double back on them when they find his headquarters. The explosion was cover for his escape."
"Where are the guns?"
"Crate marked 'Rations - Cold Weather'," she said. "Ammo's in the bin marked 'Pediatric Supplements'."
"Clever. Kah-" Kah had disappeared, I looked around quickly. No, he hadn't gone, he was on his knees in meditation. "Master Kah, now may not be the time..."
"There is no better time, Dallet-cha. Clear your mind. Become one with the..." I tuned him out. I grabbed two blaster rifles and a dragged the bin of ammo-packs over to where Pemwik was crouched in the window. She was staring at her cast, a worried look on her face. I started to load the rifles, and then had another bright idea. I started working on that too. At least we had plenty of arms and munitions. The bad part was, I thought grimly, that we have so many because we don't have enough soldiers to carry them.
"I'm sorry about the wrist Pemwik, really."
"I know, Dallet, I know. What are you doing to your rifle?"
"Taking off the compensator and the laminizer."
"Put them back on, they need to be on."
"No," I said as I worked, "they make the ammo pack last longer. I doubt I'll need it. And the laminizer makes it shoot farther without dissipating. I don't think I'm going to be doing any sniping."
"What happens if we have to move outside?"
"I noticed we aren't hurting for spare rifles."
"Hm. Alright. Do mine when you're done."
"For a price."
"A price? Are you out of your mind? I really am going to shoot you-"
"Your name, Sergeant. That's all. If I'm going to be fighting with you, I want to know your name."
"Fiti. Fiti Pemwik."
"Nice to meet you, Fiti. You have any of that huffer I made you left?"
"Of course, I told you I wouldn't use it." She stared at her cast, loathing it. She started battering it against the adobe windowframe until is cracked and came apart. She peeled it away, and flexed her wrist painfully.
"Good thing you kept it. Put some on, and save us a hit. I think we'll need it."

Apparently the Supply Depot either wasn't known to the Stormtroopers, or wasn't accounted a major target. They moved in quickly enough, and right past us. I wanted to squeeze a few shots off once we had some targets, but Fiti overruled me. She said to let them get turned away, we might get a volley or two into them before they knew where we were. The more time they spent guessing, the more time Shedfall had to get away. The more time they spent guessing, I thought quietly, the more time I have to wonder how smart this is. My odds of fast-talking a Stormtrooper weren't that great, but the odds of surviving a firefight with a squad of them were not what I'd call attractive either. I could shoot, of course, I'd had the same basic training they had, but my most practiced battlefield skill was knowing when to get the hell out of the mess, and that skill was fully awake right now. Get out now, it said. Pemwik would be great bargaining power. Turn her over, maybe even use her as a distraction, Kah could slip out the back door... Kah wouldn't go for it, I was certain. And Pemwik, Fiti, she wasn't going to go easily. Neither did she really deserve it. For a moment I wasn't crouched in the window of a dusty little storehouse on the galaxy's most useless planet - I was sitting in the captain's chair of my private ship, negotiating the exit-path from Kessel. In my mind I could see only the bewildered eyes of a Twilek slave girl, a living thing we'd been prepared to use as a trap for another living thing, a bounty hunter. Even then I'd picked the lesser of two evils, and sold out a former partner. Everything has a price, just sometimes the bills don't arrive for a long time, and they've gathered a lot of interest.
I knelt beside Kah, trying to lose myself to meditation. It wasn't happening. I went back to my window. Half an hour ago I'd been getting read the riot act by some self-righteous Commander who wanted me gone. Now I was acting as his bait. Fate is a boomerang. A bladed boomerang.
"Here comes the main force. Only a squad." Fiti sighed. Only a squad. Sure, just like a Rancor was 'only' a Rancor. Like two of them could really eat you any faster than one could alone. "Wait till they get past, " she breathed, bringing the stock up to her cheek, "and then nail them."
"Dallet-cha, replace the power cells in the lifter units. I want them to be able to get in here."
"Great Snake, Kah! Why?"
"Because in here I can use the Way on them. Out there, I must rely on foolish weapons."
"Plug them back in Dallet, park it so that there's only enough room for 1 to squeeze in at a time. Better yet, let me set something up." Her eyes had a dark gleam in them, and she pointed me back to her spot in the window once I'd recharged the sled. She floated back into the doorway, but almost three feet off the ground. She turned the pallet-lifter around so that the control pad was facing her roost, and locked it on stationary hover. One tap to the big red button, someone gets crushed, I thought. I'm starting to like her.
"You get overwhelmed Kah, you let me know. I'll shut the door for you." She spoke, then resumed her sniper position. "Now," she said. I had a bead on a slightly taller trooper, as he walked briskly away from us. I breathed in, then halfway out, just like the instructors used to say. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, freeze. Bring the reticle back... squeeze, squeeze, ZAP. One more death on my hands. This time I had the added bonus of feeling him die, and feeling the reactions of his compatriots as they dove for cover. Fiti tagged the guy next to him, who went down but wasn't dead.
"Welcome to the War, Dallet Greenstar, " she said, and finished him off.

It didn't take long for them to circle around and start searching building to building. Our first shots had been relatively anonymous, so they didn't know exactly which building we were in. The town wasn't very big though, so a search wouldn't take long. We sat silently, keeping an eye on the window while Kah stood patiently beside the floating crates. Our first customer opened the outer door, but must not have liked the look of the barricade. I could hear him calling for backup. No fool this one, I thought to myself.
It sounded like there might be a pair of them outside when the first one crawled in. As his rifle and hand cleared the bottom edge of the sled, Kah went from dead still to blurring motion, dragging the soldier in bodily and seperating him from his rifle. There was a snapping sound as Kah broke the arm, a grunt, and then a thump.
The white-shelled soldier went down like an ionized droid, and Kah resumed his position as statue just inside the door. The troopers outside attempted to contact their ally, to no avail. I suspected that comms wouldn't reach where he'd gone, but I didn't have any firm beliefs about the afterlife yet. The next guy opted not to crawl in helpless, and instead rolled a grenade of some kind in. Clever, I thought. Kah was just slightly faster though, and kicked it back out the door. Fiti actually giggled.
Boom. Scratch two more, maybe three. Guess I could kiss my Imperial Citizen of the Month hopes goodbye. I hit the big red button and dropped the barricade back in to place.
"What?" Kah asked surprise registering on his reptilian features.
"Worked once, but they'll cook the grenade next time and it'll take your leg off. Let them take come in the hard way."
No sooner had I said it than a repeating blaster opened up on the main cargo door. I expected it to last for several heartbeats at best.
"Looks like you'll get that fight you were after Kah."
"I am never after a fight, Dallet-cha."
"Could you two hush? I'm trying to figure out how many there are." Fiti didn't seem best pleased by our banter.
"Probably three more than it takes to kill us, sister."
The door didn't hold. I could hear it warping and cracking, and eventually I could hear big pieces of it falling away. Pemwik climbed (broken wrist and all) up on the crates. There was a small window above the door, she crawled out into it prone, and sighted.
"Watch the door, here they come!" She opened fire. We got busy down below.
Whoever was in charge knew that the barricade would probably block a blast, but wouldn't do much to stop sound. He ordered a couple of stun grenades tossed into the foyer, and before they rushed in, I was soundly (pardon the pun) deaf.
The crates slid slowly back, there must have been several men pushing. I retreated to the far side of the lip around the supply-pit, Kah waited at the door. Pemwik was now lodged in the narrow high window, her ladder having been pushed into the room. She cursed as the wriggled around.
Two helmets poked in, one around either side of the crate. I fired at the one on 'my' side, but he'd already ducked back behind the crate. Kah was tussling with his already. I ran around the ring, not liking Kah's odds. As 'my' trooper turned to help his friend, I shot him in the back of the head. Score two for my new best friends the Rebellion. Kah sent his nerveless new friend back into the space between the door and the crate, to let future intruders deal with him. He said something to me, or at least his mouth moved, but I couldn't make out the words. I could feel several more troopers outside, their anger growing. Apparently they weren't concerned with their wounded in the doorway, because the repeating blaster opened up again, pinning us away from the door, and melting the cargo containers. The aim shifted, I could feel the fire 'walking' up the exterior wall towards the window. Right about then, Fiti fell heavily to the floor, and scooted on her rear out of the doorway. She didn't look so hot, she might have caught some shrapnel or maybe even blasterfire from her position up above. She held up two fingers and smiled proudly. I pointed to the corpses in the doorway, held up four fingers, and made as if brushing off my chest. I doubted we'd live long enough for her to count them and know I was lying.

Two more flashbangs came in, but no more troopers. I could feel them moving about outside, and their anxiety had dropped off markedly. Perhaps they knew something I didn't, if they didn't fear going into the building anymore. The were close though, and doing something that required their full attention...
"We have to get out, " I shouted. Some of my hearing was coming back, I'd managed to plug my ears before stun-grenade number three. "They're rigging us up with explosives!" The Sergeant just nodded, as if this was a predictable plan, and the prospect of being atomized didn't bother her. Maybe she'd hit the huffer while I wasn't looking.
"I will go first." Kah was leaning just inside the doorway, trying to gauge the location of the repeating blaster. I probably should have sounded heroic and volunteered, but I figured Kah had the best chance, and I was... well, more attached to staying alive than he was.
"No Kah, I'm rank here, I lead. No questions," Sergeant Pemwik said. Leave it to the woman to be bossy.
"Whatever, " I said, "let's move before that repeater opens up again."
"I'll be breaking left when I get out there. As soon as I clear the door, give me some grazing fire."
"Sure thing. What's grazing fire?"
"Just shoot. A lot." She bolted.

Outside, Shedfall's counter-attack was sowing confusion amongst the troopers. Our little welcoming party had spelled off some of its own force to go meet the incoming counterstrike. When Pemwik charged out the front door, nobody shot at her. By the time I laid down covering fire, they'd started to pay attention again. I didn't hit anyone, but I must have ticked them off. Pemwik (or someone) started shooting them from alongside the building, and for just an instant the fire on the doorway let up, and Kah squirted out like he'd known it was coming. He flashed right, out of sight, and put down some fire himself. I got to the street, and realized I had no idea which way to go. Standing still seemed really dumb, so I rushed right like Kah had, and met him alongside the building. We fell back to the rear of the building under more fire, but the troopers seemed not to be too worried about us.
"Ok, wow, " Fiti seemed surprised that she was alive. "Now we'll double back to the far side of the Commander's force, and link up with them."
"Sure, where the hell is that?" I asked, I wanted to know. You know, like 'where in relation to the guys that really want to kill us is that', but I figured my little shorthand would suffice.
"Beak-side."
"Huh?"
She pointed to the carbonite buzzard. I surmised that the buzzard was the only one not worried by blaster fire. I still didn't get her drift.
"Great, a frozen bird. What?"
"The beak side of town."
"Oh. They actually call it that?" She ignored me.
"Ten second gaps, don't stop in the open. Building to building. Got it?" She didn't wait for a response. "Follow me."
"You next Kah."
"Of course, Dallet-cha."

As we rounded the last row of buildings, I started to get this funny feeling. We'd huddled up at a corner, Fiti trying to figure out where her friends were. I was trying to catch my breath. Sometimes when I was fighting in the desert, I'd gotten this feeling that I was in the right place, doing exactly the right thing. Now I felt its dark twin; I was in the wrong place, and things were going horribly wrong. We'd gotten away too cleanly, something was seriously amiss. I wished I knew what.
"Master Kah, something's not right."
"Much is not right, Dallet."
"I know, but... bah. I don't know."
"Trust your feelings in this, Dallet-cha. It may be the Force."
"Yeah, well, it could get me shot."
"Certainly."
"I see them," Pemwik said. "Let's move." I felt a spike of exultation behind us, and I knew where I was supposed to be. We were screwed.
"Get her to the bunker Kah. I'll follow if I can."
"May the Force be with you, my student."
I spun, checking the load on my rifle. Plenty of juice left. I started to get that tingling sense of impending violence. Fiti and Kah started to move at the same instant three stormtoopers cleared a building only a few paces behind us. One of them had a rank-plate on his shoulder, a Sergeant. I stepped into the roadway, standing tall and presenting an excellent target. Believe me, it's a stupid idea. As expected, they shot. They were good shots, too.
I tried to move, tried to be somewhere the bolts weren't going to be, and sight down the barrel of my rifle at the same time. It was just too much. I settled for pinning the blaster to my hip like in the holovids and firing blindly as I moved towards them. Something still sane in my head told me that it was a very bad idea to close on them, that getting closer made me a bigger target. Something stronger told me: You should be here. Damn me, but I went with the insane opinion.
Everything slowed down. I could feel Fiti turn towards the blaster fire, starting to head back to me. I couldn't see it, but I got the impression that Kah picked her up bodily and kept her going towards the 'beak-side' of things. I hoped she made it, she had potential. My adversaries, predictably, decided to kill me before moving on to fleeing targets. They must have been confounded at my strange advance, stepping now to one side, now to another, evacuating the space that only an instant later would house a blaster bolt. I kept firing as I moved, but I wasn't even close.
I threw the rifle at the sergeant. Fiti and Kah were getting beyond my range.
The sergeant didn't even bother to duck, the rifle bounced off of his gleaming white armor. He began to step backwards, sinking to a knee. I ignored him. His two allies kept up their fire upon me, refusing to believe they'd missed. They fired in tandem, they were good. I turned profile to them, I felt one bolt burn across my chest, another the backs of my thighs, they were that close. But then I was upon them, and I moved as quickly as thought.
I slid between them, and behind. As they turned, my right hand caught the left gunner's chin, and I helped him turn to face me. I helped him so much that his body couldn't keep up. I pressed the top of his head forward and away while I pulled his chin up and to me. His armor was very good, and allowed a free range of motion. Perhaps too good, it didn't stop his head until I had turned it far enough to snap his neck. I tried to steer his falling body towards the other shooter, but it was falling too slowly, and the shooter had only to pull the trigger.
The top of the dead man's helmet slid past the muzzle of the living stormtrooper's blaster-carbine. I couldn't have timed it better if I'd tried. Most of the bolt harmlessly ablated the dead man's helmet, some of it bounced past to sear my right hip. Meaningless, because I was dead anyway if he fired again. Forgetting finesse, I shot my left knee ahead into his faceplate, which was made to resist just such impact. Not good for my leg, but it must have rattled him some, because he bowled over backwards. I followed the motion through, raising my left leg high, bringing the heel down crushingly fast, into his throat. Because it needed to be a bit more flexible, it gave way beneath the strain, and the man's gloved hands raced to his throat, vainly trying to save himself.
I couldn't feel Kah or Fiti. Either they were dead, or they'd gotten away clean.
The smuggler in me thought it'd be good to finish him before I dealt with the last man. The Force told me to turn. But I was still moving so fast, nothing could stop me. Or so I thought. I sank my right knee down on to the flailing man's throat, ending his struggles by dropping my weight into his neck. I sprang up, still moving like a blur, and spun to face the last soldier.
He was calm, collected, and ready. I looked at those flat black eyeplates and I knew I was dead. I should have dealt with him first. The feeling of rightness was gone, and in its place was the feeling of certainty that came with knowing I was going to eat a blaster bolt. I didn't have to wait long.
The first beam lanced through my right thigh, instantly crumpling the leg beneath me. As I sank to my left side, the next bolt seared my left shoulder or arm, I couldn't tell which. It hurt like hell compared to the thigh. I landed on my left knee, afraid to topple either way. The trooper rose slowly, the single black pupil of his blaster pointed at my face. His head turned ever so slightly to evaluate his friends.
"You're going to wish you died as fast as they did." His voice was the tinny washed out voice speaker, all emotion and humanity cleaned carefully out in pre-processing. I barely even saw the butt of his rifle as he delivered a very professional stroke to my forehead.
For the second time in a few hours, I went to sleep.

"Why? He didn't even know me? We might have taken three of them Kah! We might have taken them."
"No, Sergeant, we couldn't have. He knew it." Kah said, once they'd stopped running.
"They couldn't have gotten all three of us, on the run. We might have made it."
Kah looked at her sharply, teeth gleaming.
"They didn't get all of us, Sergeant. We did make it. His choice was the right one." My student, he thought sadly, that was the first test you passed cleanly. I hope you live long enough to realize it.

Message Edited by FrankLee on 10-21-2004 10:10 AM