“Where’s the Rodian?”
“Look, I’d tell you what you want to know, but you’re gonna have to be more specific! There are tons of Rodians in Ebon Ridge!”
A blue light flickered to life in the darkness, shining off Ellac’s face as he glared down at the Devaronian he had by the throat. The light port...
Submission Text
“Where’s the Rodian?”
“Look, I’d tell you what you want to know, but you’re gonna have to be more specific! There are tons of Rodians in Ebon Ridge!”
A blue light flickered to life in the darkness, shining off Ellac’s face as he glared down at the Devaronian he had by the throat. The light portrayed the rotating bust of a bounty contract that had been opened on a chosen target, a Rodian with green scales and a tell-tale scar that ran across his face from his left ear to the right side of his throat.
“Dweebo Sartoona,” Ellac said. “I know you know him.”
“Dweebo? That’s who you want? Why didn’t you just say so!,” The Devaronian chuckled nervously. “Sure, I know ‘em! He used to do some jobs for me back in the day! Did some real nice work too, I mean real nice, a professional even! B-but I don’t know whe-“
Ellac tightened his grip around his victim’s throat. “That’s not good enough.”
The Devaronian gasped as he tried to squirm free from the Sith’s grasp. “Okay, okay, I know where he is!”
“Talk.” Ellac said, loosening his grip just enough to allow air to pass through.
Relieved to breathe but now even more nervous, his whole body began trembling. “Well, I mean, I don’t know where he is right now, but-“
Ellac began to squeeze his throat again, but the Devaronian yelped in protest.
“WAIT!, I don’t know where he is right now but I know where he’s going to be!”
Ellac pulled the frightened man up as he leaned close to his face. “You are officially out of breath to waste. Tell me what I want to know, and ONLY what I want to know, or I’ll close your windpipe permanently.”
“Okay…,” the man panted. “Okay… The last deal I had with him, he said he hit the jackpot. He told me about a deal he scored with one of the bigwigs of those fancy casinos. Apparently Dweebo was gonna make a trade with this guy for a lot of credits, but that’s all I know, I swear!”
“Where is this deal?”
“He said it was gonna be on the outskirts, a place they call the Scrap Pits! But you’ll need an invitation to get in. They don’t let just anyone in, ya know!”
“So where can I get an invitation?”
”I don’t know, I never got one! It’s all very hush-hush. It’s not like they do the most legal stuff in there! Those deathmatches are brutal!” The Devaronian cried.
Ellac dropped the man, rising to his feet. “That’s exactly what I needed to know. Thank you.”
The Devaronian let out a feeble laugh as he crawled onto his knees. “Hey, no problem! Anytime! And thanks for not killing me, ya know? It’s bad for business...”
“Of course,” Ellac said, drawing his blaster from his holster before firing a bolt through the man’s head. “Don’t mention it.”
•••
The sun had barely set under the horizon as Ellac approached the fence to peer inside the salvage yard. Broken pieces of ship debris and speeder parts collected in mounds scattered throughout the lot.
“The Scrap Pit?,” Ellac muttered to himself as he slipped through a hole in the wire-mesh fence. “That’s a bit on the nose, even for me.” Being careful not to accidentally kick any buckets or cause something to shift in the piles, Ellac pressed deeper into the salvage. ‘Still, something in the air doesn’t seem right for a place like this.’ To him, it almost seemed as if the piles of wreckage were breathing, quietly humming deep underneath the surface. ‘It’s too… alive.’
“That’s the only way we like it.”
Ellac spun on his heel, his lightsaber instinctively drawn, but not yet ignited. The source of the voice, standing above him on one of the scrap heaps was a human like himself, holding his head up to stare down his nose at Ellac.
“How’d you get in here?” His accent was thick, almost like that of an imperial, but the way he said certain words like “Way” and “Like” sounded very similar.
“I got an invitation from a friend of Sartoona.” Ellac said. “I came to see him.”
The man above Ellac burst out laughing, as if he couldn’t contain it if he tried. “You want to talk to Sartoona? You mean, with the bounty on his head and all? Suuure, please, by all means, he’d be more than happy to see you!” he said, still laughing to himself. “I mean, really? C’mon, you don’t actually think you can just walk in here and sit down with one of our esteemed guests like you’re old mates from the academy, do you?”
“We all have our delusions.” Ellac said, still staring up at him.
“No kidding, mate.” He said with a smirk. “Tell you what, I like you. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m not gonna kill you here, and I’m not an unreasonable man, so how would you feel about being the Scrap Pit’s next contender? You and another fighter step into the ring, fight to the death, and if you win, we’ll let you see Sartoona. Sound like a plan?”
Ellac had to stop himself from smiling at the thought of being in another ring fight. “Alright, I’m in. When do we start?”
“Why not now?” The man said, gesturing to a significantly larger pile of scrap in the middle of the yard. “In that salvage heap is the warehouse, and inside there, the ring, and your opponent is already waiting for you. Just remember not to die, and you’ll get what you came for. Now off you pop!”
Ellac looked over to the warehouse for a moment before making his way over to the large mound. A piece of metal slid out of the way, a doorway opening up to the Scrap Pit inside. The ring was about an eight foot deep recess into the ground, with a four foot fence standing on all sides. An office box sat above the standard seats to provide a better view of the fights. In side the ring, a wookie slave had been thrown into center, clearly more of a prisoner than a willing participant.
“Right this way.” One of the thugs inside gestured to a gate in the fence.
Ellac stepped into the ring, the heat from the bright spotlights bearing down on his shoulders.
The day Ashura learned to maximise his Mind Trick force ability to delay its effect, essential turning people he'd broken into spies or assassins, had been one of his proudest achievements. It meant he could use this to benefit himself and others (if needed.) He had discovered a spy working again...
Submission Text
The day Ashura learned to maximise his Mind Trick force ability to delay its effect, essential turning people he'd broken into spies or assassins, had been one of his proudest achievements. It meant he could use this to benefit himself and others (if needed.) He had discovered a spy working against the Brotherhood as part of his duties to the Inquisitorius. It fell to him to interrogate the spy and learn who had sent him. The man in question was restricted to an interrogation chair, the same kind the Inquisitors of the Galactic Empire used on their prisoners.
"You will tell me who sent you. It is only a matter of time, and we are both going nowhere."
The Sith Warlord said to the dark side practitioner as he slowly walked around the chair. He had spent the last hour torturing the man, only to give the prisoner brief respites to question him before returning to it, the screams of pain soothing the Inquisitor's cold black heart. However, it was time to take a different approach. As if breaking the man's body was not enough, Ashura decided to break his mind, to render the spy into a drooling state, ready to be manipulated to whatever the Sith needed him to be. He stopped before the prisoner and reached out a hand as the Force flowed through him and to the restrained spy.
"You will break. It is inevitable."
Ashura connected to the prisoner's mind to use the malicious and perverted use of the Jedi mind trick to take control of the man's mind. He truly enjoyed this Force ability twisted by the Dark Side. If he had to explain what he was doing to someone who wasn't Force-sensitive, he'd explain it like Slicing into a data network, as Firewalls protected computer systems. Willpower and one's Force nature (if a Force user) could prevent this ability from taking effect. It was one of the main reasons those with strong wills were not affected by the mind trick ability, although that said, given enough time, anyone would break. Torture was an effective way to lower these resistances.
"You have failed in your mission. Those who you serve have abandoned you to this fate. Do not let their betrayal lead to your death. Listen to reason."
The Inquisitor's words were laced with the Force as he continued to erode the spy's mental resistance. He could feel them causing doubt to rise within the man, which led to his willpower faulting, allowing him to seep deeper into the prisoner's mind. It was like a mist seeping through the cracks in a wall, allowing Ashura to worm his way inside, deeper and deeper.
"I can release you, give your purpose, a reason to get revenge against those who left you to this damnable fate."
His words were sweet like honey as he offered the spy a lifeline, all the while corrupting his mind, breaking through into the man's mind. Ashura suddenly realised something truly tremendous as the man's willpower gave out. The mind in this state was programmable. Like a computer, he could input his commands and have this broken man do whatever was required. He could repurpose the spy into anything he needed. More than that, he could set triggers and delay responses allowing him to turn his puppet into an unknowing assassin. The options available to him were unfathomable. Ashura watched as the man slumped against the interrogation chair, staring blankly ahead. A bit of drooling pooled down from the corner of his mouth. The Sith lowered his hand and took a step closer. Ashura smiled and placed his hands behind his back.
"Are you ready to comply with my instructions and tell me who sent you?"
Ashura asked as the man nodded and replied.
"Yes."
The Sith nodded in return and began his questioning.
"Good. Your compliance shall be rewarded. Tell me who sent you, and I shall inform you of your mission."
The prisoner began to tell Ashura everything as the Sith continued to work his mind control over the puppet, programming the man into a sleeper assassin, with his target being the person who sent him to spy on the Brotherhood. Ashura would later arrange for the spy to forget about the programming and have him think he escaped, returning to those who sent him while following his new masters' orders and finally assassinating his target. The spy was just an expendable tool for Ashura, his alpha test. The Sith knew he would have to refine this ability. After all, progress requires experimentation.
Hector Von Ricmore
Clan Vizsla
Ebon Ridge, Zsoldos, Zsoldos System
Ebon Ridge was a Hutt slime filled shithole. That thought echoed through the mind of one Hector Von Ricmore. It was not the gambling dens or even those loitering in gang colors which set him off. It was the stench. The revolting,...
Submission Text
Hector Von Ricmore
Clan Vizsla
Ebon Ridge, Zsoldos, Zsoldos System
Ebon Ridge was a Hutt slime filled shithole. That thought echoed through the mind of one Hector Von Ricmore. It was not the gambling dens or even those loitering in gang colors which set him off. It was the stench. The revolting, nauseating smell that clung to the slums. It reeked of decomposing corpses and feces which baked in the sun.
Dweebo Sartoona. That was the name of the scumbag which brought Von to this Force forsaken place. The man was a known slaver, one of the few crimes alarming enough to convince the more powerful inhabitants of Zsoldos to take immediate action. On Zsoldos murder was expected; drugs and weapon smuggling were commonplace. But slavery set people on edge. Slavery could bring the attention of the Hutt clans, a dire event the people of Zsoldos sought to avoid at nearly any cost.
It was no wonder that a bounty was swiftly placed upon Dweebo. The Rodian had taken some precautions upon arriving at Zsoldos. He arrived using a false name with documentation to aid his cover as an agricultural merchant hauling produce. These falsification attempts stood no match against the Yuanming network. As the structure houses the only proper spaceport upon Zsoldos, the slaver was forced to land at the hotel. As with all new arrivals the hotel made use of the most cutting edge scans and information retrieval technology available. For most arrivals a single scanning sweep was where things ended. Yuanming cared not for most cargo from spice to weapons, as long as no hostile actions were taken against the hotel. But the varied cages and humanoid sized electro collars revealed a discrepancy in the Rodians story.
The Yuanming leadership reached out to their information network, trading credits and a favor in return for the truth. The Rodian was an infamous slaver named Dweebo Sartoona, an agent of the Hutt cartel hoping to plunder more slaves away from the prying eyes of governments like the New Republic or First Order.
With the truth uncovered the assassins of Yuanming wasted no time posting a bounty. A vast sum of credits to be paid out for the capture of Dweebo and a bonus for any information or action taken against his possible associates. The bounty claimed that Dweebo was last seen traveling towards Ebon Ridge on his personal skiff, accompanied by a personal entourage. Which led to Von’s current predicament.
The Sith waited in the comfort of his personal vessel, a Skipray Blastboat. Small enough to land outside of a spaceport yet powerful enough to do some real damage in combat; the vessel pleased its owner greatly. There was a slight hiccup in that the ship was designed for a crew but offering one of the reserve Vizsla pilots and a skilled medic half the bounty solved that issue nicely.
As for Dweebo, the Rodian had parked his skiff outside of the slums. A trio of Weequay guards watched over the vehicle while the Rodian and his remaining entourage entered a cantina.
It was no small relief to the Pau’an that he would not have to enter such an establishment, at least not yet. Avoiding a slum wide firefight was ideal and the best way to do that would be to not assault a patron inside a cantina. Despite Ebon Ridge’s tolerance of dishonorable duels who could truly say what would happen when enough alcoholic patrons heard the blaster bolts start to fly. The risk of escalation was too great and not worth gaining whatever information could be gleaned from Dweebo’s venture.
Von was content to wait within the safety of his ship, observing the skiff through his Viper probe droid. The droid was painted to blend in against the dilapidated buildings and the Sith had personally tweaked its systems to ensure it would be as quiet as possible. And thus he waited, watching the video stream from the droid on his data pad.
His patience paid off. Dweebo returned with his entourage, a mixed group of Gamoreans and Weequay, as well as a single Nemoidian. They boarded the skiff as a group, the Gamoreans carrying several unconscious individuals. With the passengers aboard the skiff began to travel back to Yuanming.
“Pilot follow them.” Von ordered.
As the ship began to rise the Pau’an focused on his connection to the Viper probe droid, mentally ordering it to follow and kill the guards of the entourage.
Viper flew towards the skiff and began to fire its blaster. Flashes of red light exited from underneath the droid. Most of the shots missed their intended targets, the droid was no marksman and both itself and the skiff were moving at high speeds. A single blast hit the Weequay manning the skiff’s blaster cannon. The criminal fell to the floor of the skiff with a smoking hole in his chest.
“What are you doing? Blast that droid!” Dweebo yelled as he deftly pulled out a blaster pistol and began to return fire. The skiff’s movement did him no favors and his first volley went wide.
The droid then fired its blaster at one of the Gamoreans. The shot slammed into the creature and sent it tumbling from the vehicle with a squeal. A lucky shot from the Rodian slammed into the droid’s eye. It powered off and crashed into the ground.
“What am I even paying you all for? Useless the lot of you.” The Rodian snarled. “Check on the slaves make sure none of them were awoken by the conflict.”
The roar of engines growing closer caused the Rodian to look around in alarm. Turing around he witnessed Von’s Skipray flying closer to the skiff.
“One of you idiots get on the turret and shoot that out of the sky! NOW!” Dweebo screamed.
A Weequay ran for the turret only to be thrown from the skiff when blaster fire slammed into him.
The remaining criminals fired a variety of blasters against the Skipray, their small arms fire doing very little to its heavy shielding and armor.
Von stared down his target from aboard the Skipray. With the piloting delegated he was free to utilize the weaponry with all his expertise. He continued firing upon the skiff, obliterating the blaster turret after killing the gunner. The Skipray then fired into the engine of the skiff, causing an explosion.
The vehicle was moving too fast to come to an immediate stop. It’s momentum carried the vessel towards one of the badlands mountains. The skiff scrapped against the side of the mountain, releasing a shriek of metal followed by a loud explosion. The noise was so loud it irritated Von’s sensitive hearing, even with his ear protection.
“What the frick were they carrying?” The gunner muttered as he ears rang.
“Set us down Pilot.” He ordered. “Double check your armor seals before we leave.” Von stated as he began stripping off his armor. Clad only in his bodyglove he quickly changed into his environmental suit. “Medic, I need Dweebo alive. Perform the procedure on him and spare no expense. I’ll ensure you are properly compensated.”
“Yes Sir.” The pair acknowledged.
Exiting the vessel the trio moved to investigate the skiff. Charred bodies littered the ground, those still alive squirming and groaning in pain. Blaster pistol in hand, Von ended their suffering as the group moved towards the Rodian.
Dweebo was practically unrecognizable. Green skin was damaged by the explosion and charred black by the spice fueled flames.
The medic began to unpack his tools as he prepared to operate.
“Will he live?” Von inquired.
“The procedure will increase his odds but it remains up to the patient. We will have to see.”
Undisclosed location
3 days later
Dweebo felt pain. All he knew was pain. He screamed and screamed until his voice would let him scream no more.
The Rodian’s whole body ached. His arms and legs chaffed, held in restraints which kept him suspended in the air.
“Impressive, you aren’t supposed to be awake yet.”
The Rodian turned to face the sound, fear coiling in his gut.
“You appear to be in pain. Shall I take that away for you?” The voice proclaimed.
As the voice implied the pain Dweebo felt faded. But his fear only increased. This was unnatural. Where was he? Who was speaking? He had to get out. He had to get out.
Dweebo thrashed against his restraints. They held firm against his desperate struggles.
“No need for that. I’m certain we are going to get to know each other quite well.” The voice claimed as it grew even closer.
Dweebo finally got to put a face to the name. Pale scarred flesh and bright yellow eyes. A Pau’an.
“I’ve begun to learn that simply destroying one’s enemies is so very wasteful.” Von began to monologue. “Killing is often necessary and even enjoyable. But the assets of one’s enemies can be made to work for you. You are a slaver Dweebo. To your kind people are an asset, a commodity. I think you may have a point. You see I belong to an organization which has recently suffered some unfortunate setbacks. I’m not the kind of man who enjoys being caught off guard and its time for me to rectify that. In the past my organization encountered a fearsome enemy who utilized cybernetic soldiers. Cold, unfeeling automatons who could overcome pain and adversity. It’s taken myself and others 3 years but we have unraveled the code and made it our own so to speak. You see Dweebo, you belong to me now. That chip in your head marks you as mine. If you remove it, you will die. And when you receive the proper messages your pesky free will is wiped away, allowing you to act as an agent of my design.”
Dweebo shook in terror. He didn’t want this. Couldn’t imagine this. He wanted out. He had to get out.
“I wouldn’t bother escaping. The chip won’t allow you to. Even when in your conscious mind the technology will not allow you to use death as an escape. After you recover I’ll hand you over to the proper authorities. I’m certain the Hutts or some other criminal will still make use of you; no doubt you will find freedom eventually. But you will never truly be free. You are my spy for eternity, a fate worse then death. Truly a fitting fate for one who makes his living taking the freedom from others.” Von remarked with a morbid chuckle as he walked away.
Aleho awoke with a start as the hazy fog that surrounded her memories slowly began to lift. Her body ached as she tried to remember what happened and why she was lying in an escape pod? The last thing she remembered was the war. Her last memory was an explosion as the starship she'd been on got c...
Submission Text
Aleho awoke with a start as the hazy fog that surrounded her memories slowly began to lift. Her body ached as she tried to remember what happened and why she was lying in an escape pod? The last thing she remembered was the war. Her last memory was an explosion as the starship she'd been on got crippled.
'I remember something about a planet? Someone must have put me in an escape pod and jettisoned me. The planet's gravity must have caught my pod and put me down here.'
The young woman thought as she took stock of her inventory.
Aleho said as she moved to the hatch and performed an atmospheric check. The planet met all the parameters for live sustainability, meaning she could breathe the air unassisted. With a flick of a button, the hatch hissed as it opened up to reveal sand, sun and sea.
The Togruta blinked due to the bright light of the two suns overhead as she got out of the escape pod and began to take stock of her surroundings. The long-term goal would be survival. Luckily for Aleho, she had been taught basic survival methods, primarily due to her sadistic master, who dumped put in the wilderness as part of her training.
"Well, it is not a lava planet or jungle world."
Sometime later.
It was late evening as Aleho prompted herself against a palm tree and threw another branch onto the small fire she made. The campfire consumed the remains of the fish she had cooked and eaten as she cracked open another coconut to drink the sweet nectar. The datapad beside her was blinking the record function as she began to talk.
"Log update. It has been thirty-seven hours since I landed on this lovely island, and I have to say it's rather pleasant compared to some of the locations my master left me during my youth, for the short term at least. It only took me a few hours to map. The shallow shoreline has plenty of schools of fish, and I have noticed large aquatic life further out, not that I'm going to attempt swimming out that far. The island itself is rather small. Plenty of trees for shade produce two types of fruit; one being a yellow fruit you need to peel, and the other hard-shelled, which contains liquid inside. Sadly, there seem to be no fresh water springs or sources. Wildlife consists of birds which must fly from somewhere, not that I can tell as the horizon shows nothing but the ocean."
She paused for a moment to sip at the liquid.
"My lightsaber has come in useful, although using it to cut a tree down was likely not what most people would use it for, but hey, use the tools you have at least. My rifle ammo is limited, and my blaster power cell is down three-quarters. So best not to use those unless I need to defend myself. So far, I've limited myself to basic tools I've created to fish or use the Force. As for getting rescued from the impromptu vacation, I've set up a standard Brotherhood encrypted distress signal via my wrist comlink, using the escape pods communication array to boost the signal. Honestly. Not much I can do but wait."
Aleho ended the log entry and settled against the tree. It was time to get some sleep. A few hours passed peacefully until thunder and lighting overhead woke her up. Her lightsaber hummed as she shot to her feet in a defensive stance. The crimson blade was the only light source. Lighting arced across the sky as the temperature dropped. Then, it began to rain, a torrential downpour as the heavens opened up.
"COME ON!!! YOU GOT TO BE KRIFFING KIDDING ME!!! ALL I'M ASKING FOR IS JUST ONE LOUSY NIGHT WITHOUT IT HAVING TO RAIN!!! WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN EVERY SINGLE TIME?!? GODS DAMN IT!!!"
The two suns were peaking over the horizon as the shuttle landed not far from where the soaked Aleho was standing. As the platform descended, she looked like a drowned rat, and the young Sith walked up. It had rained throughout the entire night, and with little to no cover, all Aleho could do was hunker down and tolerate the conditions. She shivered and accepted the blanket which she wrapped around herself. Her little campfire got snuffed out when it started to rain. So it had been a cold, wet and miserable night, but at least she had survived, which was something.
"Are you alright, ma'am? Do you need any medical attention?"
The medic asked her as Aleho sat down while he looked her over.
"No, I was rather lucky, all things considering—just a couple of scrapes and bruises. I was able to treat the scrapes the best I could. My first aid is mediocre at best, but I know enough about bushcraft to know how best to treat my wounds. Well, enough to keep them from getting infected, at least."
The medic began to treat her regardless as the shuttle lifted off the island. All in all, the Sith woman had survived the experience. What more could she ask.
'Well, perhaps a spa treatment and someone to warm me during the night, along with a little... nighttime activities.'
A sly smile formed across her lips at that thought. Honestly, the experience had been mundane. Compared to past survival situations she had to endure in the past, this had been pretty pleasant, apart from the very wet night. She could have avoided or tried to prepare in advance if she had known about it. Sadly, weather forecasting was not one of her Force powers. She wondered if that was something that she could predict?
'Well, I've achieved the main goal of a survival situation. I survived. Now to focus on the future.'