[Fic] Admiral Ancete

[Sabretooth]

Finally I've managed to sort out all the complexities and intricacies of this saga and chalked out most of it. Admiral Ancete is a prequel to Knights of the Old Republic and is my first fic to go way back there. The story involves numerous characters, but is primarily concentrated on Ancete, an Iktochi freelance assassin mostly in the employ of Davik Kang.

 

I will include a lot of KotOR backstories here and essentially sort out everything in KotOR. The story starts off in the middle of the Mandalorian Wars and goes on through Revan's conquests and finally the beginning of KotOR.

 

Revan will be portrayed as a male in this fanfic, but I don't think it really affects the storyline if you assume Revan as a female.

 

And no, no SW-scroll for this one.

[Sabretooth]

PART ONE

 

DARK GRIFFIN

[Jason Skywalker]

Nice Sabre, looking forward for this one.

[The_Catto]

^^^ Seconded, sounds interesting.

[Sabretooth]

“Warehouse 15N” the Rodian whispered and held out his hand. He was trembling and was frequently glancing behind his back.

 

The person opposite to him was a rather imposing figure. He was a seven-foot tall humanoid alien. He had blood-red eyes, a hairless body, a well defined and square head and a bald scalp. His skin was tan, like most humans, but had an unusual reddish tinge to it. His most striking feature, however, was the pair of horns that ran parallel to his lower jaw. They were thick in girth and had a very sharp tip. The horns were double the length of his lower jaw and were weathered. He was dressed in daunting battle armour which covered his body below his neck.

 

“May I leave, Lord?” the rodian whispered, “I… I really need the money, sir. The… the spice. Please, Lord Ancete. Please, the spi…”

 

“Shut up!” Ancete thundered at him. He placed a few credit chits in the Rodian’s hand. “Don’t waste it, cur.”

 

The Rodian clenched the money and scampered out of the cantina he had been sitting in. Ancete sipped his glass, watching the nervous Rodian. He looked about the Cantina. Few people were about. The cantina had lost its nightlife, somehow. Ancete took another sip, before feeding the data ‘Warehouse 15N’ into his datapad. He did a planetary search for Warehouse 15N and soon found himself before a map, with a blinking red dot.

 

Ancete was on Corvinia Prime, a rather anonymous planet on the edge of the mid-rim. It was originally barren, but became a beehive about two centuries earlier, when massive stacks of precious metals and ores were found under the planet’s surface. Everybody from great corporations to lunatics rushed to Corvinia and plundered it, until the Republic imposed a blockade on the planet, following a dozen fatal conflicts over precious metals. The blockade was ineffective, the authority corrupt, and soon, the planet turned into a mafia den. Several crime families colonised the planet once the dust settled. The Republic’s hold on Corvinia faltered and soon slipped, giving way for the illegal to take over.

 

In an attempt to recapture Corvinia, the Republic built a massive spaceship, almost as large as a moon. It was funded by thousands of worlds and corporations, and when completed was of magnificent scale. The ship, called the Sentinel orbited the planet and almost served as a moon. It was built primarily for detailed surveillance, but it also proved as an excellent battle station, and converted the seemingly docile planet into an important strategic location and one of the Republic’s most critical war positions. After proving its worth in the Sith War, Corvinia Prime fell into disuse and criminal activity went on a rise once again.

 

Corvinia had now once again become the treasured Republic outpost it was before. The mafia existed simultaneously with the Republic occupation of the planet. The Mandalorian war had stirred up old strategies and the Republic was now intent on guarding Corvinia Prime. But the interplanetary Mafia had refused to give up Corvinia, amidst the war that ensued around it.

 

 

 

Ancete gulped down the last drops of his drink and set it down. He got up briskly and walked away, promptly and gracefully. He put on his hood and his light-amplifier visor, as he strode through a passage that led to the “Ductway” a transport system on board the Sentinel that used a system of elevators and magnetic rails to transport sentients and their luggage from one end of the ship to another in a matter of seconds.

 

The system was as fast as ever, despite the heavy bombardment The Sentinel had suffered at the hands of the Mandalorians. The latter had attacked Corvinia Prime some seven times by now, and this was their eighth. Ancete would have advised the Mandalorians to surround the system, and continually bombard it, sending in one battery a time. But he had never served in wars of great scale yet. He had an unusual gift of prescience and its use in strategic situations. It was for this very reason that he was preferred by many of his clients as a tactician more than a warrior, or an assassin. But Ancete had his own way of thinking and he was as quick with a weapon as he was with his mind.

 

The doors of his Ductway carriage opened and made his way to a door that read “Warehouse 15”. He sifted through the doors within the Warehouse 15 Depots Corridor and found the one he wanted – Warehouse 15N. He reached out his hand to open it but he stopped himself. Instead, he backtracked to a depot door that read “Warehouse 15M”. He opened it and faced a floating drone, with a satisfying blue light that suddenly turned red. “Anomaly detected.” It buzzed, as it scanned Ancete.

 

“Evacuate or face prosecution.” It then announced. With a flick of his wrist, Ancete unleashed a lightsaber blade and struck the drone. The drone blasted into pieces. Ancete jumped into the shadows, as an army of droids marched in. Before they could detect him, however, he was gone.

 

 

 

Red Polly felt his scar as he watched his workers load a large shipment of spice into a Medium Cruiser. Red Polly was the supposed nickname of a low-time smuggler who had made it big by assaulting a large shipment of the Nar Shaddaa Exchange. After a failure spree early in his career, Red turned to the gun and led a bunch of pirates into attacking smuggler ships. His best came when the Nar Shaddaa Exchange boss, a bloated Hutt named Fagga Dur Junngo was smuggling Aquilarisian spice from Aquilaris. Fagga was flabbergasted when his large shipment, worth millions went missing. Red then publicly announced his steal and went on to bigger and bigger heists, both from individual crime lords to syndicates. Many, including Ancete believed that Red was being financed or helped by someone above him, since he still had the brain of a lowly crook.

 

Red was on the control deck of Warehouse 15N when a serene voice announced, “There has been a security breach in Warehouse 15. All droids have been set on High-Security mode.” The message kept looping and echoing. Red was alarmed at first and he had all security cams directed at his terminal, but realised his hastiness shortly. He chuckled when realised someone has invaded Warehouse 15M. His newfound relief, however, was interrupted when he heard with a sound he was all too familiar with. It was of a high-pitched laser scorching through metal. He turned around and stared in shock. A near circle was being carved on the wall. It was the same wall connected to Warehouse 15M.

 

“Holy…” he uttered, as the brilliant blade finished carving a golden halo on the wall and the whole metal disc slipped out in a few seconds. On the other side was a tall, striking figure. Red quickly turned around and hit the Security button on his touch screen display. Suddenly he found the High Security button out of his reach. He realised that he was being pulled. He looked back in horror. It was the same figure in the battle armour and the all-covering hood. He scrunched up at the tall humanoid’s feet and looked up. An intuitive feeling in the back of his mind told him he had seen the alien somewhere.

 

“Do you know me, Red Polly?” the voice within the mandible-horned alien boomed.

 

“Who… who are you?” Red incoherently uttered.

 

Ancete took off his hood and stared at Red with his burning eyes and a devilish smile. His horns were warmly lit in the light.

 

“You owe me.”

 

“How did you get in here?” Red asked in a shrivelled voice.

 

“I have my ways. Come. He awaits the full sum.” Ancete said, watching Red get up to his feet.

 

“But… I…” Red stammered, and his hands fidgeted. Suddenly, his hands were caught by Ancete’s strong fists. Huddling the hands together, Ancete reached inside Red’s pocket and pulled out a personal communicator. He turned it on and brought it to Red’s face.

 

“Alright, smart guy. Taris.” He spoke.

 

Red sighed and adjusted the frequency. “Yeah, Icey, uh, send the shipment to Taris, will you? Yeah, Davik’s place. You can’t? Well freakin’ tell Sooto to do it, dammit! Taris, it goes to Taris.”

 

He turned it off and his panned the height of Ancete.

 

“Good, now come with me.”

 

Ancete dragged Red Polly into the Exchange-reserved dock at the Sentinel Dockyard. Ancete’s ship was a simple, yet fast Light Cruiser. It had capacity for two pilots and two passengers, though only one seat would normally be occupied. The narrow ramp opened up as Ancete punched in a few buttons on his remote. He wordlessly settled on the pilot’s chair and hit the start switch, followed by a password system. A large holographic interface lit up around him, bathing him in blue-green light. He made Red sit in one of the passenger seats and secured him with a tight seat belt.

 

The cruiser slipped out of the private dock and immediately dove into the maelstrom of war that was raging outside. Republic and Mandalorian ships zipped past, shot and blasted each other. Ancete took direct control of the ship with his joystick and slipped in and out of the extremely dynamic battle.

 

“Who sent you?” Red Polly asked as his face distorted in contempt.

 

“The Exchange. Taris Division.”

 

“How much are they paying you?”

 

“I am not going to be bribed, Red.”

 

“They’re after my bleeding money. I did nothing to them, I swear. They’re all just bloody…” Red fell silent. Ancete was busy setting up Hyperspace co-ordinates and various parameters. He thought Red’s abrupt silence was a tad odd, but he ignored it.

 

“What the hell is that?” Red asked, out of astonished curiosity.

 

Ancete did not reply.

 

“Ancete!” Red yelled.

 

Ancete look up and was gobsmacked himself. He was headed for a heavy cruiser, an unusually designed, of an elongated variety. It had a deathly grey shade and was shaped much like a massive stick. It had appeared out of nowhere and Ancete was heading straight towards it. Ancete was not sure, but he had a feeling that he had seen the ship before. Another ghastly feeling told him he was going to go in it.

 

Ancete took a sudden dive and made a very aerobatic manoeuvre to evade his course. He turned around 180 degrees and found five rogue starfighters heading for him. They opened fire on him and the ship shuddered violently as it was engulfed in flames and battered with laser bolts. Ancete turned the ship round to follow the starfighters and launched two homing rockets. The rockets chased the ships and drew them away. He pointed his ship away from the Heavy Cruiser and hit the switch to activate the Ion Drives.

 

He realised he had committed a mistake as a massive blast erupted through the rear of the ship. Ancete was blinded in the scorching white illumination. His ears rung in a high-pitched tinnitus, deafened by the shellshock. When he recovered a few seconds later, he found himself slumped over the controls. His vision was dreary and blurred. He unbuckled and jumped out of the seat. Red Polly was either unconscious or dead – his body lay slouched against the constraining seat belt. Ancete turned around and realised his ship was approaching the Heavy Cruiser’s belly.

 

He staggered towards the controls and tried the engines. He only heard sputters and blasts. He wheezed and collapsed back down on the seat. He rested his head in his hands and felt his pitted horns. He was locked in a tractor beam, he realised. A sudden feeling of piercing pain overcame him and he dropped onto the controls, writhing in agony. He felt the pain and the fatigue drain his energy. He fainted against his ship’s controls as the ship slowly soared into the docking bay.

[Sabretooth]

Wow, I take out two minutes to sort out my Word problems and post the prologue and everybody's on! Talk about early feedback!

[The_Catto]

Just read it, and i like so far! Looking forward to seeing more

[Diego Varen]

I like this too. I'm looking foward to more Sabre, I've waited about four months for this. Also I thought the SW-scroll wasn't on your other Fic, JK-DQ. I like the look of this. Well done.

[Sabretooth]

Thanks for the feedback! Since my 10th Standard Exams are going to be here this year, you may expect postings to be a little later (but aren't they always? ). I'll try to write as fast as possible, though.

 

@Potts: JK-DQ was an absolutely random fanfic I wrote off the top of my head. I didn't even bother with the scroll back then. In my personal opinion, it was completely horrible (though I'll admit, the content was very, very original).

I added the scroll in invisible Hope and VoB, since back in the early days of CEC, there was a fashion of adding those things everywhere...

[Jason Skywalker]

Real nice prologue, Ancete's a real maniac. What's his lightsaber colour? Also, can't wait to see the next chapters!

[Sabretooth]

Ancete's a real maniac.

 

Oh, believe me, he's sober right now. Wait till he gets angry. For anyone needing reference, he looks something like this: Saesee Tiin Except his head and body is not as blocky and his horns are longer and thinner.

 

As for his lightsaber, it's teal coloured. Not too green - not too blue. And not too light either.

[Jason Skywalker]

Cool, thanks. Also, teal, that's like, the middle between Cyan, which is too blue, and Jade, which is too green, right?

 

cyan

Teal

Jade

--Jae

 

EDIT: Yup, thanks Jae.

 

"You're a standup babe." - Nelson Muntz from the Simpsons.

[Sabretooth]

“Rise and shine, Ancete!” a familiar voice called out.

 

Ancete opened his eyes and found himself in a medical room. He was strapped to a bed and was covered with all sorts of medical and surgical machinery. He tried to move, but was locked down firmly by the magnetic locks. His head was unbound, however and relatively untouched, save of a hunk of machinery sticking out of his medulla. Medic and Surgeon droids buzzed and hovered around the room, assessing analyses on computers, adjusting the variety of gadgets on Ancete and performing other tasks.

 

Davik Kang, one of the most infamous crime lords in the galaxy was standing opposite to Ancete. He had his trademark sneer across his face, accentuated by a scar above his upper lip. He was now nearing the age of fifty, but he already had a large tuft of salt-and-pepper hair on him. His weathered face had all varieties of scars, pits and wrinkles. He was surrounded by two blank-faced bodyguards, both in armour and carrying massive repeaters.

 

“Davik? Where am I?” Ancete asked, looking around the room.

 

“Back home. You’re in our medical quarter on Taris. Good work on that moron, by the way. He’s crying like a baby.” Davik answered, chuckling.

 

“Who fired on me, and how the hell did you find me?” Ancete asked, his voice getting rough.

 

“Well, my great Heavy Cruiser, The Wand was heading for the Exchange spot on Kuat. That’s when the Republic announces a lockout on Sectors 17, 18, 22 and 42. So we take a detour to Corvinia and bang, we find you running from a bunch of Mandalorians…”

 

“Those didn’t look like Mandalorians. They were mercs.” Ancete remarked.

 

“Mandalorian undercover. They scout for Republic Undercover. Crazy tacticians, if you ask me.”

 

“What did you get from Red Polly?”

 

“The shipment you ordered reached us perfectly. We even have his pilot and crew. We’re planning on using them.”

 

“That’s not right. He must have had a larger shipment. The spice he stole from our Ghard IV base was huge. Look for more. Grill him.”

 

“Right. You need rest. We’ll get you to work as soon as you’re able.” Davik spoke with a warm grin.

 

Ancete looked at his own arm. It was enclosed in a metal cast and a droid was inserting blue liquid from a cylinder into the cast. Soon a dizzying sensation overcame Ancete and he fainted.

 

 

 

Lottis Dolomiri was sleeping like a log when the melodious beats of his holocommunication device started ringing. He got up with a start and the beats of the H/C which were normally sweet now sounded like torturous drums. He jumped out of his ornate, sleek bed and dropped himself on a hovering chair in front of the H/C and accepted the call. The H/C prepared to load the image and displayed a friendly “Loading” logo, hovering in the air.

 

Lottis was the fifty-two year old CEO of the multiplanetary Dolomiri Corporation. He was a moderately stout human, with a well-groomed appearance, which seemed dishevelled in his sleep. He had spent his life in transforming his father’s quaint business into a massive corporation that rivalled the new Czerka Corporation. Lottis’ strength had always been his ability to correctly choose his employees, partners and just about anybody willing to assist the corporation. He himself was horrible at business and management, but had a carefully-selected pool of Dolomiri loyalists who handled the Corporation with great care.

 

The “Loading” sequence faded and there sputtered a hologram of a man in a black robe. He was covered head to foot by the robe and had a hood that revealed no part of his head. He wore a coat underneath, visible through the open front and always wore leather gloves.

 

“Hello, Dolomiri.” He spoke in a sinister manner.

 

“What is it?” Dolomiri asked casually.

 

“I hope you remember me. We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

 

“Of course. The great Dark Griffin. We fear you, yada yada yada.”

 

“Amusing. Now, you do know homeboy’s been caught, don’t you?”

 

“Red? Who got him?” Dolomiri asked, alarmed.

 

“Davik Kang, head of the Taris Exchange.”

 

“By the Force. He’ll spill the beans!”

 

“He won’t, bub. I’ve spoken with him. I have my contacts, you know.”

 

“What did you tell him?”

 

“I told him to stay down and not speak a word. He should be smart enough to do that, don’t you think?”

 

“I don’t know. And I still don’t know your fee. Or why you’re doing this.” Dolomiri spoke with ascending agitation.

 

“I will reveal my fee and my purpose at the appropriate time. And this is not the appropriate time. You got your shipment?”

 

“Yeah, I redirected it from Luften 9 to Coruscant. It’s safe in my warehouses. I’ll dispatch it to the distribution rings.”

 

“Good. You can keep it and sell it later, though. Some organizations will pay a lot of money for that. Most are illegal, but I know a few… friends who might help take your load off.”

 

“You don’t say…”

 

“Czerka.”

 

Dolomiri got up and clasped his fists.

 

“You want me to ally with Czerka? He’ll murder me!”

 

“No, Dolomiri. Czerka had a major stock market blunder recently, as one of my sources reports. Czerka is in desperate need for investors, capital, funds, shares and things like that. Maybe if you can…”

 

“Czerka doesn’t have an underworld branch, you know.”

 

“Nobody refuses a deal like this.”

 

Dolomiri sat in his chair, staring vacantly at the floor.

 

“Do it, Lottis.” Dark Griffin commanded.

Dolomiri nodded and turned off the holocom.

 

 

 

Red Polly was lying in his laser-reinforced cell like a mangled body. He had been severely tortured and there were cuts and bruises all over his body. His face was contorted by the pain he had suffered and he was weeping miserably. He was alone in the chamber, Davik’s Interrogation room, which was sadistically referred to as the “Guest Room”.

 

The magnetic door opened and in walked a young Twi’Lek, wearing light battle armour. He had an indifferent face and he was tightly clutching a portable holocom in his hand. He stepped in, closed the door and locked it. He then turned off the camera mounted on the wall using a remote and turned off the laser fields. The circular yellow lasers faded, but Red Polly made no movement. He just looked at the Twi’Lek pathetically.

 

“What do you want?” he shrieked, his voice choked with tears.

 

“Save it, punk. Take this and blast it once you’re done,” the Twi’Lek instructed, handing over the portable holocom and crouching down, he said, “And don’t try anything. Davik doesn’t know about this, and honestly, he doesn’t need to know. We’ll kill you if you do something.”

 

He got up and turned the laser fields back on and exited. Red Polly watched him leave and then looked at the holocom device. It was a Dolomiri model and had a bluish light on it. Soon enough, he heard a buzzing in it. He fumbled clumsily and dropped it on the floor. With his very painful hand, he pressed the switch and writhed around the cell, crying out in pain. Once the Loading process was completed, an image popped up.

 

It was Dark Griffin, the mysterious man who had once delivered Red Polly the opportunity of his lifetime. He was in his usual, obscuring attire and his voice was calm and unconcerned, as usual.

 

“Hello, Red.” He spoke.

 

“Space off!” Red cried.

 

“Easy there. I’m trying to get you out.”

 

“You got me here, you…”

 

“Now, now. Save the profanity. I need you to do something. I take it you were interrogated?”

 

Red sniffed, choked and didn’t say anything.

 

“Okay, I get you. Look, I want you to reveal everything. Tell them Dolomiri hired you, he wanted a cut, you did it for him, he gave you your missions, et cetera. But, you will not speak of me.”

 

“Yeah, right. He’ll kill me!”

 

“He won’t, Red, he won’t. Tell him everything except for me and plead to work for him. Beg, actually, but tell him that you’ll tell him everything. Tell him you’re very resourceful and that you want to work for Davik all along. Get me?”

 

Red sniffed a “Yes”, with a choked voice.

 

“Good. Dolomiri and I will figure out a way to bail you out. Tell them about the shipment you sent to Luften 9. I’m ending this now. Blast the holocom.”

 

The image flickered away and there was nothing left. Red dropped it cried miserably, sprawled in his cell. Dark Griffin’s last words echoed in his head. He picked up the holocom, took a deep breath and smashed it against the laser field. The holocom exploded in a fireball. Red’s hand was blackened and charred and in immense pain. He clutched his arm and rolled around his cage in agony, bawling out loudly.

[Jason Skywalker]

I liked this first chapter, very original, and doesn't show the way Jedi and such lived, but mercenaries and such. I like it.

[Diego Varen]

I liked this first chapter, very original, and doesn't show the way Jedi and such lived, but mercenaries and such. I like it.

 

Yeah me too. Keep the good work up Sabre. Just out of curiosity, how many parts are there?

[Sabretooth]

Yeah me too. Keep the good work up Sabre. Just out of curiosity, how many parts are there?

 

There are four parts to the story. The first which depicts Ancete's life before the War.

The second depicts Revan's life before the Jedi Civil War.

The third shows the rise of the Sith.

The last shows Malak's betrayal.

 

I have completed the intricate web of the first part, and I will most probably insert certain breaks between the parts to show transitions and such.

 

There will be frequent flashbacks, by the way. The second chapter will be up today.

 

And thanks for all the good stuff, guys!

[RC-1162]

went thru the chapters, and as usual, they just frickin pwn!

i'm keeping an eye on this for my mid-study break recreation time .

[Sabretooth]

Ancete woke up because of the sharp ringing of his personal communicator. He sat up on his bed and groaned. He had a blunt headache, but his body felt as good as new. His hands were augmented with various metal gadgets, all streamlined so as to not look odd. He examined his body and then coming back to reality; hit the Accept button on his communicator. An uncertain voice crackled to life. Ancete knew this voice: it was his faceless informer.

 

Months ago, an informer had begun working for Davik Kang and had soon taken a liking to Ancete, who always used good intelligence before formulating his plans. The informer never revealed himself, for safety purposes. But his intelligence was flawless. Not once had his knowledge faltered and he had always suggested Ancete on various methods to handle the situations. Ancete had always wanted to meet the Informer, but both the informer himself and Davik stopped him from doing so.

 

“Hey, Ancete! I’ve got stuff for you, about the newest haul.”

 

“Red Polly?”

 

“Yep, him. You secured his shipment?”

 

“It’s lying with us in Davik’s spice storehouse. We’re scattering it already. We’ll then pack it off to other Exchange spots. Got any stuff?”

 

“Yeah, I had been into Polly’s records. Turns out, once he had his haul secured, he conveniently segregated it into two parts. The first, which had the top-of-the-line Bakuran Lime Spice, went to Coruscant. The other which had everything else was scheduled for a place called Drofpana or something like that. An outer rim planet, I presume. Never heard of it.”

 

“Yeah, okay. I have the second shipment. I’ll check if it’s the right one. What about the first one, by the way?”

 

“It was going to some place on Coruscant. I don’t know. Red Polly deleted the co-ordinates once the ship left. He’s such a shrewd… Say, have you interrogated him?”

 

“No, but he probably has a luxurious penthouse suite in Davik’s guest room.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be going now. You want me to do anything else?”

 

“Tail the Coruscant shipment and give me a record of Polly’s loot. We’re going to squeeze in as much as we can. You’re getting, what, a twenty percent cut?”

 

“Fifteen.”

 

“I’m giving you thirty. Go, get my stuff and give me the co-ordinates.”

 

“Right.”

 

The informer signed off and Ancete plopped back on the bed. The Coruscant shipment meant that Red Polly was working on a massive scale and in the deepest of minutiae. Coruscant had always been a hub of activity, the lifeline of the galaxy, and the most closely monitored planet in the galaxy. There were dozens upon dozens of levels of Coruscant and the underworld had entwined itself with the rhythm of the planet. Yet, only the most elite crooks were worked on Coruscant. But despite everything, something seemed amiss to Ancete. He knew something was not right.

 

That would be solved by Red Polly. He got up and read a datacube that lay beside a projection out of the wall beside the door. It was a note from Davik advising him to take a medical test and check with the technical officer before he did anything.

 

 

 

“How much did he pay you?” Davik yelled at Red Polly, his face red with anger.

 

“I told you, he paid me half the cut!”

 

“Liar!” Davik yelled as he kicked Red.

 

He gestured at his repeater-equipped bodyguard. The latter eyed the weapon zealously and bashed Red with it. Red whimpered and screamed, but only suffered repeated hits. Davik laughed callously as he watched Red in agony. He stopped when the door opened and in strode a tall figure. It was Ancete, complete with his helmet: polished and glossy.

 

He wore a massive cape that covered him up like some sort of a majestic count. It went all around his shoulders and had a cleft in the front. He strode in with a demonic smile on his face as he showed his hands, covered in hands and packed with weaponry.

 

“Ancete, you look fantastic!” Davik remarked, a proud smile on his face, “Have you gotten used it?”

 

“I’ve got info. And that means bad news, Red.” Ancete announced, looking at Red Polly. He raised his helmet and handed it to a Duron worker.

 

Red only stared back in utter horror. He scrunched up together and slithered back.

 

“Tell me Red, where is the shipment?” Ancete asked.

 

“What shipment?” Red asked back through chokes.

 

“The other one? Bakuran Lime? Davik’s Haul? Ring a bell?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Red wailed.

 

“Oh, okay.” Ancete replied and turned to Davik. Just as Red’s muscles relaxed, Ancete sprung towards him, grabbed him by the collar and rammed him against the metal wall. Davik and the bodyguards shared a unanimous smile.

 

Ancete incessantly rammed the smuggler into the wall and then dropped him on the ground. He crouched down to face Red Polly.

 

“Remember anything?” he asked through clenched teeth.

 

“I sent it to Luften!” Red wailed. His face had gone into a pathetic colour of red and was soaked with tears.

 

“Where?” Ancete asked quirkily.

 

“Luf… Luften 9.”

 

Ancete got up and once again turned away, while he monitored Red through the corner of his eye. Davik had a pleased grin on him. He clutched a communicator in his hand. Ancete raised his hand to stop Davik from using it and then used the same hand to rain a devastating punch into Red’s stomach.

Red screamed and grabbed his stomach, rolling on the floor. Blood had started to curdle into his mouth. He was in intense agony, after suffering a powerful blow from Ancete’s metal fist.

 

“It’s on Coruscant, you kath hound!” Ancete yelled, picking up Red by his collar.

 

“I swear… It’s on… on Luften!” Red cried. Ancete had a hostile look in his eyes.

 

“He told me to!” Red snivelled as his body went limp from fear.

 

Ancete dropped him. “Who told you to?” Davik asked.

 

Red only sniffed.

 

“He’s been telling us of some great boss of his who’s directing him. He’s too much of a wimp to tell us who.” Davik spoke.

 

Ancete looked down at Red and jerked his foot to scare Red. Red screamed and jumped back.

 

“Dol… Dolomiri!” he shrieked.

 

There were confounded looks across the room.

 

“Dolomiri as in that bleeding CEO?”

 

“Yes. He paid me. He told me to do the steals. He did everything!”

 

Ancete picked him up and tossed him towards Davik. Red scrambled to his feet.

 

“I’ll do anything! I’ll work for you! I’ll tell you all my secrets! Anything, please don’t hurt me.” Red screamed.

 

“Dolomiri has a vendetta against the Exchange, doesn’t he?” Ancete asked Davik.

 

“Yeah, and this idiot might just be the key to blasting that bloated fool.”

 

“We’re using him?”

 

“Hell yeah.” Davik looked at the pathetic Red.

 

“Red Polly, you’ve just got a job.” He said.

 

Davik smiled and left the room with his bodyguard, while the prison droids tortured Red back to his cell and activated the laser fields. Something told Ancete that this wasn’t such a good idea. That something big was going to happen in the future. Ancete felt uncertain, but he ignored it all. He picked up his helmet from the hands of the Duron worker and left the room.

[Diego Varen]

Another good Chapter Sabretooth. This Fic seems to remind me of GTA Vice City , because of the discussions between Davik Kang and Red Polly. I'm looking foward to more.

[Sabretooth]

LOL, I've never played GTA, ironically. I would have even inserted swear words, to be honest, if it weren't for the whole PG-13 thing our mods have...

 

 

“Profanity is the crutch of a conversational cripple.” —Jay Alexander

We want to keep things family friendly so that the younger folks here don't get excluded. There's not many times where an expletive is better than another choice. --Jae

[Diego Varen]

I wouldn't. I don't really swear on the Forums or in real life. Looking foward to Chapter III though.

[Jason Skywalker]

Good chapter, the discussion was pure genius. This has a nice future.

[RC-1162]

excellent chapter, Sabre. its good to see a story about the nice common mercs rather than the jedi all the time. very nice!

[Sabretooth]

“Profanity is the crutch of a conversational cripple.” —Jay Alexander

We want to keep things family friendly so that the younger folks here don't get excluded. There's not many times where an expletive is better than another choice. --Jae

 

I understand, Jae.

 

I wanted to portray the Galactic Underworld as grim, realistic and dark as possible. Every character you see here is a shade of grey. Everybody is a double-crosser and throat-slitter.

 

Besides, there is the audience's imagination to fill in the rest...

[Sabretooth]

Jarros Czerka was not in a good mood. He sat alone in his plush board room. The long, irregular hexagonal table lay before him, all of its displays and holo-messages disabled. Jarros’ head was in his hands. He had messed up at this board meeting. Jarros had never been particularly good at conducting business, but being the son of a luxuriously affluent father meant that some things came without choice.

 

Jarros never dreamt of becoming a successful businessman. His father had strived from the depths of adversity and made his way up the commercial ladder to be the rich owner of Czerka Corporations, one of the most triumphant multiplanetary corporations in years. Jarros had lived a life of opulence, of the finest education, of the fine things in life and of everything his father could never afford when he was Jarros’ age.

 

Jarros’ father was Kyvsa Czerka. Also known as the Senior Czerka, Kyvsa was many things to many people. Once he had been a hopeless labourer in the lower city of Taris. Once he had hauled spice loads from Coruscant. He had gambled with the best of pazaak players in his century and had lived a life of great risk, adventure and adversity. Kyvsa’s parents belonged to a radical human community migrated to Taris. Because of their unusual, almost alien customs, they had been banished from the Upper City and were forced to live in dirt.

 

The iron-fisted CEO of the Czerka Corporation, Kyvsa Czerka was out on a meeting on the rolling plains of Alderaan. He had given his responsibilities to his son, whom he believed to be suitably capable in the work. The recent stock blunder Jarros had created was making waves already. Czerka had already lost a large sum when one of their biggest and richest projects had been ambushed by the Mandalorians. Czerka Corporation had been dwarfed by this incidence. More losses from Jarros only meant Czerka was impoverished further.

 

The board meeting that was held recently proved the young Czerka’s arrogance and incapability. He had blown it all and had been charged responsible for the dive the company had taken in the past week. Jarros needed a messiah to liberate him from this mess.

 

His holocommunication device rang. Jarros hit it impulsively. It was his personal secretary, Ferrnia Turee. Ferrnia was aged and had served as Kyvsa’s secretary for years upon years.

 

“Hello, Jarros. I heard about the meeting. I’m sorry.”

 

“I don’t care, Ferrnia. I really don’t.” he spoke, “But I want to bring it back. I want to bring back Czerka’s prestige. I want to… recover my losses.”

 

“Very ambitious, Jarros. And very admirable. But how will you do that?”

 

“My father… You said my father had ties with criminals?”

 

Ferrnia fell silent and stared into Jarros.

 

“You’re not…”

 

“You heard right. I want to enter that world. I want to take back my world – the way my father built it.”

 

Ferrnia didn’t speak. She sat on her desk, shifting files and managing her computer.

 

“You helped him, Ferrnia.”

 

“Boy, this doesn’t go as you think it does. There are complications, considerations. You are not your father, Jarros.”

 

“Enough, Ferrnia!” Jarros exploded, “I’ve had enough of comparisons between me and my father! All those freaked executives were doing, is bloody shout at me for not being my father!”

 

Ferrnia was alarmed at the outburst. She had never seen Jarros so frustrated, so angry before. Even through the blue holocom, she could sense a tinge of red in his face. His eyes were ghastly red.

 

“Calm down, son. That’s not what I meant.” She explained, “What I meant was, that your father, when he started out, was a nobody. He was just another organism on Taris, and that is how he got in. You, son, are the son of a Corporation Giant. You can’t walk on the street. You’ve got bodyguards around you. Things are different, son.”

 

Jarros dropped back down and threw his head in his hand and shook his head. His mind drifted back to when Ferrnia had first mentioned Czerka’s dealings with the Underworld. Ferrnia had said that Kyvsa had borrowed money from a rich crime lord, whose business was pretty much loaning money. Kyvsa was an adroit businessman and very persuasive. He paid Davik ‘gifts’ as a replacement for his payback. Eventually Davik forgot the loan, while Czerka rose as a business icon.

 

“Whom did father borrow his initial capital from?” Jarros asked, lifting his head.

“Davik Kang, a crime lord on Taris. Both were young at that time, though I think Davik still operates a large crime organization – The Exchange. Very notorious business.”

 

A gleam of hope flashed in Jarros’ eyes. He couldn’t explain why.

“And he never repaid the loan?”

 

“No, never. He maintained good relations with Kang, somehow. He had an influence on him.”

 

Jarros was about to say something, but he stopped abruptly and combed through his dark blonde hair with his hand.

 

“You’re not planning on repaying it, are you?” Ferrnia, who knew Jarros’ mannerisms all too well asked.

 

“It can get me in the league…” he spoke, his face lighting up in an excited smirk.

 

“No, Jarros, please, don’t…”

 

“Don’t you understand? This is an opportunity! This is my best opportunity. If I can repay Davik’s loan, I might go off on good relations with him.”

 

“And what good would that do, other than throw you into bad reputation?”

 

“A lot, Ferrnia! You don’t get it! Thank you!” he answered hurriedly and turned off the holocom. He jumped to his feet and scrambled out to find his Personal Assistant.

 

 

 

Lottis Dolomiri sat in his deluxe, executive-class shuttle as it scoured the Coruscant landscape. Lottis glimpsed out of his shuttle to see the beautiful plethora of skyscrapers and metal sheets, which substituted soil. The sky had dimmed into a romantic violet hue and Dolomiri wished if only he could step out into the open and smell the fresh air, and feel the brilliant openness of the world. He had that much freedom when he was young, but all that was only a nostalgic fantasy now, as he had become one of the most recognised people in the world.

 

His holocom device buzzed the special “Urgent” theme and Dolomiri switched it on. He motioned for his bodyguards to leave the room. As he had expected, it was Dark Griffin.

 

“Hello, Dolomiri.” He spoke.

 

“What happened? I’m en route to…” Dolomiri spoke, irritated.

 

“I have bad news. Red Polly defected.”

 

“What?” Dolomiri asked, alarmed. His forehead scrunched into a frown.

“He swore allegiance to Davik. He even exposed your name. I tried to get him out, but he’s gone too far.”

 

“I’ll bloody have his butt incinerated! He won’t get of this alive!” Dolomiri shouted.

 

“Calm down, Lottis. I’ll take him out. The Exchange can’t touch you, you know that. And you can’t touch Red. He’s on hyper-level protection. Davik wants as much as he can from Red.”

 

“Right, and I wait for the scoundrel to reveal our…”

 

“He has revealed our smuggling and pirating operations. Davik might take a shot at us. You have the shipment?”

 

“Yeah, it’s still my warehouse, why?”

 

“Decided to sell it yet?”

 

“I don’t know… I’ve sent an executive over to Czerka’s. He’s a very persuasive fellow and wanted to do the work. Weird, ain’t it? He’s even worked at Czerka’s.”

 

“Do you trust him?” Griffin asked coldly.

 

“Yeah, sort of.”

 

“Good, what will you do with the money?”

 

“What?” Lottis asked, expecting another instruction.

 

“You will surrender it to me. I will use the money to help you.”

 

“How frank. How about we stop this plan and I use the money to help myself?”

 

“You cannot. But that is too much talk. Concentrate on the now.”

 

The connection suddenly died, and Dolomiri didn’t bother resurrecting it. He snapped the device back into his suit and called the bodyguards to come back in. He then continued gazing out the window.