Aftershock

Dakoth

Prologue:

The Tolarian peninsula. Home to the last one thousand eight hundred and fifty three living beings on the planet Yergus. Packed on to this small plot of land lay hundreds of shoddily constructed hovels, surrounded by hastily erected earthworks, primitive ballista and catapult dotting their ramparts. All were abandoned, not a man, woman or child was to be found. All one thousand eight hundred and fifty three of them were currently occupying the last grassy field their world would ever know. There they stood, brandishing weapons of all sorts, halberds, axes, pitchforks, even the children stood knives in hand, ready to fight, ready to defend the last vestige of life on their world.

Many were hungry; countless others thirsty, the once bountiful freshwater ocean that gently caressed their peninsula had long ago disappeared, replaced with a cracked and blighted ocean floor, turning the peninsula into a cliff face. Ahead of them lay countless miles of desecrated, blackened deadlands where nothing whatsoever remained. Not even a single blade of grass could be found over the thousands of miles of ravaged land. Countless masses lay dead, their skeletal remains spread across the vast wasteland that was Yergus. The entire planet had been transformed into a graveyard. All by the God of Death himself. No one was sure how they incurred the great one’s wrath, all attempts at repentance meeting with miserable failure. The elders thought that perhaps he was a servant of the Unknown Ones, sent as a harbinger to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. None of this mattered though. The God of Death was upon them, and would not stop until his bloodlust was sated. This much Warlord Devidius was certain of, and it weighed heavily on his mind as he paced the battle line of his hastily erected army. If it could be called that at all. Hundreds of so called troops were in reality little more than peasants with wooden spears and hatchets.

“What I wouldn’t give to have the Royal Legion...” He mused quietly as he stared out across the last grassy plain on the world, a row of green hills on the horizon obscuring the view of the destruction that lay past them, letting him for the last time believe that all was as it should be, if only for a moment.

Devidius found his daydream soon shattered by his adjutant, who had only just worked up the courage to respond to his earlier comment. “Sir, the Royal Legion was eradicated, what good would they do?”

He was, of course right. The Dark One had snuffed the men of the Legion out without so much as swinging a battle axe. The finest army the world had ever known, dispatched like they were children.

“I don’t know. At least I could die commanding with some dignity, rather than at the head of this festering mob.”

“Noble sentiments, sir.” The adjutant replied callously

Normally Devidius would have killed the man in an instant for taking such a tone with a Warlord, but he no longer had the luxury to let a man go to waste. It hardly mattered, they would all be dead soon enough anyway. His scouts had already confirmed his presence.

Solemnly the Warlord bent down, picking his brilliant gold helm from off the ground, gently sliding the jewel encrusted object into place over his head, fastening its leather strap to secure it into place. Next he pulled his sword free from the ground it was lodged in, sliding it expertly into its scabbard. A futile gesture perhaps, but a gesture nonetheless.

Shifting his weight uneasily between his two feet, Devidius stared out over the meadow and towards the hills, awaiting his demise.

A mangy farmer garbed in rags was the first to notice. Letting forth a shrill scream of terror, the old farmer shot a twisted finger skyward. It had started. Towering masses of black clouds billowed over the horizon, rushing over the peninsula with a speed wholly unnatural, engulfing every last shred of the once gentle blue sky. Within a minute, the Sun was gone, blocked from view, an unholy darkness descending over the last sons of Yergus.

“DRAW ARMS!” Devidius bellowed, the Captains of the various ragtag regiments following suite, a clanking uproar ensuing as sword grinded scabbard for the last time.

“For Honor! For Family! For Yergus!” The millennia old battle cry rang out through the ranks, men and boys alike thudding their chests in a last show of defiance, hoisting their weapons high and roaring the chant at the top of their lungs.

The sight heartened Devidius. Today, live or die, he was among his countrymen. Yet the little joy such a spectacle could muster in him, soon found itself dashed against the rocks of hopelessness as an eerie stillness befell the ranks, the only audible sound suddenly becoming the wisping of hundreds of torches hastily lit to try and counteract the sudden darkness.

The God of Death had arrived. From over the crest of the hill his shrouded figure emerged, gliding slowly, purposefully across the grassy meadow, the flowers beneath his feet withering into dust. He left a trail of ash and cinders across the meadow, his very presence causing a scar in the land. All remained silent as the Dark One strode into the middle of the once lush meadow which by this point was little more than a blackened smudge on the ground. Finally, the God of Death came to a halt, seemingly content with his location, a good three hundred yards from the Tolarian battle line.

Raising his cowled head slightly, The Dark One surveyed the force assembled against him, his eyes slowly sweeping over the battle line, his piercing gaze boring deep into the heart of every man he laid eyes upon. Even Warlord Devidius, at the head of the army found himself holding his breath, arms quivering as Death incarnate stared him down. Its gaze seemed to hang on him for a century, loosing panic and turmoil amongst his normally logical mind. He tried to fight it, to look away, to turn and run, anything. But he was paralyzed, he had to know, he had to see, he had to listen. The God seemed to be speaking to him. Condemning him.

I’ll save you for last.

And then it was over, the sensation gone. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Devidius sighed in relief, no matter how temporary it was.

By this time the Dark One seemed to have finished what could only be assumed to be his appraisal of Devidius’ army, lowering his shrouded face down once more. Remaining motionless for another heartbeat, he seemed to emanate the essence of pure power. Shuffling in his robes, as if searching for a quill, the Dark One withdrew his hands from its depths, letting them rest easily at the sides of his tattered, jet black garments.

An instant later, without warning, The God of Death shot his hands skyward like a lightning bolt, a tremendous boom echoing out through the dark masses of clouds blotting out the light.

“DARK HAIL!” A Captain cried out in horror, dropping his broadsword and tearing his helm off, throwing it to the ground and fleeing in utter terror, only to be crushed seconds later by a massive chunk of black ice the size of a boulder that came crashing down from the heavens.

Seconds later the entire sky opened up in fury, sending massive chunks of hail screaming down into Devidius’ lines, the unholy ice crushing entire units beneath it, separating limb from body. The unceasing torrent of death continued to pour down upon the hapless warriors as they charged forth into the maw of death that was now closing in upon them, spurred on in a last ditch effort by their commanders towards The God of Death himself.

And there he stood, catapulting shards of shattered dark ice across the landscape with nothing but the sheer power of his mind, the jagged black shards reaving through both steel and flesh, littering the battlefield with bloodied limbs and dying men as they careened forward in all directions, slamming into the ground, tossing up massive plumes of ash and blood in the process. The God of Death did all this, standing perfectly still as men lunged forward, trying uselessly to dodge the icy shrapnel only to be crushed by one of the numberless boulders of dark ice that ceaselessly plummeted through the clouds.

Warlord Devidius stood by in horror, watching helplessly as the dark hail consumed his army, men died by the hundreds as the lethal meteors rained down like hellfire upon their regiments. There was no escaping the devastation, as far as the eye could see the sky thundered down upon the broken meadow, across the entire length of the peninsula. All hope was lost, chaos was running rampant in the ranks, men fleeing for their lives only to be cut to ribbons by black daggers of ice, their last gurgling cries of pain drowned out by the thundering impact of hundreds of the lethal ice boulders.

Then, as abruptly as the hellish storm started, it abated, the last of the massive hailstones crashing to a rest at the back of the Dark One himself, whose hands now rested leisurely at his side once more. Men scurried to gather themselves together in the sudden calm, rushing towards the malefic entity with all the speed their exhausted bodies could muster.

The God of Death merely watched, and waited as the men stampeded forward, slivers of Dark Ice shattering beneath their boots as they rushed upon him screaming curses of vengeance all the way. Arrows and spears narrowly passed by him as the men closed the distance by the second, and soon they found themselves only a stones throw away from avenging their countrymen. With brimstone in their eyes they all charged on to fulfill their vision of revenge. It was payback time. Simultaneously they all hefted their weapons, as they stood at the Dark One’s feet, thrusting them forward to come within inches of him, when each and every one of the hundreds of warriors came to a cold stop, a vision of utter horror etched into their eyes, their instruments of war clattering uselessly to the ground.

Hear. Hear the voice of Death calling to you.

With freakish speed, the Dark One’s head snapped to attention, his mouth wide open like a black hole, sucking in all light to the point where you could not even make out what was behind the darkness. The God of death inhaled briefly, sheer power radiating off his form as he did so, and then let forth the most wretched sound ever heard on the planet. An ear piercing howl shot forth with such rippling force that every man on the battlefield collapsed in pain, hands clutching their ears, their screams of torment drowned out by the indomitable power of the Dark One. The howl reverberated across the land, shooting forth a shockwave which crashed across the land with the ferocity of a tsunami, instantly shattering the thousands of chunks of Dark Ice littering the landscape, sending razor sharp fragments in every direction, turning writhing men into human pin cushions, millions of needle thin pieces of the unholy ice piercing the bodies of every soldier who just moments ago stood a chance of putting an end to the terror and saving their ruined world. Blood seeped from the hundreds of soldiers turned instantly to corpses, cascading down the newly formed mound of bodies amassed at the feet of the God of Death who once more stood motionless.

Warlord Devidius’ eyes frantically swept the battlefield, stepping over the shrapnel riddled body of his adjutant to gain a better vantage point. Everywhere it was the same. Death ash and ice were all that remained. One Thousand Eight Hundred and Fifty-two bodies were scattered across the once fertile valley, the God of Death standing contently in the center of it all. Or at least he was, Devidius realized in horror as he stared at the sickly pile of corpses. The Dark One was gone.

Devidius’s heart pounded in his chest, sweat pouring down his forehead as he remembered the voice he had heard in his head only minutes ago.

I’ll save you for last

So he had. Panicking, Devidius tore his helm from his head, throwing it frantically on the body of his lifeless adjutant, doing likewise with his breastplate. Giving one final look to the carnage of the meadow, he turned, and ran. Feet crunching noisily against the glassy ice littering the ground, he fled across the peninsula, not daring to look behind him in fear of the horrors he might behold. The jagged drop off of the Tolarian peninsula soon came into view, the dried sandy slope that had once been a beach leaving him with no place to run, yet Devidius continued forth blindly, knowing that to stop was to die.

Soon the black ice gave way to wisping puffs of sand as the exhausted warlord trudged on to the ends of the peninsula. There was no place left to run. He would either stand and fight, or plummet to his death. Clutching his broadsword with one sweat drenched gauntlet, Devidius gritted his teeth, and turned around to fight his last battle. Yet, no one was there. Taking a step forward, sword extended, Devidius searched for his enemy, yet the sandy expanse held not a soul.

“Coward.” Devidius grunted in delusion, thrusting his sword victoriously into the sand.

The sand...

He realized staring at the mound he had tossed his blade into. It was trembling. “NO!” The Warlord shouted in blind fear, digging his sword out of the coarse sand that was now billowing across the cliff face, whipping up a miniature sandstorm around Devidius, the last living being on Yergus.

“Come! Face me coward!” Devidious yelled into the raging sandy plumes, the coarse sediment whipping across his face, biting into his skin.

“Taste the fury of my blade! You will beg for death!” Devidious bellowed into the sandstorm, trying his best to sound confident.

Very well.

The God of Death echoed in his mind, fear once more clutching Devidius’ soul as he froze in terror, the sand at his feet rumbling and shifting, an ominous figure emerging from it, sand cascading from his midnight robes. The Dark One had come for him.

Devidius screamed out in terror and rage, blindly thrusting his gilded sword into the gut of his tormenter, twisting the blade deeper and deeper until he could see its bloodless tip emerging from the back of the Dark One. A triumphant smirk crossed his face. He had won; no one could live a blow like that. Grasping his sword, he went to dislodge it from the bestial entity, only to find a withered, almost skeletal hand clutching the broadsword, refusing to release it.

Fool. You cannot kill what is already dead.

“No! NO!” Devidius howled, tugging frantically at his weapon, fighting the seemingly indomitable grasp of his foe. “You can’t! You’re dead!”

I can.

Raising his free hand, God of Death planted it upon Devidius’ chest, running an icy chill up the man’s spine. Then, with a single twitch of the bony appendage he ushered forth a massive shockwave, catapulting Devidius, sword and all in the air, arcing over the sandy cliff face and towards blighted ocean floor miles below. Seconds later Devidius’ frenzied shrieking finally was silenced by a barely audible thud in the distance. With Warlord Devidius’ death, every last being on Yergus was now dead.

Dead as they should be. The Dark One thought silently as he overlooked the carnage he had loosed. Not that he really cared. Reaching one ghastly hand into his robes, he procured a tarnished, ancient hydrospanner, with which he slowly and diligently carved yet another notch in his equally ancient utility belt.

_________________
Audi famam illius Aftershock.

Dakoth

Chapter 1

The calm trickling of the gentle waters of the small stream relaxed Tamen Auris as he silently meditated. He had sat in the lush green grass by the stream many a time before, simply staring into the pristine waters for hours on end. He never felt more at home than he did here. The troubles of the galaxy seemed to simply be carried off when he came here, as if they were distant and blurry memories from a time long past.

“Master.” A confident voice echoed through his thoughts, shattering the world he had built for himself in an instant, dragging Tamen forcefully back into reality. Rising slowly, the Jedi Knight straigtened his plain brown Jedi robes and opened his soft green eyes to find his Padawan, Rai standing before him, back straight and chest puffed out, as if he were standing at attention.

Tamen’s face spread in a disarming grin as he placed one hand gently upon the boy’s bony shoulder, hiding his slight annoyance at being disturbed during meditation.

“What is it young one?” He asked as he gazed into the sky at the delicate amber sunset which was receding slowly past a gently rolling mountain range far in the distance.

“It’s the Council, Master, they wish an audience with you.” The boy said, seeming to stand up straighter than ever. “I think its important.”

“Very well then, Rai. I suppose we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” Tamen declared, immediately assuming a more serious tone.

Rai gave a slight nod, of agreement and set off towards the temple as if he was the General of a conqering army. A tiny, twelve year old General. Tamen thought to himself, bemused at the thought of his Padawan directing a brigade of troops.

Taking one last look at the babbling stream, the Jedi Knight set off towards the Temple’s council chambers through the quickly darkening forest, trying to think of what they could possibly want him for. The possibilities coursed through his mind, it could be anything ranging from simply his opinion in a matter to infiltrating a gang of bounty hunters. That is what he adored about being a Jedi, you never knew what you could expect next, adventure seemed to always be around the corner, the adrenaline of it all, the euphoria upon the faces of the helpless as they watched him, their savior, defend all that was good in the world. Tamen lived for it.

The Temple was now coming into view, its automated lights flickering on, illuminating towering spires and ornate carvings as Tamen passed through its gated entrance, striding past a silvery reflecting pool that shot him a glimpse of his own slightly scraggy appearance. Pausing, the Jedi raked a single hand through his hair, brushing out a few stray leaves that had managed to lodge themselves in his short brown hair during his meditation. Satisfied, he once more headed through the intricately colored tiled courtyard, approaching the massive mahogany twin doors that led to the council building. Extending one hand, Tamen brushed his fingers against the ornate carvings embossed upon the door, their force infused surfaces briefly skittering with energy before swinging open on their own accord. Stepping into the lobby of the building, he gave a polite bow to two other Knights who were scurrying out the door before observing the scene. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as far as he could tell, Jedi were lounging around the surprisingly modern room, stretched across its many silvery couches and plush armchairs, lecturing their padawans and forgetting the day’s worries.

Turning his attention away from the lobby’s denizins, Tamen strode across the sleekly polished floor, past an array of expertly carved bronzium busts depicting legendary Jedi that lined the entrance to the lobby’s main turbolift. Placing a single hand on the softly glowing lift acess panel to verify his identity, he declared his destination to the lift AI. “Council Chambers, please.”

A series of beeps confirmed his order, the polished plasteel doors quickly sliding open as Tamen stepped into the lift. Seconds later they snapped shot, the turbolift shooting up through the Temple, coming to rest moments later on the top floor: The Council Chambers.

Gingerly stepping out from the turbolift, which slid shut moments later, Tamen once more approached yet another pair of massive double doors, where on the other side, the council sat, waiting.

Giving a tentative knock on the door, Tamen counted down the almost painful seconds of silence, before at last, the door’s slid open, revealing the spasely decorated council chamber, a semicircle of plush chairs lining the room’s perimeter being the only decoration.

“Step in, Tamen.” A wizened old master seated in one of the end chairs in the council room said authoritatively. “We have matters to discuss with you.”

Immediately obliging, Tamen gave a short bow, stepping into the center of the chambers.

“Lets get right to the point then, shall we?” A Quarren master declared, waving a hand subtly through the air. Seconds later a small holoprojector slowly lowered itself down from the ceiling, flickering to life, a shimmering image of the galaxy engulfing the room.

The master who had spoken earlier once more flicked his hand, a cluster of stars on a far spiral arm of the galaxy immediately illuminating itself, blacking out all the others as it floated to the center of the room, expanding as it went, revealing numerous star systems Tamen had never heard of before.

“This, is the Vililus Sector.” The Quarren explained. “Home to a variety of low level societies, none of which have discovered hyperspace. This is where our problem lies.”

“Problem?” Tamen repeated, a hint of concern hanging over his words.

“No no no” The councilman began, a benine smile upon his aged face. “you see, its more of a small inconvenience than anything young one. Nothing to fret over.”

“Yes, quite right, Master.” The Quarren said, nodding in approval before returning his focus to the briefing.

“Call it what you want, Tamen, but it is certianly work. You see, nestled within the Vilius sector lies a small planet inhabited by a relatively new race of insectoid lifeforms that have just begun to delve into the art of metalworking.” Pausing to wave a finger, the holoprojecter’s display magnified itself, refocusing upon a single planet with a duo of moons slowly circumnavigating it. One could only presume it was the homeplanet of the insectoids in question.

“That would be V3-14490, or as the locals call it, vss’ra” the councilman explained. “Upon this planet the Order has established a small research outpost from which we may learn about the aboriginal species.”

Tamen gave a short nod, indicated he understood.

“A Knight by the name of Barll has been assigned to look over this outpost, along with her padawan. Your mission is simple, you are to travel to vss’ra and resupply the outpost with some materials that Barll cannot continue without.”

The older councilman clapped his hands together, the galatctic map dissapearing, returning the room to its normal appearance. “The cargo is docked in a small frigate in the main hangar, the navcomputer already has the planetary coordinates. That is all.” He said with an air of finality, tossing over the acess keycard to the frigate into Tamen’s robe’s pocket with uncanny prescision.

“Yes, Masters.” Tamen replied, giving a deep bow before turning and exiting the council, the only sound his boots clacking upon the intracitely tiled floor.

It seemed to him to be a rather odd mission to bestow upon a Jedi Knight, but perhaps the council believed that his padawan could use some galactic experience, and rather than send a cargo runner they decided to employ one of their own. Although it sounded rather unlikely, it was the only reason Tamen could conjure up. Unless the Council had seen fit to hide something from him, although he seriously doubted that.

He dismissed the thoughts from his mind as Rai fell into step with him, his eagerness visible. Together they departed the council building without saying a word. Tamen’s mouth formed a smile as he glanced over at his apprentice, who seemed to be visibly twitching with excitement.

“Calm yourself, Padawan, we have a mission.” Tamen revealed at last, to his now beaming Padawan. “Fetch our travel bags, and meet me in the hangar, we’ll be leaving right away.”

Minutes later Tamen found himself staring down at the ever shrinking Bakura as Rai piloted their loaned starship away from the planet’s gravity well.
“We’ll be heading to a planet called V3-14490 on a routine resupply.” He explained, leaning over his padawan’s shoulder. “The coordinates have been pre-programmed into the navicomputer. Take us to hyperspace when ready.”
Tamen sensed his padawan’s excitement deflate as he realized that their mission wasn’t the exciting adventure he had hoped it would be. That was fine though, it was something Rai would have to learn to accept. Not all of being a Jedi involved flashing sabers and staring down Sith.
“Going to lightspeed.” Rai announced, the stars blurring and writhing in the viewport as the somewhat antiquated craft lurched forward and into hyperspace.

“Go find your quarters, Rai.” Tamen ordered, dismissing his padawan, taking a seat in the pilot’s seat to check their eta.

“Three days..” He sighed heavily. Its not that he minded the seclusion in hyperspace, it gave him time to meditate. But Rai on the other hand, the boy might go mad out of boredom.

Toggling on the autopilot, Tamen departed from the cockpit, giving one last glance to the streaking starlines of hyperspace as he went off to find a nice corner to spend the next few days nestled in.
_________________
Audi famam illius Aftershock.

Dakoth

Chapter 2

One day. That had been all that was needed for his apprentice to drive him crazy. The boy had begun following Tamen everywhere, politely begging for training. Although he could only appreciate Rai’s enthusiasm, he soon ran out of things that could be taught on a starship easily. Today, he had fallen back to his last option, Saber dueling in the cargo hangar. The two of them had pushed all of the cargo destined for Vss’ra up against the walls, clearing out a relatively large space to spar in. And spar they had, the two of them had been at it for hours, and Rai, while obviously exhausted, showed no signs of relenting.

Tamen thrust forward quickly, his orange saber grinding against Rai’s emerald blade, as the boy parried downward, sending a torrent of sparks dancing across the floor. Sidestepping, Tamen slid his saber down towards his Padawan’s hilt, aiming for a disarm. Rai was no fool though, immediately dropping into a crouched position, unleashing a sweeping kick to Tamen’s shin, causing the Jedi to stumble backwards, crashing into a stack of large industrial containers, their silvery surfaces marred with carbon scoring and rust. Shaking the blow off, Tamen resumed the offensive, delivering a powerful windmill attack, making use of his height advantage as the attack came crashing down over the much smaller Padawan, sending him skidding across the treaded deck, toppling a stack of glow rod crates.
Rai slowly rose, blinking away the hot sweat that found itself drizzling into his eyes, doing his best to steady his trembling limbs as he hefted his saber back into a defensive stance.
“Had enough?” Tamen asked gently, rising to his full stature, blade handing loosely at his side as he approached his Padawan.
“Master..” Rai panted. “Never lower your defenses.” He shouted, saber snapping back to life as he shot forward with unnatural speed, smashing into Tamen’s hastily raised parry, furiously trading blow after blow with his mentor, slowly pushing Tamen back towards the stack of large containers he had forced him against just moments ago. A sweeping horizontal strike finished the trap, causing Tamen to hastily jump backwards, avoiding the green blur of light that had threatened to disembowel him. Grinning, Rai unleashed a force push, pinning his master against the stack of rusted crates for the finishing blow. Letting forth a triumphant roar, Rai threw all his energy into a two handed uppercut, lunging forward saber flashing.

Tamen dived to his side, time seeming to slow as Rai’s saber passed within centimeters of his face, bathing his body in an eerie green light. Unable to stop his momentum, Rai crashed forward, slicing into the two large crates stacked up against the wall, its contents instantly immolating under the searing heat of the emerald blade.

Letting his saber clatter to the gritty deck, Tamen sprang to his feet, dashing over to the crates as the crimson flames licked into the air through the white hot gash in the crates where Rai’s saber had made contact.

“Extinguisher!” The knight yelled, his padawan immediately sprinting off to comply, his boots thudding noisily as they pounded down the dimly lit ship corridors, echoing in the confined space. Panic threatening to overcome him, Tamen centered himself within the force, reaching out with it to cull the blaze as embers leapt from the gash, skittering across the floor before burning into nonbeing.
Feeling the reaches of the force become open to him, he maniuplated the ever potent energy, forming a sphere in his mind, encompassing the crates, shutting them off from the rest of the ship, trapping them in their own little world. As Tamen envisioned it, it came into existence, the flames twisting and bending against the invisible barrier, dimming as they consumed what little oxygen remained in the newfound prison.

Seconds later Rai re-emerged from the depths of the ship, a small extinguisher canister in his hand, only to find his master calmly standing over the burned out crates, hands at his sides as the final serpentine wisps of smoke coiled around his face before dissapating. Setting down the extinguisher, his Padawan marched over to his side, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the devastation.
“Any idea what they were, master?” He asked, breaking the silence that had befallen the ship.
“I can’t say I have the slightest.” Tamen answered immediately, already knowing what his padawan would say.
Sticking a single hand cautiously into the wreckage, the Knight began to sift through the ashes that lined the bedding of the durasteel crates, sweeping away the soot on to the deck.

After a few minutes of poking through the derbis, Tamen emerged with a few scraps of badly charred fabric, spreading them across a large crate of medical supplies that Rai had dragged into the middle of the cargo bay to serve as a table.

“It seems pretty durable.” Tamen commented, streteching the thick material in his hands, rubbing it briskly with his thumb. “Aside from the obvious flammability” he added, turning the piece over, rubbing the soot from it.

“Life-tek systems” Tamem murmered to himself.

“Master, Life-tek is a brand of Life Support suits designed to work in space and worlds lacking atmospheres.” Rai respnded, without being prompted.
“Yes, I am aware of that, Rai.” Tamen responded, scratching his chin lightly in contemplation. “But why would we need such things on a world inhabitated by an entire sentinent species?” He asked alound.
“Not all species requrie the same breathing conditions as we do, Master.” Rai countered bluntly. “In truth, this race might not even require a breathing apparatus to survive.” The padawan answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Yes, quite.” Tamen responded, taken slightly aback by his apprentice’s brashness. “Well either way, we’ll need to replace these suits.”
“Yes master.” Rai said, giving a slight bow as he left the room, leaving Tamen alone to contemplate where he could possibly find replacement lifesuits this far out of the way.
His memory failing him, Tamen resorted to the ships navcomputer, pouring over system after system worth of useless chunks of rock. It seemed as if nothing in this wing of the galaxy had even progressed past the technological level of Endor. Finally after what seemed an eternity, even to an infinitely paitent Jedi, Tamen turned up a workable lead. He had located a small star system on their route home to race of sentient humanoids that had managed to scrap together what appeared to be an at least passable knowledge of space. First contact had been over fourty years ago however, so one could not be sure what they could expect.
With this tidbit in mind, the Jedi Knights slender fingers glided across the lumious surface of the navcomputer’s keypad, making the nescessary course adjustments that would bring them to the Almus system, home of the Dal people.

With his course corrections laid in, Tamen’s hands slid off the navcomputers keypad to the armrests of the rigid copilots chair he had taken residence in. An impulse in the force was all he needed to cause the cockpits lights to flicker silently off, encasing the room in darkness, save the faint hued glows of various instruments speckled across the control panels. Shutting his eyes, Tamen blocked off the last of the light, drifting into the recesses of thought, contemplating what this detour would mean for him. The Dal could concievably no longer even exist. Fourty years was a long time to go without news, and a disaster of some sort would have completed its work in only a fraction of the time.
None of this was of any matter to him now, if the Almus system could not supply him with the enviornmental suits, he would simply have to make the trip without them. It was at this point that Tamen realized he was tired. His adrenaline had finally subsided, leaving his body an aching pile of uselessness, his grueling duel with Rai finally catching up to him.
Tamen, having long ago discovered the negative effects of fighting his own fatigue, allowed unconcious to wash over him.
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Audi famam illius Aftershock.

Dakoth

Chapter 3

Blaring proximity klaxons heralded the rickety freighter’s departure from hyperspace, jolting Tamen from his well-earned rest. The bright streaks smeared across the cockpit’s viewport had begun to once more resolve themselves into recognizable constellations, the dim outline of Dal centered in the view frame.

Not to any great surprise, no hailing signal was present to greet the rickety Jedi freighter as it laid in it’s approach vector. In all likelihood the primitive inhabitants of Dal and its moon were incapable of even detecting the craft as it lurched towards its maximum sunlight speed. As they neared closer and closer to their destination, swarms of insect-like craft came into focus, darting about in chaos between the two spheroids as if they were cosmic bee-hives.

Scans revealed the nexus of this interplanetary scuttle to be little more than a glorified slab of Grade-D duracrete that stretched on for what appeared to be miles across Dal’s surface. “Alpha Port” it was called. A myriad ships seemed to have been haphazardly strewn across the so called port.

The freighter’s comm Unit remained decidedly silent as Rai maneuvered the craft through Dal’s upper atmosphere while Tamen was forced to peer out of the cockpit in search of a suitable landing spot on the ill-maintained LZ. He peered past countless decaying space hulks, their flecked paint still making a furitive effort to cling to the corroded hulls of their hosts. Some newer ships were strewn about, but even these were engraved with the stencil of heavy wear. Tamen made a quick mental note of this, reasoning that if this planet was indeed in possession of any newer, sleeker models, that they were most likely kept at privatized landing pads. He didn’t quite blame them for this though, the whole port reeked of unsavory deeds.

After a few more uneventful minutes of flyby overhead more of the same, Rai was able to finally secure a small nook of the LZ in which to wedge his ship in between. Easing gently on the throttle, he lowered the old ship in between what appeared to be two grime coated trash barges.

A perfect match Tamen mused as his padawan lowered the boarding ramp, its own equally shoddy gears grinding in reluctant protest as their servo motors roused them from their slumber. With that unpleasantly out of the way, Tamen drew his robes in the most inconspicuous fashion he could, tucking his saber discreetly away in his garment’s inner pocket. After all, this didn’t seem like the kind of place one would want to appear wealthy at.

Dropping a booted limb off the freighter ramp which had ceased descending after about three fourth’s of the way, Tamen made his first contact with Dal. The cracked pavement beneath him spat out a thin curtain of dust as he made his way out from under the ship, obscuring his feet from view. This trend seemed to be the norm across the vast slab, wisps of pulverized duracrete dust lazily drifting, spurred by the lash of the strong arid wind that seemed to constantly assail the area.

His hair flopped about gently as he wandered from the ship, Rai, having sealed the vessel now obediently in tow once more. While Tamen could have passed as a simple starport vagrant, Rai strode through the port as the pinnacle of posture, his crisp robes belted securely to his waist as to not be caught in the breeze. The only sign of chaos about him was the single strand of hair free to twist about like a garden snake; His padawan braid.

Making yet another vow to try to chisel away the boy’s hubris, Tamen continued onward and towards what appeared to be civilization.

This particular civilization that had managed to claw its way into existence upon Dal, was not what one would call impressive. Buildings over two stories seemed to be in short supply, downtrodden apartment complexes and grime-encrusted shop windows found themselves liberally distributed across the cityscape. The sight of it all disheartened Tamen, who now found himself with absolutely no way to locate the EV-Suits which they had come in search of. Such delicate pieces of equipment weren’t exactly something one wanted to procure from a pawn shop. But on the contrary, they also weren’t something to go without.

It was with this mindset that Tamen entered the grey city pushing past the vehement throng of ragged lepers and vagrants assembled at it’s entrance. Immediately upon setting foot in the group, the putrid scent of decaying flesh permeated his nostrils, which instinctively flared outward in a vein attempt to ward the nauseating odor off. His head reverberated dizzingly as he trudged on through the din, the groans of the starving and shrieks of the groveling hags wreaking chaos within his being. Resisting his natural instinct to simply shove aside the beggars, Tamen continued onward , his eyes set upon the only building that he recognized; the Pazaak Hall.

The dreary masonry that made up the front of the hall was stamped with the weathered images of various cards, too faded to make out their specifics. These corroded insignias provided the only splashes of color visible across the whole block, the once vibrant crimson and blue cards now feebly hanging on to their long-dead grandeur.

Nonchalantly patting off the gravel from his dust flecked pants, Tamen passed through the rusted archway of the hall, and into its anteroom, which told a much different tale. He found himself pleasantly greeted by the cool caress of a gentle wind, his dirtied shoes sinking ever so slightly into the plush green carpet stretching across the parlor as if a tender moss. An amicably trickling bronze fountain lay as the room’s centerpiece, its intricate masthead almost stretching to the room’s high vaulted ceiling. It was fashioned to appear as a handful of dice cascading down from an Invisible hand on to the illusion of a pristine frosted table that the water saw fit to create. Beyond that lay the casino itself, dozens of intricately fashioned mahogany tables littered the viridian rugs, crisply dressed gamblers distributed liberally amongst their corners. The whole place was infused with such a paradoxical opulence that it threw the JedI off guard.

It was to his great surprise that he soon found himself being escorted by a rather cheerful gentleman to the nearest available table. Moments after that a small bubbling vial was placed upon the table at his side, over top a carving over what seemed to be some ancient and long-forgotten battle.

“Hit or stand, Sir?” The dealer’s smooth voice queried as he laid down two cards before Tamen. Looking up, he received his first real look at the Dal. They were from the looks of it, quite humanoid. This one was a shade of pale blue, his force presence exuding calmness and control. Two narrow, barely perceivable slits lay symmetrical to each other on the underside of the Dal’s pronounced chin, vestigal gills most likely. Short cropped hair adorned his crown in a startling shade of black. It was neatly combed down to complete a very professional looking picture.

“Hit or stand?” He asked again, calmly. Glancing down at his cards, a ten and four, Tamen shrugged.

“Hit” He finally said, the confidence in his voice providing a façade for the very tricky position he had found himself placed in. He had absolutely no local money to speak of, and going bankrupt certainly wouldn’t help him procure any EV-suits.

“Eighteen.” The dealer announced, sliding the card over to him with one slender hand.

Nodding, Tamen placed a plus two card alongside his own, bringing his total to twenty.

“The set is yours, sir” The Dal said with a rather falsified smile, as his own total went up to twenty-three.

Sweeping a hand across the embossed table, he sent another four cards fluttering out. Placing one of his side cards down, the dealer announced triumphantly, “Twenty.”

Tamen had seventeen, and only a handful of rather useless negative fives remaining in his side-deck. With a resigned sigh, he took the hit.

“Sorry sir, twenty-seven, you bust.” The dal purred through cusp lips as if he were as content as a hutt in slime.

“Deciding game.” He stated, doling out the final hands. Dealer; 19, Guest; 11.

“Hit” Tamen said dryly, letting his hands slide down to his pants to wipe away the salty sweat that had began pooling in their palms.

“Fourteen”
The number did little to ease his decision. It was basically a coin’s flip between twenty and bust.

“Hit.” Tamen declared, straightening up as the Dealer slapped down the fateful card in front of him.

“Nineteen.” The dealer announced, rather quietly this time, almost seeming to turn a shade of yellow.

“Stay.” Tamen said triumphantly. Or at least tried to. No motion came forth from his action, he sat there frozen, a tingling sensation slowly creeping into existence along the ridges of his spine, compelling him, urging him from somewhere deep within. Like an old friend, it guided him and watched over his well-being.

A smile crossed the Jedi’s face as the realization dawned upon him. Placing both hands firmly on the table, he made eye contact with his adversary, blocking out all else as he leaned forward.
“Hit.”

“Twenty-five.” The dealer scoffed at the obviously foolish gambler. He was quite clearly a first-timer. “Sorry, you bust.”

Tamen’s grin didn’t even fade as he saw his total escalate past twenty and into the bust range.

“Do I now?” He asked as the wily smile grew ever larger. Sliding a hand over his side deck he flipped out one of the myriad of negative five’s that he had once attributed to as useless. “I believe that makes twenty.”

The dealer swore something under his breath about, beginner’s arrogance as he collected the slim plastic cards off the table’s surface, hanging his now seemingly orange head in resignation.

“The set is yours, Jeon’s pazaak hall thanks you for you patronage.” He recited plainly, placing a generous handful of translucent shimmering octagons in front of Tamen.

“Thanks” The JedI replied plainly, handing over the token’s to Rai, who had watched over the prceedings with his usual silent dignity.

“Care for another hand?” The dealer resentfully asked, already preparing to hand the cards out.

“No, Just some information if you will.” Tamen responded, disinterested in prodding at the force again for further monetary gains, even despite their necessity.

Rather relieved at the proposition, the Dal placed the pazaak deck on the table and turned his full attention towards the pair.

“But of course, esteemed guests.” The Dal crooned, resuming his calm attidute once more, seemingly becoming a collected blue once more.
Ignoring the phantasmagoric hue shifting of his patron, Tamen continued on with his line of questioning

“You see” Tamen began, “I’m looking for a pair of EV-Suits in order to perform some orbital repairs to our ship” He lied. No sense in making a fuss about them being off worlders. By the looks of it this place didn’t seem very used to that sort.

“Well, around here in order to get the really top notch stuff, you have to go through the government space program. There are some commercial dealers around here, but they only order in bulk, and that takes time. And that’s about for getting your hands on EV’s.” Lowering his voice a handful of octaves, the Dal continued. “Legally.” Glancing to his side at what Tamen could only theorize to be the back of an unaware supervisor, the dealer whispered “You’ll want to go on for two blocks, take a hard left and go on for another three. On your right theres a pretty dingy looking storefront- Almus Aeronautics. That’s where you want to be. “

Sliding two fingers into a pocket lining his vest, he produced a small gleaming yellow keycard. “Give this to any of the drivers outside, they’ll foot the bill to the Pazaak hall, and trust me it’ll get you there safer than paying with those. He smirked, gesturing to the pile of coins resting in Rai’s hand.

Nodding, Tamen accepted the slip, tucking it inside his own tunic. Giving the dealer one last bow of thanks, he turned to join Rai, who had already made his way back to the opulent entrance, and hailed them a rather primitive shuttle. Passing through the archway once more, the JedI was thrust back headlong into the rancid city with all of its poverty stricken scoundrels groping at the rather endowed Pazaak patrons emerging alongside him. Doing his best to ignore the scene that he was currently helpless to counteract, he climbed into the shuttle, passing the slip to the operator, who flicked it past a small scanner which beeped approvingly. He then uncaringly tossed it back into Tamen’s lap, flicking a switch to seal the transports doors.

“Two blocks up, three left” Tamen ordered casually, trying his best to seem like a practiced veteran of the Dal transport system.
Without another word, the shuttle rumbled to life, emitting the telltale pungent odor of fossil fuel as it did. It was around this time that he discovered that it was not a shuttle at all, and was in fact more of a minature sand crawler. Looking out the dust crusted window towards the ground, he watched with bemusement as the machine’s treads clumsily plodded forward over the city’s pocked streets.

Still, even for how backwards an inefficient the device was, it certaintly worked. The craft’s treads were now buzzing along their axis, rocketing the car forward at a respectable pace, making for a rather unpleasant ride. The shuttle’s passengers felt every pothole and divot with excruciating accuracy as they thundered onward with bone-rattling speed. Bracing himself against the stiff leather seat of the taxi as they hung the sharp corner that would take them to their destination, Tamen could not help but clench his jaw shut to prevent its incessant chattering. Even Rai had discreetly laid a hand upon the side of his seat to steady himself against the constant jarring of the antiquated machine.

Another minute of the hectic rattling passed by with rather similar results before at last the craft’s engine brought itself to rest, its door unsealing with a resounding clunk. The pair were all to eager to get out and watch the transport go shooting off again back to the hall from whence it came. His eyes still reverberating from the car’s constant vibrations, Tamen took a sweep of the surrounding buildings. The surroundings were no less dilapidated and seedy than his previous position, and that was all he could be certain of. Most of the storefront signs were advertising rather unscrupulous merchandise, which would indicate a certain laxness from the area’s law enforcement. The rest of the windows seemed to be occupied by something referred to as “Gorungas” What exactly that was, he was rather uncertain of. Then of course, nestled rather appropriately between a firearms botique and one of the afformented Gorungas, was Almus Aeronautics. It was as unimpressive as the dealer had hinted, a normal passerby would have simply glanced over the receeded shop. Not exactly a good business move, that is, unless its owner wasn’t one to cater to said passerbys. Seeing as the latter rather than the former was in all likelyhood the case, Tamen strode over to the tiny shop, and swung open its narrow door which set off the chime of a rather charming bell.

The inside of the store was rather identical to the outside, save for one glaring exception. Four unmistakably crimson Dal stood in the center of the room, their clammy knuckles clenched securely around an array of wicked looking bladed shotguns- all of which were pointed at eachother. The stood bewildered, their eyes locked upon Tamen who had immediately frozen upon seeing this. He dared not even take a breath as the four eyed the newcomer for some sign of his allegience. The dark pulse of unsated bloodlust made itself clear to Tamen in the back of his mind as he stood, anchored upon the razor’s edge of annihilaton.

_________________
Audi famam illius Aftershock.

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