New Boards, New RPG! - The Promised Jewel (Page 1 of 2)

Cato was standing up in a crowd inside Jabba's palace. Aliens all over the galaxy were around, some getting drunk, others just hanging out. And still, there were others who had come for the same reason he had. To gain the details on this bounty. He had been there for a while... He didn't know the exact time, but he could estimate it had been around an hour.

This is a waste of my time... But this gem's value probably makes up for that...

Cato was a Chiss. Chiss were identified by their pale blue skin and glowing rred eyes. His parents had been exiled from their homeworld which was in the outer regions. Soon after he was born, his parents had been killed. He grew up in a neutral society being silent, watching and learning, waiting for oppurtunities. Though he hadn't been raised by Chiss, he still gained their attributes. He was cold and keniving, planning three steps ahead. It was all like a game of holo chess in his mind.

Cato wasn't a very old Chiss. He was only 26. (Using the basic Coruscanti year.) He wore a white shirt and black pants, and he wore a red jacket over that. He carried a few weapons, but not so many that they would way him down too much. You really only need one weapon to go into battle with. But he still needed the essentials. He had a vibro blade and a blaster pistol hanging from his belt. He also carried a rifle in his ship incase he needed it.

Speaking of his ship, it was a Corellan YT-2400 class. He tried to make it as efficient as possible, but not at the expense of the inside decorations. The ship was where he lived. He wouldn't want to live in a cargo hold without even a bed. He had chairs, and colors, and artwork all about the inside. He enjoyed studying even the most miniscule detail in a peice of artwork.

Cato realized he was only breathing out of his mouth. The place smelled horrible. It was probably the mix of drinks from all over the galaxy, the smell of smoking death sticks, the rotten creatures around him, or all of the above... Even breathing out of his mouth was hard.

I hope that Hutt decides to start this thing soon...

He then realized he was worrying, he was torturing himself...

No, I shouldn't think like that. The Hutt will decide to start it when he does. In the meantime I should find something to do that could help the future mission.

He looked into the crowd. A normal sentient being would have trouble concetrating on just one person here. Cato had that advantage over them... He looked around to find someone that looked like a bounty hunter... That wasn't very hard of course. Bounty Hunters from all over the galaxy were here to participate in this hunt. So, Cato studied them...

He saw a Gand, a Rodian, a large man in armor, there were so many others as well. He studied each with careful intuition, mentally trying to forget the horrible smells and anticipation of the Hutt. Studying his opponets would allow him to predict his opponet's moves...

Sitting at the gaming table just inside the entry to the audience chamber, Jin heard the distinctive sound of laser fire, felt a strange ripple in the force, and knew trouble was on the way.  He should be reaching for a blaster, or his saber, but in his hands he held an Idiot’s Array, and in that numinous part of his black soul that touched the many currents of past present and future that circulated in any one moment of time, he knew the Sabacc Switch was about to come. The two pots were enough to pay off any of his outstanding debts, with some to spare.

Jin put the trouble on hold. He could get to his weapons quick enough if need be. It was the pot that counted.  His future that mattered.  “I call.”

The dealer droid echoed his words in a mechanical grind, the players at the table got ready to show their hands, Jin got ready to rake in his fortune and save his dark arse, when all hell broke loose.

Two grubby human bodies came flying into the audience hall. One held a blast pistol and fired wildly as he sailed through free space. He careened into an assembled trio of Transdoshans, two of whom crashed back onto the drinks table occupied by a pair of nasty looking Barabels. The reptiles immediately started to mix it up in a twisted, destructive brawl, drawing the nearby guests and patron’s of Jabba’s into their frenzied orbit.

The second human skidded to a halt near Jin, catching the attention of the gamers, and the dealer droid. The human righted himself, made to aim, and was hit full front with a powerful laser blast from the armored being now standing in the arched entry.  The blast zipped through the weak, unprotected flesh, and nailed the dealer droid. Shrapnel flew in a thousand different directions and the game was forgotten for the moment as the players dived for safety.  Forgotten by all players, save one.  Jin rolled to safety, ducked and covered, but when he looked up to see the shreds of the table, the fried pot, he saw only his future dwindling into nothing.  So much for the Idiot’s Array.

While the others recovered, Jin jumped to his feet, blaster already in hand. Rage seeped in around the walls he’d worked so hard to maintain, blinding his mind to all but the most murderous of thoughts. Someone needed to die.  The one responsible for this loss had to pay.

Jin looked to the being, the one standing in the archway, a lone silhouette against the shadows and darkness of the palace corridors. Somehow, by the favor of the maker or the dumb luck of a fool, good sense beat back the fury, and clarity set in. Jin blinked, shook his head, then blinked again. He’d need to find another way to slake his blood lust, another way to score enough quick credits to pay his debts and buy some much needed anonymity.  He lowered his arm, sheathed his blaster, and shelved his baser desires for vengeance.  A prudent man didn’t tangle lightly with that kind of barve standing proud at the entrance to this particular hive of scum and villainy, not unless he was prepared to reap the worst consequence could offer.

Where is Yarna tonight? Mikel thought to himself. I haven't seen her since Oola disappeared

While Mikel was not attracted to Yarna D'al Gargan at any biological or emotional level, he found himself mesmerised whenever she was dancing. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but noticed that he wasn't the only male who suddenly appeared whenever she hit the floor...

Lula felt strangely at ease as Boba Fett made a dramatic entrance. It wasn't so much the company but the reassurance that this was a big bounty and the big players were in. She had noticed that Dengar has joined the group, although he hung back in the shadows, there were whispers that IG-88 was currently under repair and would not be joining them. 4-LOM and Zuckuss were also absent but were expected to arrive.

Fett's antics seemed to attract the Hutt as a procession of servants and slaves made way for the wide one's arrival. Lula shuffled back and bumped shoulders with a dark haired human, she gave a nod of greeting but didn't apologise. Such gestures were seen as weakness in Jabba's domain.

Lula rested a gloved hand on her blaster pistol that lay holstered against her thigh, she didn't want it stolen. It also gave her a menacing look that she wished to portray.

The slug came into view and Lula felt her upper lip twist into a snarl. She hated Hutts, they really were the scum of the universe. She looked forward to depleting the creature of his credits or even better, his prize.

A lull came over the scum and villany within the Palace's walls. As Jabba was positioned into place he began to laugh as he saw the pathetic figure Fett had left before his throne. Lula hit the translation switch on the side of her helmet as the Hutt began to speak.

"So, Boba Fett, you have brought me a trophy." The Hutt said before he laughed some more. "It appears it was too easy. I only offer you ten thousand credits for this bounty."

Fett's blaster came up so fast that even Lula didn't realised the hunter had moved. "Thirty thousand was the deal."

The Hutt waved an unconcerned chubby arm, "Deals are meant to be renegotiated."

Fett's thumb subtly moved the setting from stun to kill on the blaster. "The time for negotiating is over."

The Hutt laughed once again. "You drive a hard bargain, bounty hunter. Twenty then."

Fett fired a warning shot that barely missed the fat slug's head. There was shuffling from the guards but they quickly realised their error. Fett shot one and the others quickly fell back.

"Fine. You'll send me to ruin, bounty hunter." Jabba hissed but waved over a reluctant droid. "Pay him." Jabba rumbled.

Fett took his reward and started to leave.

"I'm not finished with you yet, bounty hunter." Jabba told.

Fett merely paused where he was as Zuckass stumbled in.

Lula released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. She felt the tension in the air and it wasn't about to clear. She eyed the occupants of the room. The bounty hunters seemed to have come to the fore. There were a lot she didn't recognise. There was a large human male who seemed impatient with the whole atmosphere and a young Chiss who looked totally out of his element. Obviously the large bounty had brought out all the hunters out to play.

**That's cool **

Lula waited for the Hutt to address them all but it seemed the fat slug was more intent on eating his greasy snacks. She was just about to scream when he spoke. "Well bounty hunters, I see many of you are interested in this latest offer of mine. I'm sure all of you have heard of the Promised Jewel. The ship holds many a mystery but I'm not interested in that. I want you to capture if for me and either bring it back here to Tatooine or contact me directly. Fortuna will supply you with direction comlinks. Now go and claim me my prize."

Fett cleared his throat. "You lacked to inform us of the payment sum."

Jabba waved a hand and acted vague. "Must have slipped my mind. It'll be for one million credits."

Almost all of the hunters gasped at the price. Boba Fett remained as stagnant as ever. Lula had known the price all along. She planned to wait until only the stragglers were left. She had a fair idea where the Promised Jewel was. She leant against a wall to wait.

Jin did a preliminary read of the hunt specs on his wristlink. Most of the info was scraps of space lore, but there were a few solid coordinates in amongst the detritus.  He did some rapid calculations in his head, factored in a percentage for drift, and then turned the findings over to the more flexible part of his consciousness, the part unencumbered by the restraints of logic, fact, and the plain bloody obvious. Jin, familiar with the ways of the force, knew that it took a special eye to see what was at first glance, not there. He found that the methods of oblique observation and tangential awareness could be applied to many situations and yield unusual, and sometimes, lifesaving results. Such a simple thing to do, to turn off the rational mind and let the wild instincts have their way with thought and action. He smiled as a pattern not immediately discernable, and perhaps, not even present in any statistically significant or measurable way, took shape. His sight blurred for a moment, and in place of the grubby palace, he glimpsed a vision of a sleek luxury vessel moving wihtout sound or intent through the nothingness of deep space.

Jin smiled to himself, feeling once again on the winning side of the odds.  He could do this. He could find the Jewel, and win the enough credits to buy his own corner of the distant galaxy.

The Twi’lek jostled him as he moved through the thinning group of hunters.

“You’re not one of the regulars,” the palid huminoid said in his native tongue. He looked Jin up and down, very obviously finding him wanting in some way. “You’re not even a bounty hunter.”

“For a million credits, I can very easily become a hunter.” Jin shut down the vidfeed to his wristlink. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if you’re a hunter. It only matters if you’re a winner.”

That stymied the creature. He drifted back towards the dais and his bulbous employer.  Jin popped the cover over the vidscreen. When he looked up, Boba Fett stood before him, eying him in a most curious manner, if such a thing could be said about a man wearing the concealing Mandalorian helm.

What did one say when staring potential death in the T-shaped visor? The Empire still had a bounty on Jedi, and even though he was as far from a Jedi as Jabba was from a dancing girl, some beings in the galaxy didn’t bother to make such distinctions when faced with a force user.  Then again, Fett might not know Jin’s secret. He’d taken great care to fit in with the regular barves. “Er, good hunting and all that.”

He hoped Fett would move, but no such luck.  Jin cleared his throat, perplexed.  “Shouldn’t you be haring off to your ship like the rest of the crowd?”

A grinding sound, like metal shearing metal, rattled through the helm’s vocoder. “There’s plenty of time for me to take my prize.”

“You’re prize?”

Fett nodded.  “The Twi’lek’s correct.  You’re not a hunter.”

Jin felt a familiar hostile tingle in his blood.  “What is there, some damn union card I need to flash?  A club to join? So I’m not a hunter, what of it?”

“There is a guild, but it’s not worth joining.” Fett rocked back on his heels, holding his rifle the way a protective mother might cradle a delicate newborn.  “You’re out of your league.”

Jin’s vision blurred, and his eyes felt suddenly hot and dry. A bad sign. A very bad sign. He balled his hands into fists and jammed them into the voluminous pockets of his black robe. “I’ve got more chance than you know of finding that ship. A betting man might say I’ve got more chance than most.”

Again, that slow, maddeningly measured nod.  “Force users have an edge that way. They’re able to see the things the average being might miss.  But finding the ship and securing the prize is one thing. Holding on to it and getting it back to the paying client, that’s another game entirely.”

So Fett had guessed his dirty little secret.  Was there anything this guy didn’t know?  “I can hold my own.”

“We’ll see.”  With alarming and unnatural speed, the enigmatic hunter did a brisk heel turn, and made to exit the chamber. Then, on his second step he paused and looked back over his broad shoulder at Jin.  “It’s not unusual for hunters to form limited partnerships on hunts such as these.  Combine …talents.”

“Share the bounty? Not bloody likely.”

“We’ll see,” was all he said, and then like a menacing phantom, he disappeared in the gathering dark of the rapidly emptying hall. 

Jin stood speechless for a moment. Bounty hunters were by nature a strange and cut-throat lot. They’d make all manner of insane arrangements with each other, only to turn like rabid womp rats upon each other the moment they sensed an advantage, or a chance to keep the glory and coin for themselves.

If he didn’t need the credits so badly, if he didn’t value his life and comfort above all else, he’d never have willingly signed on to work with their element.  Fett had a point. This would be an arduous hunt. Jin bet his mother’s fine name that he could locate that ship as easy as he could sense a coming Sabbac shift, but once he found the damn thing, then what?  Perhaps this partnership idea might be the right way to go about it all. It was much easier for two beings to fend off an attacking army than one?  Of course, he’d be twice as mad as he already knew he was to sign on with the likes of Boba Fett.  If he could find someone else, that might work out just fine.

Jin trudged down through a dank corridor, grabbed his meager belongings and mismatched armor from his tiny room, and made for the motorpool and his speeder bike. His ship was docked not too far from the palace.  Once he reached the safety of its durasteel hull, he’d have a chance to enter a proper meditative state, and surf the currents of what is, and what might become if a man was clever and bold and canny enough to bring it to pass.  Jin suspected he was every one of these things, and even if he wasn’t, he could act the part long enough to get what he needed.  Above all, he was a survivor.

*

Fett had the Slave set down not to far from the dark force user’s ship, but kept it cloaked and well concealed by a series of large, ever shifting dunes. The kid was a bundle of barely contained rage. It poured off him in waves Fett could touch if he but reached out. No question, Jin Sarin was unstable. And, he was useful. His force affliction dictated certain predictable actions. No doubt he would exploit his sensory powers to find the Promised Jewel, seeing things the average being might miss, using unconventional methods not availble to the normal hunter. Sarin's skills didn't worry Boba Fett, for he planed to turn them to his own advantage. Ever the opportunist, Fett knew from his years as a hunter: work smarter, not harder. So he waited, and he watched, and soon, very soon he expected, he would profit from his efforts.

Slave I’s console came to life, signaling the departure of Jin’s ship from the planet surface. The bugs Fett implanted in the navacomputer fed a rapid and robust stream of data to the Slave, and Fett set his own course based on that established by his rival.  It was an eccentric flight path, to say the least, but there was a hint of method to it, a shadow of genius. For a moment Fett wondered what the other hunters were up to.  Would any others be smart enough, cunning enough, or crazy enough to track down the Jewel? And if they did, what would await once they found the floating legend? He had a strange feeling, something like indigestion mixed with the lingering effects of a half-remembered nightmare: a ship that floated through space like a ghost might not be the best thing to disturb, no matter how many credits were laid upon the table…

((Come on Mel, half a dozen RPGs together and you don’t find it suitable to tell me when we get a new gorram site!? I’m hurt, really.))

“Looks like it’s go time.” The voice, on the surface, had nothing strange about it. Just another piece of a galaxy full of sound, nothing to give so much as a second thought to. If one were to go deeper into that voice however, into the dark being to which it belonged to, what they would see would be enough to bring most men to tears. What they would glean, was the life of a killer. A life brimming with a fear long past, literal monsters that wanted nothing more than to gorge itself on his flesh, armies of trained soldiers standing against only himself and a trio of his friends. A life of death. This was more literal than most would think; because Sathik, was a plague carrier. His breath, his blood, any bodily export carried his disease, which was deadly on an incredible level.

Friends. Sathik thought to himself, a word that would have been foreign to him years ago. Now however, there was a single being that stood out when that word came to mind. A warrior, like him; orphaned, deadly, and like he had been, completely alone before he’d met Sathik.

“It does indeed.” This voice, much unlike his dark friend’s, had a very unique sound to it. Like rocks grinding together, a low, rasping excuse for a voice brought on by his species’ natural anatomy. This being’s past, if one had the courage to peek into it, was very much like his friend’s, and at the same time very different. He was a soldier, trained from the age of eight. That very training, was cut short before his ninth birthday, not even a year later. The reason, quite simply, was that his trainers, his family, and the majority of his species, had died all at once. The tale of his life was a long and sad one, full of death and loss, but one not known to anyone living, save Sathik.

The difference between he and his friend, was that Arcuse, so he was named, had gone his previous five and twenty years without knowing what fear felt like. He’d had not even a year of Ubese warrior training, say true, but in that part of a year he’d learned more than he would from years of conventional military training. Primarily among the knowledge he’d gain, was his lack of emotion. He'd felt fear once before however, at the hands of a demon, for there was little else you could call him. He'd saved that demon's life, but before he did, that evil-tainted monster had shown him what fear was. He felt a few others more regularly; rage, anger, hate, and at the head, vengeance. Ever since that day when the Old Republic had laid waste to his homeworld, his family, and his life, he’d sworn vengeance upon the man responsible. To this day, he’d never found him.

More recently, he’d begun to feel kinship, or friendship if it do ya. Sathik was his friend, he was very sure of that, and he’d trust him with his own life in a heartbeat. His other friends, though not trusted to such a degree as his plagued companion, were his crew aboard the Ana Ng. Though not many, it was a considerable number when one took into account how Arcuse had lived throughout the previous years of his life. The rest, were very few indeed. A female Jedi, though he’d last seen her years ago; and a fellow hunter, who had, though he and Sathik had never spoken of it, had feelings for the she-Jedi. Dash, as the hunter was called, they had accompanied on recent bounties, the Jedi, they did not know when they’d see next.

Sathik rose from the booth he and his friend had occupied during the bounty briefing, stepped over the few bodies that had accumulated on the floor, and stretched. The bodies, or corpses as they now were, had been the result of a few belligerent brawlers who’d tried to get the two warriors in on the fight that had broken out earlier. Much to their dismay, the pair had obliged.

The plague-ridden bounty hunter wore little in the way of armor, preferring to rely on his speed and skill than to be a blaster-sponge. The stock of a rifle-style weapon protruded from the scabbard on his back, giving him relatively easy access to the weapon while not restricting his movement. The gun he wore, was, in fact, a slugthrower. And further than that, it was a spread-gun, more colorfully known as a shotgun. The slugthrower had been his weapon of choice since he’d encountered the horrors he’d witnessed as a child, and had saved his life more times than he could count. In a shoulder-rig he toted a Sorosuub S-5 heavy blaster, on Arcuse’s insistence, and had more than few blades hidden on his body. The last bit of noticeable gear, was his mask. The bit of apparel fit over his mouth and nose, and kept his disease where it belonged.

Arcuse too slid his way out from their corner table, stepping on and over the bodies as if they weren’t even there, and followed Sathik as he strode towards one of the Palace’s exits. He was the pinnacle of intimidation, or so he’d been told, covered from helmet to boots in a jet-black armored flight-suit. The reflective faceplate served to keep his face a well-kept secret, as was the custom when in the presence of non-Ubese. He had a BlasTech E-11 rifle slung across his chest with a shoulder-strap, mounted with an under-barrel grenade launcher, grappling spike launcher, and tactical glowrod. As a sidearm, the Ubese warrior wore a BlasTech DL-36 pistol in a thigh-holster, with the end of the holster secured just above the knee. The weapons, like Sathik’s shotgun, had been his faithful armaments for years.

The two bounty hunters left without a word, Sathik ever-vigilant as he scanned stairways and darkened corridors, and Arcuse looking over the bounty information. As a rule of thumb, the mercenaries generally took dead-or-alive bounties, with their preference being the former after a mix-up back in an Imperial Garrison involving the details of the bounty. Treasure hunting then, was far from their forte, but for a million credits preferences can shift very easily.

Content with his basic understanding of the merchandise, and knowing he could always review the information later aboard his ship, the Ubese deactivated his PAC20 wrist comm, which had been acting as a datapad to display the datacard’s contents, and rested his hand on the pistol-grip of his E-11. He switched his visor’s optics mode to a low-light setting, granting him greater visibility in the dark, humid hallways of Jabba’s palace.

After a few minutes of navigating the stone fortress, the two hunters were released into the scorching heat of Tatooine’s two suns.

“Never seems to get any cooler whenever we come here.” Sathik sighed, squinting his eyes as they adjusted to the harsh light. “Don’t know why I expect it to.”

“Indeed.” Arcuse agreed, voicing his almost universal affirmation.

“Oh shut up Arc, you can’t even feel the heat in that suit of yours can you?” Sathik asked, his voice not matching the harshness of his words.

“Mayhap I can. Mayhap I can’t.”

Sathik sighed in resignation, giving up the subject as they approached his Ubese friend’s cargo-speeder, affectionately named Mule. The repulsor-craft wasn’t as bad as the name implied in reality, and could attain respectable speed while still being able to seat four and carry a sizeable amount of cargo. The plagued bounty hunter took the controls, while Arcuse seated himself towards the rear, armored hand still grasping his blaster rifle. His paranoia turned out to be unfounded, and they set off towards Mos Eisley unopposed.

It took the better part of an hour for Mule to get them to the spaceport, with Sathik taking occasional swigs from a water jug. Apparently, Arcuse’s air-sealed suit did keep the temperature at a comfortable level, because he made the entire journey without a single mouthful of water.

After traversing the busy streets for yet another quarter-hour, the pair pulled into Docking Bay 19, where Arcuse’s precious SFS GAT-12 Skipray Blastboat lay waiting in the now-setting Tatooine suns. The Ubese soldier dismounted, keyed in his vessel’s various passcodes, and entered the craft. He went immediately to the cockpit, started the pre-flight sequence, and opened the rear cargo-hatch so Sathik could bring in Mule.

The ship, christened the Morbis Ferre (which means ‘Death Bringer’ in an ancient form of basic) was a masterpiece of modern armaments. Setting aside the enormous collection of weapons in Arcuse’s armory, the Skipray sported three capital-ship grade ion cannons, a high-powered fire-linked laser cannon turret, a proton torpedo launcher with a magazine of twelve torpedoes, and a concussion missile launcher that drew from a store of eighteen missiles. Add that to a full set of top-notch durasteel armor and a dedicated shield generator, and the Morbis Ferre became a mechanized killing machine. Cold, dark, and a little bit evil, just like its owner.

“Mule’s locked up, we’re ready to go.” Sathik yelled down the Morbis Ferre’s ‘neck’ corridor into the cockpit. Without a response, Arcuse strapped himself into the pilot’s chair, his eyes following every tick of the pre-flight countdown timer.

Two minutes later, the large gunboat’s repulsorlifts roared to life, and the mass of metal and weapons headed skyward, almost daring anyone to attack by its sheer amount of firepower alone. The Morbis Ferre disappeared into the void of hyperspace moments after leaving Tatooine’s atmosphere, bound for a destination given to them by one of their few friends, Al-Kwarzeme. The Tiss’shar was the pilot aboard the Ana Ng, the ship that Arcuse and Sathik would crew when there were no bounties worthy of their exclusive attention. The smuggler/pilot had more than his fair share of underworld contacts, and had given them the most accurate location on the market of the Promised Jewel’s resting place. They could only hope that information was reliable as Arcuse’s Skipray barreled through hyperspace.

((Alright, anyone want to tell me why HTML isn't working? I can't live without italics.))

Idiots thought Nate, leaning back in his chair.
Jabba's place was almost empty now. He heard the slug talking about some big prize, it didn't matter to him.
Nate thumbed the switch to his saber 1 million credits is a lot though he thought.
Maybe I should get into this and with that he got up and left

A half an hour later he pulled his speeder into the spaceport.
"A, sir, hold up please," a small man came shouldering up to him," the repairs on your ship aren't done yet, it might take us a few more hours," he said.
"Well then what are you doing telling me about it when you could be fixing it!"
"Y-yes sire," and with that he scuddled away.
A few hours, well I guess I'll go vist a cantina, get a drink or two, so, getting back into his speeder he headed off for a pub.

Once at the pub he jumped out, it was dark now and the lights were comming on to light up the street.
Suddenly a hand flew out and grabbed his shoulder.
"Hey punk," the ugly looking alien said to him,"fork over anything good you got on you."
"Yea," said Nate,"you and what army."
"Me and this army," he said, and with those words a gang of about 10 thugs jumped out from the shadows,"so give me what you got."
"Look," said Nate, "you're way out of league here, go back to looting sentient creatures, and stay out of my way."
"You little..." and he pulled out his pistol and fired three shot right at Nate. With lighting fat reflexes he pulled out his saber, it burned a violnet, red glow as all three blasts where blocked clean away from there intended target. With another swift move he shortened the distence between them until finally they were face to face with each other. Another half a second later the brillient, red blade had gone striaght through the thug and had come out the other side.
"I told you you were out of your league," and with that he pulled the blade out from the alien and switched off.
"Who's next," he said in a dark whisper.

Lifting his newly repaired ship into the air Nate took off for space. After clearing the atmosphere he made a quick jump into hyperspace and came out into a sector he had never been too.

This is wierd he thought I've never been here before[i/]

Suddenly a light started blinking on his control base.

"[i]Incoming unknown capsule" it said aloud.

Turning the ship around he sung by and picked up the floating piece of metal.

Down in the cargo bay, his onboard computar had already found a way to plug into the metal. Nate eyed the piece of junk for a second. It was scouced and burned, but, there was something else about the piece that was important, he could feel it.

"Sir," said the voice of his computar,"it seems that the object containes the core memory of the formor craft VeeKayy, owned by the formor Mikel."

"And why do you say formor?"

"Because it says that moments after this was launced the craft was obliterated by an unknown force."

"And what's this unknown force?"

"Well sir," it said in a hesitated tone," the memory core believies it to be the starship known as The Promised Jewl."

"Does it have it's last known cordinates in there," he said, now more intrested in this object.

"Yes sir, I have already sent to your navigatonal system, are you ready to jump now..." but Nate was already half way up the latter to the cockpit.
With a devious smile on his face he puched the final command, the command that would send him on a one way path to the Promised Jewl

--24722--
B00t s3quence
  qu3ry, Why
saW,—wAtch3r
F0rce, det3kt scAn
  1 533 7#31\/1
qu3ry  Is it a Jedi 
v3rify, 3nity unKn0wn
  r3ply, in1tiat3 scAn
MORE AR3 C0MING
  1\/10123 1-11_11\173125
<thEy'll NeVer t0uch u-S>
d3ploy, new cor--Dinat3s
    Ent3Ring Hyp3rSpac//
c0nFirmed  F0rc3 u-Ser
  1 #473 j3d1
qu3ry, why cannot let us die
  TH3Y WILL BE HERE SOON
HuNterS---many 3nititeS
<B0ba FeTt? i remEmbeR FeTt...>
1_11<3 7#3 071-1312
  qu3ry, should we attack
w3 4tt4k3d th3 VeeKayy
      Ahn1l14teD th3 Hunt3r
qu3ry, are more hunters after us now
    1_11\11)01_187481_Y
w3 aRe a d3sired b0unTy
<Idi0ts, HuTts aRe s0 kriFfin 5tuP1d>
WANT US WANT TO TAKE US HURT US
  sm1t3 theM---Korrupti0n, 3ngaGe
Kha0*z
  qu3ry, is Force following
1 1)01\17 533 1-111\/1
  h3 1s f0llw--ing u-S.
qu3ry, what now
KILL TH3 F0RCER
<kriFfin jeDi>
  347 012 83 34731\1
relEa5e Kha0*z
qu3ry, do we agree
YES
<leT tHem coMe>
4804121)
Kha0*z
qu3ry, shut down the turrets
AFFIRMATIVE
kOme 1nsid3, b0uN7y Hunt3r5
<the gReat boBa FeTt>
71-13 j3\/\/31 4\/\/4175
\  /\  / /_\ |/ [   =|= |_| [   |) [  /_\  [_ =|=
\/  \/ /    \|\ [     |    |  | [   |) [ /    \ _|   |
--24722--

Jin slipped back into the pilot seat, shifted some of the bits of armor around on his body, and strapped into the flight harness. A warning light flashed on the main console, and Jin braced for impact, or action, as his ship dropped out of the space lane.

“Oh no!”  The Promised Jewel filled his view.  There wasn’t a scrap of space to be seen. He’d overshot the calculations.  Jin grabbed for the controls, racing against time he knew he didn’t have.  At this distance he couldn’t do a single thing.  Except, perhaps, brace for impact.  Jin cursed in three languages and prepared to die.

*

Fett brought the Slave out of hyperspace at a slick, but manageable speed.  The first thing that caught his eye wasn’t the Promised Jewel.  It was Jin Sarin’s ship, on a collision course with the bulkhead of the luxury cruiser, with only a nanosecond to impact.

Fett started to adjust the shields for backblast and debris, but something amazing and utterly impossible interrupted his efficient handling of his even more efficient rig.  Sarin’s ship did not explode into flame and flying metal on impact with the Jewel.  In fact, it didn’t impact at all.  It moved through the allegedly solid hull of the Promised Jewel, and then vanished.  The cruiser showed no signs what so ever of impact, damage, or Sarin’s small ship.

“What the …” Fett muttered to himself.  Alarm sensors blazed to life.  The Jewel’s main guns were targeting the Slave.

Always prepared for the worst, Fett hit a single button.  Slave I tore like lightning back into a short hyperspace lane, then dropped back out on the other side of the Jewel.  Just in time to see Jin Sarin’s ship emerge from the bulkhead again.

Fett narrowed his eyes, and brought the Slave in for a closer look.  He was vaguely aware of Sarin’s ship turning and following.  Fett skimmed the seemingly solid surface of the Jewel and noticed it tended to waiver and vacillate in spots. Curiosity got the better of him and he plunged the Slave in a downward dive.  For a moment death seemed imminent, then, Slave I penetrated the illusory hull.  Fett pulled the ship up short, reversed thrusters, and held steady for a moment.  Before him sat a much smaller ship, heavily armored and peppered with all manner of sophisticated projection apparatus.

He located a likely air lock in a safe spot clear of ship guns and crossing fields of fire, and put the Slave down. For the first time in far too long, Boba Fett’s interest roused. 

“Avast ye scurvy barves,” he thought to himself with grim pleasure, “heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

*
Once Jin recovered from his panic, near death experience, and all around shock, he was able to take control of his ship, and re-enter the illusory space around the ship pretending to be the Promised Jewel.  Fett got the jump on him, how he couldn’t fathom, then again, Boba Fett was the most infamous bounty hunter in the galaxy.  One didn’t get that reputation by accident and happenstance.

Jin followed Fett’s lead, and searched for a safe airlock to breach.  He dodged cannon blasts from ancillary guns mounted on the hull of the dense cruiser, but was ultimately able to locate a reasonably secure spot to dock.  Jin unbuckled the flight harness, and delayed only long enough to load up with an array of impressive and deadly weapons, and respiratory gear, before he hit the airlock, and rolled the bone dice of his life yet one more time.

This ship was not the Promised Jewel, but he’d bet half of the Emperor’s charred black soul the answer to the real location of the luxury liner lay somewhere on this ship.  And he was certain beyond all doubts that the bridge he saw in his vision was the bridge of this ship.  At first he couldn’t figure out where his vision placed, past or future, so he gave it more thought while he prepared to board the mysterious, and no doubt, hostile vessel.

What came clearest was the astromech droid, and that malicious series of beeps, whines, and whistles that finished out his trance.  As his airlock pressurized, and the door opened to the mated airlock of the phantom ship, the answer hit him:  those visions of men were not visions.  They were projections.  Astomechs were notorious for their abilities to funnel out realistic holographic projections.  The sound of the mech, that was the reality.  Those ghosts he thought he saw were nothing but collected light waves.  Hollograms, just like that surrounding this ship, played to appear like humanoid sentients operating control panels, to hide the real truth.  Only the bones of the dead were real.  Which meant droids ran this ship, at the peril to the beings of flesh.

Jin hated many beings and many things in this galaxy, but droids made his top ten list…several times.  His hand strayed lightly to the haft of one of his sabers.  For the first time in too long a time, Jin looked forward to a fight.
*
Trouble came. Invaders of flesh. Reavers.

Destroy. Destroy. Destroy.

The main computer sent silent pulses of alarm, downloading the necessary protocols into the sleeping army.

As one, the beast woke.

Never take us. Never take us alive

The sounds of moving metal and the whir of sentient machines rising from slumber echoed in the long, empty corridors, interrupted only by two other things:  the opening of the first air lock, and the maniacal whistle of the astromech…

The Morbis Ferre dropped into subspace 300 kilometers off the Promised Jewel’s bow, weapons primed and shields holding at full charge, ready for any trace of defensive action from the ghost ship. At first, there was none, and the Ubese pilot’s paranoia appeared to be unfounded. The Skipray cruised onward, its owner’s talented hands tightening ever so slightly on the ion cannons’ triggers.

Something’s not right. Whispered a bodiless voice into Arcuse’s ear. He’d heard the voice before, and had learned over the years to heed its advice. He knew the apparition very well; and why shouldn’t he? It was his own mind speaking after all. It was the small whisper of intuition that had saved his friends’ lives on many occasions, and his own even more.

Where are the other hunters? Surely you weren’t the first to arrive; the [\i]Morbis Ferre’s[i] a good ship say true, but not known for its speed. There are no ships attached to the hull, no landing bays to be seen, and no debris or any other signs of a space battle. He thought, eying the sleek, massive luxury vessel with great suspicion.

The Promised Jewel[\i], target of every bounty and treasure hunter in the sector, seemed to be, in every way, untouched. Where any normal hunter might’ve seen this as a blessing, the Ubese warrior sitting at the [i]Morbis Ferre’s[\i] controls grew all the more doubtful that everything here was what it seemed. One black, armored glove reached for the intercom:

“Sathik, I need you on the turret.”

There was no answer for a few seconds, then: “Why, we got trouble?”

“Not yet.” Arcuse rasped, letting go of the ‘talk’ button and bringing his full attention back to his viewport. His control board informed him that the topside gunwell had been powered up; thus encouraged, the Ubese took the gunship in closer, fingers still twitching beside his firing studs. Helmeted eyes still glued to his viewport, he keyed the intercom for the turret.

“I’m taking us in closer, be ready.”

“Always, Arc.”

The [i]Morbis Ferre[\i] drifted ever closer, every weapon in her considerable arsenal trained on the hull as it approached. Arcuse’s gaze shifted momentarily to his sensor readout, assuring himself that they weren’t about to be blindsided from behind.

[i]Be ever vigilant sai, if the instructors back on Uba taught you anything, it was to stay alert and shoot straight. Now, what to do about this ship...

“You see any docking clamps? Landing bays?” The Ubese soldier asked into the intercom.

“Not a one. We could always use one of those forced entries we pulled back on that Imp garrison. You remember Willy?” Sathik answered back.

“I’d rather not. And no, we’ve got no thermal paste to burn our way in. Perhaps you could blast us a hole? I’m not reading any shields on the vessel, should be simple enough.” The Ubese returned.

“Arc, I thought you’d never ask.” With no further discussion, the laser turret began to beat its steady rhythm through the hull, launching lances of crimson energy at the starcraft below. Arcuse’s paranoia-enhanced eyes followed the first salvo with intense curiosity, wondering if perhaps the term ‘ghost ship’ was meant to be taken all too literally this time.

[i]Mayhap the blasts will pass right through.[\i] The Ubese thought, not quite believing himself even as the notion crossed his mind. [i]Such things are illogical, it would do you good to concentrate on possibilities that may actually occur.[\i]

A moment later however, Arcuse proved himself wrong and right at the same time. The paired laser bolts passed [i]through[\i] the [i]Promised Jewel’s[\i] hull, and out of the Ubese’s sight. Sathik’s voice came through the comm a moment later.

“Arc?” Said a perfectly calm, and thus obviously wrong voice.

“Yes.”

“Did you just see that?”

“If by ‘that’ you mean your opening salvo going through the-”

“Arc! Look out!” Sathik suddenly yelled, the loud noise causing the Ubese’s hand to dart towards his holstered blaster out of reflex. In his line of business, shouting was generally followed by gunshots. That reflex, the very one that had kept him alive a dozen times over, now betrayed him. As his right hand dipped towards his thigh holster, an emerald pillar of light struck the [i]Morbis Ferre’s[\i] amidships, throwing Arcuse against his pilot’s harness and shaking the entire ship. Had he seen the turbolaser blast coming, and had his right hand been on the flight-stick, then he might’ve had a chance to veer out of the way in time. Most unfortunately for the Ubese however, he [i]hadn’t[\i] seen the blast coming, and nor had his hand been under his control so much as it had been under his reflexes’; needless to say, he didn’t have a prayer.

Arcuse immediately grasped the Skipray’s flight-stick and shoved it forward, throwing more power to the engine with his left hand as he did so. The ponderous gunship lurched forward and dove, causing the second blast to do nothing more than skim across the shields. The Ubese gunslinger looked to his shield gauge for an instant, and saw them already 2/3 gone. Had those shields been down, he and Sathik would be just so many particles floating in space.

“What in the Nine Circles of Hell just happened!?” Arcuse rasped angrily, one of the few emotions he experienced. He would’ve yelled, it was certainly the right time for it, but his very anatomy prevented him from doing so.

“Fire came from the kriffin ship!” Sathik bellowed through the comm, perfectly capable of yelling, and doing so. He’d begun firing blindly into the ‘ghost ship’s’ not-quite-real hull, hoping to hit whatever had just tried to shoot them down.

“What? I didn’t see any gun turrets as we were coming in.” Arcuse responded, throwing the [i]Morbis Ferre[\i] into a corkscrewed climb and firing a few ion shots into the ‘ship’ that filled his viewport.

“That’s just it!” Sathik yelled back, “There [i]are[\i] no gun turrets. Those shots came out right through the hull, just like mine went in.”

“Interesting.” Was the only response Arcuse gave, though more to himself than to Sathik. He looked down at the seemingly very solid hull skimming a few dozen meters beneath his ship, and raised an amused eyebrow at his own audacity. If the blasts went through, it’s possible that...

[i]Victory does not come without risks.[\i] He’d been taught, but was this taking it too far? Perhaps it was.

Whether it was or not however, played no part in Arcuse’s decision as he pushed the flight-stick forward again, putting the [i]Morbis Ferre[\i] into a steep dive – directly towards the [i]Promised Jewel[\i]. The sleek hull rushed towards him, and a questioning sound came through the intercom.

“Uh, Arc?” Sathik asked.

Arcuse didn’t answer.

“You do realize that we’re, umm, ya, kind of going to hit the ship?”

The Ubese kept his silence, and his eyes remained fixed on where they would hit in just about...now.

As the holographic plating of the [i]Promised Jewel[\i] engulfed first the bow, and then the middle (the laser turret’s location) of Arcuse’s Skipray, he heard Sathik spitting a chain of expletives from down the corridors. He hadn’t used the intercom. Almost smiling, the Ubese brought his attention back to his viewport, just in time to barrel-roll out of the way of another turbolaser blast. This time, he could see the shot’s source.

“Hello beautiful.” Sathik murmured to the intercom as he brought the turret to bear. His target wasn’t exactly a dreadnaught, but it was far from an impossible shot either. The problem he was going to have though, would be firepower. Even with the cannon upped to maximum power, he was doubtful it would have much impact on the cruiser’s, if it was large enough to be called that, shields. “Might need a wee bit of help here.” He said, leaving the intercom on so he wouldn’t have to keep keying into the cockpit.

“We’re not going to destroy it.” Arcuse rasped, hating the very words that came out of his helmeted mouth.

“It shot at us Arc. Took off more than it could chew, and now whoever’s on that thing needs to die. Natural selection, I thought you loved that kind of stuff.” Sathik said, wanting to blow the vessel out of space as much as Arcuse did.

“There are two bounty hunter craft docked with that ship. One of them is the Slave I.” The Ubese said, checking the starships’ profiles on his sensor readout, looking up every second or two to avoid what could be a killing shot from landing.

“Your point being? So we even get to eliminate our top competition [i]and[\i] kill the ship. I mean I like the old Fett more than most people, but he still cuts into our profits from time to time.” Sathik said, still firing with little effect on the small, compact cruiser.

“The Bounty Hunter’s Creed sai.” Arcuse rasped, needing to say nothing else.

[i]I will not kill another hunter during a hunt, unless he himself breaks this creed. On this I give my word.[\i] Just one of several points in the Creed.

“Y’know what Arc? Sometimes I really hate that sense of honor of yours.”

“How did we meet again?” Arcuse inquired, wanting to cut the talking as soon as possible so he could get his mind back to keeping them alive. At this, Sathik fell silent, knowing the answer very well. At a competition on some forgotten (and now destroyed) planet, a killing match called the Battledome, Sathik found himself running through a forest with two rancors on his tail, far from a good position for anyone to be in. The rest was simple: Arcuse saw the situation, deemed it unfair, joined in, and between the two of them he and Sathik had dispatched the titanic creatures. In short, Arcuse’s overzealous sense of honor had quite possibly saved Sathik’s life.

With no further arguments, Arcuse throttled the [i]Morbis Ferre[\i], draining power from the laser turret and feeding it into the crippled shields as he grew closer to the still-firing cruiser. With his honor gaining priority over his lust to kill, the only remaining option that could include surviving the ship’s constant barrage of fire, and not abandoning the hunt, would be to board the vessel. Besides, maybe he could get some clue as to where the real [i]Promised Jewel[\i] was.

The Skipray took another hit on its way in, blowing away what was left of its shields, but Arcuse didn’t much care. The closer they got to the ship, the worse its aim became, such is the glory of turbolasers. The Ubese kept the ion cannons blazing all the way in, and even fired off a half-dozen concussion missiles for good measure. The latter exploded semi-harmlessly along its shields, but the former went straight through the transparent barrier and made contact with the hull, shorting out systems wherever they struck.

“So, what exactly is the plan?” Sathik asked as the gunship decelerated near the dense vessel’s hull.

“We pull a modified Han Solo.” Arcuse answered.

“Come again?” The Dark hunter in the turret inquired, not entirely sure what his friend meant.

“We get in close and dock with the ship to avoid fire.”

“I got that part, but where does the modified part come in?”

“We kill anything on that ship that isn’t a bounty hunter.” The Ubese replied simply, punching the clasp on his chest to release his crash harness as the Skipray drifted slowly towards one of the cruiser’s docking ports.

“I think I’m going to like this plan.” Sathik said, and likewise untangled himself from the gunwell’s harness. The pair of soldiers met moments later in  the [i]Morbis Ferre’s[\i] cargo hold/armory, and began quickly browsing the vast shelves of weaponry. In the end, Sathik took his shotgun and his S-5, along with the assortment of omnipresent knives he had on him. Arcuse took his usual E-11, with all its various accessories, his standard BlasTech DL-36 sidearm, an HSB-200 hold-out blaster in an ankle holster, a combat knife on his opposite ankle, a pair of elongated vibroblades on his back which he’d recently taken a liking to, and a pair of wrist lasers. A good deal more firepower than he normally carried while out on the job, but Boba Fett was on this ship after all, and if they ever met up with him, the Ubese warrior wanted to be as ready as possible.

He’d always wondered when he saw the Mandalorian, which he did occasionally, if he would come out on top in a fight. Arcuse was certainly younger, which generally meant faster and stronger, while Boba wasn’t exactly in his prime. The Ubese was a near perfect shot, capable of shooting a pistol out of a boy’s hand almost completely out of reflex, dare he say maybe a better shot than Boba Fett himself. Still, there was something about the legendary hunter that had kept him alive through his years of hunting, something more than intelligence and firepower. Arcuse had no idea what that unknown skill was, and silently hoped that he and Sathik would finish their business here [i]without[\i] being forced into a confrontation with Fett.

[i]If we do,[\i] The orphaned soldier thought to himself. [i]I’ll do my best to kill him if he tries to do the same to me. If I’m lucky (maybe that’s his secret; ironic that it’s what saves Solo every time if it is) I’ll at least drive him off.[\i]

“Ready?” Sathik asked, blowing Arcuse’s thoughts away like breath to sand.

“Always.” The Ubese replied, using his friend’s own saying. His plagued friend punched the ramp release, and immediately noticed that the air tasted...old, almost stale somehow. Arcuse on the other hand, noticed nothing; his helmet’s air-scrubbers kept the air the usual fabricated clean he was used to.

As the cargo ramp touched the deck, both hunters descended the incline, crouched low with their weapons at the ready. There was no illumination in the airlock, and likely none elsewhere either; Arcuse activated the tactical glowrod on his BlasTech rifle, and panned the light across the walls, searching for anything that might be a problem. His quick scan came up clear, and the two proceeded onwards. Sathik had spent much of his life in the dark, and could operate without much loss of efficiency in it.

They reached a blast door simply by walking forward after exiting and sealing the [i]Morbis Ferre[\i], quite obviously giving access to the rest of the ship. Arcuse checked a panel on the wall to the left of the door, and grew more than a little uneasy to discover that the massive doors were unlocked. The Ubese hit the door release, and then stepped back next to Sathik. The two shouldered their weapons, and waited for the blast doors to open, completely oblivious as to what might be on the other side.

------------------------------------
It is currently midnight as I finally post this, and I blame any bad, horrible, or in any other way not good writing on my exhaustion. Nice to have a scape-goat every once in awhile.

I can furthermore blame it for my anger. WHY IS ITALICS NOT WORKING!? EVEN WHEN I TRY USING THIS BLOODY BBCODE IT DOESN'T WORK! WHY DON'T WE JUST BRING BACK THE RUTTIN HTML!?!?!? WORKED JUST FINE THEN!