Smuggler Archive

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Tych wrote:

Wow Frank, yours are so much more popular than mine :-P

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That comment prompted me to read through your Wil Farrow series. Nicely done. He's an interesting character, but frankly (no pun intended) he's no Zillik. I kept expecting more things to go wrong, especially at the end. Redheads are never up to anything good, and at no time should a smuggler trust someone who seems to empathise with his own troubles. Still, a thoroughly enjoyable read. Thanks for putting them out.

Message Edited by KabaI on 10-22-2004 05:04 PM

I wrote a big chunk of it tonight. I expect the rest of it tomorrow maybe, since I have to pull an extra 12-hour shift. I hope to get off of Tatooine soon.

This is actually my first serious attempt at fan fiction. Some of the other stuff I've written in the SW genre is similar, but was an addendum to a campaign I was running for SWRGP a few years ago, and wouldn't make much sense.
A good site a friend put me on to if you're into scifi is www.baen.com. Free library of sorts. I've started reading some of them, and they're interesting.
Also, never underestimate the power of your local library. When I got put on the midnight shift a year ago, it was no longer economically feasible to buy as many books as I could read, and the store wasn't open at 2AM... I re-upped my library card, and have been flush for reading material ever since.
You can do a search on fan fiction too, I've seen a bunch of pages devoted to tv series and the like, you might find something that catches your eye.

I'm rounding out hour 10 of my shift, so here's another episode. Been waiting for a while to get to this point in the story, I really hope you guys like it. In my mind, it's the halfway point.

Dallet 2.5

Buzzard, Beakside

"Sergeant, I believe I asked for your report." The too-pale Commander Shedfall spoke faintly, and at odd intervals. His breathing was being done for him, off and on. He was partially encased in a large cylindrical chestpiece, a surgical droid had left it attempting to repair his lung enough that he'd survive bacta-immersion. If they could retake the town and get him into the bacta-tank. He was propped up against a crate in a prefab barracks building. It ws the kind of building that could be assembled or disassembled in five minutes, and had enough structural stability to withstand nothing stronger than what might be considered a substantial breeze.
"Sir, shouldn't the surgical droid be-" Pemwik couldn't help but stare, she'd never seen anyone that pale, if you didn't count corpses.
"The droid is seeing to my wounded, blast-it. Now you will deliver your report, or I will break you down to private if I have to do it posthumously!"
"Sir. Yes Sir, " she was almost as unsettled by her commanding officer as she had been by the firefight. "I was dispensing supplies to the two we brought in earlier, when one of them, the human, saw the Stormtroopers. I communicated strength and coordinates to Captain Stark, who connected me to you." She paused, as if waiting for confirmation from the Commander that he'd heard. He continued to glare at her. "We barricaded the door and resisted several attempts at entry."
"We, Sergeant? The strangers took up arms then?"
"Sir, they are to be commeneded. Their assistance was invaluable. Without them I would surely be dead."
"Strong praise for civilians, Miss Pemwik," the Commander gurgled, trying vainly to continue talking while the mechanical-thorax tried to draw breath for him.
"You will see what I mean in my report sir." He made a motion to continue.
"We defended the depot as long as possible sir. I personally noted three casualties from the hostiles, and I suspect there were more. We were attacked in force, with explosives and infantry support weapons." She paused to see if he had any questions. He did not. "Dallet, the human, suspected that the stormtroopers had set explosives, or at least were setting them outside. We left the building. We took fire outside, but it was light and not engaging. There were explosives outside the depot, I noted them and their positions."
"That's good Sergeant, we shall need them," he interrupted.
"Sir?"
"We'll have to blow the Depot. The supplies could be used to trace our path through the desert."
"Most of the gear was unmarked or standard issue, sir. I don't understand."
"C'mon Pemwik, use your brain! How hard would it be for some Imperial to try to match labels from our stock to labels in a street-vendor's cart? Or even the very person that gave them to us?"
"I see sir, I'll get to the demolition right away."
"Finish your report first, Sergeant."
"Yes sir. We evacuated the Depot, and headed beakside behind the depot and parallel to Main street. We encountered no meaningful resistance. Your counterassault was hitting at the same time, the Imperials were moving in the same direction as us. A party of three troopers, one noncom caught us in the rear. Dallet doubled back to delay them. We returned to the rally point."
"You left him behind Sergeant? A civilian?" If he could have expressed his anger by becoming paler, he would have. He couldn't though, because no paler shade existed.
"Sir, " her voice was tight with anger. "I attempted to assist Greenstar, but his instructor Kah advised me that it was wiser to withdraw."
"'Advised' Sergeant?"
"He carried me sir, kicking and screaming." She was more than slightly embarrased, but her captor, in her defense, had been a singularly powerful opponent, and an expert in hand-to-hand combat. The Commander knew this. He chuckled, which set off several alarms on the mechano-thorax. The 21-B surgical droid entered the room quietly to adjust the machine.
"Greenstar was killed then?"
"No sir, I don't believe so. The Stormtrooper noncom shot him, and then dragged him to cover. I have reason to believe that he was detained for questioning. The wounds looked serious but nonlethal."
"Is that all, Sergeant?"
"Sir, yes sir."
"Very good Sergeant, you are to be commended. Your actions provided us enough time to plan and implement a counterattack that has already saved many lives."
"Thank you sir. May I assemble a team to go recover mister Greenstar sir?"
"You will assemble your team and see to the disposition of this camp's security first, Sergeant. Secure our camp, blow the base, then maybe you can go after that incorrigible. That is all." A coughing fit shook him, and some alarming lights began blinking on the bacta-sleeve that was breathing for him.
"Yes sir."
"You are dismissed Pemwik. Send Captain Stark to me, and have him bring the official recorder." The 'official recorder' was a throwback, like a 'captain's log' on a spacegoing vessel. It usually took the form of a protocol droid, but in some cases was a less sophisticated device. It maintained the records of a unit in the field. Promotions, demotions, infractions, awards, casualties. In most cases it was consulted to confirm and record after-action reports. Only in grave circumstances would it be exposed to the hardship of an engaged camp or garrison. It could have been that Shedfall was merely being utterly certain that his commendations and reccommendations were being preserved for posterity, but the request made something twinge in Pemwik's subconscious. For a long second she stared at her commanding officer, face blank as if she didn't understand. He didn't bother to reprimand her.
"Sir," she began. "It has been an honor to serve with you sir." She stepped to, and through, the invisible barrier between them, the one defined by rank and tradition. She grabbed Shedfall's hand with both of hers. It was cold and lifeless. He smiled at her.
"You would have made me one fine Lieutenant, Pemwik. I have " - another cough - "every intention of suggesting your promotion to Captain Stark."
"Thank you sir. You will be missed."
"Very good, Sergeant. Now would you please do as you are commanded and get Captain Stark before I expire?" Absurd, that he could be humorous while facing death, but real nonetheless.
Pemwik saluted, turned smartly, and rushed out to retrieve Stark and the recorder.

"Sifer!"
"Sarge?" A tanned Zabrak turned from a field communications console to face Pemwik. "I'm busy tring to - er, Lieutenant? When the hell did that happen?"
"It hasn't yet. Try to radio central. Send them this." She handed him a datadisc. "Crypto only. Pass the word, the old man just died. Stark is in charge. I'm his second."
"Dammit." He paused, blinking. "Dammit." He closed his eyes for a moment, as close to despair as a professional soldier would let himself get, considering their grim situation. "He was a hell of a lot better than most of them. Dammit." Cursing seemed to help him.
"I know Sifer, he was the best I've served under. Now we've got to do him proud. When you're done, tell Talbot and Zerram that I want to see them."
"My equipment won't reach them Sarge. Cripes. Lieutenant."
"Huh?"
"Talbot was on perimeter duty, and was the first one to get killed. Zerram was with the old man when the E-Web hit his vehicle. Zerram dragged him clear of the wreckage before he went down."
"Not both of them, " now it was Pemwik's turn to border on desolation. "I've been with them since the Hollinger Star battles." She shook her head slowly. "Who's left?" She spoke quietly, as if it were a rhetorical question.
"Squaros and Rotter, they're both ok. Flange, Trix and Pesh made it, but I heard Pesh lost an eye in the skirmish tail-side."
"I didn't even hear about a skirmish tail-side. He's tough though, and we can probably graft him."
"Yeah, he told me he wants one blue and one green now. Crazy vastak." Sifer turned the disc over in his hands, staring at it.
"Get on that transmit, private. Find me when you get done, and tell Rotter and Flange they're about to be made noncoms."

"Sir, why are we bothering to fix him up, if you're just going to kill him," VK901 asked Debs.
"He killed oh-three and oh-seven. He deserves something more exotic than shock." Debs applied another bandage, hoping the bacta in it would help stop the blood loss from the thigh. Of the two serious wounds, the thigh was easily the most lethal. The femoral artery hadn't been completely burned shut, and was still leaking blood freely. The left arm and shoulder looked pretty badly burned as well, as if the man had been momentarily dipped in boiling oil. Unusual, Debs thought, since I hit him square. That should be through-and-through. I should be able to see daylight through the arm, instead it's only second or third-degree burns.
"He does, at that sir. Three pulled me from the wreckage of that lander on Yavin sir." He shot a hard look at the patient on the countertop. "When it's his time sir, I would really appreciate it if you let me watch. Maybe even help?"
"If it can be arranged, oh-one, you'll pull the trigger. You're my corporal now, I'll make sure Tarq approves it when we get back."
"Right sir. Here's my spare pack." He set it on the counter beside the dying man. "I'll go relay our position."
The counter was in what only hours before had been a modest little kitchen in the town of Buzzard. Now it was a makeshift operating table in the embattled town of Buzzard, or 'zone G2' on the Imperial survey. Its original owners were laying in the street outside, quite dead. VK441, or Debs to his men, had been ordered to pacify the locals in a memorable way. What could be burned was burning, and several families would be burying loved ones come dawn.
Debs stabilized his patient, to the best of his training. He guessed that the man might live to be interrogated back at headquarters. It was a gamble, taking the man back, but it was less risky than remaining here in the field. If he survived the trip, and Debs was going to make damned sure he did, he'd become an official prisoner and therefore subject to some scrutiny and protection. Commander Tarq would not be pleased when VK441 described his intent with the man, but Tarq was reasonable and not unsympathetic towards the plight of the enlisted man. In short, Debs thought that he could convince Tarq to let him have 'an accident' with the prisoner once interrogation was complete. Debs was not particularly happy about the prospect of murder in cold blood, but he was determined to make the man pay for the deaths of two soldiers; two soldiers that Debs considered tremendously more valuable than one man.
"Belay that, Corporal. Let's move him now."

"Rotter, how's our perimeter?"
"It's in place, Sarge-Lieutenant." He stumbled over her new rank. "I've got Trix and the two new kids from Anchorhead doing patrols. Sifer got a couple droids working, and he stood two up that's still busted, but look like they're working."
"Just call me Pemwik for a while, until you get the hang of Lieutenant, " she almost smiled as she said it. "How are the newbies holding up?"
"We lost one right after we blew the HQ, ma'am. We withdrew and he was slowest man, they picked him off easy."
"Damn. Which one was he?"
"Don't remember, I think he was either Sandrivers or Ridge. Sandrivers, I think." He didn't seem particularly ashamed at his lack of recall. The new recruits had only been with their squad for a week, and there had been many such waves of reinforcement.
"How's Pesh?"
"Not bad, considering." Rotter smiled, a big toothy grin for a human. Amusing, considering the number of gaps in his smile. "Silly Twilek. Did you hear he wants them to get him a new eye, bright red! Claims he was born with red eyes."
"Oh bantha-dung! His other eye's blue."
"He says that one's a replacement too!" Rotter laughed out loud. "I told him they should have him carry a spare around, he goes through so damned many of them!"
A tall Zabrak appeared, stepping quietly from the space between two buildings. The shadows were growing, with the coming night. He used them for cover.
"Sifer, good, " Pemwik said, "I wanted to see you. We're moving out in the morning, a rescue or recovery mission."
"Which is it ma'am, rescue or recovery?"
"Rescue I hope. I was thinking, we need a way to track the Stormies when they leave."
"They're leaving?"
"Captain Stark seems to think so. We left enough dead behind us that they probably figure we fled. Well, we did flee, kinda. The way I see it though, since they're in no great hurry to vacate..."

"This, " Debs said to me from somewhere out-of-sight, "is an interrogation droid. They're very good at what they do." I didn't respond, my voice wasn't working yet. Nothing was working right. I couldn't move my hands or feet, couldn't turn my head, or talk. I could blink, but that was about it. It hurt to focus my eyes on anything for long, so I didn't. I faded in and out, but if I closed my eyes, someone hit me. Usually Debs. Sometimes I could stare at the sterile white ceiling and really be asleep. They didn't catch me right away if I didn't close my eyes. But it hurt to do it that way.
"Do you remember me, Rebel? I'm Debs. I'm the last man you're ever going to see."
Improvement, I licked my lips that time when I tried.
"This droid here has given you some things to make you more helpful. I had him sew you up enough so that you won't bleed out."
I blinked. Talking was still well beyond me.
"I shot you up pretty good. The boys and I couldn't save the leg, and you were lighter drag without it." He leaned overhead into my fixed field of vision to say the last. "The boys wanted to kill you out there for what you did, but I told them to wait, that it wouldn't be civilized." A smile. "I told them that, but they needed something, so I let them leave the leg behind."
I had to blink a lot, my eyes were watering pretty bad. Must have been that light.
"Your arm is pretty messed up too, Rebel. It's not as heavy though, so it's still attached." He paused, disappeared from view for several breaths. "What's this? That was fast, well done. I guess I should be calling you Private Zillik, eh?"
They must have searched my old records.
"Maybe if we let you keep that arm, you'll be more cooperative, eh Zillik?"
I blinked.
"I'm Debs, " he said again, laughing. "This is an interrogation droid. You're Zillik. Remember? Now we're going to play a game, and the droid's going to turn your voice back on. You're going to answer questions. If you don't answer, it's going to hurt."
Screw you Debs, I thought grimly. My name is Dallet Greenstar. I wish I could say I was as defiant five minutes later.

In the darkness, Fiti and Sifer crouched in the clearing behind the depot.
"It was all still rigged ma'am, I just replaced the receivers."
"Good. We'll touch it off in a second. What about that tracking device?"
"Well Lieutenant, I was thinking about that. See, they know we booby-trap corpses a lot, so they'll probably pre-autopsy them with a droid before they take them into their base."
"Yes, so no implants. What have you come up with?"
"This." He dug into a utility pouch, and pulled out a mushy blob of something.
"Twelve Hells, Sifer! That smells like Bathascat!"
"It is banthascat, ma'am."
"That's great, so why do you have a pocket full of it?"
"It's real sticky."
"Yeah, who's on cooking detail tonight? If it's you, you'd better wash up real good."
"No, see? The droid will do the corpse, but it'll probably be another stormy that does the body." He dug into his pocket, pulled out a microtransmitter. "This goes in here, " a finger pushed the trasmitter into the dung, "and this goes on a boot. A dead boot. Maybe a pile or two in the street, maybe we get a live soldier too."
"Why not use glue Sifer?"
"You ever step in bantha-shi-"
"Yes, I have, I don't see the point."
"Did you look at it real close when you scraped it off?"
"No."
"Neither will they, probably. Ain't nobody going to take the time to scrape the poop off a dead guy's boots either."
"Not bad, Sifer. Not bad at all. Get out there and... er, 'place' the transmitter?"
"Yes ma'am."

"Yes, yes Sergeant. I approved everything. I was pleased by your team's performance in the G2 event, " Tarq said. He stared down at the naked, unconscious human on the table. A black spherical droid hovered attentively over the body. He turned to address the little ball.
"You will wait outside. You will mute all audio input. Comply." The droid zipped out of the room, hovering at rest in the hallway.
"Debs, you shouldn't have told him we took his leg. I thought the premise was that he was to be executed while escaping?"
"Sir, it was. I don't see the problem." Debs was pleased at the earlier compliment, but confused by the question.
"Debs, has it ever occured to you that the investigators might question why lethal force was going to be needed during the escape attempt of a one-legged prisoner? Or maybe why he in fact has both legs?"
"The tapes sir, I thought-"
"The tapes will be turned over to Intelligence for review, Sergeant, as always. They will pore over every moment of them. You must learn to be more discreet. They will realize things have been edited."
"Damn it. Yes sir. Sorry sir."
"Begin the interrogation again, get the same information out of him. If he asks why or complains, dose him. There must be no leak to intelligence about this."
"Yes sir, " Debs said.
"Nine-oh-three was with me at Yavin. Some damned fool practically incinerated our shuttle. I was unconscious, three cut me loose and called the medic. I don't like torture, Debs, but you just make sure that when he 'escapes' that he suffers."
"Yes sir, I will be certain, " Debs spoke with something akin to reverence.

"My name is Debs, " he said again to me, "and this is an interrogation droid. Droid, a dose for mister Zillik, to remind him we mean business."
It hurt, it hurt like nothing I've ever known before. Some time back, a lifetime ago, I'd had a couple bones broken. At the time, I thought that the feel of broken bone ends grating against one another was the most horrific thing I'd ever felt. It was a lover's touch next to the droid.
"There we go. Now we will discuss the troop strength of the unit that we flushed out of... " he paused to check his datapad, "Buzzard."
I told him everything I could remember. I even made things up. Sometimes he caught me, and it hurt. Sometimes he didn't catch me, but he still dosed me. If I ever hated one word, it was 'dose'.
"Droid, dose." "A dose for Zillik." "Dose, again." "Double dose, for a liar." "Dose, for good measure." I would have killed him, if I could. I would have killed his whole family, his pets, and the people that lived next door. Finally the questions stopped, and time passed. Dim light seeped through some high windows, and I found that I could move my eyes around in their sockets. Still couldn't feel my limbs, but I could talk and blink and look, so it was an improvement.
They're going to kill me today, I thought to myself. I could feel the confirmation in Debs when he walked in the door.
"Dose for Zillik, for a morning treat!" Debs seemed outwardly cheery, but he was darkened to my sight by his murderous intent.
"And now, mister Zillik, you're going to tell me some things that would really hurt you. Some things I know you don't want to tell me."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because they might hurt less than the droid. Dose." I got hit with it, again.
"Now that we're feeling congenial, Zillik, tell me what would really scare you. What would really hurt?"
"A sandwich. I'm terrified by them. Especially on fresh bread." I knew it was going to cost me, maybe my life. It was funny though, and I was dead anyway.
"Zillik, I like a man with spine. Dose. I like a man with fortitude. I ofen wonder, dose, why a human with any brains, dose, would choose to join this upstart rebellion? Dose." He kept talking, but it was all lost to me. The pain actually did increase with every dose, I thought I'd hit the high end of the scale. I couldn't black out either, because that (damn his creator forever) droid kept me awake.
"Petra! Petra hurts." I couldn't unclench my teeth to say it, so it was mumbled. I think I broke one of the back teeth I was gritting them so hard. Barely felt it, next to the droid.
"Oh, finally. Well, I'm afraid we won't have the time for anything like looking up old friends. Dose. But I guess I can come up with something. Droid, go get the Corporal, I promised him he could be here for this. Send him in, then go to the maintenance bay. You're leaking fluid everywhere."

Kah found them moving quietly down the street just before dawn. He was wearing scavenged body armor, and carrying a standard-issue EE3 Carbine.
"Master Kah, no civilians. No way, " Pemwik said in a loud whisper. "Get the hell out of here. We'll bring him back."
"I will go with you." He brooked no argument, just checked the load on his gun.
"No way, no way at all, " Pemwik continued. "If we get there and it gets crazy, I can't be watching out for you. We'll take good care of him, I promise!"
"It is not him I am worried about, Sergeant. He is alive or he is dead."
"Well, we all appreciate your concern then Kah, but we can handle this. And its Lieutenant now."
"Lieutenant, you do not understand. If he is alive, then he might be more dangerous than all the Stormtroopers in this desert."
"I dont' think so, he was all shot up!" Pemwik's frustration came out, she was getting loud. "I think we can manage one mangled human!"
Kah motioned her aside. Against her better judgement, she indulged him. "Rotter, " she said to one of the humans trying to appear indifferent to the argument, "take them up to the edge of town, I'll catch up." She walked a few steps away, and soon only she and Kah remained behind.
"What's this all about Kah?"
"Dallet-cha is in training to be a Jedi. You are familiar with the term?"
"Who isn't? I thought you two looked crazy to begin with. Now I know it. You stay behind or I'll shoot you myself."
"Dallet-cha, " he continued unabated, "saved your life."
"I didn't ask him to do that!"
"Dallet might be a Jedi some day. I am a poor excuse for a teacher. I have known some, and I am all that is left." A milky membrane slid over his eyes, partially obscuring them from Pemwik. "I have seen them hunted to extinction. I have seen them harried and pursued, even when they held to the code, to the ancient truths. I have seen great evil done to their order, Sergeant, " he said, forgetting her new rank. "There was a time even that I helped hunt them, helped kill them off, even the ones that kept the code."
Pemwik stared at him in confusion. It was all history, not exactly ancient, but all years behind them.
"I owe their order a debt, and I intend to see it paid. If you allow me, I will accompany you. If you do not, " the membrane slid away, and his reptilian eyes fixed upon her with a flat, dead gaze, " I will follow you. If you encounter what he might have become, I will be the only one who survives. He will kill you all. He will have no choice. And then I will kill him."
"What are you talking about? He's wounded, he's probably dead by now. If he isn't, he's still no match for my squad."
"If he lives, he may be turned to the Dark Side already. There are Forces at work in the Empire, they corrupt all that they touch. I have fear for him. And for your men."
"You're crazy, " Pemwik said. "You're crazy and you're slowing me down."
"I will keep up, Lieutenant. I will not burden you."
"Just be quiet and follow my lead, lizard."
"Thank you, miss Pemwik."

The Corporal didn't introduce himself before he tortured me. It occurred to me that Debs might be considered a gentleman in that respect. It also occurred to me that I couldn't take much more, no matter how good the droid might have been. And the droid had been dismissed.
I could snuff out their life, if I was a Jedi, I thought to myself. I could reach out and pull the building down on them. I could choke them, or crush them, or make them insane. The holovids showed it all the time. But I could do none of it, because I wasn't a Jedi, I was a fool, a recovering addict, an idiot in the desert. And I was going to die, either here or outside, because I'd killed two men this Corporal guy had been friends with.
It doesn't have to be like this, I thought. If only... I could feel the Corporal in the Force. I could feel the rage building in him, each battering stroke he took at me made him stronger. Each kick, each swing, made him more resolute. I felt the fire in me, broken ribs, broken cheekbones, broken teeth. I felt the fire of the Corporal's rage, and I let it warm me. It didn't warm so much as burn, but it felt better than the pain itself. It made me strong.
My swollen eyes opened, and I looked into the Corporal's maddened face, tight and livid with rage. I stopped him.
He clutched at his throat, clawed at his own face. He grew shocked and frightened. I felt it, I fed off of it. I could feel the cold fire returning to my gut, like rancid iced wine, churning and burning. He would have screamed it he could breathe, I could feel him wanting too. I chuckled, feeling warmth and power returning to my limbs. All of my limbs. Debs you lying weasel, I thought exultantly. You're next.
The Corporal was flailing, rage vanished into fear, fear fading into terror and blind panic. He moved as if to flee. I held him easily. So this is how they do it, I mused silently. This is how they manipulate things. The Corporal didn't seem to be enjoying my little rite of discovery. He flailed, his struggles weakening. One of his hands touched the panel that controlled the room's environment, and extinguished the surgical lights that had been shining down on me.
For just a moment, the room was dark as my eyes adjusted to the ambient lighting.
I could see it all over again, the dim cockpit, lit suddenly by the glow of a lightsaber. Rage tainted her face, rage and pain.
Oh Petra, I thought. Now I understand. Such power, such incredible power. I felt the life draining out of the man. I simultaneously felt a portion of glee that he was almost dead. Once ages ago I'd thought of Petra as the most dangerous drug, but I'd been wrong. Petra wasn't anything compared to the raw seduction of power, and this was the purest power I'd ever felt. So strong, such need. Such reward.
Such slavery.
I had thrown off the yoke of one master, one poison, for another. I'd freed myself from one drug so that I might become addicted to another.
"What are you?" Kah had asked. I had answered: "A failure." He had called my admission a beginning.
"Such power, " I said aloud. Petra had been here, and she had chosen the power. Now I knew. From this place spread two paths, one long and dark, the other short and bright. I could chose to serve again, to willingly submit to the drug that such ultimate power would become. Or, I could choose to deny it, but seal my own fate. The Zillik in me had already made his choice, and was waiting for the Corporal to stop twitching. The Dallet was not so certain. So many paths ended, so much undone, so much work left to do. I could, I thought, just escape, try to use as little power as possible, maybe repent outside...
The lure was too strong. I knew I would never be free of it, never be more than one minute step away from the next rationalization, the next justification for just one more taste of the drug.
I released the Corporal, felt life rushing back into his unconscious body. I felt it rushing out of mine. Unsupported by the rage, my wounds returned to me to collect their debt in pain. I managed to climb back onto the gurney, and rested.
I tried to compose myself. The man was coming around, he'd be awake and finish his job soon enough. Such a waste, I thought sadly. All the training, all the suffering. All for naught. Well, I thought placidly, laying my head back, at least now I know.
The man stirred, getting to his feet groggily.
"I'm very sorry, " I said to him, and closed my eyes. It was all I could think to say, and it was too true.
How did it begin again? Ah, yes, I thought, taking solace in the routine. Kah's voice came back to me.
"Breathe," he said patiently in my memory. I will miss those stupid lessons, I thought.
"Breathe," the voice of memory said again. "Smell the sand and the wind..." Not this time, I replied.

"Sergeant! Sarge!" Debs grabbed the running man by the shoulders, bearing him forcefully into the wall outside of the medical bay.
"Emporer's Ass, Corporal! What the hell happened to you?" The man was a mess; eyes the color of blood, nose bleeding and face an apoplexic purple.
"He woke up sir, he woke up and he did something to me!"
"Did he escape? How did he survive that dosage, he shouldn't have been able to walk!"
"No sir, no, he never touched me- I swear!"
"Dammit nine-oh-one, get a bloody grip! Where is he?"
"He's still inside sir, he's on the table."
"Alright, alright, did you finish it?"
"Sir, no, I didn't! I swear I didn't." 901 was almost to the point of tears, Debs suspected he might need immediate medical attention.
"Well let's get in there and finish it then. I'll do it if you can't."
"That's just it sir! I didn't touch him, but but but-"
"Damn you Corporal, but what?"
"He's dead sir! He just laid down on the table and died! He said 'I'm very sorry' and died!"
By now Debs had dragged the stuttering man back into the med bay, and stared down at the table. For a long moment they both just looked at the corpse, one in confusion, and the other in shock.
"I don't care how anyway, Corporal. He's dead, and that's what we wanted. Your wounds were from his escape attempt, you understand? You were defending yourself." Debs was shaking him now, making him pay attention.
"Yes sir, I understand sir. We fought, I killed him." Debs dragged the corpse unceremoniously to the floor, arranged it near the doorway.
"You fought, you killed him. In a few minutes you will sound the general alarm."
"Yes sir, " the harried man said. "I'm sorry I'm so screwed up sir, I'm-"
"Later, Corporal. Let me get back out front, I'll be the first in. Five minutes now, no less."

"Can you crack it, Sifer?" Pemwik had rushed from cover to crouch behind him at the small blast door. The sentries were dead or incapacitated, and wouldn't be sounding any alarms. Failure to report would soon sound the alarms for them though.
"I think I got it ma'am, " he said tightly. "Yes, it's done. I'll clear the hall!" He squirted in without waiting for orders. Pemwik motioned the team up behind her.
"We're in. Try not to hit friendlies or the human we're after. Cameras on, and a bonus to anyone that brings grade-a intel to me."
They squeezed past the partially opened blast doors, and into the compound.

Sifer slid quietly down the main hallway, expecting alarms any moment. The building was pitifully small for an Imperial habitation, but it probably wasn't meant to be occupied by any number of troops. Still, he thought, there's fewer of them around than we thought. Maybe we'll make it out alive. He could hear his team coming up behind him, only a few seconds back. He slid away from the wall as he rounded a corner, and spun to cover the hallway with his blaster. A Stormtrooper in fatigues was huffing briskly down the hallway, looking like he was going somewhere in a hurry. He stopped dead when he saw Sifer pointing the blaster at him.
"You!" Recognition dawned on the man's face.
Sifer adjusted his blaster, and shot the man twice. The man was blown forcibly back down the hallway in the direction he'd come from.
"Sifer, situation?" Pemwik was edging up behind him. He took four long strides to the man, and knelt alongside him. His fingers felt the man's neck for a pulse. Sifer stood up, shot the man again.
"A Sergeant ma'am. He's dead." Sifer pulled the man into an adjoining room, guessing that it was empty if nobody had come out to investigate the shots. He dragged the man in out of the way, and headed back out. Pemwik nodded and the team swept further down the hall.

A Trandoshan held the man to the floor, kneeling between his shoulder blades, the lizard's bulk balanced lightly above him.
"I said 'where' is the human prisoner?"
One of the man's arms slid across the floor, pointed down the hallway. Kah tapped the man's forehead almost gently into the floor, and the man didn't move again.

901's hand hovered, shaking, over the general alarm. Eighty more seconds, he told himself. Eighty more seconds, count them out. Alarm claxons rang, and he stared at his hand in horror. It was still inches away from the button.
He cast a shocked glance around the room, back at the button, and then to the body on the floor behind him. He had not set off the alarm. He was sure. He didn't have to wait long to find the culprit. The door to the hallway slid open, and a tall, dark form stepped in. It was scaled, hands and feet uncovered. It moved into the room smoothly, and let the door slide shut behind it. It looked around the room, and 901 took a few involuntary steps back. His retreat opened a line of sight to the body on the floor.
The Corporal was looking around the room for weapons, when he _felt_ the Trandoshan's gaze snap back to him. He turned to meet it. Without breaking eye contact, Kah's hand slammed into the door's control, and acrid smoke twisted away from it. He lowered into a crouch, clawing at the armor haphazardly worn across his torso. A low hiss came from him, rising in intensity and volume. His claws shredded the armor, and he cast it to the floor around him. Scales rippled as the muscles beneath then spasmed and filled with blood. Ridges around his ears spread away from his head, and his lips pulled back from his teeth. The eyes finally looked away from 901, and back down to the form on the floor.
"Is he dead, " Kah asked quietly. His voice was a low rumble. "How long ago?"
901 was about to refuse to answer, about to scorn response, but he found he just didn't have the strength. Not after the choking madness, and the blackout...
"I killed him," he said, repeating as he'd been ordered to. The hissing increased. "He was trying to escape. I k-killed him in self defense."
"If Dallet-cha had been trying to escape, you would be dead." Kah stopped hissing to deliver his words at low volume. "How long?"
"Almost five minutes."
Outside the room, the claxon went abruptly dead. Dull thumps shook the building. The Trandoshan and the man stared at each other. Someone began tapping on the door, almost furtively.
"I was only defending myself. He was trying to escape." Great Maker, 901 thought. Where is the Sergeant?
"I am Kah. Master of the Path. I was this man's teacher. Now you may defend yourself against me."
"It was my life or his, I didn't know him!"
Kah kicked the armor-shreds clear of his feet, and cast down the carbine. His clawed foot kicked it across the room to the startled soldier. "Perhaps you would like an advantage?" The trooper looked at the gun. He was fast, and the Lizard was several steps away. Good odds, he thought.
As VK901 bent down to snatch up the gun, a roar tore out from the deep chest of the Trandoshan. The man paused, but only for an instant. He brought the gun up, hands shaking. When Kah moved, it was with total commitment. The EE3 began pumping out spheres of heat with a steady spitting sound, starting first low, then passing up from the floor towards the shouting Trandoshan. His clothing smoldered and caught fire, but he was implacable.
He swept the muzzle away scornful of the heat searing his blocking hand, making his scale smoke. His other hand caught the trooper under the chin, and lifted. Kah rushed forward, hunching up to full height, lifting the trooper's feet clear of the ground. His yell peaked, and the trooper hit the rear wall. Kah crushed the man into the wall, recoiled, and rammed him into the wall again. A pop issued from the locking mechanism in the wall by the door, but he was oblivious. Again, he smashed the corpse into the wall, leaving blood and gore seeping down behind it. He threw the body down, his shout turning into sobbing exhaustion.
"You are avenged, Dallet-cha." He collapsed to his knees beside the naked corpse, turned it over. "I wish you had been gifted with a better master." The door slid open slowly, Sifer was prying it clear with his hands.
"Trando, we've got to go. They're on to us."
"I have found him."
"He looks dead." Sifer didn't spare any sympathy, he hadn't met the man. "What about the other guy?"
"A murderer, I have dealt with him."
"Wow, I'll say."
"Leave now, I will bring my student."
"Right, Pemwik says you come now, or we leave you here. We're going out the same way we came in. Forty-five seconds till the smoke goes off too, so hurry."
Kah didn't respond. He gathered up Dallet's body, wrapped him in a sheet. He was reminded of other places, other times when he'd been at the side of a fallen Jedi. Always a waste, he thought, even when they had to be killed. This was doubly a waste, because Dallet-cha did not break. He had been put to the same test that poor Petra-cha had faced, but he had not turned. If only he had been able to find a real Master, a real Jedi... instead he had me, Kah thought darkly. I taught him to breathe, and fight, and hide. I taught him too much, and not enough.
Hide.
Kah's pulse quickened. Be careful, the thought, be sure. He clenched the human's throat, feeling for a heartbeat.
Nothing.
He counted, hearing the smoke grenades filling the hall outside the room, smelling the acrid tang.
There! A great heaving breath escaped the Trandoshan. A single pulse, solitary but strong. He hauled the body over his shoulder, and fled.

Message Edited by FrankLee on 10-25-2004 05:16 PM

Now thats how you fiegn death!