Chapter One - There Are Cracks In The Walls

Galactic Chronological Time: 2 months prior to the Battle of Yavin
General Location: Imperial Occupied Equator City, Rodia
Specific Location: Grand Canopy Hotel, Parking Level Under Repair
Time: 8 pm, IST

Narrator: Doban Brant and the others assembled in the "out of order" parking section beneath the Grand Canopy Hotel watched the area get darker and darker as Rodia’s sun set behind the many buildings. In the ever darkening duracrete open parking passage, Brant mumbled about the urban decay he was taking in: the disposable eating utensils, paper debris and all discarded used death stick stubs that littered the ground around him, all of which had blown in from above over the last few months.

"Look at all the junk! We may not be able to use this place next time. Junk like this means rodents. Watch your pants legs everyone."

The older Devaronian would be glad to be moving on soon, and he didn’t know if it was his desire for travel or if being in places that rarely saw the cleansing light of day was getting to him. He paced a bit, before he looked over at the others. All of them were either younger in years or in spirit.

He wondered whether the Wookiee Roooargh had seen such filth on Kashyyyk. Brant figured probably not based on how Shaam had described the world; forests, jungles, and free of the claustrophobic feel of the buildings here. If there was a place the Devaronian could stay at for a moment, it would be in a place his old acquaintance had described.

The humans, Pharo and Coeburn looked as if they’d blasted their ways in and out of some seedy dives. They both had a hardened look about them, and didn’t seem to care about the junk and dirty surroundings, or rodents. They appeared focused on who would be arriving shortly.

Kezza, the Falleen, was a complete mystery. What was Kezza thinking? Was Kezza bothered by their financier not being here shortly before 8 and having to wait? Was Kezza bothered by the litter and crud on the ground? Brant didn’t have the slightest idea how the Falleen felt and he was decent at reading people.

Shortly after 8 pm, a speeder car arrived and hovered at the area of the steps leading down to where Brant and the others were. Those gathered could see the repulsor sensor lights along the running board but nothing more. A door closed and soon they heard footsteps as the speeder car lifted off and left. A human male in a suit with a luggage bag walked into view from the stepped passageway. He had a medium brown naval regulation haircut, which supported a pair of sunglasses. He had a very ordinary appearance. Average height. Average weight. He could have been anywhere from 25 to 40 years in age.

Doban appeared to relax a bit as the man came into view, but his hand was still kept at the lapel of his jacket ready to draw his large caliber slugthrower if need be. "All right, this is our guy, Dolan Varn of the ISB." He then turned to Varn, skipped any greetings, and said, "What were you saying about serious money? Inquiring minds want to know?"

Varn took the whole group in as his eyes adjusted better to the light. He showed little emotion to the question, but appeared tense.

"Using your usual merc math, the splits should be a 1,000 credits per participant upfront, and another 4,000 credits per participant after mission completion. There may even be a bonus opportunity: salvage."

Brant nodded and smiled. Not bad. Didn’t sound like a waste of time based on the payout, but it definitely sounded dangerous. Salvage usually meant danger. From deserted ships in space to looting those who no longer needed what they were holding onto for the next life.

"You’re seriously going on this one?"

Varn stiffened a bit at the question.

"It’s non-negotiable. Is it safe to talk here?"

Brant chuckled. Nowhere was really safe, but no one of consequence was around or listening where they were all at.

"I think so. No electronic devices found here. The only bugs down here are stingflies and roaches. Society forgot this place even exists. Would you like some refreshments? I’m reasonably sure there’s a half consumed beverage of your choice laying around on the deck within reach."

The ISB agent sighed and looked back towards the passage way he came through moments earlier. After waiting for a few seconds, he turned back and responded in a hushed tone above a whisper.

"Brant…I need you to take what I have to say seriously. There’s a regenerative medicine research facility in wild space that was shut down by the Navy approximately four years ago. Something horrible happened there. I just got done interviewing the last surviving scientist who worked out there. He was so terrified by what happened on Vulgas III that it altered his brain chemistry. I think this is a Naval cover up, and I need independent contractors to help me sort through what happened when we get there. There's more to this, but I'd feel safer discussing it in a sound proof area."

OOCC: Esidrix, as soon as I get a character sheet, I will fit you in, but it's going to have to be pretty soon. The player characters are in a major space port, and it may be some time before they're back in a place where you'd be able to meet up with them with where they're going. It's not too late, but time is running out.

Narrator: Varn heard the Wookiee’s comment, but could only make out certain words. "Place...secure...soundproof." Varn wasn’t even sure if his phrasing of the words heard were in the right order. The Devaronian seemed to understand him just fine as he looked back at his Wookiee employee, nodded and said, "Good point."

A flash of light passed overhead and Brant and his contractors were greeted by a somewhat familiar sight. They recognized the speeder car cab that waited near The Rising Blade for the doctor after some minor repairs in the infirmary. While Brant was familiar with Dan’lo Strata’s work, the others had only seen him earlier this morning.

Varn didn’t appear to know what was going on and gripped his luggage bag handle tightly.

"Relax Varn. It’s your mission’s doctor. There was a small problem aboard the ship in the infirmary, but if he’s here, then the problem is solved."

The ISB agent loosened his grip on the luggage bag handle and looked back towards where he had come in. A speeder car door could be heard closing. Seconds later, it zipped off and more footsteps could be heard getting louder in the winding stepped passageway. Varn turned back to Brant with a question.

"Is this everyone?"

"It is. Sorry for the interruption. You okay?"

Varn ignored the question as he watched to see who appeared.

A well kept man walked in and saw an odd assortment waiting for him. Dan’lo Stratas, remembered seeing the Falleen, the two Human blasters for hire, and the Wookiee tech ten hours ago. They were all behind the Devaronian fixer. Next to Brant was a man in a suit holding a travel bag. This had to be the financier. The man eyed him suspiciously. His attention turned back to Brant who appeared to be waiting for an update.

"Doc Stratas, is the valve under the rinse sink in any better shape now? Glad you could make it!" The Devaronian waited for a response before turning back to Varn.

"What has got you so spooked ISB? You weren’t like this before."

Varn didn’t respond at first. Instead he unfastened the latches on his bag and pulled out a datapad and holo emitter.

"Some really bad people, Brant. Bad people." He moves in closer to the group and speaks in a hushed tone, but not so low that he couldn’t be understood. "My name is Dolan Varn. I’m a Special Agent with the Imperial Security Bureau or ISB. I already told you briefly what I want to investigate, but matters are more complicated. I’m here before you with credits for your expertise and discretion and because I can’t trust my peers to be cops. I can only trust them to be bureaucrats. You might all be thinking that the Imperial Naval officials at the heart of covering this matter up are the bad people I’m very concerned about, and they are bad, and I plan to bust them wide open. We are small and quiet and they are big and loud. We’ll see them coming. My concern is with the Inquisitorium, a special branch of Imperial Intelligence that specializes in investigating Jedi and removing them from the galaxy, however they see fit. I don’t know the full extent of their involvement yet with the research facility, but I believe that this Anzati man, an Imperial Inquisitor that goes by the name of Dusk was responsible for rescuing the handful of scientists who managed to escape. It’s hard to tell, but there is evidence to suggest it even though it doesn’t seem to fit his MO of ruthlessly killing Jedi and eating subordinates that failed him."



A hologram image of Dusk appeared on Varn’s holo emitter with surprisingly detailed clarity. The Anzati man was clad in combat armor that looked like it was built to withstand more than a blaster bolt. The red angry light that radiated out of his energy sword highlighted his gray skin, his strange bulbous nose, the dangling proboscises protruding from his cheek bones, and lastly the cold enraged eyes that seemed to reflect the light of the energy weapon outward.

Varn continued...

"The man I interviewed, his psyche was shot. He spoke in riddles and the longer I’ve had time to think and research, what he said is starting to make sense. The former doctor and now inpatient mentioned being rescued ‘from the dead by a dead man with a red blade’. The Anzati have no detectable pulse and their skin feels cold to the touch."

The image of Dusk disappeared and was replaced by an astrogation map as Varn continued.



"Dusk disappeared somewhere in or around the Dagobah system which is a galactic stone’s throw away from Vulgas III. He left the galactic scene about a year prior to the Vulgas III incident. I have a basic file on him. A real charmer. During the flight, I’ll share it, and then perhaps you’ll come to see why I’m nervous. This investigation needs to be done, but it appears to involve the living dead and some very scary people. People that I can’t guarantee we’ll even see coming."

Brant leaned back on a pillar. The Devaronian appeared to be in a great deal of thought for half a minute before he solemnly looked back at the assembled mercenaries.

"Anyone want to back out on this, I just wanted to let you know, it’s too late now. I’m calling the truck. Let’s head to the ship so I can see you all off. I’m getting too old for this."

Pharo disregards the talk about jedi because he doesn’t care if they exist or don’t as long as he never finds himself on the enemy side of one. Pharo prepares himself to move out with the others.

"We're set here, we can move out when you're ready."

Narrator: Brant continued to lean on the pillar as he signalled the speeder truck.

"Alright Coeburn...thank you," he said gruffly. He didn’t mean for it to sound snappy. He was getting a headache and forced himself to keep his eyes open and stretched his neck as he looked around. He watched everyone in the group: the muscle and doc standing by for the move up the steps to the landing platform, the ISB agent putting away intel devices, and lastly the young Wookiee and presumably young Falleen contractors. It wasn’t clear what Roooargh remembered of the Clone Wars. Perhaps he was sheltered away in a tree as warriors in his tribe fought against droid and Separatist forces decades ago. Brant remembered those days. It wasn’t that the galaxy all of a sudden got amnesia and forgot about the "War That Came Before" or the tales of the Jedi: it was that they were too scared to even speak of these things for fear of the Empire’s wrath. All discussions of the Jedi and the days of the Republic were forbidden. While he himself had seen a Mon Calamari Jedi Knight leading a detachment of clones into battle in decades past, many who were present tonight had never seen one. No sight to behold. No discussions to be had under the law. How times had changed.

The old Devaronian watched Varn shut his bag finally and shoulder it. The ISB Agent looked like he hadn’t eaten at all in the last few days. Probably hadn’t slept. Him mentioning hokey magical religions and their adversaries probably didn’t help matters in how he felt the brief was received. While he was young enough to where he probably never saw a Jedi, he’d been around long enough to know that those who take discussions of Jedi very seriously were real. He worked for them.

The others were moving out and up the steps as the speeder truck arrived. The younger members in the back, appearing to dawdle as the door opened and ramp was lowered. It could have been him just being crabby, or the young ones thinking all of this was kind of like some of the "reality" holos...a little bit of truth mixed with a lot of malarkey. Of course they probably wouldn’t take parts of what Varn had mentioned seriously. They’d expected a straight forward job, one that didn’t involve discussion of mysterious make believe guardians and monsters. Unfortunately, if Varn’s suspicions were correct, seeing may soon involve them believing. They were real. Those who forced them out of existence were definitely real and they had the power. The Jedi existed one week, and the next week...gone and never to be spoken of again. That was twenty years ago. Thinking of all the misinformation Varn’s superiors peddled out over the years made Brant wince. History had been rewritten for all.

Though he kept thinking of it, the Devaronian kept his mouth shut on this matter with his employees. He didn’t want them to think he was losing it, and it wasn’t something that you could tell someone and have them believe it fully. They had to see it for themselves. He wished they could have seen what he saw once, but hoped that if the mission involved an active member of the Inquisitorium, the monster was long gone before his contractors and the ISB agent got to their destination.

General Location: Imperial Occupied Equator City, Rodia
Specific Location: Starport Rodia, Docking Bay 36
Time: 9 pm, IST

After the uneventful ride, the mercenaries and company were allowed in by security to where The Rising Blade awaited them. The Devaronian popped a headache pill in his mouth and took a swig from a water bottle before catching up to where the younger mercs had gathered to inspect the outside of the ship. It was getting close to departure time and he pointed to the ramp that led into the cargo bay. The drop ladder leading into the area near the cockpit was locked at this time.

"I believe Roooargh has already picked out a cabin. There are six, and he is in number six near the engine room. The rest of you, decide which cabin you want: they’re all the same but they’re located throughout the ship, so pick a cabin that suits whatever duties you feel you’ll be involved in. I believe Agent Varn will be flying the ship, so it may be best for him to take cabin number one."

Varn looked up briefly at his name being called and then went back to fiddling with his datapad as Brant continued…

"Alright. Young people. I want my ship back after all of this is over, and I want you all back returning on it. There’s adventure to be had. Money to be made. Reputations to uphold. Be as close to careful as you can out there. Keep an open mind, and I’ll see you when you all get back."

The ISB Agent nodded to the Devaronian, who appeared to hate goodbyes as much as he did, and then handed a datapad to Roooargh with instructions and something no one had seen yet...a tired smile.

"I have your astrogation information for our course. You have several options involving how quick you can get us to where we need to go, and I’ll trust that you’ll side with caution as this is an unfamiliar ship. If you have any questions for me, I'd be happy to answer them. However, I don’t understand your people’s language very well, so here’s hoping that we’ll both learn something as time goes on. If there’s anyone that can help translate what you’re saying, I think that will work best."

OOCC: Please see hyperlinks for the ship and astrogation data. Let me know where you want to bunk, and Rezart, please roll Rooargh's astrogation skill.

Narrator: The Devaronian merc fixer watched the ram lift, the converters fire, maneuvering thrusters vent, and The Rising Blade lift off from the docking platform. It circled and lifted off into the night sky heading in a direction of the sun that had set an hour before. The whine of the engine making a noise similar to that of all the Correllian Engineering and Nova Drive freighters. A noise that he welcomed so many times before on pick ups from dangerous missions of the past. They were off.

------

Aboard the YT-2400, the crew had spread out to find cabins. Varn tossing his bag in 1, Coeburn in 5, Roooargh previously in 6, and both Dan’lo and Kezza eye cabin 3, with Kezza arriving there just ahead of the doctor. Pharo walks about the ship taking it all in, last seen not having claimed a cabin, but just relaxed in the lounge.

Varn inspected the course plot that the Wookiee had made and nodded. He paged everyone over the intercom. "Kezza mentioned that Roooargh had said we’d be taking the long way earlier, but it appears that the Wookiee shaved five hours off our arrival time. Excellent work! (a roll of 13 beats a 12 difficulty for 25 hours). I’ll be looking through the ship’s computer for what it plans for activities, meals, entertainment, and...chores after we jump to hyperspace."

The ISB agent relaxed in his seat as the atmosphere fades away and was greeted by a wall of blackness dotted by billions of stars. He did one last check, and pulled back the drive lever, and soon found himself looking through the canopy into a collideoscope-like tunnel of stars. He asked the ship’s to pull up any information on holos available in the lounge, a menu of available preparable foods in the galley, and any maintenance logs that were deficient.

As the computer came up with choices and reports, Varn closed his eyes for the first time since his interview with the patient on Rodia, but suddenly realized he wasn't alone and found Coeburn up in the cockpit looking out at the hyperspace trail around their ship. He nodded to the mercenary and voiced the thought running through his head out loud for the merc’s take.

"This is the first time in my career that I’ve gone anywhere without Imperial backup. Any help we get from our end will be through Brant, but it will be at the very quickest, fifteen standard hours away. Feeling alone yet?"

The requested selections pop up on screen and Varn pushes the "relay to crew option." A very calm woman’s voice begins to read the following over the intercom:

"All maintenance logs are up to date. Fuel at capacity. Refresher well charged. Toiletry items stocked. Refuse recycler and waste compartment are at acceptable levels. Galley is stocked. Holo films are available in the following categories: horror, action, and comedy. Meals will be autodefrosted and processed at 0800, 1200, and 1700 in IST. Breakfast choices include protein shake or bantha bacon and mynock eggs. Lunch choices include mushroom and bantha burger, or Corellian gumbo. Dinner selections include fried vine snake or imitation Krayt dragon fingers. With all meals, bantha milk, Jawa juice, fizzy glug, or water are available. That is all."

OOCC: Kezza was in cabin 3 first, but Dan’lo and Kezza can discuss who goes where.

"There's been quite a few times that I've been hired on for a mission and either been part of a new team or flying solo. So I got used to it a long time ago. Do you have any specs on where we're going? It'd help from a security point of view to know the lay of the land..or as much of it as possible."

Narrator: Varn reached for his datapad and handed it to Mennoe.

"You may have already seen this if you passed by the Wookiee earlier entering in the astrogation number crunching. This is about all I have at this point."

Vulgas III
Type: Terrestrial
Atmosphere: Type 1 (breathable)
Temperature: Hot
Hydrosphere: Humid
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Mountains, Jungles, Oceans
Length of Day: 24 hours
Length of Year: 370 days
Sapient Species: Humans, Various Aliens
Starport: Standard at Research Facility
Population: unknown, originally 7000 (estimated)
Planet Function: Imperial Medical Research
Government: Imperial Navy
Tech Level: Space
Major Exports: Unknown
Major Imports: Technology

"It’s a jungle world with ravines, rivers, oceans and the facility is located within view of a mountain range. It’s hot, humid, and not too much different from where we just left, minus the garbage. The near 7000 inhabitants, researchers, their families, Imperial colonists were all living inside the research complex...at one point at least. Work, apartments, business, all in one spot, and mostly underground."

The ISB agent gave the mercenary a chance to look through the data.

"Again, jungle world. I don’t know what kind of shape the place is in with four years of overgrowth being a possibility. Wild life? Also don’t know for sure, but I’m counting on it. I know, we’re going in blind, but that seems to happen a lot with mysteries."

Narrator: Elsewhere on the ship, Dan’lo completed the inventory of the infirmary and found that it was well stocked for a trauma infirmary. It was equipped to the point where the only thing that would not be able to be done was advanced cybernetic surgery. Medical instruments, medicine, and even blood and clotting agents all looked to be brand new, replaced very recently. While putting the instruments back, he snagged himself on a loose screw near the aft wall of the infirmary. It caused no injury, but caught slightly on his sleeve cuff.

Narrator: The lose screw and location of a screw hinted at some kind of access panel. Otherwise, the wall would be welded and riveted shut without any adjustable or removable fittings. He couldn’t see where any crevices were, but the whole thing felt a bit off.

Narrator: Infirmaries on freighters were some of the best places to have hidden compartments. If the ship ever was robbed in port, most thieves cared only for bacta and some of the medical supplies found there. If boarded by authorities, having a sick or injured patient resting in an infirmary was enough to detract most routine searchers and even give the more persistent contraband officials pause.

Dan'lo knew that the panel seemed out of place, and Roooargh appeared to agree. From his knowledge of ships, and the YT series, there shouldn't really be anything there, so why the removable panel? He pushed on it and felt it give way slightly. He pushed on it again and both the doctor and the engineer saw another screw fall out to the port side of where the original screw was found near the lip seam of the wall. A panel was now revealed as one corner fell away from the wall giving way to a small passage on the other side. It was just enough space to hide a sleeping dusty stowaway. A stowaway that had likely been on the ship for decades.



It was a NR-5 maintenance repair droid (stands approximately .7 meters tall). While they weren't as sophisticated as an R2 astromech, they were hard working reliable technicians that helped do in-flight repairs of the ship...sometimes even going outside the ship to work. This unit had a designated marking on it "MRT-7". Along with the designation, it had what looked like dents and scrapes from may have been a vibroblade. It sat there, motionless with a powered off optics blank stare, waiting to be powered up from a very long nap.

Narrator: Roooargh found a switch near the base of the diminutive droid’s swiveling/extending neck and flipped the toggle. It vibrated for a few seconds as mechanical buzzes and whirling sounds could be heard coming from it internally.

The droid’s optics came online and it suddenly hopped backwards in a startled fashion, smacking into the wall. It seemed unphased by the slight crash and produced a small buzzsaw, turned it on and held it up defensively.

"New crew? Trandoshan slaymos shot dead, yessirno?" the droid questioned in a hurried nervous fashion. It waited for a response from the doctor or the Wookiee, it’s head swiveling back and forth slightly: watching for sudden movement.

——————

Narrator: Elsewhere on the ship, Mennoe walked the short distance to the gun well access and checked out the gun system. While not an upgraded turret, it certainly could punch through starfighter armor without much problem: especially unshielded vessels like the Uglies that pirates were known to use on a regular basis. It could also make short work of TIE fighters…if it came to that.

Narrator: The droid listened and hesitated to put away his saw, but then after a few seconds of not seeing any Trandoshan slaymos, he raised his heavy grasping arm and threw a solute while putting away his saw. "Oh, no way MRT slack-that’s a fact-jack. So used to solder vape when getting ship in tip-top-shape. Can count on MRT back to back-that’s a fact-jack. Beep. Look-out." He rotated his gears, spun all of his arms and then launched forward half a meter before he realized he didn’t need to gun it and could move at MRT pace, which was considerably slower than most of the people on the ship. He spent the next half hour going around the ship waving to any he encountered, "I’m new, you’re new. That’s a fact-jack," before settling down and updating himself in the lounge. "Power recharge. Yip. Repairs. Okay. Maintenance. Okay. Galactic standard time. Oooookay. No way. They cancelled ‘Any Givin Sun Day,’ sixteen standard years ago? MRT’s sad, but can watch reruns as a reward for a hard day of work."

It was more entertaining watching MRT react to a show about a group of four Givin friends walking around outside on ships pranking people on passenger liners than watching the show itself. "People on ship go crazy when they see people outside-ship, but not so when they see droids. No one gets excited when they see droids. Being a droid-boring."

He continued to watch holos while periodically scanning the shape of the ship while everyone else prepared a watch schedule for the ship’s journey. The night went off without a hitch. The crew awoke to find that MRT was still watching holos, but this time it was action instead of comedy. "Imperial Storm Commandos," which MRT had blurted out at one time that they were probably "pushover Kowakian monkey lizards" in real life.

"Not so." commented Varn who had taken up first and last watch. He could hear the laughing, "oohs and aaaahs" and running commentary from MRT all the way from the cockpit, and several times asked him to keep it down.

The food aboard the ship was fair to decent. The refreshers were surprisingly clean, and everyone went about their business getting ready for the eventual pull out of hyperspace and the arrival of into the Vulgas system.

That "pull" was more of a loud shudder and shake than a slight shift, and it was earlier than expected.

Mission Time Chronometer: 24.5 hours after leaving Rodia.

Varn rushed to the cockpit and gasped at what he saw. The alarm system of the ship was blaring and the little droid recognized the sound.
"Mass-shadow. Into-planet-go."
"Nope. Not a planet. The Empire. Interdictor cruiser. Mass gravity generators"
"That’s dumb."

Varn looked down at the little droid and then back to the Imperial Interdictor cruiser dispatching TIE fighters. He flipped the intercom switch.

"This is Varn in the cockpit. Interdictor cruiser right in front of us. Roooargh, or someone, can you take Mr. Commentary into the back and out of sight. Roooargh, you may want to stay out of sight as well. Some Imps think Wookiees should be slaves, others don’t care, and some are disgusted by it. Let’s not take any chances. I need everyone to their stations, please. Roooargh - engineering. Mennoe - guns, but don’t power them up yet. If you’ve got shields or comm experience, I’d like some help up here. Everyone else, buckle up."

As everyone prepared, the comm band cackled and a voice came across the PA.

"The Rising Blade, this is the HMS Shocksnare. We have you on our scopes now. You’re moving into restricted Imperial space. Are you in need of assistance?"

Varn hesitated to answer. He had high-clearance investigative powers. If he used his codes, the Navy would definitely know he was here poking around. He checked their position and saw that they were on the edge of the system. The sensor array on the cruiser would be able to find them anywhere in the system, so there would be no sneaking in.

"The Rising Blade, we read you as a merchant vessel. Are you in need of assistance?"

The comm officer on the other end didn’t seem to be a bad guy. He asked twice now if they needed help.

Any who enter the cockpit are all likely in surprise and awe at the size of the Imperial ship that was only a little bigger than 1/3 the size of a Star Destroyer. The giant gravity well projectors were the ship's defining feature. Transports, pirates, smugglers, or anyone else caught in the gravity well snare would see that jumping to hyperspace on sight at this type of cruiser wasn't a likely option.

"Anybody got any ideas? I’d prefer they not know who I am and what we’re doing. This is the adversary we’re investigating. I’m still thinking and we’re running out of time. If you can't think of anything, I'm going to have to give them code clearances.

The comm cackled again, and the TIEs were getting closer. Two were on intercept for a fly along escort, while the other kept back. Varn slowed the ship's sublight speed hoping that would make the fighter jocks a little less nervous.

"The Rising Blade, do you read? Are you able to transmit?"

"You did not have a plan for how to get us onto the planet?"

Narrator: Varn winced a bit at Kezza’s. He foresaw complications but not an independent interdictor cruiser by itself. Most of the time, these types of cruisers were part of a larger Star Destroyer task force.

"I foresaw avoiding asteroids and ion storms and a relatively smooth landing at an abandoned compound. Not this."

"What sort of 'assistance need' would get them to allow us down... without too many question?"

Varn thought out loud at Kezza's question.

"Can’t run, can’t disable them. We just passed through an area of space plagued with runaway asteroids and ion storms. Appears we made it through. We may be able to use that?

"The Rising Blade, do you read? Are you able to transmit?"

Varn hit the comm switch.

"We’re having problems with communications and other systems. Being pulled out of hyperspace by your ship jarred us pretty good. Give us a few minutes to lock down what else is wrong."

"Understood. Update us soon. Shocksnare out."

The two TIES swooped by, circled around, swung back, and continued to circle while the other TIE continued in a slight figure 8 pattern, occasionally adjusting or reversing its flight path.

------------

Varn began to tire of the criticism.

"You were free to speak up Kezza. Someone had to say something before they started boarding us or punching holes in our ship with laser fire. They know that there's multiple people aboard the ship with their cursory scans. If you have a plan, call them back and have at it."
Varn turned to the mercenary.

"Yes, good. Ask Roooargh to put the sublight drive on intermittent failure. We'll coast to the planet. It'll be bumpy, but convincing."

Varn turns back to Kezza. "You'll be up on stage for a performance of a lifetime in just a few..."

Just then, the cockpit viewer popped up. They were greeted with the face of a stern Imperial Navy Captain. It was eerie. The Imperials couldn't see them just yet because they hadn't accepted the viewer call, but it looked like the brass had taken an interest.



"My name is Captain Grehn. The communications officer has reported you're having difficulties. We're prepared to assist you. What was your original course heading?"

Pharo stands there and watches the scenario unfold before him while ready to help if needed.

Varn sighed. "They can't see you. They can't see me. We can even tell them that our viewer isn't working right. Roooargh, Coeburn and the others working on something. Hang tight."
Varn watched in disbelief at Kezza's display. "What could possibly go wrong with feet off the deck around controls?"

Varn didn't know a whole lot about the Falleen species. Not many did. While it would be silly to assume that ALL members of a culture or race would behave a certain way, even though many of them shared similar perspectives and religious beliefs, he still wondered if putting feet up in a nonchalant casual way during times of stress or danger to fake one’s lack of concern or fear by appearing bored was a Falleen trait or specifically a Kezza thing.

"Any feet off the ground is too close for comfort with the drive levers and sublight controls. You weren’t hired to wreck the ship, so I’d start there, or go check on what’s happening in the engine room."

Narrator: The captain on the other end was waiting and the situation demanded immediate attention. Varn turned his attention away from Kezza and their feet and flipped the switch on the comms, but not the view screen.

"Captain, this is The Rising Blade. We’re still locking down the problems. It appears our sublight engine is acting up and our hyperdrive is, well, we can’t really look at it too much because of your handy work. We’re operating out of Rodia, a mining pick up from the Vergesso Asteroids, round trip. Are you saying we overshot? Must have been an ion storm."

"Perhaps. It would be best if you were to follow our escort to docking bay three aboard the Shocksnare. A team of technicians will be able to come aboard and help assess the situation, help with repairs, and get you out of Imperial restricted space. Who am I speaking with?"----------

Narrator: Back in the engine room, Rooargh and MRT-7 await further instructions. Someone was coming down the passageway. Coeburn came through the hatch. Before the merc could say anything, the droid started beeping away the phrase "Irps."

"Irps….Irps...Into suit kaboot. People need’em-for drive work. Droids don’t. Don’t wear, burn burn burn. Irps. I-R-P-S."

The merc and mechanic listened and watched as the little droid pointed over at several folded up suits with masks. Ionizing Radiation Protection Suits.

Narrator: The strange little droid's safety tip felt out of place considering the situation, but Coeburn figured that MRT-7 was programmed to remind everyone that no matter how critical a situation was, safety mattered. Working on a sublight drive involved messing around near the ship's reactor which meant ionizing radiation. It all made sense. Then the thought occurred to him:

Narrator: Engine cables that released depleted fluid into the exhaust and waste pan as well as those cables that introduced coolant into the drive system were often the source of problems in and around the drive.

It appeared the easiest way to cause problems with a drive that wouldn't require costly repairs to the drive itself and were to loosen and pull on the drive cables. It was just a quick fix by either replacing worn cables or tightening fair to decent cables. The cables appeared new, so they could take the untightening and a bit a streching around the coupling to bottleneck the drive, making the drive less efficient. It was something that would have to be fixed after this ordeal was over or the action could risk damaging the drive. Mennoe took action, loosening the cables and then giving them a pull. The drive readout screen showed that efficiency had dropped from 97% to 62%. The drive groaned and sputtered for a few seconds and then returned to almost normal. An hum that wasn't there before was detected coming from the sublight drive, and the readout screen indicated that the drive was fluctuating between 62 and 68%. With the drive malfunction, a light came on indicating possible radiation leak.

"A player may spend one Force Point in a round; all skills, attributes and special ability die codes are doubled for the rest of that round." -Page 84, 2nd Edition R&E Core Rules

Engine Room

Narrator: When the Wookiee asked what was happening to the engines, it shook MRT from his fixation on the suits and his wondering as to why no one was putting them on. The merc explained that this was in effort to make the ship appear damaged. He wanted to check to make sure it was repairable so badly, but it was looking at this point from what the merc explained it was an act that could be fixed easily. They were acting. He loved acting! This was like a real life holo!

"Oh oh, MRT gets it now. Fooled MRT at first. ----the droid broke out in song.

Hoses on drive, pulled not chopped.
Hoppin in space, hop hop hopped.
Faking a leak, without a doubt.
Gonna make the bad peeps freak freak-out!

The little droid continued to buzz and sing as the readout screen fluctuated between 62 and 68% efficiency. He seemed very pleased to have figured out what was going on and to be part of the group.

Cockpit

Narrator: The droid’s goofy song could be heard in the cockpit. Thank the maker they weren’t transmitting back to The Shocksnare for any part of it. If they ever got out of this, he’d be discussing security procedures with the droid, such as using a dank farrik secured comlink during hostilities. Kezza heard the song and it was enough for them to go on.
Varn watched in amazement. Kezza ignored the captain’s request on identifying oneself and gave little away as to what was happening aboard the ship. They seemed confused...dazed...perhaps even ill. Kezza spoke in a way that put the situation right back at the other side, either they’d be forced to ask for a lot more clarification or they’d draw their own conclusions with the acting. He looked back and forth between Kezza and the Imperial Naval Captain, and it wasn’t long before he could see it in the Captain’s eyes. The Captain was looking at doomed spacefarers.

"Radiation level 4 possible per scan, sir. Crew member appears affected."

Captain Grehn paused for a few moments after his sensor officer’s statement. The female crew member appeared confused with not knowing or remembering terms but instead described what she was looking at as opposed to what she was seeing. She described the radiation level sensor. He’d dealt with radiation sickness and reactor leaks in the past. It often involved giving more lives to save fewer lives, and that was from radiation alone. He wasn’t even factoring in explosions. Where does one go in space during a radioactive fire? He knew the answer: nowhere.

"Detachment Alpha, allow them to follow a course heading to the habitable planet and land. The third planet in the system. No need to intercept or follow."

Outside The Rising Blade, the TIEs circled the freighter and headed back to the cruiser.

An unseen command officer, either a squadron commander or medical officer asked for clarification from their captain.

"Should a containment unit be sent to assist? Radiation technicians and troopers are at your order sir."

"They’re not asking for it and...I don’t know what we could do...for them. Their vessel’s heading and entry into the system has been logged and we’ll continue to monitor their landing...and unlikely departure from a distance."

Grehn was a stern Navy man, but felt completely powerless to help the malfunctioning ship.

"I’m sorry Rising Blade. I can’t risk my crew and ship to help you. Good luck. Shocksnare out."

Narrator: The Shocksnare released its gravity projector hold and continued on it’s patrol as The Rising Blade jolted and sputtered towards its destination. Estimated time of arrival to Vulgas III was an hour.

Narrator: Varn noticed that Kezza had nothing to say as they left the cockpit. If they had stuck around, Varn would have offered to explain some of the ship’s systems a bit better as the Falleen appeared to be more than a little lost. Whether they were attending to something else or had gone off to sulk, he didn’t know. He had more important things to attend to. He switched the intercom on to engineering.

"Excellent job in there! Hold off on any adjustments until after we set down. We’re at the edge of the system still and definitely being watched. I’ll be in touch when we approach landing."

Varn continued to think about what the captain had said during "radiation leak theater". The Interdictor Cruiser’s presence alone in this area and not being part of a Star Destroyer group added to the suspicion that the Navy was trying to cover something up. The Shocksnare would continue to monitor them from long range. They were being logged. It may not be long before someone of consequence within Navy High Command saw that a freighter had entered restricted space and then traced the transponder back to Brant. Brant had been an ISB informant. The Navy may find the connection, but then again Varn had a tendency to catastrophize. It was the worst case scenario. Regardless, once they hit the ground, they’d have to gather the intelligence on the Navy’s foul up quickly before more measures were put in place to "get rid of evidence."

Within minutes, Vulgas came into view through the cockpit. Dolan had lost track of time as he went over in his head the possible problems caused by their interaction with the Imperials. He hoped that these mercenaries were not underestimating those they managed to trick for now, and only for now.

The ISB Agent decided to focus more on the landing approach. At first the world appeared as a swirling ball of white, blue and varying shades of green. As the ship soared through the atmosphere, Vulgas’ landscape appeared below as Rodia may have looked thousands of years ago: a beautiful lush jungle world untouched by development. Massive life readings were detected through The Rising Blade’s passive sensor scan. He was looking for a facility about the size of a Coruscant mall complex. Roughly 7000 inhabitants once lived there, and may still. Within seconds, power was detected from what appeared to be a hydro-electric system. It was coming from approximately 150 km to the south of their position; 15 minutes away.

Varn activated the ship’s intercom for the entire ship. Everyone was either working on maintaining the engine or was elsewhere, and he didn’t want them to miss this.

"I found it. We’ll be landing in the next few minutes, so get ready. If you want to take a peek at what we’re venturing into, come on up to the cockpit or go to the lounge and see through the viewer."

Soaring at 500 feet, the crew (for those interested in watching through the cockpit or lounge viewer) Galactic Chronological Time: less than 2 months prior to the Battle of Yavin
Mission Time: Hour 28.5 Since Introduction to Contract
General Location: Vulgas III, Approaching Research Facility
Specific Location: The Rising Blade
Time: 530 pm local

The landing repulsors fired and the ship’s landing legs deployed as it set down in the meter high brown, gold, and green grass. They were now safely on the ground. Varn once again clicked on the intercom:

"Landing ramp will open in two minutes. Grab your weapons and gear. Time to get to the bottom of what happened here. We’ll be heading southeast through the trees towards the facility ground. I’m heading out to look for a clearing and get a general feel for the area. Brace yourself for early evening temperatures in the jungle."

Pharo grabs all of his equipment and heads for the landing ramp closely following behind Mennoe. Pharo prepares himself for combat and conducts a Pre Combat Inspection with Mennoe.

Narrator: MRT quickly saluted to Roooargh with his primary grasper. "Absoluto-pos-boss." As Roooargh began to leave, he heard the odd little droid talking with the ship’s computer. "Yep yep yep...keep it brief-chief. Chatter chatter chatter. Half you say don’t matter." The Wookiee realized it would be wise to double check the oddball droid’s maintenance routines until he became more familiar with MRT-7’s work.

In the cargo bay, the ramp lowered and a wall of humid jungle air greeted the newcomers as they traveled down into the half meter high grass below. They still had plenty of time to search around before sunset. To the southeast, they could see the building structure standing approximately fifteen meters over the treeline. Beyond it, a waterfall ran downward disappearing behind the building complex. The ship had landed close enough to where it was audible. The mist produced from the falls joined the rest of the humid mist around. Above the waterfall, the mountain summit was obscured by humidity. To the west, signs of a years old freighter wreckage could be seen.

Varn gave the wreckage a cursory check. No bodies were evident and he didn’t feel like trying to climb into the above ground structure that remained. It had been there for years based on the overgrowth, and something may have made the wreck its home.

As Varn was interested in getting to the building complex as soon as possible, he peered through the trees for the most direct route and shortest route through trees. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to see through the thick overgrowth and realized the area of ground under the canopy was much clearer. The floor was covered with mushrooms, flowers, dead leaves and decaying plant material. He could make out the trees responsible for the canopies above. At the base of the trees inside, he could see what looked to be eggs.



Light peered in from the southeast in a clearing beyond the trees and overgrowth in front of them. He noticed a few of the pack reptiles he saw earlier while preparing to land were in the area beyond. Two continued to graze, but one of them stopped and watched as the newcomers approached the other side of the thicket jungle grove.



Varn turned to Roooargh. "Did you want to do the honors with that gigantic blade of yours and cut some of the brush out of the way? I think I see a wider exit into the next clearing beyond. The eggs in there make me nervous, but this was the narrowest grove I saw upon landing. I don’t see anything moving around in there. We’ll have to watch those reptilian creatures, especially if those (eggs) are their young."

Turning to the others, "Let’s be prepared to cover him." While not pointing his blaster into the thicket, Varn kept his pistol pointed at the grass, ready to raise and fire.

Pharo glances around the area to analyze his surroundings.

Narrator: As the Doctor headed out of the ship, he could hear the droid continue on his conversation with the ship’s computer. As he followed after the others, he was greeted by the bounty hunter and merc who were watching the grove of trees to their south. Varn was watching the trees as well, blasters all drawn, except for Kezza. No blaster, just questions.

"I guess we are not 'being diplomatic' about this?" They ask. "Going in armed to the teeth may make it hard to hide our intent when we leave."

"Do I need to get my gun?"

Narrator: Varn was waiting for Roooargh to clear an entry, but now his attention was turned away to Kezza, who had yet another question or criticism or combination of the two. Kezza had just stepped off the ship and was already concerned about leaving. If the Wookiee preloaded their next destination and then the ship jumped after leaving the atmosphere, they had an excellent chance of escaping. The goal was to reach the building alive, record findings, find survivors if they existed, and defend themselves if need be, hence the blasters. There would be time to think about leaving after that was done.

Kezza’s last statement really irked him. Just a few minutes prior, he’d told everyone to grab their weapons and gear and here was Kezza in a jungle on an unfamiliar planet investigating some kind of bioweapon disaster with crazed undead killers, and they didn’t bring a gun, blaster, or anything? He and everyone else didn’t have time for this. He was tempted to say that Kezza could try foul language if diplomacy failed since Kezza was unarmed, but instead he inhaled, took a deep breath and kept his voice even as possible.

"See if anyone else can spare a weapon for you. If not, I have a spare IM blaster on me. (reaches into a side pouch on his blast vest armor and retrieves an Imperial Munitions KK-5 and offers it to Kezza)."

Varn turns his attention back to the Wookiee who made his way through the overgrowth and then began climbing one of the trees.

"Kezza, we don’t know what’s out there, but I don’t want to be out here at night. Neither do you. So if you don’t see anything, and no one else sees anything, once the path is clear, it’ll be time to move on."

Narrator: The herbisaurs watched on as the newcomers defied jungle law as they knew it. There were some areas of the jungle that were not traveled, and if these areas had to be negotiated, it was at a sprint. While one of them continued to graze in the open field of tall grass, the others watched on as the tall hairy one used a great nailed appendage to slice through the bad grass doors to the grenobak’s nest. That’s what the other strange newcomers had called them, the grenobaks. The herbisaurs were no strangers to new beings visiting their world, in fact, some of them had actually gone with the strangers and rode around with them, worked with them even.

These newcoming strangers appeared lost, and while the herbisaurs knew certain calls and words of the strangers, they were helpless to warn them. Running towards them would get them shot. Calling to them would distract them from the real danger: those that were above the newcomers. At first, they watched in amazement as the newcomers defied the law, and then in horror as they saw the first signs of movement above. It would take a very well trained eye to see the grenobaks in their environment, especially if they were holding still. The herbisaurs knew it was not safe to run, so they hunkered down a bit, watched and waited...

Evolving over millions of years, the grenobaks were one of Vulgas’ apex predators. Even the larger non-hostile herbisaurs knew not to venture into a nest. They would do so only out of desperation or if traveling through at high speed. The grenobaks watched as the tall strange being who seemed to be one with the trees leapt from the ground into their fortress. They moved back slightly, but without making a sound. The avian creature, too small for even a snack gave start and drew attention away from the grenobaks who were all but invisible to those below in the mottled green and black tree canopy. They were shocked that something was so brazen to attempt such a thing, but then, like the others, the tall strange creature who was one with the trees was unaware that they, the grenobaks, were up in the trees.

The tall creature leapt down to the ground and began hacking away at their perimeters. Another strange newcomer rushed through the nest entirely as the herbisaurs had done. It was all so strange. None of them had touched the eggs. Their own young were the bait, distraction and trap for most creatures. Desperate jungle neighbors would come into the nest’s nursery and try to feed on their young, and by the time they realized their error, it was too late. The grenobaks would have them.

All of it was perplexing to the grenobaks who watched as none touched the eggs. Then, it appeared the newcomers’ tactics were changing below. Previously, one had rushed through. One had made way for the others with its giant fang. Then, the newcomers began to pour into the nest below.

It was a rush to the eggs!!! Descend! Descend! Descend! We have them now!

Narrator: As the crew of The Rising Blade made its way into the thicket, those walking in realized that shadows seemed to dance above them just out of their peripheral vision. Kezza saw them first. A strange spike projectile zipped into the ground next to them. Another spike zipped over Varn and Pharo’s heads, narrowly missing them. Mennoe and Roooargh who had glanced back to see how the others were faring through the thicket saw them too as the creatures dropped to the ground. Some dropped, some repelled down using their strange natural cords. One landed very close to Roooargh. The meter tall spider-like creature shrieked!



Meeeraaaaawk! Tik-tik-tik-tik-tik!!! A chorus of the clicking "tiks" came from the others on the ground and still more up in the trees. It was a battle cry!

OOC: rolling for initiative

Order of Battle

Kezza 19
Mennoe Coeburn 18
Lynax Pharo 10
Roooargh 9
Grenobaks 9 (tie goes to the player)
Dan’lo Strata 7

Pharo shoots at one of the creatures with his heavy blaster pistol.

Later Edit
OOC: welp I think I missed.

Narrator: Kezza saw that the spider-like grenobaks on their right were poised for attack and heading their way. They rushed up to the other side of the tree behind the creature that was preoccupied with the Wookiee and saw a blaster bolt lance out from behind where the Wookiee stood and strike down one of the creatures that had rushed towards them seconds before (Mennoe blasted and destroyed Grenobak 4). Kezza hissed at the spider facing down the Wookiee. The distraction allowed the Wookiee enough time to step in and swing as Kezza ducked from nearby blaster fire coming from her left. Varn raised his blaster and shot the closest rushing creature in the maw, dropping it in mid rush (Varn blasted and destroyed Grenobak 2).

The Falleen heard a sickening crack made as the Wookiee cleaved the monstrous spider before him (Roooargh cleaved and killed Grenobak 5).

Kezza shouted to Pharo who was still adjusting to the relative darkness of the thicket, "Right!" The bounty hunter turned and shot at the remaining spider on the right, and but the blaster bolt struck just in front of the grenobak, steering the advancing creature slightly off course (Pharo missed Grenobak 1).

From the south, a red laser danced through the thicket. The laser was followed by the two remaining left most grenobaks sizzling as a speeder scale blaster bolt zipped through both spiders with one shot (An outsider blasted and killed Grenobak’s 6 and 3). The herd of large reptiles kept low and rushed further away from the thicket and the blasting.

Kezza turned to see what was happening to the south and heard a popping noise as Strata’s blaster bolt impacted and destroyed the remaining spider. (Dan’lo shot and killed Grenobak 1).

Pharo wants to get closer to Mennoe so Pharo moves to V14 H40(which is 10 spaces so it needs a Dexterity check)

10 spaces = 20m

Initiative Order

Kezza
Dan’lo
Trooper, Varn, Ubese, Kid
Lynax
Grenobaks
Mennoe
Roooargh

Narrator: Kezza acknowledged and relayed that there were others nearby and that they were providing cover. They were set to move. Dan’lo and Varn provided cover fire as Lynax dashed through the thicket to the other side. Once through the thicket, he saw the strange pair in action. The trooper shouldered his rifle, and lobbed a grenade into the thicket at the direction of his Ubese partner. Further to the south, the little girl continued to jump up and down shouting. "This way! Come this way!"

Dan’lo continued behind Varn through the thicket who shouted to Kezza, "Out, out, out!" The three brushed past Roooargh as Varn continued to shout, "Out, out, out..." All four of them could hear the remainder of the grenobaks hurrying up in the trees as the retreating monsters were being covered by their own still high up in the trees. Quill-like darts covered in a sappy poison could be seen jetting into the jungle forest floor and vegetation around them as they cleared the thicket. They were greeted by a scene of Mennoe being redirected by the armored pair. "To the girl! That way!"

Mennoe and the others looked down back towards the girl as they paced outward and away from the thicket more. None of the grenobaks continued their pursuit on the ground or continued to fire their projectiles once everyone was in the clearing.

The little girl pulled out a flare gun, and the trooper took off his helmet revealing an older man with a cybernetic eye replacement.



"Minzy! No! No flares! They see you!!! Stay where you’re at!" he shouted.

Minzy put the flare gun back in her hide outfit as the older man walked at a solid pace towards the newcomers, weapon at his side. The Ubese held their blaster pointed towards the grove and continued to watch.



An electronic voice came from the Ubese’s helmet as they continued to provide cover. "Yah-tay, Yah-tay, Yoh-toh, Yoh-toh."The older man nodded in agreement...

"I’m aware Zilli. I’m aware. We’ll talk and walk...in a minute. Hard to yell with that brain bucket on…..Well, what do we have here? (looking at Varn’s body armor and equipment), surely you haven’t come all this way to hand me my discharge documents? If you have, you’re two years overdue sir. Sergeant Hektor Drak at your service, sir."

Varn kept his blaster out, but the muzzle was to the grass. "I’m afraid not. What happened here sergeant? How many people are left here?"

"Well, that’s a long story, but few to tell it. There’s me, Minzy, 2BA6, and Father Dusk. We’ve been here for four years. Zill’axia and Scarabak joined us about two years ago after her ship was attacked by pirates. So, six of us...counting the droid. Zilli’s right. It’s not very safe out here, so if you’ll follow us...You’re either ISB or Naval Intel, who are you? Your agents certainly aren’t regs."

They continued to walk south...

Narrator: Before long, the newcomers and stranded passed an escape pod overgrown partially with a type of grass and ground vine.

"Dolan Varn, Special Agent, ISB. No, they’re certainly not regs. They’re contracted to work outside the ISB, INI or the regular Navy."

The Ubese woman in armor said nothing, but the older Stormtrooper thought for a second.

"You trust mercenaries over your own, Special Agent?"

"I do. You were left here for years, and at the edge of this system sits an Imperial capital warship doing nothing but trying to keep anyone away from their ‘restricted space’. No aid delivered to you? No respite? Nothing?"

Sergeant Drak nods a short "no" as Minzy and her mounted lizard zip ahead of the group.

"Be careful up there!" The trooper shouts to the girl.

"I will grandpa!"

After the girl was out of sight, the trooper continues.

"She’s not my granddaughter, but we’re still a family. Her family died in the disaster. Father Dusk rescued us after the last shuttle left. He sealed his fate when he moved his fighter to block the landing pad access. They...were hemorrhaging out of it. I was in the infirmary with 2BA6 and Minzy. We were cut off from escaping with the others that he managed to band together. We’re all she has left. No, Special Agent Varn, we were abandoned, and Dusk has his theories on why. I really don't."

The Ubese woman finally spoke for the first time during the trek to the facility.

"Ya-tay. Yo-toay. Yo-toh. Yo-day." Her electronic voice was flat, but her gesture back towards the region that surrounded the cave near where The Rising Blade had landed, and then bowing to it slightly, gave what she had to say more meaning.

Sergeant Drak nodded and paraphrased a translation. "Indeed. He saved all of our lives. Multiple times. He’ll be back soon. He’s at the cave, ‘contemplating matters in the cave of sorrow’, or so he would say. He’s an old soul, and knows a great deal."

"What happened here?"

"We’re living on top of a tomb Special Agent. Stranded here. We’re on top of a tomb, where the dead walk about underneath...2BA6 and Dusk have their theories on what caused it, and how to even reverse it."

"What? It can be reversed?"

"You’re asking the wrong guy. I’m no scientist. You’re probably tired of hearing me say it, but Dusk thinks he has a solution, if you believe in the mystical. It’s a theory, and definitely not one I would have come up with. (looks towards the top of the building) Lower it down."

A sturdy rope of jungle vines drops down before the newcomers over the next few seconds.

"It will be nearing sun down soon. Time to go up."

Pharo looks around and says, "I believe that we will have to be extra careful and not do anything unwarranted."

"We very well may be staying aboard the ship, but for right now, let’s see what’s going on and how these people are living." Varn added.

"You’re safer up here than you are down there. I don’t think the dead can get in your ship, but if you give them time, they might be able to. They haven’t been able to get up here yet." commented Drak.

Narrator: As the last of the crew of The Rising Blade were lifted up the rope by a pulley on top of the building, a cloaked figure appeared out of the jungle forest from the south. It stood by the edge of the forest patiently as the rope was lowered once more. The figure was alone, appeared unarmed and only carried a shovel. The others watched as the pulley system lifted the figure.

The little girl Minzy appeared from a makeshift building atop the roof, giving the impression that there may have been another way atop the building. "Grandpa, what was he doing out there?"

"Burying little girls who ask too many questions!" said Drak as Minzy laughed. "He’s coming up the wall. Ask him." he commented further.

The cloaked figure reached the top of the roof. He walked like a human, but from the small tendrils that dangled beyond his jawline, it was clear that the being before them wasn’t human. He sounded human enough. "Newcomers. I am called Dusk. Are you an evacuation party?"

"I’m not leaving until this thing is set right like you say!" Drak blurted to Dusk. The Ubese nodded in agreement to Drak. Minzy watched the adults, and then looked over to a building that operated the pulley where a Skrilling came out. "Please tell me that I’m not lifting any more people up today….What am I missing?" he barked as everyone mostly ignored him.

The cloaked figure’s head lifted slightly to where everyone could see Dusk’s eyes. His eyes reflected light back, giving him an especially eerie stare. "That may depend on what this Imperial Agent and his operatives have to say." His stare meets Varn’s. "What do you have to say? Are you here to take those that remain, or did you want to try to save them all?"

"What?" Varn said, a bit confused.

"I said, did you want to save them all? Everyone here, in the thousands." Dusk smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile to look at. His eyes seemed to glow as they fixed in on the newcomers. "Did you want to be a hero? Do your operatives want to be heroes? Do you want to forsake the force that did this to them? Do you want to redeem yourself...Agent? We need heroes."

"Redeem myself? I’ve done nothing wrong."

"I have. I’ll admit it. You will too someday." Dusk said as he lifted his free gloved hand. His gloves were the color of dried blood.

"Minzy asked me once why I wear these gloves. It’s because I have blood on my hands and dishonor. She didn’t understand. (looks to Roooargh) A Wookiee would understand the dishonor I feel, for I have done the equivalent of using climbing claws to strike down opponents in anger, for my former master, but far worse. I’ve done a lot wrong, but I have seen the burning man, watched as he received his armor, and I know that he will fail to stop billions from dying in the blink of an eye, when he was once capable of such greatness. You too will see it in time. You will. We served the same master Agent. Just for me, no longer."