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 Posted: Wed Apr 11, 2012 5:59 pm
-- begin recording. -- Personal Logs,
_____President Tanis Umbrea.
50 long years of night. That is how it seems to me now, watching the lights of Coruscant shine against the darkness. People coming and going, traders to their shops, serving girls to their cantinas, smugglers bringing riches to the rich, and even our so-called diplomats on their self-important missions. All of them rage against the night that has fallen, but none of them know it. In this deluge of deception there are few alive now who can remember what it was before this mockery of democracy.
I am eighty-six years thanks to scientific miracles. I could live longer if I gave into the insistence of my aids, but they are young. They know life and love, they know hope; what do they know of growing old? I have seen so much change, disappear, even die, in this very long life of mine. I do not desire to live long enough to see the rest drown in darkness.
There is but one reason that I make this recording: It is not this dying prose of an old woman who talks when she should be dying. It is a message, one that will shine more light, more hope, than any false gems or stars crafted by the decievers and usurpers, hiding their darkness with lies and illusions.
The Jedi are still alive.
-- end of recording. -- 50 years ago the Jedi faced one of the greatest genocides in history at the hands of their long-time enemies, the Sith. Led by a Sith Lord long-thought dead, the attack lasted a single night. In one Long Night, Jedi of several generations perished leaving only pockets of survivors scattered across the galaxy. Over the course of five decades these survivers were hunted down by Sith agents, some of whom had been Jedi themselves, but facing death swore themselves to the Sith Lord.
Now the word "Jedi" has all but become a half-remembered story and the name "Sith" is known and spoken in common place by everyone, every day.
Settling in comfortably in the absence of their opposition, the Sith Order has established a role of military supremacy in the galaxy, official allies and advisors to the Republic, while unofficially ruling from a Shadow throne.
With no one to oppose the Sith in might or ability, the Republic worlds have healed from their loss and grown scars of complacency. After all, with the Jedi gone the Sith have no fear of opposition...
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Posted: Wed Apr 11, 2012 7:41 pm
Tanis
"Seal the recording, Anais. No one should see that until I am gone."
Aged and ancient, the small form of Tanis Umbrea sat up in her oversized bed. In comparison to the lavish bedding, the elder looked even smaller than she was. At one time in her life she had been tall, firm and ageless; her beauty had swayed as many hearts as her words had. Now all of that was gone, leaving a shrunken woman in its absence. Her green eyes were still sharp, though, and they saw more than many thought her capable of, and her ears heard more than anyone would think.
"Madam President, you shouldn't speak of such things. The Republic looks forward to having you lead us for many more years."
"Why must children say such stupid things when their elders are speaking?" Tanis replied curtly, ignoring the feigned hurt on the young aide's face. Anais was a slip of a girl, barely sixteen from a planet that Tanis no longer remembered nor bothered to try. All that Tanis needed to remember was the Anais was not old or learned enough to remember a time when they weren't fauning over the aging, soon-to-be-gone President. After all, once Tanis was gone who would be the pain in Darth Revenant's side?
No one. She admitted to herself bitterly while accepting a glass of water from Anais. "Poison?" She asked, almost hopefully. It would be faster than this drawn out dance with age that she had been doing for years.
Apparently ignoring the President's question, Anais turned away and picked up a datapad. "Drink it all, Madame President. The doctors said you needed more liquids."
"Did they also say that I needed a wet nurse?" Tanis quipped, but drank her water anyways. This is my life now, she added silently, listening to Anais list off the day's appointments on her datapad.
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Posted: Thu Apr 12, 2012 5:14 pm
Clint Cassel
Corsuscant System, Inbound Towards Coruscant
Clint Cassel flipped to another s-thread on his holo-display and glanced down at it, observing the broadcast that he immediately picked up.
"Hello, my Republican friends! Yeah, that's right... It's me: Iegres the Hunter."
The miniature holo displayed a grizzly-looking Whiphid standing and pointing one of its clawed fingers up at its own snout.
"Here in the Outer Rim, you've seen me wrestle fifty foot banthas. You've seen me carve up wild motmots. And you've seen me hunt and wrestle wild game with my own bare hands. But startin next week we are taking the whole show across the galaxy and broadcasting live from the Core Worlds. From the capital of the Republic. Coruscant."
Clint shifted in the pilot's chair, trying to get a bit more comfortable before he dropped out of orbit into Coruscant's stratosphere.
"And when I get there I am going to be hunting the wildest game of them all. What is it you ask..."
The Whiphid laughed loudly, the sound coming out of its throat through the speakers like a guttural barking. Clint arched an eyebrow as he buckled himself into his seat for atmospheric re-entry.
"Well, all I'm going to tell you now, is that there isn't a creature in the galaxy that I can't hunt."
Suddenly, there was a series of short holovids that repeated itself in a loop twice, with baka rock playing in the background.
"Iegres the Hunter! Reality Holocasts just got more real."
Clint scowled as he flipped up to a different s-thread. Fifty-seven million holocasts being broadcast across the s-threads and not one mention of VIPs outbound from Coruscant. You'd think that since diplomacy bled out of the Republic like oxygen through a suit puncture, there'd be at least one semi-important figure that needed private transport off of the Republic's capital world.
Times were hard for freight skippers here, what with most corporations and individuals having secured their own transportation without the use of a third-party. Clint would be lucky if he could break even on his trip out of here. Perhaps it was time to give Coruscant up as one of the major commerce worlds in the galaxy. It sure wasn't looking out for the little guy.
A bump knocked Clint back into reality as the Bwua'tu, a GX1 short hauler that he'd personally bought and paid off by himself, compensated for atmospheric pressure and gravity. The thrum of the sublight engines suddenly gained an additional melody from the repulsorlift engines as the kicked in automatically, the Bwua'tu's navicomp booting up the exterior appendages expediently. As his dropped down and forward to Coruscant's planet-wide citycape, he could see the tallest of skyscrapers sticking up out of the clouds, little monuments dotting the Coruscant heavens.
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Posted: Thu Apr 12, 2012 7:57 pm
Kyra
Pilot, Firestorm
En Route to Coruscant The YT- 2450 transport Firestorm moved into a holding pattern over the glittering ball known as Corsucant as its pilot, Kyra, sat in the pilot's chair painting her nails. She cast a glance at the planet, then heaved a heavy sigh. Her contact had said the man she was coming to Coruscant to meet needed to be approached subtly, and the best way to do it would be during one of his balls. So, that meant she would have to gussy up. She had stopped at Commenor to pick up a dress and accoutrements in order to keep up the cover that had been provided to her. She looked at the dress sprawled out on the chair beside her when the comm crackled. " Syrt's Folly, you are cleared for landing at Docking Bay 256." She leaned forward and pressed her comm button. "Thank you Control,navigating there now." She rolled her green eyes and checked her chrono. Leaning back in her chair, she said, "Oh, it only took you three hours to find me a landing zone, twits." Grumbling to herself, she navigated the ship towards the landing platform now highlighted on her display.
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Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2012 2:25 pm
Eastport Docking Facility - Coruscant
Brown leather boots headed down the ramp of an old dingy freighter, they stopped momentarily once they reached the docking platform, then turned back around. These boots belonged to a fairly tall woman, if one were to guess she'd be about 6 feet, her brown hair lay draped over her shoulder in the form of a long braid. Judging from her outfit, you'd think she was a farmer from Dantooine or possibly Naboo, carrying with her only a small pack barely big enough to carry an extra set of clothes. All in all, she appeared to be no-one special.
As she turned around, she was greeted by the pilot of the ship, a scruffy, yet handsome, looking young man. The type who you might expect to get by on just his charms alone. She thanked him for the safe journey he delivered and gave him the payment she owed him for it, doing so with one of the brightest of smiles any person could ever have.
But as the pilot went back about his business and the woman turned back to the city of Coruscant, that smile quickly fell to a grim expression. This world might contain plenty of that which she is looking for, but it would also be without a doubt one of the most dangerous places to be looking for them. For one such as her, anyway.
Too often the Sith dogs had caught her scent, and she managed to stay out of their grasp just barely. Now she was on a planet unlike she had ever been on before, the amount if people, the security, she had to be a lot more careful here.
Reaching in her pack, she pulled out a desert cloak and put it on. The cloak had both a mouth cover, as well as goggles. Ensuring that at least her appearance remained unknown, even to the many security camera's that were on Coruscant.
Holding the cloak tightly, Jen moved through the crowd and out of the spaceport.
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Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2012 4:06 pm
Kyra
Pilot, Firestorm
Eastport Docking Facility, Coruscant The YT-2450 touched down on her struts in the Eastport Docking Facility and began its cool down procedures. After the cool down finished, the ramp dropped and Kyra descended the ramp. Over her back was her dress, cloaking in plastic. The Sith docking assistant wasmaking his way towards her. Kyra readily displayed her papers, listing her as Ellanore Carrow, captain of the Syrt's Folly. Then she handed the Sith the proper fee and stalked out to the promenade, dress slung over her back.
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Posted: Sat Apr 14, 2012 9:39 pm
Clint Cassel
Coruscant, Eastport Docking Facility
The Bwua'tu thudded down onto the durasteel floor of the small docking bay at Eastport, its repulsorlift engines whining down to a whistle. Clint shut down the ship's systems methodically, powering off the main computer, depressurizing the cabins, and letting the engines enter into cool-down. Behind him, the elevator that served as the entrance and exit to the cockpit came up, and his droid "Siggy" whirred forward on its thin tread, whistling in low tones.
"Don't worry about it, Siggy... Why don't you finish up the engine shutdown, and I'll go see to our passenger?"
Siggy let out a stacatto of sharp whistles and sped quickly toward a panel next to the pilot's station, extending a scomp link out of one of it's panels and inserting into a computer terminal.
"Siggy, what did I tell you about antagonizing the passengers?" Clint asked irritably.
The astromech droid simply sat silently, wisely interpreting silence as the best response to Clint's request for him to recite the orders. Clint just sighed and undid the seat strap across his chest. Spinning his chair around and getting up, he strode out to the back of the cockpit and entered the small elevator space, thumbing the "down" button as he did so.
Tapping his foot a couple times while he waited for the lift to crawl downwards, Clint finally entered into the common room, where his passenger has spent most of her time in. The room was empty now. The passenger was likely waiting with her luggage by the exit elevator, still fretting over not being able to get out of the ship quickly enough. Clint strode straight down the middle hallway, walking past the galley, medical bay, and converted cargo spaces, stepping past the ladder to the turret, as well. And there, on his left, after he cleared the hallway, was the client he was providing safe passage for, standing and looking frustrated, staring at Clint as he approached the elevator controls. It was no wonder she couldn't get out. Clint had the controls code-locked to keep out unwanted visitors and prevent passengers from leaving without paying their dues.
"The elevator isn't working," the passenger explained curtly, holding her bags tightly.
"Well, let me take a look-see..."
Clint placed one hand over the controls, and without looking, entered the 6-digit code that unlocked user-controls for the person controlling it.
"Why don't you give me some of those bags, and I'll take some of your luggage down ahead of you?" Before the passenger could give him a reply, Clint dragged one of her bags onto the small circular elevator with him, and descended down into the hangar before the lady could join him.
Outside, the sound of passing aircraft echoed off of the durasteel. Light emanated out of dozens of glowpanels around the docking area and from daylight flooding into the hangar. Clint moved the luggage down gently off of the elevator and sent the device back up via a control panel on the underside of the ship. Within a minute, the elevator descended and the passenger stepped off the loading platform lightly, settling her pack down next to her. Opening up a small pocket on the side, the woman reached into her bag and produced a credit chip.
"Your payment," the passenger said, offering the chip to Clint.
"You are most welcome for the trip, ma'am," Clint said, taking the chip out of her fingertips. "Don't forget to fly Cassel if you want to get to Kessel."
The woman looked at him with a peculiar smile before the turned to grab her bags and leave. Clint didn't need to check to make sure she'd given him the 6 grand in credits they'd agreed upon. He'd picked her up on one Naboo, sector capital of the Chommel Sector, and one of the more civilized planets in the galaxy. She wasn't likely to be a con artist, and Clint had been able to confirm her credentials before they took off. She was good for it.
Clearing his throat, Clint shoved the credit chip into his pants and pulled his personal comlink out of another one.
"Siggy, I'm gonna stretch my legs for a bit out at the space port and see if we can't find another fare. Hold down the fort for me 'til I get back."
Clint almost left the droid's instructions at that, and then he remembered the people who were in power over this world. Paranoid bantha brains, was what Clint thought of them. They'd jump at the chance to investigate a spacer's ship, should they leave their boarding ramp wide open.
"Don't let anyone in or out, until I get back," Clint added before putting his comlink back into his pocket. "Password: Eramuth; Release: Nek."
A sharp, single whistle came in return to Nek's orders, and Clint pocketed the comlink, satisfied. Turning his head up to the control panel again, Clint sent the elevator back up into the ship and locked the controls again. Now to see what the latest news was on Coruscant.
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Posted: Sun Apr 15, 2012 4:43 pm
Kyra
Pilot, Firestorm
Eastport Docking Facility Kyra drew her datapad out of her belt pouch and sat at a small cafe on the way out of the spaceport. Once she sat, she set her dress down across from her and typed into the datapad. She began to browse through the local hotels, looking for a cheap place that she could use to lay low until the ball. Sighing, she stopped at one selection and shrugged, nodding slightly to herself. She waved away a waitress, looking up as the Togruta turned away from her. Kyra tilted her head, then shrugged again. "Alright Kyra, we gonna stay at this place?" she asked herself, furrowing her brow. She hefted herself to her feet and glanced around the busy spaceport. With a sigh, she continued on her way out of the spaceport.
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Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2012 5:17 pm
Clint Cassel
Coruscant, Easport Docking Facility
"Are you ready to order?"
"Ah... Could I have the acorn and barq bivoli tempari? No soybeans, please... They kind of bring me out in a rash."
The sunlight was gleaming over Eastport, hot white sunlight glaring through the window. Which was just as well, Clint supposed. The relatively clean view of the airstrips and tarmacs from here was blemished by the spectacle of a downed freighter that had apparently lost control of its maneuverability. Clint didn't know all the details about it, but he'd been watching emergency crews cordon off the area for the past five minutes. Coruscanti firespeeders were just now flying in to douse the flames raging at the top of the wreck.
A shadow cast from behind Clint cleared away the glinting sunlight. Talk about fast service, Clint thought to himself before he saw who it was. Or rather, what it was. Clint didn't know any Sith personally, but the frowning and imposing figure before him, clad in black body armor and a cape, couldn't have been anything but. The lightsaber dangling off of his hip was extremely telling if nothing else was.
"Captain Cassel of the Bwua'tu?" the asked, locking his eyes onto Clint's.
"That's correct," Clint answered, giving away no emotion on his face. "Is there anything I can help you with, officer?"
"You neglected to pay your docking fee upon landing," the Sith state flatly. "I have orders to detain you immediately until prosecution."
"What-- Whoa! Hey, there's no reason we have to be rude about this! I wasn't aware that fee was required immediately upon landing. Traffic control didn't tell me anything about that."
"Your innocence will be determined in court," the Sith said dismissively. "Stand up."
The Sith thrust his hand forward, and Clint felt a pressure around his rib cage. Then the Sith pulled his arm back, as though he were yanking on something, and Clint was suddenly forced out of his chair. Stumbling a couple steps forward as the Sith stepped out of the way, Clint was pushed further still as the Sith dragged his arms back with his mind and clasped his wrists together with what were presumably binders. Clint let out a cry of protest and struggled against the restraints, stopping immediately when he felt the binders tighten around his veins.
A small pressure was placed on his adam's apple, not quite making it impossible for him to breath or speak, but it was enough for Clint to know that more outbursts were not welcome.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say will be used against you."
The Sith shoved him hard and forward again, this time with his hand.
"Move quickly."
Clint stepped forward, knowing better than to be defiant at this stage. He suddenly felt sheepish as every restaurant-goer was staring at him, some with horror and others with disdain, as he passed.
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Posted: Wed Apr 18, 2012 8:01 pm
Kyra
Pilot, Firestorm
Eastport Docking Facility, Coruscant Kyra was ambling on her way out of the spaceport when she heard a commotion coming from another restaurant. She arched her eyebrows and moved into the crushing crowd around the restaurant. A Sith seemed to be arresting a Bothan pilot. While Kyra didn't like Bothans, she especially didn't like the Sith and this Bothan seemed to be in the clear. Kyra slipped her pistol very slowly from its holster and flipped it over to stun. She knew that the Sith could read people's minds and so, in order to circumvent that she didn't think about the target. She simply squeezed the trigger, spraying a few stun bolts towards the Sith. Then, as quickly as the shots left her gun, she melted back into the crowd and moved away.
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Posted: Wed Apr 18, 2012 8:54 pm
Clint Cassel
Coruscant, Eastport Docking Facility
Clint didn't see the shots. He heard them loud and clear, which to him was a miracle. If someone was shooting up the spaceport, then it was more than likely Clint would be able to wind his way back to his ship, even through a panicking crowd. He was confused and taken aback, however, by the sudden realization after the blaster shots were fired that he no longer had a hold over his throat, and he was walking of his own volition towards the quickly dispersing crowd in front of him. He stopped. Turned.
The Sith behind him was lying down on the ground unconscious. The people around him were fleeing the sun, running panicking, some shouting. Clint just stood there, dumbfounded. Someone-- from the crowd, perhaps?-- had just assured him freedom, and possibly (though not likely) even saved his life. Who would do such a thing for a perfect stranger?
Clint looked around. No one seemed to be hanging around to stay and watch. Most everybody was fleeing. Clint was free to escape, for now. He still had these damn shackles on him, though. He had to get them off. Moving over to the Sith lying on the floor, he kicked him sharply underneath his ribs, leveraging his foot underneath the back, and raising it upward.
The Sith flipped onto his stomach. A small datapad rattled onto the floor off of a magnetic clip embedded into the Sith's belt. Clint knelt down and stooped his face to the floor, trying to pick the datapad up with his teeth. After some difficulty, the Bothan managed clasp the device like a canine with a plastic chew toy in its mouth. Getting up from his position, he ran awkwardly, with his hand still clasped, to the exit of the restaurant.
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Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 10:21 am
Kyra
Pilot, Firestorm
Eastport Docking Facility, Coruscant Kyra glanced back over her shoulder as the fleeing crowd was dispersing and caught sight of the Bothan running awkwardly with a datapad clenched in his teeth. She nodded once, wishing him a silent good luck and disappeared from the spaceport. She slipped into a turbolift and descended down twenty floors to a section of the lower city. Making her way steadily away from the spaceport, she arrived at her destination, a small dingy-looking hotel called Bantha's Fodder. "The kind of place a scruffy-looking nerf herder would hide out," she said to no one in particular and stepped through the door. The room inside smelled of musk and aliens and looked as if it hadn't been cleaned since Palpatine's reign. Glowing lichen on the walls were the only illumination that the small front room had. She placed her dress down on a chair, thankful for the outer protection the dress had and approached the counter. "I'd like one room, with no questions asked." She placed several cred chips down on the counter. The Rodian desk man looked at the cred chips and removed a card from beneath the desk. "Room 245A," the mousy green man said. Kyra accepted the card, recovered her dress and stepped through the door beside the desk.
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2012 1:32 am
The shadow port Spacebarn, Nar Shaddaa
The smugglers Moon, a wretched hive of scum and villainy that rivaled Tatooine. It was here that the Rusty Angel found refuge nestled in between two other freighters in the enormous underground facility called the Spacebarn, a smugglers shadow port not far from the Corellian sector on Nar Shaddaa. Asrial glided down the gang plank of her old and battered HT – 2200 medium freighter, her reddish-pink knee length hair swaying behind her and stopped, interlocking her fingers she turned palms outwards and raised her arms above her head and stretched her athletic body as she took in the other smugglers and their ships parked around her beloved spacecraft in the hangar around her.
A pleasant smile upon her lips and a bright twinkle in her red eyes she found herself actually excited at the prospect of picking up the new hyperdrive motivator for her much beloved craft and began looking around for the owner of the facility. She was about to trot off when she stopped and turned around looking back up the ramp into the interior with a slight reddening of her cheeks, almost forgetting her copilot and young padawan learner still aboard the craft. Not particularly caring that her cobalt blue skintight body glove with shiny black thigh-high boots and matching fingerless gloves that stretched up past her elbows was drawing the gaze of every male, and some of the females as well, inside the hangar bay.
She simply clasped her hands together behind her back and waited patiently for Kit to emerge with her ever present smile upon her lips.
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2012 2:11 pm
Nar Shaddaa/ Shadowport Spacebarn
The jostling of the landing struts meeting the ground of the docking bay rustled the copilot from his nap. His legs had rested on the console with his heels just far enough away from any buttons or switches to cause a problem should he bring them down to fast. He opened one eye and looked around and saw the obvious absence of the bright pink coloring in his peripheral vision that always told him when his Master was sitting next to him. That and the small twinge in the force that pulled closer to the outside than near, but he was learning to not rely on the small whispers of the force so he would not be tempted to send or use them himself.
With a yawn the young Padawan swung himself around in the chair his feet still held aloft in the air, and he did not let them simply drop with gravity until he had done a one-eighty. His feet falling acted like levers propelling him up from his low almost laying down position in his seat. Both hazel eyes had opened now and he looked around for a bit until he noticed the ramp had been lowered, and so with a sigh he stood up and leaned back until he could almost see the duraglass and the following crackles and pops sounded more like he broke his back rather than stretch and pop it. Snapping back to normal standing Kit walked towards the lowered ramp and grabbed his traveling cloak and staff.
At the top of the ramp he could see his Master smiling back at him and looking more like a child on her birthday than his Master. It was good to see her like that though, there had been too much grief and sadness already and the smile on her face almost had Kit forgetting that they were Jedi on the run from a horrible government and evil presence that was trying to suck the life out of the galaxy. For a moment it seemed more like they were truly a smuggler crew looking for new job and maybe just stopping off to stretch their legs.
"So who is this 'merchant' who said they had the motivator we need? Are you sure he's not just some prude looking to steal from us, or just ogle at you until he says he just ran out?"
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Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2012 8:26 pm
Clint Cassel
Coruscant, Capital Terminal
It was only after a great deal of frustration that Clint was ever able to get his communicator out of his pocket and in front of his face so that he could content Siggy and order him to lower the entry lift for him. Shortly thereafter, Siggy was able to navigate the datapad that Clint had snagged and navigate through it's menus to release the stun cuffs off of Clint's wrists. From there, Clint wasted now time with safety buckles in getting the Bwua'tu lifted off and out of Eastport. There was no way he could stay docked in a public place on this planet anymore. Instead, he bolted straight toward one of Coruscant's more decrepit and disserviced starports. Effectively serving as little known shadowports, Capital Terminal and Centralia Memorial were woebegone and unregulated.
Closed off to the public and providing none of the amenities that Easport did, it was a decent place to dock when you needed to get in and out of Coruscant undetected, and it was of little consequence to the shadier types if you had to blast out a couple of hangar bay doors in order to park your ship. Clint had found several vacant spots when he arrived. With large chunks of durasteel cleared away for a ship's parking space, Clint managed to squeeze his narrow GX1 nicely into place.
Now, all I have to worry about is scrappers, Clint thought wryly as the repulsor and sublight engines whined down.
Getting up from his chair, Clint moved back to sit down in front of the communication station.
"Let's lie low for a while here, Siggy," Clint suggested as the droid streamlined the ship's shutdown measures "We'll play it cool and keep a weather eye on the holo, see if our departing flight ruffles up a few feathers."
Siggy let out a noise that sounded like a cross between a sneeze and a fuse blowing.
"Don't get you're track in a bind, Siggy," Clint remarked. "We'll only sit around and wait for a few hours, at best."
Clint activated the holo-transceiver and scooted his chair back, propping his legs up on top of the console.
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