[fic] The False Peace

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

We want chapters!

We want chapters!

We want chapters!

 

I suppose I should wait... I'm sure with all this time dedicated to writing it, the next chapters will be double the great standard the other chapters are.

 

 

I appreciate the enthusiasm, Burnseyy!

 

Sorry, won´t be posting any until I´m back from vacation. Right now I´m relying on internet cafes just to post. Just my luck that my laptop busts literally 5 hours before I have top leave for Spain. The next chapter is the best yet, IMO, got the first battle scenes.

 

Double the great standard huh? I hope so, though I doubt it. I´m still writing at the same speed (about a chapter every 2-5 days) though didn´t write for my first 2 1/2 weeks here. I just would rather use my limited computer time to post, rather than post a chap than sign off...yeah I´m the slowest typer ever. I´m going home on the 16 of August. Not too much more of a wait.

 

Incidentally, Burnseyy has graciously agreed to do some art for the fic, to help everybody visualize the characters. At the rate she draws, it will probably be up before the next chapter is. Sorry for the wait.

 

-HOP

[Darth_Yuthura]

 

Incidentally, Burnseyy has graciously agreed to do some art for the fic, to help everybody visualize the characters. At the rate she draws, it will probably be up before the next chapter is. Sorry for the wait.

 

-HOP

 

Quality is always more important than quantity. If you post and it's not great, we don't read and ask for more. If you don't post, we don't post and say 'great story.' If you post again and again and it's bad, we post to say 'stop writing!'

 

I won't post to demand for more... just write for the best and we'll be watching. Thanks for the story you've already written and good luck in the future.

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Thanks!

 

I'm typing up the next chapter now, but as I've said, I'm a slow typer, so its like a project for me. I have many chapters written already, so writing is not the problem, its the typing. Combine my horrible typing skills with jet lag and summer projects...not good. I still have about half of the chapter to type though. Thanks for putting up with my slowness.

 

~HOP

[Burnseyy]

I thought you'd updated the story, then!

I was like 'eee!'

 

:¬:

 

Why did god refuse to gift a good writer with fast typing?

 

Only god does know.

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Chapter Three: The Chip

 

Jorrin Ptakh´s face turned as white as alabaster as the captain of Coruscant Security briefed him on the events that had taken place a mere twenty minutes ago, regarding Arno Aering. Jorrin numbly thanked the man for telling him the news and ended the transmision.

 

Outside Jorrin´s office, was the main floor of CCI. Jacen was leaning on the edge of Marit´s metal desk, as she typed.

 

"So you have no idea who the-" Jacen paused and looked around to make sure that no one else could hear, "the traitor is then?" Conveniently, Marit´s workstation was located in a corner of the main floor, so chances of being overheard were slight. Still, it didn´t hurt to check.

 

"No," Marit sighed, "I´ve been trying to search out people´s feelings through the force. But so far I have not got anything."

 

"Great," said Jacen, " Well between you, me, and Jorrin, hopefully we can sort out this mess quickly before any damage is done. Compile every CCI employee´s record and background info and send it to my screen. I´m at station sixteen."

 

"O.K., but you´ll have to wait," said Marit, tucking a loose strand of light brown hair behind her ear, "Taran´s got me formatting these files, annd I still have to add extra layers of security to the mainframe."

 

"Forget the files, said Jacen impatiently,"This is more important."

 

"You got it," said Marit, not taking her eyes off her screen.

 

"What are you doing Zarek?" came an irritated voice from behind. Jacen turned. Taran Vhek stood there, his arms crossed, his eyebrow raised in a mocking way. "You don´t work here. Marit is under my authority and I want her to format those files."

 

"I need her for something else," said Jacen shortly. He didn´t have time for Taran´s squabbling.

 

"What else?"

 

Jacen bit back a retort. He took a deep breath, gathering his patience. "Look, Taran, we bare both trying to acomplish the same thing here. Let's not get in each others way, O.K.?"

 

"What else?" repeated Taran with a thouroughly unchanged expression.

 

"Come on Taran," wheedled Marit, "The leading candidate for chancellor has an assassination threat aimed at him today. Can´t you think of something more productive to do than this?"

 

Taran stared at her and for moment, it appeared that Marit´s strategy had worked. But then- "Just get on those files Marit." He turned on his heel and walked away.

 

"Jorrin didn´t call in a senior analyst and jedi here at two in the morning to 'format files!'" Jacen called after him, but Taran did not give any sign that he heard. Jacen forced himself to calm down. He used a jedi calming technique, breathing in and out, in and out...

 

"Don´t let him get to you," said Marit, he´s just..." But apparently, Marit could not decide just what Taran was, and after a slightly awkward pause, resumed typing.

 

"Don´t worry," she saiud looking up, "I´ll get Nakaya on those files, she will help."

 

"Thanks," said Jacen, smileing in spite opf himself, admiring the coolness with which Marit had delt with the situation. She tried her best to make the situation go the way she wanted, but when it didn´t she made the best of it. This was something he felt he lacked at times. He vowed to work on it.

 

Suddenly Marit´s comm unit rang. She pressed one of the many flashing buttons. "CCI, Tech Department, this is Thel-Tanis." She listened for a moment. "Uh-huh, alright, I´ll tell him."

 

Jacen looked at her questioningly.

 

Director Pt - I mean Jorrin wants to see you in his office."

 

Jacen ascended the hard metal stairs to Jorrin´s office, which was perched on a platform, so that he could see all of CCI´s main floor through the glass walls. Jacen´s robes flapped wildly, due to the speed of his ascent, smacking the metal railings, making a loud "pong, pong, pong" sound.

 

He was moving so fast that he almost knocked over Nakaya, who was clibing down the stairs with great difficulty, her eyes barely visible over the enormous stack of durasheets she was carrying.

 

"Sorry," said Jacen, using the force to pick up the scattered durasheets and place them back in Nakaya´s arms.

 

"Thanks," she grunted in an irked tone, though Jacen sensed it was because of her workload, rather than the fact that he had bumped into her.

 

At last he reached the glass dors of Jorrin´s office. Through them, he could see Jorrin, sitting in a chair behind a desk, talking into a comm unit. Jacen knocked lightly on the glass door and Jorrin motioned for him to enter.

 

"-don´t care what kind of breifing Charlev is in," Jorrin was saying in a tonbe that suggested this was not the first time he had tried to explain this. "This is more important, trust me." He closed his eyes in a defeated sort of way as the person he was talking to answered him. "Yeah, fine, you do that." Jorrin stabbed the "end transmission" button with wonton venom. "Schutta!" he hissed. He looked up at Jacen.

 

"I was trying to reach our district director," said Jorrin, massaging his temples. "But he is unreachable for the next two hours. I´m afraid I have bad news."

 

"What is it sir?"asked Jacen quietly. He could sense that this news, whatever it was, upset Jorrin greatly. He could feel that Jorrin was barely holding it together. Jacen waited patiently as Jorrin gathered his bearings. He found that he was growing rather fond of Jorrin; he had accepted the jedi despite Taran´s objections and was very kind to Marit as he had pleaded her case to the regional director of CCI, which had allowed Marit to work here and ultimately follow her ambition to becaome a jedi tech.

 

"My...my conteact, Arno Aering, was shot less than 30 minutes ago. He didn´t make it.

 

"I´m sorry Jorrin," said Jaqcen sincerely, as he fingered a piece of his robe, determindly looking anywhere but Jorrin´s eyes which were quite red.

 

"He was a good friend," said Jorrin, staring at a spot over Jacen´s shoulder, caught up in an old reverie of his friend. After a minute, he shook his head an cleared his throat gruffly. "But anyway," he said trying to look uneffected, and doing a very poor job of it, "The republic soldiers that went to investigate found a chip on his...body. I´m sure it´s the chip, Jedi Zarek.

 

"The chip with the info on the traitor, inside CCI, you mean."

 

Jorrin nodded sagely. "I´m going over there, now, to pick it up and I´d like you to come with me." He eyed Jacen warily, as though expecting him to refuse.

 

Jacen knew that he was going to accompany Jorrin long before he finished the question. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

 

*__________*___________*______________*________*

 

The pazaak den called The Hive was bustling with energy and life. Virago Nual stepped through the front doors taking in deep breath as though savoring the air. The air inside The Hive was nowhere near worth savoring though. It was hot, dense, and filled with a heavy scent of smoke, from its patron’s excessive use of the vice.

 

The Hive was so different from the temple, Virago mused. Emotions ran rampant. Greed, envy, lust, triumph, defeat…yes, these were things that Virago would never feel at the temple. Yet, he appreciated the realness of it all – real people, with real emotions – not jedi who used all their strength to hold back their emotions. The Hive reminded Virago of Javyar’s Cantina on Taris, before its destruction.

 

Virago was a fairly good pazaak player and continued practiced the game despite the frowns it earned him at the temple. He had won a few games here before, and had earned some respect, which had been extra hard to gain due to the fact that he was a jedi, and they were generally treated with a feeling of contempt after the Jedi Civil War and the Mandelorian Wars. He scanned the room.

 

The Hive was made up of one large, dimly lit room that had many nooks dotting the walls, in which games could be played in relative privacy. Other pazaak tables were set on large lighted platforms. This was where the master pazaak players gathered, in high view, while others watched them play. A vast bar took up one wall all by itself, and in the center of the room was a circular stage on which scantily clad twi’lek women were dancing suggestively around poles, amid the whoops and cheers of the male patrons.

 

Virago spotted an empty table close by and sat down, Aruil and Duran following suit. Virago ordered a drink, while he talked to Duran, turning his back on Aruil, who after all, was not supposed to be here. After about a minute, the drinks came. Duran who was opposed to alcohol just got a Jawa juice. Virago treated himself to a Tarisian Ale, which was rather expensive after the desecration of Taris, and Aruil was sipping at a bright blue drink with numerous fruits around the edge of the wide glass, that Virago had never seen before. Virago took a large gulp of the Tarisian Ale and continued his conversation, again acting like Aruil was nothing more than a wall decoration. He was glad Duran was with him. He didn’t know how he would be able to stand it here with just Aruil.

 

“Lets find a game, Duran,” said Virago over the music voices of loud, roudy pazaak players. “Aruil if you just want to-” he looked around, realizing that Aruil was no longer sitting next to him. “Where did she run off to?” Duran quickly scanned the room and pointed to a table near them.

 

Virago stared at the table, unable to believe what he was seeing. At the table was seated a pair of Trandoshans, that looked as if they could break a human in half with their bare hands; a shady looking, male, twi’lek with sickly looking green lekku; a female Zeltron who wore a rather wicked grin, but very little clothing; and an enormous human male whose forearms were about as thick as Virago’s thighs. Seated between this man, and one of the Trandoshans was Aruil. She was triumphantly scooping a pile of credits towards herself. She had obviously just won a game.

 

Virago heard her speak in her misty voice. “Well as I’m a jedi, I don’t really need these credits, so you can do what you want with them. I’ll just take these ten to buy a new ruduare root.”

 

“A what?” asked the Zeltron with an expression that suggested she had just swallowed a mound of bantha fodder. Clearly she had not expected to lose to a 15 year-old jedi girl.

 

“Oh, they are great for warding off Nagging Wamblefurs. Here,” she said vaguely, as she dug through her bag, emptying its contents, shoving a bracelet made of leaves and bottle caps, a few grubby durasheets, and a considerable amount of what appeared to be dried animal droppings into the burly man’s hands before pulling out a large, orange, object that looked more like an overgrown strawberry than anything else.

 

“This,” Aruil said with a pleasant smile, “is a ruduare root. Keep it if you like, I’m going to get a new one anyway.” She dropped the ruduare root into the woman’s hands. Aruil continued to stare at the Zeltron, her head cocked like a dogs, clearly not interpreting the woman’s open- mouthed shock for what it really was. She casually scooped the contents out of the man’s hands and back into her bag. She saw Virago, and rose from her seat and strode over to him with the fluid, graceful steps of her humanoid species, the Teevan.

 

“You- you play pazaak then?” asked Virago weakly.

She nodded and smiled. “Yes, a bit.”

 

Virago played pazaak with Duran and Aruil. As it turned out, Aruil was not a skilled pazaak player, but her strangeness unnerved the other players so much that they had trouble concentrating, and as a result lost. When they had first met, Virago had seen Aruil a nuisance and nothing more. But as they played pazaak, he had to admit she was growing on him. He could tell Duran felt the same way. Now, he laughed at Aruils comments, rather than being put out by them, getting a good laugh at the astonished and confused looks of the other patrons. At one point, Aruil had suggested to a woman that she was suffering from a bought of bad luck brought on by a Nagging Wamblefur and recommended rubbing ruduare root all over herself while standing in a bucket of leechy nuts. At this point, Virago had inhaled his ale up his nose.

 

But somehow Virago could not fully enjoy himself. He started to feel a shadow in the back of his mind. At first it was such a quiet thing that he did not notice, but now, it was growing, expanding like writhing tentacle of some slimy sea creature, in the ocean of his mind. He tried to shake it off. His vision was sliding out of focus. He felt himself sway backwards and forwards in his chair. Maybe the alcohol was getting to him. He felt a strong hand steady him in his seat, and his eyes snapped back into focus. The steadying hands he could see belonged to Duran.

 

“Virago, what’s wrong?” Duran inquired in his deep Zabrak voice.

 

“I don’t know, its just…” Virago swallowed, getting a shuddering up his spine that he could not understand. Duran turned to the Quarren with whom they were playing.

 

“We are done here. Take your money and go.” The fish-faced alien plucked his winnings off the table, silently chuffing with laughter at the weakness of humans. Duran turned back to Virago.

 

Virago spoke. “I feel a threat growing in my mind. I can’t place it but something is not right here.”

 

There was a pause. “I feel it too,” breathed Duran closing his eyes in concentration. A yellow eyed alien had just walked into The Hive his eyes fixed on the three young jedi…

 

Virago could not see the alien, but all the instincts that he trusted on Taris and the force were urging him to leave. He looked over at Duran.

 

“Lets go, we should go through the backdoor.” Duran nodded in agreement. “Aruil, we are leaving,” said Virago, expecting resistance. But she merely nodded, shouldered her bag and followed. The three jedi weaved between tables and patrons. Dodging a server who was carrying an enormous tray of drinks in various colors, Virago located a side door. Good enough, he thought. “Through here,” he murmured, placing a hand on the hilt of his lightsaber.

 

As surreptitiously as possible, the threesome slipped through the door and into the alley, that separated The Hive from the closed café next door.

 

Virago scanned the alley and crept stealthily to the edge of it. He unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, and Duran and Aruil followed suit. He peered around the corner. The street was completely deserted. Something was very wrong here. He switched his lightsaber to his right hand, wiping a sweaty, lighsaber-free hand on his robes. He heard a soft scraping behind him, but it was only Aruil, who for some strange reason was adjusting her horn shaped canteen at her waist. He could not even imagine why she had brought such a thing in the first place.

 

Virago’s vivid blue eyes caught something behind Aruil – it was a small glimmer, like glowing eyes.

 

“Aruil, behind you!” shouted Virago. Aruil whirled around just in time to be knocked flat by a punch from the yellow eyed, black skinned alien. His fist hit her square in the jaw and with a surprised “Oh!”, she fell flat on her back. Virago ignited his hissing orange saber, while Duran drew two short purple blades.

 

Before either of them could react, suddenly, behind the alien appeared about twenty floating sentry droids, their blasters aimed at the jedi.

 

“Stunners only,” ordered the alien in a rough gravely voice. “We need them alive.” The droids opened fire, their stunners filling the air.

 

Virago rapidly swung his saber upward, deflecting the bolts, barely reacting in time. He stretched out his hand, and with an invisible push of the force, sent a droid crashing into a wall, where it shattered, leaving nothing more than a smoking heap on the ground. Gathering the force around him, he jumped high into the air, above the droids taking out two with one swing, their shots missing him by so small a margin, that he could feel their heat as they zinged past.

 

Duran jabbed a droid in the head aggressively with one lightsaber and buried the other, in a second droid’s control panel. Aruil got to her feet and ignited her silver-bladed lightsaber. Unlike Duran, who was using aggressive thrusts and strikes, Aruil fought in a more graceful manner. She angled her lightsaber so it deflected four shots at once, taking down a droid. Another droid suddenly wheeled around and headed straight for her, firing rapidly. Using her flexible Teevan body she bent over backwards so far that her head almost touched the ground, narrowly avoiding the shots. Before she could dispatch the it, a deflected shot from Duran took it down.

 

Virago and Duran fought back to back. Sweat dripped down from Virago’s dirty-blond hair and into his eyes, stinging them, and blurring his vision. A bolt grazed his shoulder and he cried out in pain. He switched his lightsaber to his left hand and swung it in a sweeping arc, taking down a droid that had come too close. He spun his lightsaer in a circle deflecting bolts, destroying another droid. Behind him, he heard a grunt and a clang, the sound of a droid hitting the ground. Duran had felled another.

 

Aruil, meanwhile had taken out the two droids that had been attacking her and faced the towering, muscular, alien. He drew a wicked looking vibro blade and swung it threateningly. To his surprise, Aruil, clipped her own saber to her belt, and popped open the lid of her canteen. She moved her arms up in a fluid motion and took a wide stance. As her arms moved up, water flowed from her canteen, like a river. She was using the force to control the water. She wielded the water like a whip, it curled around the alien’s vibro blade and wrenched it from his hands. The alien stumbled against a wall from the power of the blow, and his momentary shock gave Aruil all the time she needed. She gatherd the water to her, forming it into a sphere, before sending it hurling back towards the alien. As the water rushed towards him, Aruil, drew a deep breath and released it. The water froze as it touched the alien, it gathered at his wrists and ankles, forming cuffs of ice, pinning him to the wall.

 

Aruil gave the alien a vague, but triumphant smile as he struggled to break free. Blood was still dripping from where he had hit her. But she failed to notice the blaster bolts heading for her back.

 

Virago came to her aid. He sprinted towards her, stretching out his arm as far as it would go. His blade blocked the bolts, saving Aruil. He whirled around just in time, deflecting shots that were now redirected at him. Next to him, Aruil used her remaining water to reform the whip. She lashed out, her whip striking a droid, making a deep gash in its side. With a flick of her wrist, she brought the whip sailing around again, curling around a droid that was attacking Virago. With a tug she sent it careening into a wall.

 

Two more yellow-eyed aliens appeared heading straight for Duran. With a jolt, Virago realized that in saving Aruil, he had left Duran completely unprotected. “Duran, run!” he yelled. The three jedi dashed at top speed out of the ally directing shots aimed at them. The first alien broke free of his ice cuffs and joined the other two in barreling after the jedi. The droids were not so agile, and often crashed while trying to navigate around the corner.

 

The jedi bolted down the walkway. Virago looked around wildly for a crowd to hide in, but the area was completely deserted. Duran’s powerful Zabrak legs and Virago ran at top speed to keep up. Aruil, sprinted after them, her white-blond hair bouncing madly behind her. After running for about ten minutes, Virago chanced a look over his shoulder. The aliens and droids were nowhere in sight. He stopped ruinning.

 

“I think we lost them,” he panted. Aruil stood next to him, lightly feeling her bleeding jaw, wincing in pain as she touched it. Duran looked shaken, though unhurt.

 

“Who were those guys?” asked Virago, “And why were they after us?”

 

“Bounty hunters, sent to kill us, I assume.” Said Aruil in a casual voice, as though discussing the weather.

 

“He said he wanted us alive though,” said Virago, his mind racing, “He told the droids to use stunners, remember?”

 

“Bounty hunters sent to capture us then,” Aruil amended, “Oh, and I dropped my bag – I had my credits in there – now I won’t be able to buy a new ruduare root,” she said remorsefully, looking down at where the bag should have hung.

 

“Nevermind that now,” said Virago taking charge of the situation. “Those guys are still out there, looking for us. We have to get back to the temple.”

 

The three sprinted down the strangely empty walkway, Duran in the lead. He turned the corner, and ran headlong into one of the yellow-eyed aliens. The alien quickly jabbed Duran with a Bothan Stunner. Taking advantage of this momentary weakness, the alien wasted no time in securing Duran’s arms in an iron-hard grip.

 

Virago rushed forward to help, but stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a scuffle behind him. He looked around and saw that Aruil was being held by another of the aliens. The quickness and abruptness of these captures was alarming. Duran struggled valiantly against his captor, managing to knick him with one of his sharp Zabrak horns. This earned him an extra jab from the Bothan Stunner. The alien drew a small, silver knife, and held it up to Duran’s throat.

 

Virago stood in the middle, a captured companion on each side. He had ignited his lightsaber, but held it loosely at his side, unsure of what to do. If he tried to save one surely the other would die. He could not do that to either of them. Duran was his best friend…but he could not just abandon Aruil to death either.

 

“Drop your weapon or the both die,” the alien growled at Virago.

 

Virago looked at Duran’s eyes which were filled with fear, but also determination. Virago froze. He could not sentence his friends to death by acting, but he could not just give in either. Everything seemed to go silent, except for the beating of his heart. He could feel it beating faster, and faster. His eyes darting between a still struggling Duran, and Aruil, who was limply standing at her captor’s side in a defeated sort of way. Virago’s muscles cramped up painfully, his eyes watering, at a loss for what to do.

 

“Don’t give then your lightsaber, Virago!” yelled Duran in a choked voice, the silver blade drawing blood from his neck. But for Virago, there was only one choice, at this point.

 

He deactivated his lightsaber, and rolled it towards the alien before putting his hands in the air.

 

But Duran, continued to fight. He kicked back, hard. The alien gasped in pain, as the third one grabbed Virago’s arms in a crushing grip. He eyed a struggling Duran with contempt.

 

“That one is too much trouble. Kill him.”

 

“No,” screamed Virago, as the alien drew a blaster pistol.

 

Duran’s alien pushed him hard against the wall. Duran swung his fists wildly, decking the closest alien right in the nose. The alien aimed his blaster at Duran’s stomach, and shot him. A huge weight dropped into Virago’s stomach. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. He could feel his lips uttering Duran’s name, though he could not hear it. Duran’s eyes filled with shock and pain, as he fell to the ground, his hand over his wound, a defeated warrior.

 

Virago, felt a painful lump form in his throat, hot tears steaming from his eyes. Duran was his best friend, he couldn’t die.

 

Duran hit the ground with a sickening crunch, his right leg at an awkward angle. As he fell, he looked up, seeing Virago being dragged off, struggling to get back to him. It was with great despair that Duran’s head finally hit the ground, knowing that Virago, his best friend, was being dragged off to torture and suffering – and he was helpless to do anything about it. His eyes fluttered closed, and felt his breath leave him, as he lay sprawled on the ground.

 

Virago struggled to reach him, but suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, and all went dark.

 

*___________________*_________________*__________________*

 

 

Senator Matrik Jace strode into the conference room of his campaign headquarters. His staff – his speech writers, finance managers, event coordinators, as well as several of his bodyguards, were already there, seated in the cushioned; yet somehow uncomfortable chairs around the long table. They all stood as he entered.

 

“Sit,” said Jace, waving a hand for them to do so.

 

Jace took a seat at the head of the table, his wife, Marlena on one side, Tyro on the other. All eyes, from Tyros large fishy ones to Marlena’s dark brown ones, that matched her skin, were on the large monitor mounted on one of the room’s six walls.

 

Despite everyone’s expressions of calm and confidence, there was a definite tension in the air. Marlena bit her lip nervously, while Jace sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him still staring at the blank monitor intently, as though there was nothing he would rather be doing. He cleared his throat, and as if on cue, the screen flickered, and buzzed to life. On it were three people. On the left was a vurk wearing brown jedi robes; on the right was a bald human male with dark brown skin, even darker than Jace’s; and in the middle was another human, with spiky black hair and a grim expression.

 

“You are on with Senator Jace,” announced Tyro, glancing from the vurk to the humans, unsure whom he should be addressing. The man in the middle spoke.

 

“I’m Taran Vhek, Deputy Director of CCI’s east Coruscant branch. With me are our head of Security and Field Operations, Kel Ratrin,” he said inclining his head to the dark skinned man, “and Jedi Knight Vorzar Kahbei, the Jedi Order’s liaison to CCI.”

 

Jace frowned. “I was under the impression that I was going to be talking to your director, Jorrin Ptakh,” boomed Jace in a calm, yet unyielding, deep, voice.

 

“He had to –er – step out,” answered Taran quickly, “but I assure you, my colleges and I can answer any questions you have.”

 

Jace nodded. “Very well, continue Mr. Vhek.”

 

“Yes sir. We aquired this information from an agent of ours stationed on Narr Shaddaa. He was found dead along with his crew, shortly after he gave us the information, and an investigation is being made into that as we speak.” Taran drew a breath. “The intelligence from this agent suggested that there would be an attempt on your life today. His datapad is badly damaged, but he kkept a backup of all his files on a disk, and that is being brought back to CCI now.”

 

“Do we now who is orchestrating this assassination threat?” asked Tyro, resting his chin thoughtfully on his flippered hand.

 

“We don’t know that sir, nor do we have any idea who the assassin might be.”

 

“So this assassin could be on Coruscant now?” asked Tyro, a note of fear in his voice.

 

It is quite probable that the assassin is here now, though exactly where, we can’t say, said Kel Ratrin, stroking his goatee. “It is clear that this threat is supposed to go down today.”

 

Marlena wet her lips with her tongue. “Why did they target my husband? Out of all the other candidates, why did they pick him?” she asked, her voice quivering slightly.

 

“Again, we don’t know,” responded Taran. “We-”

 

“What do we know?” interrupted Jace in an exasperated tone, his eyebrows knitting together. He was beginning to think this was a waste of time.

 

Taran made to speak, but Vorzar stopped him. “We know that these are serious people. They killed seven highly-trained field agents on Narr Shaddaa, and they want you dead, today.”

 

Jace stared at the vurk, who did not look away. Most people were intimidated by Jaces huge size and intense gaze, but Vorzar, clearly, was not one of those people. Jace addressed Vorzar with newfound respect, an approving gleam in his eye. “Very well, and I ologize for my impatience. I am sure you are all doing the very best that you can. Jedi Knight Kahbei, contact me when you have something more concrete.” Vorzar nodded.

 

The monitor switched off. Everyone scrambled out of their chairs, bustling about, doing the many jobs that were required to run a successful campaign. Jace however, remained in his seat. He had a lot to think about.

 

=============================

Directly below this I am posting the rest of chapter three. It was too long to post all of it together, according to forum rules. (there is a 40,000 character limit)...geez, didnt think it was that long. [/B]

 

~HOP

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Chapter 3 contd:

 

Jacen and Jorrin stepped out of the nondescript CCI speeder. Jacen inhaled a breath of Coruscant’s cool night air. He looked up at the towering, glittering edifice before him and read the sign over the door: “Omnicorp Galactical.”

 

“It’s a private investigation agency,” explained Jorrin, “I paid Arno to keep an eye on CCI’s electronic data. Never really thought he would find anything important though…certainly nothing like this.”

 

Jacen nodded blankly. He could not help, but think about Marit, back at CCI. She was, at this very moment, inside the same building as the traitor. He trusted Marit’s abilities, but he still feared for her. They had saved each other’s lives to many times to count; yet something about this whole situation made him shudder, and wanted to get back, chip in hand, as soon as possible. He also had a bad, sinking, feeling about Virago that he could not shake, ever since entering CCI.

 

Before he left CCI with Jorrin, he briskly told Marit where he was going and why. She had gasped at the news of Arno’s death. But she could tell that something was bothering Jacen as well.

 

“Jacen?” she asked quietly. There was no need to say anymore, Jacen knew what she meant.

 

Jacen moved closer to Marit. He hesitated. “Its just…I feel like I’m not doing my job.”

 

“Doing your – what do you mean? This mission with Jorrin is above and beyond what your ‘job’ requires,” said Marit passionately. “You’re job is to protect Senator Jace. The chip ultimately helps with that. We can’t afford to have a traitor in our midst, hindering our progress at every turn. You are doing more than your job by going out and retrieving it. Jorrin asked for your help. This was totally voluntary.”

 

Jacen inwardly smiled at Marit’s quick defense of him, but the smile didn’t reach his lips. “I meant my job as a master – my job to Virago. In protecting Jace, I abandoned Virago in his time of need. I should not have done that.”

 

“Jacen-”

 

“No,” said Jacen flatly, “you don’t know what its like,nhaving your master abandon you for the sake of a jedi mission.”

 

“You’re right, I don’t,” said Marit her eyes shining, “…help me to understand, my friend.”

 

Jacen sat down next to her, his chair groaning as he sat down with such force, his black jedi robes draping over the sides. He took a deep breath. “When my master, Ankare Solaar, left to fight in the Jedi Civil War on the orders of the council, I felt…lost. The pain of having someone you care for leave you when you need them most…it’s a burden no padawan should have to bear. The council just sent him to war without a second thought. They made poor decisions and others had to pay the price. After that, I just could not live in the temple, and I lost whatever respect I once held for the council. I went into self exile. During that time, I heard that Ankare died in a terrible battle.”

 

Marit had guessed most of what Jacen was telling her, but this was the first time he had actually confided the information in her. “I’m sorry Jacen,” she mumbled awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. “It must have been hard to here about Ankare.”

 

“That’s just it though,” said Jacen gulping, “I- I didn’t feel anything. I shut myself out. I didn’t let myself feel emotions. It was like a sub-human existence: living on some backwater cesspool of a planet, scratching a pitiful existence off whatever I could get,” he said with a bitter not in his voice. He seemed to know it too, because he tried to lighten his tone, but failed miserably. “I was one of the last jedi left, all my friends were…gone. I focused my energy on training: blasters, lightsabers, hand to hand combat – it became an obsession, the only thing that could keep the pain at bay.” Jacen closed his eyes, caught up in a painful memory from past. Marit waited patiently and Jacen spoke. “I don’t want Virago to go through what I did. He has a disregard for the rules, but he’s a good kid. He deserves a master who will be there for him.”

 

“It’s not the same, Jacen,” said Marit, placing a comforting hand on Jacen’s shoulder, “you are not abandoning Virago. He’s probably just out having fun.”

 

“You might be right,” sighed Jacen, “then again you might not. Either way, I’m not taking that chance. Once I help Jorrin get the chip, I’m going to look for Virago. I have a bad feeling about him that I just can’t shake. I think he is in trouble.” He didn’t know how he knew it, just that he did. He sat silently.

 

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” said Marit in a calm soothing voice. “I know it was not easy for you.”

 

Jacen gave her a one armed hug. What would he do without her? He knew that moment had added to their friendship.

 

Marit, gave him an odd look. “Perhaps breaking the rules is a trait Virago picked up from his master. Virago is not the only jedi with a certain disregard for the rules,” said Marit slyly.

 

“Nor am I the only one,” said Jacen cottoning on. “Every time I break the rules, I have a friend who covers for me.” He looked pointedly, with a raised eyebrow, at Marit, who smiled guiltily.

 

Suddenly Jacen spotted Jorrin, out of the corner of his eye. The chip. He had been so caught up in the discussion that he had almost forgot. “I’ll be back shortly,” he told her. “in the mean time keep your eyes peeled.” She nodded. Jacen turned around to leave.

 

“Jacen.”

 

He turned around.

 

“Be careful out there,” said Marit, her large amber eyes meeting his green ones. Jacen could not explain why it happened, but at that moment his stomach squirmed in a way that he was not used to. Suddenly he felt very hot, and began to sweat, although CCI was rather cool. To hide these symptoms, he forced through some bravado.

 

“I always am aren’t I?” he said with a grin, that for some reason was hard to maintain.

 

Marit thought back to the countless times that Jacen had risked his neck and skirted death. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she groaned in mock distress. “Alright you wise ass get out there.” Here, her voice changed to a more serious tone, “And may the force be with you.”

 

Jacen had strode quickly away, trying to escape these new feelings.

 

“Jedi Zarek?”

 

“Huh?” grunted Jacen, snapping out of his reverie and turning to face Jorrin.

 

“We can’t stand here all night you know, grunted Jorrin.

 

“Right,” said Jacen, embarrassed, knowing that he must have looked like a complete idiot just standing there, staring into space. He shook his head, clearing his mind, forcing himself to focus. He brushed an insect off his tan skin. “Lets go.”

 

The doors hissed open, to reveal a wide entrance hall, with black marble floors, and walls. Potted, exotic, plants with long, pointed, dark green, leaves and small bright blue flowers, sat in each corner. The hall was lit only by security lights, that bathed the room in a ghostly crimson light. A shudder ran through Jacen’s body – something was not right here.

 

Republic security teams were supposed to be here, securing the building; yet not one guard had come to see who had just come through the door – he and Jorrin had just walked right in, unchallenged. Jorrin opened his mouth to speak, but Jacen held a finger up to his own. As quietly as possible, he unclipped his lightsaber, crept up to a corner that lead to an adjoining hallway, and peered around it.

 

There, sprawled on the floor was a dead Republic soldier. His red and gold uniform had a smoking hole in the chest and his helmet was askew. The hole was still smoking, thought Jacen, - this man had died very recently.

 

“We can go back,” whispered Jorrin in Jacens ear. Clearly the sight had unnerved him. “Get reinforcements.”

 

“There is no time,” answered Jacen quietly, but with much passion. “That chip, contains vital information. Right now there is a traitor at CCI, right under our noses, who will try to block us at every turn, unless we stop them. Obviously someone got here before us, but we are not alone in this building, I can feel it. If they are still here, that must mean they have not found the chip yet. They need it, it’s key to their plan…if their infiltrator is discovered they will fail. We must not let them find it first.”

 

Jorrin nodded grimly and drew a blaster from his waist. All CCI agents went through basic blaster training, no matter what position they held within the agency. Despite this, Jacen doubted very much that Jorrin was any good with a blaster. Still, he needed all the help he could get right now, facing an enemy of unknown quantity.

 

“Stay behind me,” whispered Jacen. The last thing he needed was Jorrin getting in the way. He moved quietly and fluidly down the hall, gingerly stepping over the republic soldier. Jacens head was constantly moving, as though on a swivel, as he turned left, around another corner. As he looked to his right, he saw dark red blood splattered against a wall, but strangely there was no body near it. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, prickling.

 

“Arno’s office is on the 198th floor,” breathed Jorrin, as they reached the turbo lift. Jacen would have preffered to take the stairs, as they were quieter, and if there was anybody lying in wait to trap them, it was likely they were by the elevators. But Jorrin’s face was white as the snow in Telos’ Polar Region, and Jacen thought that perhaps it was best to get in and out of here as quickly as possible. The turbolift had dull gold doors, that clashed horribly with the black walls. Jacen pressed the button, opened the doors and the two men: one tall, tan and muscular; the other of average height and pale skin, but portly, stepped into the turbolift. Though vastly different in appearance, both were working towards the same goal.

 

To Jacen, the turbolift seemed to take forever, slowly creeping upward. When they reached their floor, a calm, cool female voice issued from a speaker on the ceiling of the turbolift. “Level 198 – The Office of Data Collection and Monitering and Employee Lounge.”

 

Jacen held his lightsaber in an offensive position, finger over the power button, Jorrin behind him, blaster at the ready. But, the doors opened revealing an empty corridor. Not even the security lights were on. They would have to rely on light streaming through the windows.

 

As they walked down the hall, offices with glass walls on both sides of the corridor, Jacen saw a shadow flicker ahead and to his right. Immediately, Jorrin flattened himself against the wall, though failed miserably, due to his corpulent stomach.

 

A man, garbed in a black uni-suit, carrying a heavy repeater, turned the corner. He was clearly not a republic soldier. Jacen held his breath. Luckily the man turned and walked in the opposite direction, with his back to them. But as though some divine force had sensed Jacen’s relief, the man stopped – right outside Arno’s office.

 

Jacen knew he would have to take care of the sentry quietly. He motioned for Jorrin to wait, and sneaked up behind the man. Slowly, stealthily…until he was only inches away. Suddenly without warning, Jacen grasped the man’s neck with one hand, and placed the other over the mouth, and twisted the neck violently. With a snap and a crunch the man’s neck broke. Jacen lowered him carefully to the floor, as not to make a sound. Jacen knew that this was not a very jedi-like act – but it had to be done. Such petty jedi rules often got in the way of a mission, but Jacen always gave the mission priority. The jedi wanted results but were not willing to bend the precious code to get them. Just like the Mandelorian war, though in that case, the consequences were much more severe than a blown cover.

 

Jacen entered Arno’s office, Jorrin close behind him. The room was a complete mess. The computer was completely fried, a blackened, skeletal remain. Someone had shattered the window. A strong wind blustered through the broken paine, scattering durasheets everywhere, some even tumbled out the window, disappearing into the night. Sheets that Arno had worked so hard on, meticulously organizing them all into proper piles. All that work was completely erased now, only a short hour after his death. Among the durasheets strewn about the floor, where the dead bodies of a Trandoshan thug and two more republic soldiers lay.

 

Behind the desk was Arno’s body. Jorrin knelt down beside it, a soft brereze blowing through the window, instead of a huge gust as before. “I’m sorry my friend, I should not have asked you to delve further into that wretched chip. I’m – I’m so sorry.” Jorrin bent his head down, shaking with silent grief.

 

“Jorrin,” said Jacen tentatively after a minute. “I know you’re upset, he put a hand on Jorrin’s shoulder, “but we can’t linger here. We just killed a patrol, and it won’t be long before someone notices that he is dead.”

 

“I – yes – yes of course,” said Jorrin sniffing and clearing his throat. He reached into Arno’s pocket digging for the chip. His hand was slow at first, but soion started to move frantically, feeling around to the edges of the pocket. “It’s not here, Jedi Zarek,” hissed Jorrin, still searching, as though hoping the chip would appear out of thin air.

 

Jacen felt as if he had been deflated. “Are you sure? Be careful, we can’t afford to miss it.”

 

“I tell you it’s not here!”

 

Jacen heard a quiet rasping laug behind him. He whipped around. The Trandoshan, whom he had assumed to be dead was quietly issuing a mirthless laugh, caughing up blood as he did so, still sprawled on the floor. Something was shining in his hand. Thechip. Jacen bent down and snatched it from the alien’s grasp. The later made no attempt to stop him. Jacen handed the chip to Jorrin, but did not take his eyes off the dying alien.

 

“Go ahead – take it. But know this: If you ever want to see your padawan alive again you had best do as I say,” uttered the Trandoshan desperately.

 

Something, some invisible restraint inside Jacen snapped. He felt his body fill with a boiling, wild, rage. He lifted the Trandoshan off the ground, into a standing position, and slammed him hard, against the glass, office, wall, not caring how loud of a sound he made, burning anger coursing through him.

 

“What do you know about Virago?! he growled, bringing his face within centimeters from the lizard-like Trandoshan’s.

 

“You’re too late, she will have him by now,” grunted the Trandoshan, coughing up more oozing, black, blood.

 

“Who is ‘she?’” Jacen snarled, his hand flying to the Trandoshan’s thick scaly neck. “Who?!” he repeated, tightening his grip. But the Trandoshan started issuing a gurgling sound. Jacen could feel the life draining from the Trtandoshan. He was dead.

 

“Jedi Zarek.”

 

“What?” demanded Jacen turning around to face Jorrin. But he saw what Jorrin meant before he could even answer. Through the glass walls, he could see many dark forms coming towards them. Instinct told him, that they were not republic soldiers.

 

“They know we are here,” said Jorrin, tightly clutching his blaster pistol, so hard that his knuckle turned white. “We’ll have to fight our way out.” But Jacen had already ignited his double bladed sapphire lightsaber.

 

He rushed at the newcomers, his saber blazing. A human thug, whipped out two blasters and fired them rapidly at Jacen. Jacen swung his lightsaber upward, deflecting the bolts away. He gathered the force around him like a swirling cloud and jumped towards the thug, spinning like a top, decapitating him, before swirling around to jam his blade into the skull of another who had rushed at him with a vibroblade.

 

The hall was filled with blaster bolts. Pinging of walls, breaking decorative sculptures and singing the potted plants. Two more thugs, this time, a Rodian and an Aqualish aimed their blaster rifles at Jacen. Jacen made a pushing motion with his right arm, sending a wave of the force at the two, sending the Rodian crashing through the glass wall of an office. He twitched violently on the floor, but did not get up.

 

Jacen now focused his attention on the Aqualish, but before he could make any kind of attack, a blaster bolt sliced right through the side of the alien’s head, the walrus-faced alien fell to the ground, dead. Jorrin apparently was a better shot than Jacen had originally thought.

 

“Nice shot Jorrin!”

 

Jorrin nodded slightly, but suddenly there was another blaster shot, and he fell to the ground, his neck bleeding profusely. The last remaining thug stood behind the collapsed Jorrin, a blaster carbine in his hands. Jacen felt his heart sink. The thug stood, smiling wickedly at Jacen’s despair.

 

“You son of a bitch, you’ll pay for that.” Jacen easily deflected the shots of the poorly trained thug, cleaving through his torso with a hot venom. As the thug fell, smoking to the ground, Jacen heard a feeble groan behind him.

 

“Jacen?”

 

He knelt down beside Jorrin, grasping his limp hand, which was already going cold. Jorrin weakly reached into his pocket and withdrew the chip, handing it to Jacen.

 

“Take it… take it now, before more of them show up,” he said in a strained voice. It sounded as though he had to fight to get every word out.

 

Jacen felt a hard, painful lump in his throat. “No, no you’re coming with me. You hold onto that.” Even as he said it, he knew it was not true.

 

“No, I’m not and we both know it. G – get the chip to Marit. She can decipher it. On the chip…computer number. Get the number, you get the dirty agent…the traitor.”

 

Jacen started to argue that he could not just leave Jorrin here, when he heard thunderous footsteps echoing down the corridor. Reinforcements were here. He could not tarry any longer. Reluctantly he took the chip, stowed it in a pocket in the fold of his robes. He got to his feet any ran, ran down the opposite corridor, back to the speeder. Just as he exited the building, he heard a blaster shot. He winced, and felt renewed painin his throat, knowing that Jorrin had just been shot. And this time, there was no way he was alive.

 

I won’t let Jorrin’s sacrifice be in vain, thought Jacen determinedly. I’ll get this chip back to CCI and catch the traitor, the one responsible for Jorrin’s death…and Jorrin shall be avenged, and Virago found.

 

*________________*_________________*__________________*

 

Outside The Hive, Jedi Padawan Duran Thul lay motionless on the ground. His eyes were closed, a pool of blood accumulating near his stomach. People walked passed him, paying his body no heed. Dead bodies were not uncommon in this seedy part of the city. The only respect the passers-by paid Duran, was by not stepping on him.

 

Suddenly Duran’s eyes snapped open and he drew a ragged breath that rattled in his chest. By some will of fate, chance, or just sheer luck, he was alive. He tried to move, and felt a sharp pain in his right leg. It was broken. Then all the pain from his stomach hit him. He gasped in wide-eyed agony. With intense effort and white hot pain, he picked his head up, observing his surroundings. A piece of one of his horns had chipped off, from the fall. As he turned his head towards the walkway, he saw a Devaronian, the only other living being in sight, walking by.

 

Duran stretched out an arm, wordlessly pleading for help. But the horned alien merely glared at him, and gave him a wide berth. Duran inhaled dust and grime from the filthy street and choked. This little action drained him so severely that he could keep his head up no longer. It hit the ground with a thud. He was now eyelevel with the numerous pieces of debris that littered the street: a discarded foil sweet wrapper, a crumpled up durasheet, and a few used death sticks. All he could do was keep his eyes open as he groaned softly, his hand over his wound, and hope that somehow, someone would find him.

 

===========================

 

O.K. I know this has been long in the coming, so if anybody sees this before reading, I'll be happy to giove you a recap, if you request it.

 

So thats chapter three. I put an Aruil playing pazaak tidbit in there for you Burnseyy. Thought that would be amusing. I know that up until this point chapters have been moving rather fast. These first three were just to set the stage for the main story arc. I'm going to slow things down, and work more on character development. I know Jace is sort of just there right now, but I have plans for him...anyway I'd love to hear feedback! Thanks!

 

~HOP

[Darth_Yuthura]

Very nice. (Stated in as few words as possible)

 

I could see the action in great detail. Little things like the sickly-green lekku, the light brown strand of hair, the workload outweighing the mess of papers knocked out of Nakaya's hands... it added great dimension to the mood of the characters.

 

I did like the step-by-step process as it progressed. The way you displayed the details (it all boils down to those) was like taking veins of them from limited chunks to integrated with the action and keeping a good balance for the entire chapter. Well done.

 

I laughed at how Burnseyy's been screaming for this chapter for a long time and logged off minutes before you posted them. I'm glad I didn't log off just yet.

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Thanks DY!

 

Well as we all know, the traitor plays a big part in this story, although we don't know who it is. I know I've asked this before, but as the next chapter is "Traitor Revealed" I would like to know where people stand on that now that Virago has been captured. Who is it?

 

I'm going to go more for character development now that the stage is set for the main story arc. Well you finally see the Aruil fighting scene Burnseyy. Sorry I could not post this sooner!

 

~HOP

[Burnseyy]

Yay it's finally up! I've been waiting for this for a while.

 

I loved the emotion when Duran 'died'. The description in Virago's feelings was just wow. Yes, wow!

 

I also loved the wayAuril was playing pazaak. It was great how you said she only won because she was distracting the players.

 

Well done!

 

One liiiittttle problem I saw... you use commas a lot, especially when you don't need them.

 

E.g.

 

He also had a bad, sinking, feeling about Virago that he could not shake, ever since entering CCI.

 

It should look like:

 

He also had a bad sinking feeling about Virago, that he could not shake ever since entering CCI.

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Yeah, commas have never been my strong point, I'm one of those people who just sprinkles them around hoping they are right. Although I'm fairly sure that since bad and sinking describe the feeling, there should be commas there.

 

Aruil is my favorite, so I had to be careful not to turn her into an uber talented indestructible girl, just because I like her. Thats why I made sure to put that note in about her pazaak and showed that she had a little trouble in the battle. I wanted to make her unique, though, so I gave her the ability to control water. More interesting than just a lightsaber, no?

 

Thank you for waiting for my slowness. I appreciate every single piece of feedback.

 

~HOP

[Burnseyy]

I know what you mean about favouritism... So I try to pull back on their apparent amazingness. Unfortunately, sometimes I've pulled back their abilities so much, that people have asked why I'm making my favourite character a complete tool who can't do anything be careful to avoid those extremes.

 

I like Auril too... maybe because she's like Luna. >.> But still.

 

I like Jacen, too, especially his 'friendship' with Marit.

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Yeah, Aruil will be a bit more serious in the next chapter. I have not yet decided where to go with Jacen and Marit's "friendship" I used the water to counterbalance her lack of pazaak skills. Next chapter should be up soon, and will explain her ability a bit. I think I'll just go right to the typing instead of pencil and paper first...saves time, you know?

 

Whats funny is I have the end of this story already decided, and the last chapter already written. It could change, but there is a major plot twist at the end that I plan to keep.

 

~HOP

[Rev7]

Very nice addition HOP! It is looking really good so far, so keep up the great work.

 

Eagerly awaiting more.

[Burnseyy]

 

This is a picture I drew for HOPs story - as the picture says, it's Jacen Zarek, the main character of this story.

 

He asked me to post it here, so there you go - that's what he looks like! According to my drawing skills, at least.

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Ah, and here is some of the artwork I've asked Burnseyy to do for me, as I mentioned earlier. I'm not quite the artist that she is, so I asked her to draw the characters for me. So thats Jacen for you. She is also drawing some of the other characters.

 

Hopefully this will help everyone to visualize the characters and appreciate some more of Burnseyy's artwork.

 

Thanks Burnseyy!

 

~HOP

[Darth_Yuthura]

Very nice artwork by Burnseyy. Now I feel that I can't afford NOT to do anymore artwork. She's doing numerous fictions on top of doing artwork for others! This is a great visualization of the character.

[Rev7]

Nice piece of artwork!

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Sorry, not an update!

 

I originally wanted to get a chapter a week done but school has prevented it. I'll be posting a chapter probably tommorrow or Saturday. I will be posting a summary of the first three chapters for those who have forgotten them. I just thought I'd post a "coming up" type of thing. I would be like If you do not want to know the basic (no spoilers) plot of the next chapter, read no further.

 

 

 

O.K. so you wanted to know.

 

Upcoming Chapter:

Chapter 4: The Cyborg and the Sneak

 

Jacen returns to CCI with the chip and still not sure who he can trust, works covertly with Marit to decipher it. The chip yields shocking results regarding the identity of the traitor. Virago and Aruil wake up on a bounty hunter ship and Senator Matrik Jace is granted extra security due to the assassination threat, but the new protection turns out to be highly controversial and causes more problems then it solves at the campaign headquarters.

 

~HOP

[The_Catto]

Can't wait for it.

 

A great story HoP. [i told you I would get around to reading it ]]

Nice descriptions and plot line.

 

Oh yeah ... The name Jorrin. Where'd you get that from? ... [[Hehe, you haven't read my un-finished fic "The Search for Sanctuary," have you?

Well .. that Jorrin is spelled as Jorin so yeah .. That loss of one 'r' is still a weird coincidence! I probably took it from somewhere else and just can't remember ... Most likely anyways.

 

As said, can't for next installment. Keep it up!

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

No, I have not read that...I remember reading somthing with a Jorrin Torrah or something like that...its was a book though, not anything on the forums. What a strange coincidence.

 

I'll be introducing the final major character next chapter (by major I mean will be appearing in 90% of upcoming chapters and having an impact on the plot. ) She causes a lot of tension, that will hopefully spice up the Jace storyline.

 

~HOP

[Burnseyy]

I saw this, and though 'OMG HES UPDATED!' only to be let down with a... a...

A summary.

*shudder*

 

Jokes aside, I can't wait... especially since I know a little about why the chapter is named such.

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Chapter Four: The Cyborg and the Sneak

 

The starship Vengence’s Claw shot away from Coruscant at lightspeed.

 

It was not unlike many other ships that passed through the Coruscant system. It was sleek, almost bird-like and encased with black durasteel plating – quite typical in a ship of this model and make. What set it apart from other ships was what was not visible: a large quantity of illegal modifications that spanned everything from black market shield technology obtained on a dealer on Narr Shaddaa, who was know for his discretion; to quantum torpedo launching systems that were expertly concealed in the hull; to a stolen military grade slicing system buried within the ship’s computer, along with numerous false ID docs.

 

This was a bounty hunter’s ship, though no one would guess it just by looking at it. But this was all part of the hunter’s strategy. An inconspicuous ship made it harder for the hunted to know when the hunter drew near.

 

The bounty hunter in question was like the ship – inconspicuous, yet deadly. The Vengence’s Claw turned sharply to avoid a large asteroid. As the ship moved, its prisoner stirred.

 

Virago jolted awake. He blinked his blue eyes rapidly, attempting to unblurr his vision. He saw a pale blob moving in front of him, suddenly obscured by a white-yellow blob. Virago vigorously rubbed his eyes, bringing them into focus. The yellowish blob materialized into a flowing sheet of blond hair, which he immediately recognized as Aruil’s.

 

She was crouched on the hard, metal, floor, her hand outstretched. Virago, with some difficulty, sat up, wincing in pain as he did so. It felt as though someone had beaten him repeatedly with a rock. Aruil was still crouched, so he could only see her profile. Her right arm was descending like a ramp onto the floor. A small, fuzzy, creature was cautiously climbing into her hand.

 

“It’s okay, don’t be scared,” Aruil cooed, sending out soothing thoughts to it with the force. “That’s it. Well you’re a curious little fellow, aren’t you?” she added as the creature sniffed her wrist, tickling it with its delicate whiskers. She smiled vaguely at the little rodent, stroking its head with her forefinger, its long tail curling around her thumb appreciatively.

 

“Hello Virago Nual,” she said in her misty voice, noticing he was awake.

 

“Aruil, -,” he croaked hoarsely, an intense thirst gripping his throat. “Water?”

 

“Sorry, I used all of mine fighting that alien and our captors have not given us any more. I suppose we should not expect to be treated as guests.”

 

“Where are we? How long have I been I out?” Virago rasped, sitting up straighter and leaning his head against the wall. He started in discomfort. The wall was ice cold. Well, at least he was fully awake now.

 

“On a ship,” said Aruil gazing intently at him with her bulging eyes, her head cocked to one side in a caring sort of way. “In the cargo hold, I guess, as it’s a bit chilly.”

 

“A bit chilly” was a huge understatement. The compartment was freezing, the two young jedi’s breaths coming out looking like wisps of cloud. Virago ran a hand through his hair. Little ice crystals had formed in it. As he looked around, he saw that even the walls were covered by a thin sheet of ice. The walls curved out slightly, and there was a small circular window on the thick metal door, which was locked down tight.

 

At length, two trays of food were delivered by one of the aliens. Virago noticed that his wrist were red and raw, scraped of flesh. This obviously was the one that Aruil had pinned to the wall. He remembered the feat with glowing admiration. The alien gave Aruil a look of deepest loathing, before he departed, securely locking the door behind him.

 

He scooped his tarnished tray towards himself. On it was a hard, stale piece of bread, and a lumpy, sickly looking piece of meat, and a tin cup filled with water. He picked up the bread, looking around the room.

 

As Virago examined his surroundings he could help but notice that Aruil looked strangely intact. Though her skin was paler than usual due to the cold. She seemed unhurt save for the cut on her jaw, which was still a brilliant shade of red. Virago felt a twinge of guilt. After all, he had gotten her into this mess.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, not meeting her eyes, but instead choosing to look at her lumpy pebble necklace.

 

“Better than you are,” she said in a sympathetic, yet blunt tone. “But you put up quite a fight, so those aliens were harder on you. Knocked you unconscious.”

 

Virago nodded. He could think of nothing else to say and consequentially blurted out. “I’m so sorry for getting you into this…this…mess,” he finished lamely.

 

“Don’t be,” Aruil said serenely with her vague smile, her eyes seeming even larger than normal. “It was quite fun until the part where we were beaten, captured, and stuffed into a cargo hold.”

 

Virago stared at her caught between laughter and annoyance, debating whether to laugh or not. Unsure whether to laugh or not, he compromised by taking an overly large bite of the bread and choking on it.

 

“Besides,” continued Aruil after Virago’s choking fit had subsided, “all that – playing pazaak, fighting as a team – I enjoyed it. It is the closest experience I’ve had to having friends.”

 

Virago felt a sudden, violent, combination of pity and embarrassment in the pit of his stomach. He had heard rumors at the temple of Aruil’s truthful bluntness, but this was the first time had had actually witnessed it firsthand. The comment, however, threw him into an awkward silence. Aruil seemed not to notice, and resumed petting the rodent.

 

With a horrid pang, Virago remembered Duran. He remembered Duran struggling, fighting…being shot…collapsing and crying out in pain. Virago shuddered, closing his eyes, a silent tear running down his cheek. He didn’t even bother asking Aruil about Duran, knowing her answer would force him to face a truth he didn’t want to accept. He picked up the tin cup off his tray and quaffed it in a single draught.

 

After a few minutes he picked up the remainder of his bread. “I saw you weild water in battle,” he said biting off a hunk of the hard bread, grimacing – it tastes like moldy cardboard. “It was an impressive display. Where did you learn it?”

 

“On my home world, Teevan,” Aruil answered, lightly sipping her water as though she was a casual diner in a restaurant. “About a fourth of Teevan’s population is force sensitive, you know. We live in harmony with nature. Combine the two, and it only makes sense that we use nature as a weapon.”

 

“That sounds so different from where I grew up,” said Virago eyeing Aruil with renewed curiosity. “It must have been nice to grow up with a family on a peaceful world.”

 

“Well, it was not all peaceful, though I had it much easier than you did on Taris, I’m sure.”

 

“What happened then?” asked Virago, wondering how Aruil knew he was from Taris, before realizing she must have heard it back at the hanger in the Jedi Temple.

 

“The Mandelorians happened. Their Basilisk War Droids rained down on Teevan. They burned my city to the ground, slaughtering everyone in their path. I was one of the few who survived. We fled to the eastern shore of the continent, to our capitol.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Virago mumbled, averting his gaze, feeling renewed pity and embarrassment .

 

“Yes, it was rather horrible,” said Aruil conversationally, nibbling on her own bread, breaking off a tiny piece and giving it to the rodent who ate it gratefully. “I do feel very sad about it sometimes. But Teevan triumphed in the end.

 

Despite her calm exterior, Virago could feel a wave of sadness engulf Aruil. “How?” he asked simply.

 

Aruil swallowed a piece of her bread. “The Mandelorians chased us to the neck of the peninsula – to our capital. Their leader announced our imminent doom. Our leader, Shaelan Veld, the greatest force user of all of us warned them that he would not sit idly by while the destroyed our home, that we had worked so hard to build. The Mandelorians, did not back down.” Aruil paused, to take another bite of bread. “ He unleashed a terrible display of his force power. With am enormous tidal wave Shaelan swept them all away. The capital city was on the coast…plenty of water to work with. With all their battle strategies, training and tactics, they did not take into account our abilities to use nature as a weapon.”

 

“I didn’t know the force could be used in such a way,” said Virago.

 

Aruil cocked her head to one side, a trait that Virago now took as one of her many oddities. “On Teevan, those of us who are force sensitive begin training at the age of five. We sat, and meditated, walked through the forests, sailed on the oceans, and visited volcanos. We each had to feel which element was calling us. Though we find that people with certain characteristics are more likely to be called by a certain element. Once we choose either air, water, earth, or fire, we begin our combat training.”

 

Virago finished his bread, with a slightly bemused expression. A lot of what Aruil had said sounded like a bunch of quasi mysticism to him, but was intrigued with how her people used nature through the force.

 

“I trained at the north pole of Teevan,” continued Aruil “All the ice and vast ocean, you know. It makes for an effective training ground.”

 

“So why did you join the jedi then?” asked Virago, looking at Aruil with new interest. He bit off a piece of the meat.

 

“I think that’s a question that I should be asking you,” said Aruil, again displaying her knack for bluntness.

 

Virago opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, as he was startled at this abrupt and unexpected change in the conversation.

 

“Babbling Buzzsnapper again?” she asked politely, pushing her tray, which still contained the lumpy meat to the side. It made a harsh grating sound on the filthy metal floor.

 

“You heard what I said in the hanger then?” he said, trying to avoid the question. If someone had told him a day ago that tomorrow he would be sitting in a freezing cargo hold past sharing with Aruil Nenenitosael, he would have called them crazy; yet here he was.

 

“Yes,” Aruil answered cocking her head to the other side, her pebble necklace swaying gracefully as she did so. “You were talking rather loudly, you know. Even someone with Gyrots Disease (you know, the one you get from juma fruit that makes your ears fall off and your nose ooze thick green puss) could have heard you.”

 

Virago had unfortunately chosen that moment to stuff the rest of the meat in his mouth. He chewed it rather slowly, suddenly thinking, that it had a puss-like texture.

 

“Well…” Virago began reluctantly, his eyes fixed on a grate on the ceiling, carefully swallowing the meat. “On Taris, the jedi were fanciful legends. Valient warriors who traveled across the galaxy, fighting in glorious battles and such. The most free beings in the galaxy.” He smiled cynically. “I dreamed of being free like them, exploring the galaxy, helping those who were in true need of it.

 

I was trapped in the Lower City on Taris, but at least I could do as I pleased when I wasn’t scavenging. But even scavenging had some degree of freedom at least.” He paused, finally prying his eyes away from the grate and looking at Aruil, who was gazing intently back. “When I was recruited by a visiting jedi, who had come to aid in the reconstruction effort on Taris, I thought I would at last be truly free. But now I think I just traded one form of captivity for another.”

 

“You are trapped?” asked Aruil, still vaguely stroking the rodent, which was curled up, asleep in her hand.

 

“Jedi have to guard their emotions all the time, in other words squash their true feelings and put up a passive front. They obey the masters, even when it goes against what they believe in, its not right.”

 

“You speak of the jedi as though you are not one,” pointed out Aruil, who did not seem the least bit put out by his unconventional view of the jedi.

 

A ghost of a smile crossed Virago’s lips. Obviously Aruil was very sharp, despite her whimsical beliefs. “Perhaps. Don’t get me wrong though, I respect the jedi a lot and thank the stars there are people who can be jedi, follow their rules and whatnot…I just don’t think its what I’m supposed to do. I want to use the force to help, but in my own way, not the jedi’s way. I’ve been trying to stay strong – stay with the jedi, who gave me so much but…I just can’t do it. But I don’t want to disappoint Master Zarek. He just took me as his padawan and…I just don’t want to seem ungrateful.”

 

“Sometimes the stronger thing to do is to follow your heart, despite what others think,” said Aruil smiling, reaching out to grab Virago’s hand.

 

Virago looked at Aruil in surprise. Just when he thought he had her figured out she proved him wrong. One minute she was talking of Babbling Buzzsnappers and Gyrot’s Disease, and the next she was giving him pearls of wisdom. It took a minute for him to realize that Aruil was speaking from personal experience. She always followed her own beliefs, however strange, and stuck to them despite the fact that it made her a social outcast in the temple.

 

Then as if to dispel his thoughts, she started talking of Gyrot’s disease again. Girls were so complicated, he thought, especially this one.

 

Virago and Aruil continued to talk. He told her of Taris, the Lower City, the Undercity, and the people he knew there. She in turn, told him more of her training at the north pole of Teevan and her experiences there. As it turned out, Aruil didn’t eat meat, an experience she said was too difficult after “getting so close to nature.” Virago gratefully accepted her lumpy meat, determinedly thinking of anything but nose puss.

 

Virago turned the subject to Matrik Jace, the senator he knew his master had been assigned to protect. While he chewed the meat, Aruil, conspiratorially, leaned her head closer to him and whispered that Matrik Jace’s wife Marlena was nota mere senator’s wife at all. Rather, she was a pole dancer for Starlight Entertainers, by the name of Sparkle Wei. And that was about all she had to say on the subject. Actually compared with her belief in Nagging Wamblefurs, Virago thought this theory seemed quite reasonable.

 

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps, just on the other side of the door.

 

On the wall, next to the door, was a tiny, grimy window covered in a sheet of ice. Virago rapidly scraped the ice off, and heard voices from the other side of the wall.

 

“- said no one is allowed to see the prisoners,” came a rough voice, that Virago recognized as one of the aliens.

 

Virago peered through the window. He could see two aliens standing guard at the cargohold door, talking to someone just out of his line of sight.

 

A new voice, hard, yet silky replied, “This is my ship, you don’t give me orders. Now step aside or I will remove you myself.”

 

Virago heard a swift click that suggested this third, unseen, person had drawn a blaster.

 

The second alien spoke mockingly, with deep grunts that Virago took to be laughter. “You probably don’t even know how to use that thing.”

 

Suddenly, blaster shots were fired, killing the first alien, landing right in his chest. He fell to the floor with a booming thud. Nothing but complete shock registered on the second alien’s face, though he said nothing.

 

The silky voice spoke again. “I trust you will cooperate from now on, or it my be your guts that I’ll have to wipe off the floor…now open the door and let me in.”

 

Without a word the cargohold door opened. Virago turned towards it, his muscles tensing. Behind him, Aruil stood up.

 

A thin woman entered the cargo hold. Her flowing black hair running down her tight black top, which showed off her firm, toned abs. She wore tight leather pants and a choker with shining metal studs. She stared at the pair of jedi.

 

“Who the hell are you?” asked Virago boldly. This seemed to amuse the woman.

 

“I’m Mandy. You are with me now.”

 

*__________________*___________________*________________*

 

 

Senator Jace sat in his plush easy chair, sipping on a cup of Jing-Sueng Tea. Steam was rising from the cup in a silvery spiral. Most of his staff had returned home, and gone to bed. His speech had been very late, and he knew despite their frequent denials, that they were exhausted.

 

Marlena entered what functioned as the Jace’s living room in the campaign headquarters. She was wearing a light green bathrobe made of a clingy, shimmery material. She sat down on a couch, opposite Jace.

 

Jace looked up from the latest insta-poll he had been perusing. It indicated that he had a 102 vote lead over his competitor. Considering, that only 165 senators had made their voting intentions clear, he was well in the lead. “What are you still doing up? Its,” he checked his chronometer, “3:45 in the morning.”

 

“If I’m not asleep by two, I’m not sleeping,” yawned Marlena. “What are you doing up?”

 

“The republic’s chief of security is supposed to arrive any minute. He said he had something to show me.”

 

Marlena’s eyebrows knit together, her eyes narrowing. “And what is it, exactly?”

 

“Some extra protection…because of the assassination threat. He didn’t go into the details,” said Jace, “Oh, come now,” he said seeing Marlena’s anxious expression, “I don’t care what they say – remember the ‘threat’ when we were on Manaan? It turned out to be nothing.”

 

Marlena pursed her lips looking thoroughly unconvinced. “I hope your right Matrik,” she murmured.

 

Their conversation was interrupted by Tyro, who entered the living room without knocking. He had an inexplicable grim look about him. “The Chief of Security is here, senator. He’s in the sitting room”

 

“With his new ‘protection?’” asked Jace as he stood up.

 

Tyro didn’t answer, but his disapproving expression became more pronounced. He turned and headed in the opposite direction of the sitting room.

 

“Aren’t you coming, Tyro?” inquired Marlena, a confused look on her face.

 

Tyro looked pointedly at Jace before answering, “I’d rather not. I’ve already seen the ‘protection.’” He gave another disapproving shake of his head before leaving, walking rather faster than he would have normally done.

 

This peaked Jace’s curiosity as he and Marlena took walked down the hall to the sitting room, the doors of which were flanked by Jace’s bodyguards.

 

The sitting room was circular, lined with plush, royal red and dark wood chairs. Tables stood between them, holding intricately shaped vases or other ornaments. It was lit by soft, ornate glow lamps, bathing the room in a yellow light. Inside was Jace’s own head of security, a Bothan named Karn, who was talking in his low voice to a balding man in plain black dress robes. Jace had expected a whole team of highly trained soldiers or something of the like, but the only other person in the room was a teenage girl, with long brown hair, sitting rigidly in one of the chairs. She was clad in a tight leather unisuit, and had an attractive face. As Jace entered, the balding man looked up from his conversation, and stuck out his hand for Jace to shake.

 

“I’m Zelka Omor, head of Republic Security,” he said briskly shaking Jace’s hand, and then Marlena’s.

 

Jace waited for Zelka to elaborate, but the man showed no signs of continuing. Jace decided to take the initiative and get to the point. “You said you had something to show me, Mr. Omor,” he boomed.

 

Yes, yes,” said Omor turning around to face the girl. “Gina, if you please.”

 

The girl, clad in tight leather unisuit, with blasters strapped to her waist, rose from her seat. She pivoted and walked directly up to Omor, though looking at Jace, fixing him with a piercing stare. Her brown eyes boring into him, as if she could see everything he was thinking and feeling. Jace thought there was something rather stiff, mechanical, about her movements.

 

“This is – this is Gina,” mumbled Omor, nervously. “She is the protection I mentioned.”

 

Jace’s eyebrows raised in surprise and was about to respond when he heard a scoff behind him. He looked back to see Marlena glaring bemusedly at Omor, then at Gina, then back at Omor, as though waiting for someone to shout “April Fool!” When no one did she spoke. “I was told this was a serious threat, Mr. Omor. Surely you can’t expect this – this – child to protect him! What kind of protection is that? She’s just a girl!”

 

Gina now looked at Marlena, fixing her with those burning, intense, eyes. “I’m not a girl.”

 

Marlena uttered a mirthless laugh “Well your certainly not a boy!” she said almost hysterically, looking Gina up and down taking in her slender figure.

 

“Umm…” started Omor, but Gina interrupted.

 

“I’m a hyper-alloy combat unit,” she stated stiffly, “I have living human tissue on the outside and a metal endoskeleton underneath.” Suddenly Gina’s brown eyes glowed with an intense green light as though she had lasers inside of them. Karn gave an involuntary twitch and Marlena jumped back in alarm. As quickly as the glow came, it faded.

 

“Then what are you? You’re a…droid of some kind?” asked Jace in an uncharacteristically surprised voice, a bit unnerved by what he just saw.

 

“Hyper-alloy combat unit,” repeated Gina in the same calm tone. “The living tissue covering my metal endoskeleton is to help me blend into my environment. When people see me with you, all they will see is a human girl of approximately sixteen years. And no.”

 

“No?” asked Jace confused.

 

“No,” repeated Gina, “I’m not a droid.”

 

“Yes,” continued Omor, who seemed to have decided it was best to erase the last few minutes from his mind. “Gina is a cybernetic organism. To put it simply, she has a metal alloy under her living skin. A robot covered in skin, if you will. However, she has the flexibility of the average hguman. The alloy is extremely resistant to blaster shots, and quite immune to smaller weaponry such as the blaster pistol or the rifle. She can carry weights up to 2000 pounds. She is also highly proficient in the fields of unarmed combat and ranged weapons. Unfortunately there was not enough time to program her with social etiquette, but I doubt you’ll need her for that.”

 

Jace looked calculatingly at the slender teenage girl in front of him, who looked back at him her eyes seeming to burn a hole through his head. He did not particularly like having a cyborg in his living quarters – he did not trust her. After all, she was a machine. No matter how calm she appeared on the outside he had no clue what was going on inside her head. Jace had learned that to be in the game of politics, you had to be able to read people. Someone who could not be read was a potential threat. Yet, it was in her programming to protect him, and could not willingly betray or harm him – more than could be said for the senators he delt with everyday.

 

“Thank, you Mr. Omor,” said Jace after a minute, “Your help is most appreciated.” Omor bowed his head crisply, and exited to the tubolift, escorted by Karn. Marlena glared daggers at Jace as though to say “Are you out of your mind?” Jace gave her a calming glance and her expression softened – slightly. With a sniff and a loud disapproving grunt she turned around and headed back into the living quarters, the door slamming behind her, an empty silence ringing in her wake. This left just Jace and Gina alone. There was an awkward pause. Gina however continued to stare at him.

 

“Your wife is upset.”

 

Jace opened his mouth, which complied very grudgingly, unsure how to talk to a cyborg, especially one who had just pointed out something so obvious and awkward. “Its late, we should get back inside,” he said, changing the subject.

 

“It is 3:56 and 49…50 seconds,” said Gina “Is that late for humans?”

 

Jace, taken aback, managed to utter “Yes, yes it is.” Then calming himself said “Are you ready to serve your primary function as my guard?”

 

“Yes I am.” said Gina, “But my primary function is to destroy any organic or machine that I deem I threat to your life.”

 

Jace inwardly winced. He, along with the general public, had heard stories of how cyborgs like Gina had killed brutally due to their programming. They often perceived such things as an empty joke as a threat, and made people pay for it with their lives. They were designed to do one perfect thing: to kill. He had hears rumors of how sometimes they became erratic and had to be disabled. This was why Marlena and Tyro disapproved of her so. Yet he knew Gina’s orders were to obey him and while he could not fully trust her, decided that it was pivotal to show her who was in charge. “Nobody dies until I say so.”

 

Gina again looked at him, with her stony, emotionless expression. Yet as before, in her hard look there was a trace of confusion. “People die all the time. They won’t wait for you.”

 

Jace felt a twinge of annoyance, and almost wondered whether the girl was being deliberately difficult. Then he remembered that compassion and value of life were probably just not in her programming. “I mean, you don’t kill anyone unless I say so. Am I clear?”

 

Gina nodded briskly. “I understand my orders. But I don’t understand your want to keep others alive.”

 

“That’s because you do not value human life,” said Jace, becoming distinctly more aware that, despite her outward appearance, how un-human Gina was. He could see how such a machine could scare people. She was not like a droid, a mere automaton. Gina was intelligent enough to learn, think, and make her own decisions as long as they did not clash with her programming. Yet she had no sorrow or regret, or even a conscience for that matter. No moral standard, nothing to tell her what was right or wrong. A dangerous being indeed.

 

Gina continued to press the subject, and despite her stiff and logical manner seemed open to learning why humans think and act as they do. “But if they are dead, then they are not life at all. Just a body – organs, bones, and meat.”

 

Jace stopped, feeling slightly revolted. He had always felt that a dead human body was something more than that; yet scientifically, Gina was right. Deciding that he did not want to continue this conversation any longer, he placed his hand over the keypad and after a quick finger print identification, the door to his living quarters opened. “Get inside,” he said unceremoniously. Then he added “There is an extra room…you can sleep in there.”

 

Gina turned to face him. “I don’t sleep.”

 

With that the two entered the Jace Campaign Headquarters, the door hissing shut behind them.

 

*______________*___________________*_________________________*

 

 

Jacen stepped through the automatic sliding glass doors of CCI. His ebony robes hung, lank around his body, drenched with water from a sudden storm on his way back from retrieving the chip with Jorrin. Jorrin.

 

He should not have left him, just left him there to die. But he had no choice. He could not turn back time to save the man. He would just have to make do with what time he was given. He would not let Jorrin’s sacrifice be in vain, he was going to find the traitor, and no one was going to stop him.

 

The security guard at the front desk made to stop him. “Sir, I need your ID docs and your authorization papers.”

 

Jacen turned to the guard, a blue twi’lek male, trying to remain calm. “I don’t have that with me, I left them inside, with Marit Thel-Tanis.” He kept walking, but the guard stepped in front of him, drawing his blaster.

 

“No ID, no entrance.”

 

Jacen felt anger boiling inside him, growing more intense with ever second. He could not control it. With an invisible tug of the force he ripped the blaster from the astonished twi’lek’s hand. “I was just here, an hour ago. I left with Jorrin Ptakh. Check it if you want, I’m going in.”

 

The guard was to afraid to stop him physically, but spoke into his comlink asking for security at the front desk.

 

“Hold on there Kra’jarl!” came a voice from behind. Both Jacen and the guard turned to face the newcomer. She was a short, young, woman, with large slanted eyes and bright purple hair. Jacen immediately recognized her as the woman he had almost knocked over on the stairs to Jorrin’s office. She seemed to be addressing the guard.

 

“This is the jedi who came here with Marit, you can let him in.”

 

The guard, looking flustered, grudgingly opened the door.

 

Jacen and Nakaya stepped through to CCI’s main floor. He turned to her. “Thanks for helping me out.”

 

Nakaya grinned, “No problem, though it would be easier just to remember you card next time.”

 

“I will, thanks,” said Jacen curtly, making to head for Marits desk. He didn’t want to be rude, but the chip had to be deciphered as quickly as possible. But Nakaya called after him.

 

“Where is Jorrin, wasn’t he with you?”

 

Jacen looked at her for a moment. “Jorrin…is dead, Nakaya, I’m sorry.” He was not sure why he had just told her. Maybe he just felt she deserved to know, after she got him out of that tight spot with the guard. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Tears were forming in Nakaya’s eyes.

 

“Dead?” she breathed throatily. “But I don’t understand – wasn’t he with you?” she asked as though it was an impossibility that someone could die while under a jedi’s protection, “I mean he was with you, a jedi, how could he die?”

 

“We are not invincible,” said Jacen, “and just like every other being we make…mistakes. Mine was letting Jorrin come after I knew how dangerous it was.”

 

Nakaya made a strange noise, something of a sad laugh, Jacen thought. “He would n-not have listened to you any-anyway. He was always stubborn…but he was a good man.” She smiled sadly, tears leaking down her face, her large eyes watery and bright red. “He gave me my job here, you know. No other division would hire me…they said I was too young…not enough experience…he gave me my first job, stuck up for me when nobody else did” here, Nakaya made a loud sniff. “I never knew my parents, and he was the closest thing I had – he always listened when no one else would.” All around her, other CCI workers were turning their heads, staring at her. To them it must have looked odd to see Nakaya just standing there…crying.

 

“He was a good man,” said Jacen nodding solemnly. Nakaya threw her arms around him, sobbing into his robes. Jacen patted her on the back awkwardly, not sure what to do with the crying Nakaya clinging to him.

 

Vorzar came to his aid. One look told the hulking green jedi all he needed to know. He nodded encouragingly to Jacen. “Come on Nakaya,” he said in his soothing voice gently pulling her off Jacen, “Lets get you something to drink.” Nakaya nodded slightly, and Vorzar ushered her over to the coffee machine.

 

Jacen made his way to Marit’s work station. She stood up quickly at the sight of him. “Did you get it?” she inquired anxiously.

 

“Yes, but it came with a heavy price,” said Jacen.

 

Marit’s eyes instinctively swept the room, finally pausing on Jorrin’s empty office. Her eyes snapped back to Jacen looking alarmed. “You mean-”

 

“Yeah, Jorrin.”

 

Marit swallowed heavily, her eyes looking a bit wet. “O.K., I’ll do my best with this chip. I won’t let him have died for nothing.” She paused, “But we have a problem. Taran is going to come over here as soon as he sees you here. We can’t let him know about the chip.”

 

“Yeah,” said Jacen glaring over at Taran’s workstation. The spikey haired thirty year old had yet to see him. He was busy talking to a tall man who was showing him something on a data screen. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He could easily be the traitor,” Jacen said, almost hoping for an excuse to remove Taran from CCI.

 

“I don’t know abouth that but its still best that he doesn’t kn – Jacen where are you going?” she asked sharply.

 

“I can’t have Taran hindering this. Its too important for one of his power plays.” Suddenly struck by an idea, Jacen made his way to the coffee machines, which were located in a nook just outside the conference room. Nakaya was sitting at one of the small tables near to the coffee station, her head bent. The place looked like sort of a mini café, the place where the workers ate their lunches on a normal day.

 

Vorzar sat next to Nakaya saying something that Jacen could not hear. As he passed the table, she looked up and gave him a watery smile.

 

Jacen filled up one of the cups with boiling hot coffee and strode purposefully over to Taran’s station. Taran was going to discover he was here anyway, he might as well go to him for a change.

 

Taran had just finished talking with the tall man, and had returned to his computer. He did a double take, seeing Jacen. Surprised to see me alive, probably, Jacen thought. “Hey Taran,” he said, suddenly tripping, spilling the steaming coffee all over Taran’s pants.

 

Taran jumped up in alarm.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Jacen barely hiding a smile. “Let me help you clean that up.”

 

“No, no, I got it,” said Taran irritably. He gave a frustrated grunt and without another word stormed off to the bathroom to clean up.

 

Jacen sat down, at Taran’s now unattended work station. He worked his way through menus and sub menus, pressing a few buttons. Suddenly the monitor grayed out, froze. Jacen smiled and walked casually away.

 

After a few minutes, Taran returned to his station, damp and disgruntled. He tapped a few buttons, glared at the screen and tapped them harder, clearly growing more agitated by the minute.

 

Marit walked over to Taran’s station, along the way, exchanging a significant look with Jacen. “Whats up, Taran?”

 

“My system just froze,” he grunted “I don’t know what happened.”

 

Marit looked at his screen with an appropriate expression of concern. “Ooh, that happened to me last week, it’s a system reboot, takes about an hour. Don’t worry, you can get into everthing you were working on in Tech Room 1.”

 

“Thanks,” said Taran shortly, stalking off to the tech room, which was conveniently enough, for Jacen and Marit, on a separate floor.

 

Marit spun on her heel and went back to her station to work on the chip, a slight smirk on her face.

 

*_______________________*____________________________*

 

Mandy stood in the main hold of the Vengence’s Claw. It was the largest room in the ship, to be sure. In the center was a hologram projector, which was, at the moment, displaying a small, leafy green, moon: Dxun.

 

Dxun was the ship’s destination. It was the sister moon of the planet Onderon, in the Outer Rim. Coruscant, being located in the center of the core worlds, was about as far from Dxun as you could get without running into the Unkown Regions. If it were up to her she would just kill the insolent jedi brats and be done with it. But she had been instructed by the being that had hired her to keep them alive, and transport them to Dxun. Why Dxun of all places… she thought, disgruntled.

 

But as a bounty hunter, Mandy had learned long ago, that displeasing or questioning a client was not good for business. Still, she doubted that her boss would be welcoming the jedi to Dxun and certainly not offering them luxury accommodations and complimentary mineral water…he might even let her finish off the jedi when they landed. She smirked at this thought.

 

 

The jedi were always thought of as invincible, but Mandy was sorely disappointed with these two. Captured by Tarz and his other alien oafs. She had fully expected Tarz to fail, and that she would have to go down to The Hive herself, to fix their mess. Mandy scoffed silently to herself. Tarz may be as thick as a Kowakian Monkey Lizard, but he had his uses.

 

The holo projector was seated on a large circular table, similar to that on the Ebon Hawk. Mandy hoisted a small, but surprisingly heavy metal case into the table. She pressed the small black buttons on the side, entering a combination. With the tiniest beep and a hiss, the case popped open. Inside were nine vials, surrounded by foam to keep them from breaking, each filled with an acid green, bubbling, substance.

 

Mandy delicately plucked a vial from its protective foam. She held it up to the light cast by the holo projector, her eyes filling with an animal-like gleam, a rather feral smile crossing her lips. She rotated it in her hands, admiring the effect of the light on the substance. In these files contained a poison, which was lethal to every single known species, if ingested. This was a rare compound indeed and it had cost her a hefty sum, especially for nine vials of it. She had spent all of what she had earned

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

for taking out that CCI team on Narr Shaddaa on this poison. It was well worth it though.

 

Suddenly, the ship lurched violently and dropped out of hyperspace, making a loud, piercing sound that made Mandy’s ears hurt. The suddenness of this lurch knocked her off balance. She managed to stay on her feet, but in her effort not to fall on her face she dropped the vial of precious liquid. It shattered on the hard durasteel floor, its contents forming a wide pool. Mandy swore loudly. Just as she started to be thankful that at least she had eight more vials left, she saw the metal case teetering on the edge of the circular table. She lunged for it, but was not quick enough and it fell to the floor, with a metallic clang, and the sound of shattering glass.

 

One look told her that all of her hard earned poison, was now spent, laying in an utterly worthless pool on the floor. Even as she watched, the pool formed a tiny stream which flowed down a slight depression in the floor, and into a minute crack. Her poison was draining away.

 

Mandy, shaking with rage, stormed into the cockpit of the ship, a blazing look in her eye. The pilot, one of the yellow-eyed aliens, looked up at her ready to speak, but Mandy cut him off.

 

Though her eyes were flashing, Mandy spoke in a sweet, silky voice, that was somehow more frightening than a rage. “What was that, Tarz?”

 

“I – I – I don’t know for sure. B-but we may have a blown hyperdrive,” stuttered Tarz. If a person who did not know Mandy saw what was going on in the cockpit, they would have found it comical to see the hulking, muscular, alien cowering in the presence of a short human girl.

 

“How can we not have known about this before? I told you lot to check all of our systems before departing, didn’t I? ” asked Mandy in her dangerously sweet voice.

 

“Uhh – yes, you did.”

 

Mandy felt her temper rising and was no longer able to keep her anger in check. “Then how, did this happen then, you chuff-sucking leech?!” she demanded. “Get your captain and space him - his incompetence is getting tiring.”

 

“Umm…Mandy?” mumbled Tarz tentatively.

 

“What?” she snapped, piercing him with her red hot gaze.

 

“You – er- already shot the captain because –erm – he didn’t let you in to see the jedi, so-” Tarz stopped short. Experience had taught him that it was not wise to test Mandy even at the best of times…and this was certainly one of the worst times.

 

Mandy’s fury was reaching a boiling point, the metal studs on her leather choker seeming to swell. Her hand was resting threateningly on one of her shining, silver, throwing knives.

 

“Well then get someone that I haven’t shot, and space him, now.”

 

Mandy stopped and took a deep breath. Her anger seemed fade as quickly as it had come. The sudden change in emotion was alarming. “Since we obviously can’t make it to Dxun without a hyperdrive, where are we landing?”

 

“Nierport VII,” grunted Tarz, who seemed relieved that Mandy was not angry with him…or at least that it didn’t appear that she was going to rip his head off. “It’s a small moon used for refueling. They have many ship parts there.”

 

Mandy nodded, as Tarz put the ship on auto pilot. “Hey, Tarz.”

 

Tarz turned around just in time to see a bright, shining object hurtling towards him. He reached for his blaster, but was too late. With a soft thump, Mandy’s throwing knife landed right between his eyes. Tarz collapsed in his seat, an expression of shock still glued on his face.

 

Mandy allowed herself a small grin at that stupid expression plastered on Tarz’s face. Another of the aliens entered the cockpit and stopped dead at the sight of Tarz slumped in his chair, a knife protruding from his forehead. He looked wildly from Mandy to Tarz, and back again, blinking stupidly.

 

Mandy calmly pulled her knife out of Tarz’s head with a sickening crunch, wrinkling her nose at the oozing blood all over it. She made a mental note to just use a blaster when killing these aliens in the future. It saved tedious minutes cleaning their gooey blood off her knives. She strode up to the alien who just entered.

 

“Congratulations,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder, giving him a slight smirk. “You’ve just been, promoted.”

 

*______________________________*______________________________*

 

Marit felt her anxiety grow, her anticipation mounting. She was down to the final data layer of the chip. Any minute now they would discover who the traitor was. There. She was done. Now she just had to wait for the results to load. They appeared on her screen. She jumped out of her seat and race over to Jacen, who was already striding over to her station. He looked at her with burning anticipation.

 

“Well?” he demanded.

 

Marit sighed “I don’t know how to say this…erm…its Nakaya, Jacen.”

 

Jacen did not know what he was expecting to hear, but certainly not this. Nakaya had been so upset by Jorrin’s death…perhaps a bit too upset, now that he thought about it. He glared with narrowed eyes over at the coffe station where Nakaya was seated, now alone, sipping on a drink.

 

“Nakaya,” Jacen whispered.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Sorry, couln't fit it in one post, enjoy!

 

~HOP

[Rev7]

Nice job!

[HIGH ON PIE 14]

Thanks Rev!

 

So, I was wondering what everyone's first impressions of the new girl, Gina, are. Thank you all for your support.

 

~HOP