Mel had been scribbling down some notes again at his desk. Unlike the other times, it had not been Kane walking in on him and his work. It happened to be G instead. Without a glance, Mel noticed someone was at his right side after hearing the clacking of boots.

"May I help you, sir?" Mel had asked, not turning away from his notebooks.

"Did you get the message?"

"Yeah."

"Be packed by tomorrow." With that, G left the room.

Mel thought of the battle, his liberation, and his victory. All of which were not worth the death of his superior.

Perhaps I may be wrong of our unmerciful Preternity, for there exists those who do, in fact, care for others. Although few in numbers, their work is that of an artist's, whose canvas is the human spirit and whose paints and brushes are their justice and compassion, respectively... Mel wrote, thinking of Jeg.

He then took his right hand and touched the spot just above his ear. A burn had pumped its existence into his fleshed, and it pounded with a painful beating. He had received it in his one-on-one battle with Narcolus, and he winced at the thought of looking at it. Even though he had seen the worst instances of torture inflicted upon Rebels, and the most gruesome murders of those against the Empire, he was squeamish against wounds inflicted upon himself.

Ten days for that to heal.

He took his eyes off of his papers, and put them back in the footlocker which no man was allowed to see. After inspecting his appearance, he headed down the hall towards Kane's room, where he found the man sitting on his bed in deep thought.

"Mr. Kane, I was wondering if you wanted to talk about what we're each going to do on the yacht."

Kane chuckled to himself. "I've never seen you in such a talkative mood, Mel."

Damn.

Kane had forgotten Mel's short temper for a second, and reached for his emergency COM, just in case Mel didn't like his remark. However, Mel merely smiled.

"Well, I've been in deep thought, and never in my life have seen someone martyred since....never mind. I plan to keep writing my observations during the trip. I doubt I'll forget this battle soon."

"I'll probably do some pod racing. I'm too hyped up to sit there and write like you do."

Once again, Damn.

And yet, another smile.

Mel really has changed since the battle.

"You know, sometimes it seems that you almost give your thoughts to me."

"Sorry, forgot you could do that."

"I suppose it keeps you honest." A smirk shivered its way in.

Kane had packed what meager belongings he had into a separate bag. He held both his flight bag and his duffel, and then looked over at the data port on the wall of his room. He slid his hand into his pocket, pulling out his datapad and sliding it into it’s dock. A quick series of buttons downloaded all the data he needed for the next ten days, days he was planning on using to train himself on his new duties.

Kane checked to see which rooms were still occupied by the Nazgul. A check revealed that he was the only one still remaining behind, and that even G’shlecc had cleared out. He hoisted his duffel over his shoulder and began the trek down the hall of the Atrus, towards the hangar. Ironically, it was the same hangar that Kane arrived in before he shipped off to Nazgul. He made small talk with a few people he passed by, not saying much. Even Ph’rannix, the new Squadron Commander of Kaph, didn’t get much in reply to the greeting he offered his former squad mate when they passed. Kane simply looked at him, nodded slightly, and continued on his way.

Kane hadn’t said much since the drinks he shared with G’shlecc and Mel. Even when Mel had entered Kane’s quarters and shared his thoughts and philosophies with Kane, he hadn’t said much. Then again, around Mel, you wouldn’t have to say much. But Kane still felt numb, still felt like there was something more he could have done. Kane fought back the rage, fought back the anger, wanting nothing more than to start throttling those around him for their failure, but he was angry most of all because it reflected his own failure.

Kane arrived in the hangar and glanced at the remaining members of Nazgul. They had lost only one man on the mission, but as he counted, he saw that the numbers were far lower than the nine who landed aboard the Cloudwalker a few short days ago. Again that anger flared, anger at those missing, anger at their callous behavior to the tragedy, anger that they’d rather run than face the truth. Kane’s grip tightened on the bags he carried and moved towards the yacht.

He merely glanced at the craft, unimpressed with it’s gleaming exterior and probably posh interior. He didn’t care. He would have been perfectly fine if he had been confined to his quarters for ten days. Somehow this forced vacation felt like punishment for letting Jeg die. It felt like he was back home, his parents kicking him out of the house for staying out too late with his friends, hanging out at the bridges. Kane’s eyes narrowed at the thought, and this time he purposefully sent it Mel’s direction, letting the crewman know that this wasn’t something Kane personally approved of.

Mel’s reaction was to simply look at Kane and nod slightly. Perhaps he shared the feelings, or perhaps it was just empathy, however there was nothing that could be done about it, short of storming into the High Council’s office and holding them at the end of his blaster, demanding that this reprieve be reneged.

Kane watched as the door to the yacht opened and G’shlecc stepped out, looking like a cross between a grizzled old pilot and an over-privileged child with a toy that none of his friends had. Kane was both amused and angered by the sight, but he pushed those feelings down, knowing this wasn’t G’shlecc’s choice either.

After a brief speech by the new SC, they boarded the ship and settled down. Kane immediately sought out his quarters, a small room that held a bed and little else. This was designed as a place to spend a few hours a day sleeping off whatever trouble a person had gotten into, not a place where Kane intended to spend the better part of the next two weeks. He didn’t care. Let the others party and drink and carouse with whatever locals they find.

Kane had work to do.

God, not another. Mel had stated after indulging in yet another cigarette, shot of some strange, thick liquor, and having a sight of a beginner pilot.

Although broad, his statement seemed to match up with all of his actions at the moment. Not another loss; it burned his heart. Not another cigarette; it inflamed his already scarred lungs. Not another drink; it impaired his senses. And definitely not another damn beginner. Mel had put most of his blame on Atrick for the loss of Jeg and the battle. There was always someone to blame.

He staggered over to the housing block and stumbled across his own boot, and with a lack of avail, G had been watching.

Just promoted and already partying. He shook his head out of embarrassment.

Trying to reach his small office/room provided by his insurance, he came across an old annoyance.

"Hey! I rememba you." Said an overweight, gelatinous man, also nearing drunkenness.

"Leave me alone." Although intoxicated, Mel had kept a bit of his rationality and speaking ability; both were mostly provided by the chip in his brain rather than himself.

"What, you gotta problem with me?"

"Don't aggravate me, unless you really want to die this time." His pupils became dilated a bit more, and his skin paled rather than reaching the point of flush on his face.

"You can't do much. You're drunk."

"We'll see about that."

Mel grabbed the pilot by the throat, this time without any form of conscience. Luckily, Kane had been nearby along with G. The pilot had already been traumatized once.

"This one's for Jeg!" Mel said whilst his eyes began to tear up. He grabbed the pilot's throat a bit harder, this time, small veins popped out of the elderly man's wrist.

Kane had tried to pull his wrist away from the pilot, but Mel wouldn't let go.

"That's it!" G had said, pulling out a knife hidden in his uniform. He had sliced Mel's arm, letting the pilot drop from Hell and back to the station.

Mel's pale skin went back to its normal coloring, and he kept walking on, not paying attention to G or Kane. Almost as if he forgot what had happened in the past five minutes, he simply continued to walk.
G had already been fuming, and his boots starting mowing the floor to reach Mel, but Kane's open hand held him back.

"He's going through a rough time."

"Come on, Kane. He didn't know Jeg that well."

"Sir, face it. We all lost more than Jeg out there."

G only nodded, his face becoming solemn and aged. The duo walked off in their different directions, leaving the daring pilot to recover on his own.

Mel had reached his room and had already packed everything beforehand. What was odd was not the fact that he had been inebriated, but the massive amount of sadness he carried after the battle. Certainly, it was not Narcolus he was miserable over, nor the most tragic death of Jeg.

He began to speak:

Father, I know you're out there, whether in the form of spirit, or some new body. Forgive me for killing him. Forgive me! Help me, Dad. I don't know what I'm going to do about this...

OOC:

I'll let you decide if I'm talking about the death of Narcolus or Jeg's here (Just trying to present a conflict in the story)

Kane sat in his room, grateful for the time he’s been able to spend in reflection. Nobody bothered him so far, more than 24 hours into the ten days that he wasn’t supposed to be a Nazgul, wasn’t supposed to be an Imperial pilot, wasn’t supposed to be anything. But how much has changed in the past few weeks!

Kane reflected on his time spent in the Navy so far. His basic training seemed to last longer than the following events combined did. Kane placed his datapad aside and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and listening to the dull hum of G’shlecc’s yacht. He could hear the sounds of the propulsion system, the gentle intake vacuum of the life support system, even the muffled footsteps of droids making their rounds.

Kane took a deep breath and steadied his thoughts, focusing on a single progressive line. His memories came back, one by one, flashing their scenes in his mind’s eye. Acing his Aviator’s Exam, his first “kill” as part of Kaph, joining Nazgul and meeting the team assembled, getting promoted to Petty Officer Second Class as well as Flight Leader at the same time, giving the briefing and watching G’shlecc and Jegora sit and wait for him to crash and burn, the ensuing fight with pirates, the funeral, and now this. Kane felt sadness at the loss of a mentor, but at the same time, he felt revived by what he had accomplished.

Kane opened his eyes and looked down to the datapad next to him. He pulled up a screen and viewed where the other members of the squadron were. Some were in their rooms, the others were in the forward lounge. Kane wasn’t sure if he could go out and mingle with his squadron, whether he’d be able to suppress the rage that had been building inside him for the better part of the last week. Kane glanced at his blaster on the stand next to the bed and smirked. He remembered thinking he was going to shoot whoever barged into his room when he arrived, but now that was just foolishness.

He stood up and groaned, feeling a ripple of cracks run along his spine as he moved from the position he spent the better part of the last day in. He was stiff in his neck, shoulders, back, legs, and ankles. He felt as old as G’shlecc as he stood there and adjusted his clothes. He looked out of place in his “civvies”, but he wasn’t about to change into a flight suit. He glanced out the portal into the blackness of space, shaking his head a bit.

He walked to the door and punched in his code to open the doors. There was a small note attached to the frame on the outside of the door. It was from the boss, saying that there was a gathering in the forward lounge and he was invited. He smirked and tucked the note into his pocket, then looked down the hall. He noticed the open door to Lousy’s room, so he walked down and peeked in. The room was completely empty, so he made his way to the forward lounge and joined the rest of his squadmates. Almost immediately he felt better, he felt like he belonged.

He glanced around, and noticed a very glassy-eyed Lousy swaying a bit across the table. G’shlecc had out a deck of cards. He wasn’t sure if it was the same deck Jeg carried with him, or if it was one of the stock ones aboard the craft, but it didn’t matter. There was Hold’em being dealt, and it seemed as though for every hand Lousy lost, he had to drink instead of pay. Kane pulled in closer to the table and watched the droid deal, two pocket cards then the community cards. There was a buy-in of 200 credits, so Kane quickly waved his card in at another droid who handed him a stack of chips after reading the account number.

Kane put the card away and bet the blind, waiting for his cards to come. The cards were both suited, but far too large of a spread to even consider playing. But since he had already bought a look at the flop, he checked when his turn came. The droid dealt the flop, revealing another card of matching suit with Kane’s, however there was a high pair as well. Lousy bet some chips, and everyone called except Kane. Knowing the odds of catching the flush, or even pairing one of his cards was a long shot, considering anyone holding a Jack would have a set.

Kane mucked his hand and watched the turn. A deuce, nothing of value it appeared to anyone. A round of bets and calls, and the pot steadily grew larger. Kane watched the play unfold, getting his concentration broken by a small R2 unit that nudged his chair and held a glass in it’s gripper. Kane looked at it momentarily until G’shlecc caught his eye, winking to Kane and nodding once before calling Lousy’s raise.

Kane took the glass and set it down, watching the rest of the hand, watching as Lousy ended up losing again. The R2 bartender was there immediately, holding out another shot for the knackered pilot to take. Down the hatch it went, and the hoots of the table sounded loud.

Kane leaned back in his chair and looked squarely at the new squadron commander, nodding once to him and thinking for the first time since they lost Jeg that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright.

The whole point of being on the yacht was for a vacation, but Mel felt that he might as well be in prison. He was quite distrustful of a few of the crew members, especially the new ones. He could hear the whoops and laughter of the other crew members playing cards.

He reached into his closet and obtained a silk robe from his Imperial pilot days. He had put on his pajamas beforehand, and equipped his robe. He layed down and pulled out his notebook once more. He underlined a new chapter.

The Search for Man's Preternity

It is hard to believe that such a most common creature obtains the most cryptic preternity. My theory may be wrong, or at the very least, falsifiable. I-

A knock at the door.

Putting the notebook under his bed, Mel reached the doorknob with beady eyes.

Must I be disturbed?

It was G.

"Listen Mel, you've been in there for a while now, and I think you should have fun with the guys."

"Is that an order, Sir?"

"Yes. Now put on some clothes and get ready. You're going to play cards with us."

"Very Well."

Mel did as his superior told him and put on what he called "normal" clothing. Dark slacks, a black turtleneck, red sash with a cape that reached to his leather belt. His black boots shined a bit.

As he stepped out, he noticed a few stared at his odd, overly-formal attire. Sitting down, he reached a thought.

Geez, Mel. For god's sake, you're on a leisure yacht.

"Please excuse the formal attire. It's all I have." Mel stated, taking closer note of G's thoughts.

Kane looked at Mel as he stated, "Hey guys, maybe we shouldn't play poker."

Mel smiled. I knew you were the smart one. Yet he continued,

"Oh why not, I'm  great at cards. Let's play a nice game of 7 card stud. Seven cards dealt, and you stay with them. Simple poker."

The other crew members had either forgotten or not realized the chip in Mel's brain. Kane was smart enough to leave the table at that time.

You jerk. Kane thought jokingly, shaking his head and smiling.

The first hand was dealt.

Three of a Kind with Queens. Not bad. Mel thought. He focused on Gshlecc.

Two of a kind, Aces.

Then a focus on Girias.

Ach, nothing.

Mel smiled. "I raise one."

Girias folded, Driver stayed in. A minute later, Mel ended up with 3 more chips than last time.

As expected, Mel's advantage had made him win at least 80 credits after 20 minutes. The other card players were either too drunk to notice or had frustrated themselves to lose more than they should have.

"Damn it, Mel!" Gshlecc stated. 

Kane had walked back to the table after reading in his room for a while. "I bet I can beat you."

"Oh really? Let's see then." Mel smiled.

Two hands were dealt.

Mel looked and smiled. Four of a Kind, Sevens.

"All in."  A few ooh's and ahh's

Let's see what you have. Mel thought, focusing on Kane.

Mwa Moolee-rah

Mel's face turned sour.

Kane noticed it, and smiled.

Dobrah Ta Chuba Maya.

They placed their cards on the table.

"Behold, Four sevens!" Mel stated proudly, the others grumbling.

"Royal Flush." Kane stated with a smile.

Mel left the chips he had now lost at the table. He had went all in at the beginning due to his pride, and stormed off back into his room. Mel shook his head as he left, not believing he had been beaten.

Kane smiled.

I knew Huttese would come in handy sometime. He directed his next thought to Mel.

Perhaps you should learn a new language every once in a while.

Mel scoffed as he made his round back to the room.

Kane gave a bit of the credits back to those who lost them. He still kept a few for later.

Trevor was hit hard by the loss of Jeg. The two had gotten along well before his initial leave, but not so great afterwards. The only respect when Trevor returned had been for his ability to fly well, and even that had had to be re-earned. Unlike the rest of the squadron though, Trevor had dealt with the death of fellow pilots and friends more times then he could recall, and losing a close friend or a commander was something that quickly became blocked out. I don’t blame them though; I was like this before I was completely desensitized to it too. It’ll come with time for them. Trevor thought at the time.

The squadron went through some major retooling changes following Jeg’s death, and in the confusion Trevor managed to get a different assignment. Rather than be shuffled around in the squadron, he was given a different job. And to do that job he was sent to Esseles, a planet primarily used as a resort for the rich and famous. Well known for its spas, upscale clubs and restaurants, it was also known for a few activities that were less advertised but still known about. Put simply, companionship was never more then a credit chip swipe away.

Much to Trevor’s disappointment, he wasn’t going to be enjoying anything the planet had to offer aside from scenery. Being on a Rebel planet, he had been forced to forfeit all his Imperial ID and anything that could link him to the VE. As with any good officer, he followed the order only to the point where it was convenient to him, refusing to surrender his side-arm and data pad. The data pad was the primary mode of communication for him, and although he wasn’t allowed to notify his squadron of anything, he was using it to keep in touch with his various contacts on the Rebel planet.

We’ll meet you at G’serhn’s Gentlemen’s Club. Come alone and bring our payment.

The message said no more, and wasn’t signed, but Trevor knew perfectly well whom it was. He never dealt with more then one contact at a time, and the Trandosian would be the only one to refer to himself in plural. He tucked the data pad into his jacket pocket and paid the cab driver, calmly exiting the speeder and taken a moment to soak up the sun. He took a few breaths of fresh air, knowing the smoky interior of the club far too well, and took off toward the door.

It didn’t take him long to locate his contact, a Trandosian with a pale tinge to his scales, what Trevor had been told was a birth defect. He knew perfectly well it wasn’t, but didn’t argue with what he was told.

“We’re glad you could meet us.” The reptilian hissed, once more speaking in plural. “We have good information for you, have you got our payment?”

“Of course I do, Cr’stl. Do you think I’d come here if I didn’t? What’d you find out?” Trevor said, pulling a brown envelope out of his pocket and sliding it across the table. Cr’stl checked inside before nodding and sliding a small chip across the table. With a flash of horribly tinted crimson teeth, the Trandosian removed himself from the booth without another word, stopped to admire a dancer for a minute before sliding a crumpled credit note onto the floor near her feet and making his way out of the club. Trevor leaned back into the booth and pulled the data pad back out of his pocket, carefully sliding the chip into one of the ports on the side. A moment later a set of blueprints popped up, clearly showing a nearby Rebel base in full three-dimensional glory. He grinned, knowing that his reptilian friend had not let him down. This will be the perfect addition to the information I’ve already got. And at a steal of a deal too. I have a feeling that Cr’stl might be a little upset when he discovers that he got paid less then he was expecting, but that’s fine. I had no use for him anymore anyway. Trevor thought as he tucked the data pad back into his pocket and flagged down a droid to get him a drink.

Trevor had failed to notice two men walk in and sit down at a booth near his, both laughing and joking in loud voices. He ignored them at first, but half way through his drink and a quarter of the way through the next dance, he recognized one of the voices. What are they doing here? Trevor wondered as he quickly tried to shift his body to hide his face. It was too late though, the two men had spotted him and one had called his name. Both had left their seats to come and join him at his booth.

“I can’t believe this was where you retired to Trevor!” Paradox said loudly, leaning forward and slapping the senior pilot on the shoulder. Trevor grinned but kicked Paradox under the table.

“Keep your voice down, remember where you are. You’re going to cause me a lot of trouble if you keep that kind of thing up.” Trevor scolded, leaning across the table and glaring at Paradox. The semi-rookie pilot had obviously been sent on vacation and didn’t understand Trevor’s situation so couldn’t be blamed, but should have known better then to begin talking loudly on a Rebel controlled planet. It was the new guy’s turn to make an idiot of himself.

“You’re Trevor? I’ve heard a bit about you, they talked about you a little bit in training. One of the better pilots to serve in this wing, right? You should be proud to have served for the VE.” The new pilot said, frowning at Trevor. He didn’t have time to see the right hook coming at him, and was knocked back into his seat as Trevor’s fist connected with his left cheek.

“You keep your freaking voice down, alright? You’re going to cause us more problems then we want, and more problems then I can personally handle. I’ll explain the situation to you at some other point in time, hell, tell Driver to meet up with me at this address, Room 97.” Trevor said, flipping a business card across the table at the stunned members of Nazgul Squadron. He downed the last of his drink and threw a couple of credits onto the table, then rose and angrily shoved his way past gawking males of every species that were transfixed to the Twi’lek that had just removed some of her undergarments on the dance table.

He flagged a cab back to his hotel and scrambled up the stairs rather then waiting for the lift. Nazgul is here. Why the hell is Nazgul here. Millions of planets in hundreds of thousands of systems and they pick the one that I’m on. If my cover is blown because of them, there’ll be hell to pay from the High Command. Hell, I might pay for it with my life. I don’t even think G was notified of what was going on, so I suppose it’s not his fault for not warning them. But still, declaring VE status on a Rebel controlled planet? That’s like asking to be shot. Asking a sadist. Who’s got his own gun. And you’re supplying him with ammo. Trevor thought to himself angrily, working himself into more of a bad mood. He hadn’t even noticed the fact that he had entered his room, nor had he noticed that he was lying on the bed and prepared to fall asleep. It had been late enough in the day when he left the club that there was almost no chance of G showing up that night, and with that he allowed himself to slip into a light slumber.

Unluckily for him, almost no chance is chance enough for a Nazgul pilot. Only an hour after he fell asleep there was a knock at his door, followed by a pounding. Grudgingly Trevor moved himself out of bed and shuffled across the floor, crunching over old newspaper clippings and a couple of file folders that had spilled from the table nearby. The amount of empty coffee cups on the table were a testament to his late nights and stress level, and the open briefcase of cash a reminder of the money that was being spent on this operation.

With a quick peak through the peephole on the door, Trevor swung it open and staggered slightly, shielding his eyes from the bright light of the hallway. The silhouetted figured moved towards him and slowly blurred into focus. It was his commander, G’shlecc, pushed his way past Trevor and into the room.

“How can you live in these conditions?” G asked, examining an empty coffee cup.

“Luck. Bad luck to be truthful.” Trevor replied. “I didn’t ask for this and it sounded like a simple assignment to start with. This is about the only place on the planet I feel safe talking about it, I know this room is clean.” He explained, nodding around the room and shaking off most of his sleepiness.

“Clean?”

“Well, of bugs and stuff. Both living and electronic. And I’m sorry for hitting the new guy, but he wouldn’t shut up.” Trevor said, shrugging. G returned the shrug.

“Not like I can punish you anyway. At the moment he’s a civilian, you’re a civilian. I can’t court martial you, it was just a drunken bar fight. Right?” G said, stressing the last part. Trevor nodded, then sat down in one of the chairs at the table.

“I’d offer you a cup of caf or something, but I think I’m all out. You woke me from a nap, first sleep I’ve gotten in days. I’ve been living off caffeine and stress. What are you guys doing here anyway?”

“I could tell.” G replied, glancing at the thin beard Trevor was sporting, and the bags under his eyes. “We’re here for stress relief, ironically enough. Hard to say how it’s working, really. Haven’t been here long enough. Hey, think you can get away long enough tomorrow to join us for some drinks or something?”

“Maybe. We’d have to get away from here though; I’m doing some undercover work for the High Council. I’d tell you more but I’m honestly not sure what I can say and what I can’t. I figure for my job safety and yours I better just leave it that I’m under cover.” Trevor said, shrugging. G nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, just a little thing out our resort, we’ll stick to the rooms. Here’s the address, be there around three if you can.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Well, we’re going to start the booze flowing sooner then that, I just thought this’d give some time for Darkman to get a little tipsy and forget about your run-in today.” G laughed. Trevor grinned a little and stood up to shake Driver’s hand.

“See you tomorrow around three then.” Trevor said, and ushered Driver politely out the door. Driver took a look at the lift but decided the stairs would be quicker, and took off down them. As he reached the bottom he brushed shoulders with someone going up the other way and got sworn at with a hissing tongue. He couldn’t help but look back and glare at the sickly-looking Trandosian heading up the stairs, but deciding against a fight, headed for the door and swiftly climbed into the rental speeder he had been loaned from the resort.

OOC:

WC 1944.

Upon landing he got away from the rest of Nazgul as none of the others wanted to go along, he jumped off and decided to go have a dangerous yet fun and relaxing vacation from Nazgul and the whole pirate hunting. He wandered across the facilities while sipping on a bottle he had "acquired" from a random table of a couple making out. Suddenly, he had wandered off from the regular places for tourists and ended up surrounded by big blokes with very dangerously looking faces, tattoos and all speaking with a horrible accident, supported by the lalling of their drunken selves. Suddenly he bumped into a very big guy with his arms crossed over his chest, big pair of sunglasses covering his eyes with two big scars running underneath them and alongside his cheeks, like he was crying.

As he was growling Girias took a step backwards only to see a door swing open right in front of his face, covering the space between Girias and bodyguard with an open door. Out of the door came a slender and tanned face, looking at the guard and at Girias, the face then whispered some words to the guard who then immediately grabbed Girias' shirt and threw him inside the room, landing with his behind up in the air and his face nearly against the legs of a wooden poker table. Crawling up to a standing position by pushing upwards with his hand on the table with the goal to level himself with the others he saw the other people in the room. There were four others sitting at the table, all of them were dangerous looking people with several firearms in front of them on the table. The smallest one of them all, yet the deadliest one aswell suddenly started speaking with a crooked smile, a smile Girias would describe like in old stories when the villain finally captured the hero and unveils his plans for world domination.

"Please sir, sit down. I hope Boris wasn't too rough, he tends to be a bit brutal when it comes to ... well, everything. Boris, get the man a new bottle. But kind sir, I'd really appreciate it if you were to come join us in the gentlemen game of those who tire of Chess and return to poker. We need a fifth player, and new blood to plunder."

Wanting to reject he saw the bodyguard, Boris as the small man called him, crack his knuckles and block the only exit out of the room. Smiling out of fear he sat down with his knees shaking and quickly found himself into getting a loan of thousands of Imperial Credits just for the game, a loan he couldn't repay if he were to lose it all. Before entering the room he had drunk a good bottle of rather good booze only to find himself completely sober when sitting in at the table. As he ante-ed up he received two cards, which meant that they were playing Texas Hold'Em, a game in which he had lost big time earlier on the trip.

As the rounds passed it appeared that he had considerably much more luck than in his previous matches, he lost several hands aswel but still had over twice as many chips as when they had started, around the time when the first two opponents had to drop out due to a severe lack of chips. These two were then quickly dismissed by getting the door shown up close as Boris tossed them into the door before kicking them outside the room. As the rounds proceeded, it became more and more clear that it would eventually be a match between Girias and the man that had spoken to him, as the other opponent was down to his last two chips, which were then stolen by Girias with a nice street climbing from the Eight of Hearts to the Queen of Spades, toppling the small mans street ascending from the Two of Clubs to the Six of Hearts.

As more and more rounds passed it would seem that they were on an impasse, every chip won by either Girias or his opponent, the mean little man, would eventually be won back by the other player. Tiring of this stalemate Girias decided to go all in and pushed his entire stack of chips into the center of the table, openly taunting the small man. With a smile and a short evil laugh he did the same thing and joined Girias' stack of chips with his own, creating a gigantic pile of plastic chips covering most of the green table. It was risky, but he was growing bored and he had two aces, this had got to be a sign that he was supposed to win. On the other edge of the table, unknowing to Girias, sat the little man with two kings. As the dealer continued, he lay out three cards in the center of the table. The four of Clovers, the Nine of Hearts and the Jack of Clovers. None of the cards interested Girias and neither did they interest the man, it appeared that this would depend on the other two cards to see who'd win.

As the dealer laid out the next card, it was the King of Hearts. As the card was revealed the man did every effort to hide his good humour, but the upper left corner of his lip jumped up out of joy before being able to control it. Girias noticed this and was, in his head, cursing like crazy but on the outside he still had a cool, controlled look on his face though he couldn't help sweating like crazy due to the stress. As the dealer removed the next and last card from the deck both players were shaking from anticipation as to what the last card could be, would it be salvation for Girias? Or would it be the downfall into a horrible loan repayment. The card lowered, and lowered yet when it touched the table it was covered by the dealer's hand. The small man had his drink to his lips yet stopped in between sips to see what the result would be, Girias was practically laying on the table to get the best look of the card possible.

"Ace of Spades, gentlemen."

In his mind Girias was doing a victory lap but he wanted to keep up his steady behaviour, because when it turned out that his opponent had better cards he would still be hanging with the extra bonus of looking like an idiot. The man started laughing at Girias and raised his two cards throwing both of them across the table, into the three laying op the table.

"Three of a kind, Kings. Beat that, tourist."

His mind could barely register the past event. The cards were dealt in his favour and he would win a ton of money with this hand, not to mention to be able to wipe the smirk off of this man's face. With a rather big and innocent smile on his face he revealed his hand only to have the man stare at them both, when he looked back up his left eye was twitching and he was now cursing. Boris, the bodyguard, was now holding a gun to Girias' left temple and Girias was not very happy with this. Yet, although his boss was very ticked off, he waved at Boris to remove his weapon. Girias was allowed to leave which he did, of course, after cashing out and receiving a gigantic amount of money. As he walked out the room, he waved at the boss man to say goodbye as he headed back to the main part for the tourists to spend money.

After a good hour he found himself in a rather big hot tub surrounded by seventeen beautiful women in bikini with each one of them having their personal bottle of the finest drink this resort has to offer. Having spent a ton of money, he's finally relaxing and forgetting the troubles of Nazgul life, especially when he waved at his other Nazgul Squad mates to come and join him and the women in the hot tub, there was enough high quality alcohol for everyone.

OOC:

I had some catching up to do.

Kane was relaxing, truly relaxing for quite possibly the first time since he climbed aboard the TIE/In as a part of Kaph to fight the droids. He was relaxing in the hot tub with with Lousy, and he was waiting for the commander to come by and join them. He saw G’shlecc walk from some bar somewhere on the resort into his room, then came out a short time later in a blue speedo. Kane shuddered a bit at the mental image burned into his brain, averting his gaze as G’shlecc made a very deliberate motion as he entered the hot tub.

He saw Paradox walk past, a somber and determined look on his face. He glanced over to his commander who was rising out of the tub, wrapping a towel around himself and headed to follow the distraught mate. Kane thought about rising to join them until he felt a hand on his leg, then he thought Hell.. If the Boss needs me, he’ll let me know.

Kane looked at the source of the hand and smiled. One of the women in the tub with them had been staring at him almost non-stop, and he knew why. It was the eye, always the eye. He felt the hand squeeze his thigh a bit and he settled down, looking at the not un-attractive woman. She leaned in close and whispered softly in his ear, asking about the eye and his hair.

He looked over at Lousy, who was grinning like the village idiot as he watched Kane get some attention and shook his head a bit. Kane couldn’t withhold the mirth, and he soon was chuckling as he told the story, rather embellished, about how he was fighting some Imperial Storm Troopers a long time ago in a galaxy far away. He kicked Lousy under the water when he heard the pilot peep up, obviously forgetting they were supposed to blend in with the rebel-controlled planet and the obvious feelings towards the Empire.

Lousy caught the hint and just listened to the web of lies Kane wove, artfully and very believable to anyone who might not have known him. Kane even showed the scar on his shoulder, a slight wound he received when he was younger and playing around near the bridges back home, but told the lady who was hanging on his every word a different tale.

“So I’m in a bar, minding my own business, when these Storm Troopers come barreling in and start searching everyone, like we’re smugglers or mercenaries. One of them comes up to me and gives me a shove, telling me to put my hands on the bar and not to move. Well, I had other plans for that one.”

Kane told how he had grabbed a bottle opener from the bar as he turned around and used it to smash out the visor in the trooper’s helmet. This caused his partner to level his blaster at him, and the shot grazed his shoulder but caught his partner in the face. Kane then fled the bar and jumped on the nearest transport, ending up with the group he was with, rogues from scattered galaxies.

Kane caught Lousy shaking his head, smiling from ear to ear as the woman on Kane’s arm clung to every word. She whispered some more things to him, then slipped him her spare room key, winking as she climbed out of the tub. Kane relaxed and looked at Lousy, who was trying to weave his own tale of intrigue and suspense. He stood up from the tub and grabbed a towel, leaving the man to crash and burn on his own.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and looked around, not seeing the woman he was just talking with, but easily able to follow the footprints left behind. As he started walking, he caught the sign of waving from his right. He glanced over and saw G’shlecc, waving him over.

Kane immediately began to scowl, wondering what this was about, and whether it would impede him from having some fun. He walked over to the commander and leaned against the wall, looking at him and smirking.

“This better be good… I’ve got a hot date awaiting me. And I mean hot, in more ways than one.”

G’shlecc looked at him and nodded, understanding all too well what his meaning was. “Trevor is here.”

Kane’s mood instantly darkened, knowing that a former member of their squadron who was here either followed them or was sent by the Council to find them. Kane’s shoulders slumped as he looked at his boss. “So, what does this do to our vacation?”

“Nothing yet, but don’t get too crazy. Just be available at a moments notice. And keep an eye on Paradox… He’s in a bad way.”

Kane nodded at him and turned around, looking at the fast-drying footprints, then back towards the bar. For some reason, he didn’t feel like partying anymore, not with what the implications of having Trevor here could mean.

Kane looked back to G who was headed towards the hot tub, and shook his head a bit. He walked over to one of the desks nearby and handed the woman’s key to the concierge behind the desk. “Some lady dropped this on her way to the bar. Figured I’d give it to you guys before someone does something stupid with it.”

With that he turned and walked away, walking towards the bungalow they were sharing for a shower to wash the chemicals from the hot tub off, and maybe to sort out the latest turn of events.

Kane was sitting in a chair that was far too comfortable for the current situation. The room they were in was designed to be used for relaxation, meditation, and fornication, not formulation. He looked around to the assembled members of the crew, who all seemed to be having the same revelation as he did, as they squirmed and shifted about in the chairs.

Everyone except G’shlecc, who was standing, pacing the center of the room, one hand flexing as if it needed something to grip or to throw. Nobody was saying much, except that when they were assembled they were told that the plans for their relaxing vacation had changed, and as soon as G knew he could speak, he would.

One of the droids from G’s ship entered the room, and in the signature beeps and boops of an R2 unit, relayed information that the room they were in was free of surveillance devices, hologram recorders, and pesky gardeners with acute hearing. The droid left as soon as the message was delivered, and G’shlecc turned to his squadron.

“Men, a situation has come to my attention. Yesterday afternoon, I managed to bump into 1st Lieutenant Trevor Evenson, who I believed was on official retirement from the Imperial Navy. Unfortunately, he wasn’t retired, but was reassigned to a singular mission, a mission designed to increase the Empire’s strength and deliver a crushing blow to the Rebel Alliance in one move.

“As you know, we’re in hostile territory. Lt. Evenson has been impersonating a rebel, as we have been impersonating a bachelor party. Lt. Evenson has come across plans for the rebel base here on Esseles, and has procured those plans at a great cost. That cost initially started out as Imperial Credits, however it seems the tide has turned.

“I was scheduled to meet with him this morning to discuss how to transport the plans back into the hands of the Navy High Council for review. He missed the meeting, and concerned with the situation, I went to where Lt. Evenson was staying. The room had been broken into, and there were signs of a fight as well as bloodstains on the bed and floor.

“It is my belief that Lt. Evenson was captured by the people he purchased the plans from, and his identity compromised. If that is the case, our identity has been compromised as well, and we need to not only leave this planet as fast as possible, but we need to do so with Trevor among us.”

G’shlecc looked around, his gaze falling upon Kane for a moment. Kane simply nodded his approval. Regardless of issues in the past, or whether Trevor’s actions caused any of the emotional turmoil of the past week was irrelevant. All that mattered was a Nazgul was in a bad way, and it was their responsibility to remedy the situation.

G pulled forth from a pocket Trevor’s datapad, placing it on a table. “The information in here cannot be beamed to the Empire due to communication array calibrations. I’ve backed up the data into the R2 unit that was just here, as well as loaded another copy into the computers of my yacht. Hopefully, it will lead us to the people responsible for Lt. Evenson’s current location and predicament.”

With that, the assembled members of the Nazgul Squadron began conversing among themselves about what to do with the information. Kane looked at the datapad, then at G’shlecc, then back at the datapad, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Boss… Is that datapad an Imperial issued one, or a rebel device?”

“Imperial issue, why?”

Kane’s smirk turned into a grin as he stood up and reached for the pad. Since the data was secure, the pad could be altered any way they see fit.

“Our flight suits have locators on them, so that in case of an emergency, we can eject and be picked up. These can be tracked by any ship with a radar that’s tuned to include the frequency. I’m thinking it might be possible to attach that tracking locator to this datapad, and leave it for whoever or whatever picked up Trevor to bring back to his or it’s boss…” Kane explained, looking at the pad before glancing back up a G’shlecc.

“I’ve spent enough time with these things in the past few weeks to know there’s a bit of empty space, and enough juice in the pad to easily fit and power that locator chip.”

G looked at Kane and nodded. “I want you to assemble it as soon as you can. The supplies you need are on my ship. Anything additional, tell the droids they either supply it for you, or you’ll take it from them.” He turned back towards the rest of the group, about to address the details of a rescue when the door sounded a tone, a sign that someone was outside trying to get in.

G’shlecc looked to the men assembled around him, and Kane shoved the datapad into his pocket before moving to the side of the door, picking up a heavy bottle of liquor as he moved. They heard Lousy groan a bit as the intention became clear what would happen. G spoke to the room, allowing the door to be opened.

A young man walked in, too heavy for his build and stoop-shouldered, with blue eyes that darted around the room and luckily missed Kane’s position, allowing the XO to move to flank the newcomer. The man looked at the person standing, then saluted him as the door behind him closed, sealing them in the room. Kane moved behind the man, blocking the only way in or out, the bottle raised up in a perfect position to smash the back of the man’s head.

The man dropped the salute when he realized it wasn’t being returned, then spoke louder than he needed to. “Chief Warrant Officer Asatrin, I am Crewman Rian Jac-“

Before the man could speak anymore, Kane was behind him in a flash. The bottle was dropped, and instead Kane’s arms went around the man speaking. One arm went over the man’s chest, pulling him back as the other went over the man’s mouth and nose, not only disrupting the foolishness coming from his mouth, but also his breathing, so any squirming would be short-lived. And squirm he did.

Kane held him firmly and spoke in his ear as Rian thrashed. “You have two choices when I let go, friend. Continue to talk as you have when you entered, or shut your mouth and listen closely. Only one way will let you leave this room conscious. Understand?”

The man nodded and Kane eased his hand away from Rian’s mouth, the man taking deep breaths but not fighting to get free or shouting protests. Kane released him, almost fully, but kept one hand on his shoulder as he ushered him to the chair Kane had been sitting before pushing the rattled crewman down.

G’shlecc simply looked at Kane, shaking his head a bit. “Nice” was all that was said before the crewman was given the backstory, and told that under no circumstances was he to even think about the Empire, Imperial Navy, Nazgul, or anything other than being a tourist. The crewman seemed to understand the orders, nodding with each one as Kane retrieved the bottle and poured Rian a shot as a way to make amends for the near-throttling.

Kane checked the datapad to make sure it wasn’t damaged in the scuffle, then sought his permission to leave the room and begin working on the modification. G approved, letting his second-in-command know that any details would be filled in later.

Kane walked out of the bungalow, still holding the bottle and swaying just a bit to give the illusion of a man still celebrating. He passed the front desk and asked where the valet had parked the ship they arrived in, because he needed to get another change of clothes. He must have been convincing, because not only were the directions given to him, but they were also punched into a small datapad, used exclusively as a map. Kane smiled and staggered off in the wrong direction on purpose, and when the map buzzed it’s warning, Kane grinned sheepishly and followed the course.

Soon he was brought to the ship, which sensed a member of the crew approaching and opened the doors. Kane quickly entered and punched in a code to seal the ship from others. The droid aboard the ship running things was quick to follow the directions, producing many small tools. Kane went into his bunk and grabbed his flight bag, dumping the contents and grabbing his utility belt. Kane took it apart, finding the locator chip and leaving enough of the wire leads to let him reconnect them as necessary.

An hour later Kane tested the datapad, letting the radar in the yacht record his movements as he walked around the perimeter of the resort, seeming to stroll along the beach and view the scenery. Luckily there weren’t too many interested in him, even though when a pair of women passed by, he noticed one was the enamored female he stood up when he heard Trevor was back in town.

He returned to the yacht and viewed the playback, then erased it from all storage on the yacht. He left the ship, moved through the resort, sitting at the bar outside the bungalow he had left the others. He didn’t want to seem too eager to return, so he had a few drinks, drinks of lesser potency than the stuff they consumed the night before last, and then moved towards the bungalow, staggering and mumbling to himself. “A nap before the party tonight…” he slurred as he staggered across the hall, past the front desk, and towards the bungalow.

He entered and was greeted by hard looks. Nobody had left since he did, not even the new addition to the squadron who looked as if he was in a room full of people he owed a lot of money to. Kane slid the datapad into G’shlecc’s hand, nodding before sitting down and waiting for the next step.

Kane thought about planting the device in the room Trevor was in, but the only one who had known he was there was G, so the choice was simple. He just hoped, like everyone there, that Trevor had enough time for the ruse to work.

OOC:

Yes, I know I spelled Driver's name wrong. But the character speaking is new to the squadron, so I thought it fitting.

Kane sat behind the controls of the Yulia, the yacht that G’shlecc had used to bring them out to the resort here. His eyes were glued to a small console screen, and more specifically the coordinates displayed next to a small pinprick of light. Kane’s finger twitched repeatedly as he sat there, a nervous habit he noticed he had recently developed when there were extremely important things needing to be done and he was powerless to push them forward.

Kane watched as the coordinates and the light remained steady, the minutes ticking by slowly. A slight tingle settled into the back of Kane’s head, followed by the opening of the yacht’s main door. In stepped G’shlecc, looking a bit haggard before sitting next to Kane and taking a deep breath.

“The unit is placed back where it was taken from. Hopefully now Trevor will be smart enough to give them enough information to keep himself alive, hoping we’ll do the rest.” G mentioned as he looked at the screen.

Kane simply nodded, not looking at his commander, his eyes transfixed to the screen. For all they knew it could be hours, if not days, before someone came looking for clues to the reason a member of the Imperial Navy was in rebel territory. Kane’s finger twitched some more before he clenched his hand into a fist to steady it.

He was dressed in his black flight suit, the emblems having been removed through painstaking stitch ripping. The suit looked as if it belonged to a high-ranking member of a pirate band, a rebel leader, or some regular guy who has a fetish for wearing black. The only difference between Kane’s appearance and a regular guy was the two heavy blaster pistols that were belted to his hips, one on the left and one on the right.

The belts were hung slightly loose, letting the blasters hang lower than directly on the hips. This allowed Kane to more readily grab them if needed, rather than bring his hands up higher. It was a more natural sweeping motion for Kane to bring his hands up, wrap his fingers around the handle, and squeeze the trigger with them closer to where his hands rested naturally, than if they had to travel up first.

G’shlecc stood up and moved into one of the rooms, returning in his own black suit sans emblems, with two blasters similarly strung on his hips, although closer to regulation position than Kane’s. Kane didn’t care what people thought about the appearance, whether or not he looked like some creature hurder on a far moon. All that mattered was that he was ready.

Hours ticked by. The sun had long ago set, leaving the resort bathed in multi-colored lights, small flame candles, and revelers partying their hearts out. Still, Kane’s eyes were locked on the screen, and when the pinpoint of light began to move he jumped out of his seat with such force it rocked the yacht and startled the dozing Squadron Commander.

Together they watched the light move, winding through the streets, finally coming to a rest somewhere near the outskirts of town. G’shlecc stood and handed Kane a black cloak which he secured around his neck while G did the same with his. The cloak covered the hardware they carried nicely, and with the path to the point of light in both their minds, they slipped out of the yacht into the darkness.

Through the winding streets they went, careful to stick to as many shadows as possible to avoid prying eyes. There was a tension in the air, thick like the smoke coming off the bonfires back on the beach. The two leaders of Nazgul knew why the tension was there. The further they walked away from the resort, the deeper into hostile territory they went.

Kane’s eyes were set like steel, picking out the easiest way while G’shlecc took care to look for observers. They made their way closer, and a vibration against Kane’s hip signaled that they were close. It was obvious which building the targets were in, the only place with a light on.

Kane looked to G’shlecc, and the look on his face showed one thing and one thing only:

Eagerness.

OOC:

Two weeks without a post isn't a good thing. Driver can edit if he sees the need to.

Kane growled as he put away his comm unit and glanced at G’shlecc. The look on his commander’s face showed the puzzlement, and Kane just simply shook his head and leaned close to keep his voice at a whisper.

“They know we’re coming. They don’t know how many of us equals a “we”, but they know we will be here.”

As soon as Kane finished the statement there were voices calling out hurried commands and the sound of footsteps above them. Kane pressed himself and G back against the wall of the building as a rebel foot soldier patrol moved past them. Kane reached into his pocket and flipped on the tracking beacon on the datapad he carried, which was the exact same modification as the one he performed on Trevor.

All members of Nazgul were carrying those pads now, letting everyone know where each other was at. All of the data was relayed back to the Yulia, letting Lousy relay positions to everyone but Kane and G’shlecc. They didn’t want any inconveniently timed conversations to give them away.

A shout followed by a few rounds of blaster fire told Kane and G’shlecc it was time to move. Kane pulled both of his blasters from their holsters and fired back in the direction the blasts came from, the impacts on the buildings giving him the chance to see three rebels form up firing positions.

G’shlecc dove across the alley and drew his weapons, providing cover fire as Kane crossed between shadows, moving to flank the shooters. He didn’t quite get as far as he’d like, but he was in a perfect position and couldn’t pass it up. Kane took a few deep breaths and turned towards the shooters, leveling his blasters and pulling the triggers.

Two separate blasters, two separate targets, two confirmed kills. The blaster fire took one rebel in the neck, the other in the chest. They fell at the feet of their comrade, who was taking turns firing back at Kane’s direction and running for his life. Kane smirked at his good fortune, then realized it came to an end as he felt a searing pain tear across his hip.

Kane spun, leveling the blasters and firing wildly as he fell sideways, hopefully out of the line of sight of whoever shot him. He tested the wound by pushing himself backwards deeper into the alley, and found that although it hurt badly, there was only soft tissue damage which meant Kane could run.

Holstering the blasters and picking his way through the alley back toward G’shlecc, he kept as low as he could. He rejoined his commander’s side, and turned to let G admire the wound that would leave a healthy scar if they got out.

G’shlecc helped Kane to his feet, and together they went through the alley, away from the voices. They rounded a corner and immediately wished they went the other way. At least a dozen rebels were storming down that part of the alley, and upon seeing the two Imperial pilots they opened fire.

Kane dove down, chop-blocking G’shlecc as he did, the both of them falling to the pavement. They scrambled over each other trying to avoid the blaster fire, making for the sewer or an open door or something to throw them off their tracks. G’shlecc pulled Kane towards a broken window at the side of the building, and motioned for them to go through.

Kane knew he couldn’t make it with his wounded hip, so he simply nodded and watched as G’shlecc climbed through first. The group of approaching soldiers was too close for Kane to even attempt to climb through, so he did the only thing he knew would work and bolted as best he could further down the alley, deeper into the darkness.

If bossman is smart, he’ll lay low and quiet, letting the rebels think we’re still together Kane thought as he worked his way through the alley, coming to an opening into the streets. There was no foot traffic, even this close to the resort, which meant that the whole of the area was on lockdown.

Kane sighed as he hoped Lousy or someone had made it out before the lock down to come lend a hand, otherwise he had a feeling he’d be meeting Jeg fairly soon.

Kane climbed in the building, growling and gritting his teeth through the wound in his hip. He landed gingerly and limped over to the stack of weapons in the room, picking through them. He found the one he was looking for, a TI-47 Slugthrower. He hoisted the weapon and grinned evilly to G’shlecc and Mel, taking as much ammo as he could carry and stuffing it into various pockets.

G’shlecc looked curiously at Kane, turning to Mel for help. Mel stared at Kane for a moment, the chip in his head obviously working. The only thing Mel got from reading Kane’s mind was flashbacks of the route they ran to get here, including possible high grounds.

Kane dug through the weapons again, grabbing a blaster rifle and slinging the Slugthrower over his shoulder.

“Look… I’m no use to you if you’re trying to run” Kane said as he motioned to his hip. “It’s better for me if I cover your backsides going forward. I’ll see if I can’t set up enough of a distraction so you have a clear shot to Trevor.”

The two other Nazgul nodded at Kane and helped him out the window. Kane stayed as low to the ground and as concealed in the shadows as possible, moving into the alley he had just come from. He stopped at the body of one of the rebels he shot in the neck, searching the corpse for anything of value. He did the same to the other that was lying next to him, coming up with a small comm unit from each. He pocketed one and moved back to the building, reaching in the window and tossing it to G’shlecc.

“Here. This should help. I’ve got one too, so we can figure out what each is doing.” He looked at his two mates, men he might not see again.

“Loyalty, honor, and courage, men.” Kane spoke before moving back into the shadows, leaving behind Mel and G to determine their courses.

Kane moved through the alley, listening on the rebel comm as he did, trying to pick his path so he could flank whatever foot patrol was out. Luckily the rebels didn’t have a count on the number of people out, it was still assumed to be one or two, so the patrols were small.

Kane found himself almost in a dead end. He stood in the alleyway, blocked to his front and right by buildings, to his left was the sheer cliff face. Kane looked around and decided to try the building in front of him, seeing fewer intact windows. He was hoping for an abandoned warehouse or apartment complex, something where he could set up shop.

His datapad shook in his pocket, and he reached in to pull it free and view the screen. A message from G said they were on the move, towards the building with Trevor. Checking the map Kane saw that they were about 800 yards away, and he was perpendicular to the building, at about 500 yards. He smiled and climbed in one of the shattered windows, wincing and grabbing his hip as he landed. He ground his teeth together to keep from screaming in pain, a shard of the broken glass lodged in the wound.

He moved slowly along the floor, the blaster rifle leveled and ready to shoot anything that moved. It appeared he was in an office building, one that had been burned and used by squatters. There was the smell of urine mixed with old smoke. Fitting for Rebel scum Kane thought as he moved to the stairs, using the rifle as a crutch.

He made his way up the stairs, slowly and carefully, moving to the top floor. He looked for roof access but found none. Kane slipped along the floor, careful of where there were burned out chunks of floor missing. He made his way to the window and checked his position, smiling as he saw the building Trevor was in. Every light was burning in that place, and there were enough sentries to protect the Emperor himself.

Kane set up his Slugthrower and dialed in one of the sentries, punching out a quick message to G to check his position. They were still about a hundred yards away, but could see the perimeter guards.

Kane smiled as he typed back Watch this and dialed in the guard farthest from the building, the least likely to be noticed. A squeeze of the trigger and the Slugthrower fired, sending the round through the skull of the guard and burying itself in the outside of the building.

Damn! Kane thought as he looked at the weapon, trying to figure out how he could take this prize back to the Atrus with him if he got out.

He peered through the scope and noticed a little bit of commotion, a guard standing over the body of the one he shot. The guard began to radio in a call for help, the message popping into Kane’s ear through the pilfered comm unit. Another squeeze and another downed Rebel, and the comm went silent.

Kane then aimed higher on the building, shooting into a window where he saw the silhouette of a guard pass by. He wasn’t trying to kill anyone with that shot, he simply wanted to distract everyone long enough to let Mel and G’shlecc make their moves.

Hurry up guys.

Trevor had been sitting in the dark room for a few hours now. His wounds had stopped bleeding but he felt lightheaded from the loss of blood in the past little while. The scratches on his face would doubtless leave scars, although he was sure that if they ended up looking too terrible the medics aboard the Atrus would be able to have them coaxed back to an acceptable look.

His mind was still swimming, but not nearly as bad as before. It had reached the shallow end of the pool and his thoughts were beginning to make more and more sense. Somewhere beyond the door to his cell he could hear a siren begin to emit a muffled blare, and saw the sliver of light at the bottom of his door temporarily become shaded whenever a pair of boots ran past it. G’shlecc found his way here. Trevor assumed, rolling his head to the left and spitting blood onto the floor. As if setting off a trigger, the door flew open the second the blood hit the floor and slammed into the wall its hinges were set into.

Cr’stl stormed in, once again flanked by two guards. This time he had Trevor’s pistol in his hand and had leveled it at him from across the room. “You caused this, you alerted someone somehow. One of our Majors is dying on the floor in an upper hallway. You’ll pay.” He snarled, pistol whipping Trevor with the barrel of the weapon and completely knocking out one of Trevor’s molars. Once more the pain was dizzying and Trevor felt himself waver on the brink of consciousness. If only I could fall. He thought, carefully moving the tooth to the front of his mouth and spitting it onto the floor. He didn’t want to choke on it if the beatings continued.

The Trandosian took this as an act of defiance and placed a foot on Trevor’s chest. With only the slightest bit of force he tipped the heavy wooden chair over onto the floor and began to step heavily onto Trevor’s chest. As the breath was squeezed from his lungs, Trevor could hear rather than feel one, two ribs cracking. Finally the foot was removed from his chest and his chair was once again lifted onto all four feet.

“Tell us who you sided with. We’ve already captured your friends trying to rescue you, and if you tell us where you’re from we’ll let them go.” Cr’stl lied, motioning for the guards to leave. Trevor froze up for a moment. He knew the lizard was lying about letting them go, but he couldn’t be sure if it was true whether or not they had been captured. Even if they had the entire squadron, it wouldn’t be much of a match for such a well-armed base. Trevor had been in some vicious ground battles, but even he wouldn’t want to test the odds against this place. Just as Cr’stl was winding up to strike him again, there was a pounding against the door. “What do you want?!” Cr’stl snarled, spinning back to the door and opening it.

“Sir, there’s an overseer here from one of the resorts, as well as a medic. You’ve got the most experience with the locals, and the command thinks it’d be wise for you to meet with the overseer and thank him for bringing a medic.” One of the guards explained. Cr’stl sighed and nodded, but turned back and glanced at Trevor.

“We’ll finish this off, then we will be down to meet with the overseer.” Cr’stl said, slamming the door in the face of the guard. Trevor couldn’t help but begin sweating as Cr’stl walked over to him and undid the shackles holding his feet to the chair. A moment later, his hands were freed as well and he was being dragged clumsily to his feet. “We’re in charge here and you’re helpless, but that doesn’t mean we won’t give you a chance to fight like a man.” Cr’stl grinned, looking directly across at Trevor. Cr’stl was incredibly short for a Trandosian, but more than made up for it with his strength and ability to fight. It also gave him a lower center of gravity, something most Trandosians lacked.

Trevor wouldn’t have stood a chance. He sized up the Trandosian for a moment, observing the holster on his left hip and the sharp scales on both hands. He’d only have one shot at the idea that had poorly formed in his head, and if he failed he wouldn’t be given the chance to fight with honour like Cr’stl was giving him now. A small sliver of respect formed for the lizard, but not enough to stop Trevor from wanting to kill him.

He took a clumsy step forward and purposely threw all his weight into a badly aimed punch, which the lizard merely stepped backwards to avoid. Trevor wasn’t done though, and he threw himself forward as if he had lost his balance, toppling his head into the midsection of the lizard. Having not expected such a collision, the Trandosian didn’t side step this and was almost thrown off balance by it. He quickly grasped Trevor’s shoulders and threw him backwards, sending him stumbling off-balance into the chair he had been strapped to only a moment before. As Cr’stl advanced towards him, Trevor quickly fumbled with the pistol in his hand, pointing it at the advancing monstrosity and firing off three quick shots. Two missed their mark and sizzled into the walls of the cell, but the third found its place. It connected with the Trandosian’s eye and vaporized the left half of his skull.

Trevor let out a sigh of relief as Cr’stl fell to the floor with a heavy thud, his face still frozen in surprise. As Trevor had fallen into him, he had grabbed the pistol out of the holster and began to pray that Cr’stl wouldn’t take advantage of his exposed neck. Thankfully the lizard’s lust for violence saved Trevor, who was thrown backwards so he could be beaten further. Now the only thought on Trevor’s mind was escaping from the cell without being caught. But with the two guards placed just outside, this was easier said then done.

He approached the door, pistol in hand, and pounded on the door once. Outside, the two guards looked at each other before one sighed and resigned himself to going in to check on things. As soon as he slipped inside he found himself staring down the barrel of Trevor’s recovered Imperial pistol. A second later he was lying on the floor. The sound of the forth gunshot was enough to bring the second guard into the room, blaster rifle leveled and ready for anything. Almost. Before he could even get both feet into the room the butt of his partner’s rifle had landed squarely in his temple, knocking him out. Trevor caught him under the armpits and dragged him into the cell, then began sizing up which guard matched his height and build better.

Epilogue:

***Several Hours Later***

When Goth exited the shuttle he was immediately shown to his room. The hall outside of the door felt empty. When he got into his room he threw his equipment and duffel onto the bunk along with the arm load of data pads (mostly TIE schematics, though one was on shield generators and one on engine specs for the Carrak Cruiser).

Then the call came for him to report to the CO.
Luckily all he got when he reported was a brisk "Welcome aboard, you will be getting duty assignments in a day or so. Dismissed!" Which even though it felt like he was being given the bums rush, Goth appreciated it to some long winded welcome speech.

Goth then went back to his room and changed into his flight suit, and went to the hanger deck to check out his new fighter. Climbing in he started doing the preflight check. That done he called command requesting permission to fly a perimeter check. The officer on the other end of the com informed him that Nazgul Squadron was not on the duty roster.

Goth cursed under his breath, he really wanted to take the new fighter for an inaugural flight. Then the officer called back telling him that they were a bit short handed, and needed someone to check out an anomaly. Goth gratefully accepted.

The anomaly turned out to be nothing important, nothing more than a malfunctioning escape pod from a shuttle. So, Goth did a quick perimeter check (which was uneventful) and headed back to his new home.

Once back on the Atrus he went to his quarters and started studying the shield generator specs. He looked up once and thought to himself; "Well this is my home now, and Nazgul is my family." That thought felt strange to him, it had been such a long time since he had any family. Then he lost himself in the shield generator data for the rest of the day.


***Later***

  G sat at Jeg's desk...HIS desk and thumbed through the accumulatded paperwork.  Jeg was gone and he was the new SC, but the mundane tasks of running a squadron in the VEN didn't stop.  This new kid, Goth, seemed eager.  Eager pilots tended to end up dead pilots.  He penciled the noob in as Mel's wing.

  "That'll take some of the giddy-up out of him."

  G'shlecc chuckled to himself as he went back to his work...always to his work.