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.