The Profit in Oblivion
19BBY
Inside the cramped cockpit of the Eta-2 Interceptor the warning lights flashed a nauseating orange as the alarm shrieked. The irritating “Vreeeep, Vreeeep, Vreeeep” signaled dangerous G forces and a rapidly decreasing altitude. One gloved hand struggled to steady the control stick as the other struck the console of the navigation computer in an attempt to right its wildly scrolling display. For a brief moment the critical data was discernible, before it flickered and failed. Kir-Banis swore and narrowed his large red eyes at the inanimate screen “Ohhh, Fark it all”!
Straining to see through the severely cracked canopy, the Jedi’s gaze locked on his Q7 Astromech still surprisingly affixed to its wing socket. The droid, which Kir-Banis affectionately referred to as Sven, intoned a serious of “bleeps” and “bwoops” as it flashed several of the lights located on its upper hemisphere.
Kir-banis keyed the mic to his headset “Yes, you’re right crash imminent…so now is probably a great time to lay in a course that won’t kill us, cause I’m flying blind in here.”
Sven rotated in his socket surveying the extensive damage and emitted a woeful tone.
“I know” the Jedi sighed “it’s only by the force that I’m holding this bucket together, now set us down somewhere nice”.
As the Astromech interfaced with the controls, and altered the trajectory of the flaming craft, it rolled and shuddered violently losing another panel in the maneuver as it rocketed towards the mountainous landscape.
Kir-Banis displaced a tense expression as he interlaced his fingers and focused his mind. Gathering the force to his person he extended it to encompass the remnant of the badly damaged ship. He had never attempted to use the force in this manner but his intuition led him. For a moment he believed and all seemed possible, but as doubt crept in and betrayed his training, he felt it all unravel.
Sven’s shrill response to the loss of a large section of the stabilizer broke what was left of the Jedi’s concentration. Wild eyed, afraid for his life, and only seconds from impact Kir-banis launched the Astromech from its wing socket, blew the cockpit hatches, and leapt in desperation.
Sven immediately fired his repulsor lift, and the orb like Q7 began a controlled descent towards the jagged earth.
Kir-Banis, flailing in his robes and exhausted from his previous efforts, summoned what little he could of the force. Pushing down with all his might the Jedi slowed his fall sufficiently to survive a still unforgiving impact.
As the interceptor collided with the cliff face, the fuel cells ignited in a fiery explosion and black smoke filled the canyon.
Sven hovered silently as the injured Durosian struggled to stand and stumbled. Kir-banis groaned as he again put weight on his left leg and winced in pain, his thin lipless mouth released a string of profanities unfamiliar to the Astromech who chirped in confusion. “Forget it Sven, I’ll be alright”.
The Jedi retrieved a survival pack from the rocky ground, thankful that he managed to pull it from the craft before he bailed. He made a quick inventory of the contents; food, water, first aid and little else, but enough to keep him alive until he could reach a settlement, and hopefully make contact with the council.
Kir-banis didn’t know why the V wing squadron had turned on them, but he was sure determined to find out. His eyes searched the sky fearing that they followed him down but apparently Master Rowayl-Farhn’s counter attack had drew them off. He hoped his master had survived, but Kir-banis was doubtful given the odds.
He tried to quiet his mind and feel Rowayl Farhn’s presence in the force but there was such a tempest as he reached out with his senses that he immediately drew back; something was seriously wrong on a cosmic scale.
Thumbing the switch of his light saber, the Jedi ignited his brilliant sapphire blade and spun it expertly in his grasp. The elegant weapon pulsed and hummed with an unmistakable sound. Satisfied with his functions check Kir-banis extinguished the blade.
Sven circled the Durosian, awaiting orders as he rotated his various lenses to maintain focus on the Jedi and survey the landscape simultaneously. Kir-Banis, overcome by the almost unbearable heat, shed his heavy Jedi robe and proceeded to stuff it into the unaccommodating pack “See if you can locate a signal Sven” Kir-Banis said with a hint of irritation “and get a fix on a population center, we won’t last long out in the elements; not here”.
The Astromech responded with an enthusiastic whirring, and then sped off ahead. Kir-banis shook his head as he watched the droid disappear; it was difficult to believe the situation in which he now found himself.
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Rowayl Farhn had been a Jedi for almost the entirety of his 52 years, as a young Padowan he apprenticed Dayala Nuhn and learned her exotic combat forms which saved his life many times over as a Jedi Knight, but no degree of skill with a light saber would save him now.
Rowayl had managed to smoke one of the V wing fighters which aggressively pursued him through the ice rings of Mudra-sharta, owing his success more to luck than skill he tried not to panic as the other two ships closed in and shredded his ship with their cannon fire.
The Republic pilots were experts, aces, with near Jedi like reflexes and they were flying state of the art craft; even without warning after warning consuming his displays, the Jedi Master knew he was in serious trouble.
Again he tried to call out to the command group, but all channels buzzed and hissed in his ear; he was on his own. Rolling right, Farhn reversed the thrusters in full throttle, causing the Astromech in his wing socket to squeal and screech as the V wings blew by.
Difficult as it was to fire on republic troops, Rowayl wasn’t about to be done in by clones, regardless of the fact they had been gene engineered to be the perfect pilots. They were trying to kill him and they had already taken the life of his Padowan. That was easy enough to rationalize as he poured on the heavy laser fire.
The maneuver would have worked, had the V wings not turned end over end, unleashing two massive arcs of interlocking fire that consumed the Jedi’s interceptor in flash after flash of destructive energy. Rowayl Farhn braced himself as the first blast shook his ship, then the next one left him stunned, as the alarm screamed ceaselessly in the instant before the final hit tore what remained of the small craft apart, Rowayl farhn sighed, pondered the beauty of the stars…and then he died.
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Tzarkaloram was one of the few settlements on the rocky world of Mudra-sharta that had a space port, and a rather impressive one at that, considering the planets remote location. The city itself stretched for several miles along the Ahkraledo Plateau. The majority of its some 30,000 inhabitants worked the Lommite mines in the valley below or supported the lucrative logistics business in some capacity.
In recent weeks unhappy workers assembled regularly to protest the new contract proposals which were heavily skewed to favor the invasive Corporate Sector Authority, better known as the CSA. The CSA had been quick to extend their influence and established dominion over all but a few of the fledgling corporations which still struggled to operate in their shadow, the majority had folded under the giant’s merciless merger and acquisitions strategy, and Territorial Administrator Dohrius Kaaz, was confident the others would follow suit; albeit with a bit more persuasion. As his shuttle circled in the fire streaked sky Dohrius surveyed the city below with a look of dire disapproval and hoped he wouldn’t have to stay too terribly long.
Dohrius was a tall, trim, well groomed executive in his 44th year; young for a man in his position. His dark blue business attire which complimented his dark complexion was ill suited for the austere conditions of the arid landscape, but he was a company man through and through, always keeping up appaerances. As he exited the shuttle the oppressive wind blasted him with sand and a hundred and forty degree heat. Dohrius immediately undid the square golden “CSA” clasp at his throat and lowered the zipper several inches; it did little to ease his discomfort, as he was already sweating heavily.
His father, Lehnra, had been a Liaison Officer for the now largely defunct Trade Federation and he knew the old man had surely seen his share of miserable outer rim worlds. Dohrius tried to imagine what his father might say; perhaps something like “suck it up, Keep moving, never let em see ya sweat” hmmmf, there’d be no stopping that in this heat! Dohrius wondered if his ambition would have made the old man proud, or would he disagree with everything Dohrius had done to get where he is today? He supposed it didn’t really matter; the old man was dead, having perished aboard a federation ship in a clash with the Republic’s Forces near thirteen years ago.
Consequently, Dohrius didn’t have much love for the Republic and he was delighted to hear the whispers of the impending dissolution of the senate. Chancellor Palpatine, his office sustained now only by emergency powers, had long been a friend to, and heavily invested in, the developing CSA. It would be a bold and mutually beneficial move on his part to wipe away that archaic administration. “The Senate”, the very notion of those blue robed blabber mouths obstructing commerce and enterprise irritated Dohrius to the core of his being. He couldn’t speak to what might come in the wake of said dissolution, but he wagered it would be a far more profitable period in history for everyone.
Dohrius donned his amber eye wear and adjusted the tint with a touch. As he cleared the ramp, two Executive Security Protection Officers or “Espos”, dressed in their standard issue dark brown fatigues, hurried to greet him. Both men were large, well-muscled, and armed with heavy energy weapons as well as holstered blasters low on their hips. Their eyes were concealed beneath dark glasses and their patrol caps shaded their rugged features.
“You boys look ready for a war, what’s with all this?” Dohrius asked as he sized up his escorts.
“Sir” the senior Espo replied “First time on Mudra-sharta?”
“Yeah, but I understand that…” before Dohrius could finish he was interrupted
“No disrespect, but no, no you don’t Sir, please come with us and we’ll brief you enroute”.
The Espos secured Dohrius in an enclosed speeder and were soon crossing the landing platform at alarming speeds. The controlled temperature of the cabin felt like heaven and Dohrius allowed himself to relax, in that moment his eyes were heavy and his head was weary; he regretted agreeing to a meeting with the governor so soon after his arrival, but it was in his best interest and something he would woefully endure.
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Lhujzdi sat alone in the dim lit cantina and smiled to herself as she sipped the last of the curious pink cocktail. She didn’t know what made it glow, and wasn’t so sure that she wanted to. She liked its milky texture and the way it warmed her insides; in that way that nothing else ever could. Lhujzdi hadn’t been much of a drinker before she took her job sorting the chalky Lommite ore for the load bins, but eight years of turning stones had taken its toll, and there was little else that gave her any real comfort. It wasn’t uncommon that she’d finish a bottle all by herself; this tiny Catharan could likely hold her own with any Gamorean!
She was well on her way to the bottom in more ways than one, she mused at the thought and had a mind to take some CSA down with her! The feral feline joined in chanting “Down with the Browns” in drunken fanaticism, echoing a chorus of like-minded radicals who had assembled after their back breaking double shifts. Shard’s wasn’t a popular watering hole but it had its regulars. The back alley bar had become a hangout for some of the more hardline protestors but as long as the credits kept coming in, Gadrilvido, the old bartender, didn’t mind lending a sympathetic ear; after all the more money the CSA kept from the good people of Tzarkaloram, the less they’d spend at his establishment.
Gadrilvido smiled as he swiped Lhujzdi’s cred stick then proceeded to fill her glass. He found her attractive in some exotic and forbidden way. She didn’t have the strong feline features typical of some Cathar, or perhaps over the years he just noticed less? In anycase her piercing blue eyes and silver mane we’re alluring and the accent which with she spoke the trader’s tongue just made him melt.
“You think a girl like you and an old man like me could ev-“
Her look halted Gadrilvido’s question. For a moment he looked away in defeat, but then mustered the courage to continue.
“It’s just that I get so lonely, and well…you’re so lovely Lhujzdi”
“Awe” she replied canting her head slightly as several of the silver strands fell across her face “even looking all a mess like I surely must”?
“Well, sure… yeah, of course!” Gadrilvido managed an excited and nervous response.
“That’s sweet” Lhujzdi placed a heavy hand on Gadrilvido’s extending her claws to trap it there, as she lowered her gaze and spoke in a more ominous tone “but you don’t want a damn thing to do with me old man; there’s a storm coming, do you understand”?
She shifted her gaze to the obnoxious crowd, turning up her lip to reveal the tip of a particularly sharp tooth. She winked at ole Gadrilvido and released his now trembling hand. Scanning the rowdy rabble, she couldn’t help but wonder who her contact was.
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Sven’s repulsor lift carried the Astromech at considerable speed over Mudra-sharta’s rocky landscape. As the Q7 made its way back to the impatient Durosian Jedi, the enormous sun was well on its way to setting. The droid had kept a vast array of sensors peeled in overlapping sweeps, mapping the terrain and marking several settlements and a large population center all the while monitoring a multitude of communications which seemed to convey a high volume of security and logistics traffic. One of particular interest was a CSA feed relaying a breaking news broad cast from the core; the Jedi had attempted a coup on Coruscant!
That couldn’t be right! Kir-Banis paced in disbelief in the shadow of a large rock cluster. The Jedi were the defenders of the Republic, they would never act against the senate or make an attempt on the life of a senator, let alone Chancellor Palpatine! He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, the signal was weak and many of the details were lost in the static and dead space of the failing communique but he heard enough to turn his stomach and send his senses reeling.
Of course the clone pilots had attacked them, it was evident now; they were no doubt acting on orders and must have felt something of the sense of betrayal that now consumed Kir-Banis.
Had a number of Jedi dared such a thing? He tried to push out the anger and doubt which welled up inside him; it was clouding his mind and his judgment. He steadied himself against the dark side; “Ever present and always waiting” Master Farhn had lectured him time and time again about the dangers of the dark side. He could almost hear his master’s commanding voice “Steel yourself my Padowan; such thoughts are poison, search out the truth”.
The Jedi crouched clutching his large bulbous head in both hands and cried out in frustration as he stood, opening his arms to the first stars emerging in the heavens above.
Sven’s shrill retreat alerted the Jedi to his frail state at which he immediately felt embarrassed
“I’m sorry my friend” Kir-Banis assured the now distant droid in a softer tone “I’m afraid it’s all just a bit too much even for an aspiring Jedi.
Sven responded with a questioning “weeer-oooo-oooop” sequentially dimming his lights
“I promise Sven, I’ll keep it together…if we’re going to make it out of this mess, I’d better”.
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