Post by Force_Flow on Aug 20, 2007 16:23:16 GMT -4
An older Jaskia sat in the pilot’s seat of the BlueFire. Eyes closed, she tossed a shiny metal ball between both hands while nine more Jedi hastily typed on the keyboards and datapads in front of them, desperately trying to keep the ship running. Hull integrity was running at eighty percent, but they were losing pressurazation in important parts of the ship. Before the entire ship collapsed on itself, Jaskia had transmitted the Death Star plans to the Liberty, a vessel Jaskia knew for certain was a Rebel ship, and worked on keeping the force fields active. “Jaskia!” Clee Rhara shouted. “Transmission through and sent. No incoming reply.”
“Keep all lines open,” Jaskia said. “Any transmission coming to this ship, broadcast it on speaker. Stay alive, people.”
“The last attack damaged our sensors.” Siri Tachi was frowning at a readout on one of the computers. “Only people directly comming us will get through. We need to stop and repair the ship.”
“Hull integrity?”
“Sixty percent,” Ni replied. He stood over a computer terminal. Another jolt shook the ship. “Docking bay just depressurized,” he warned. “Hull’s at fifty.”
“Get Rieken on the line,” Jaskia said. She stood and tucked the small ball in a pouch on her belt. Starstone looked at her quizzically. “Now!”
Starstone nodded and started to press the transmission numbers. She made an angry noise deep in her throat. “Dammit! Their shield is bouncing all transmissions back!”
“Try harder!” Jaskia started to pace, the only sign she was worried. After twelve years of gathering up the lost Jedi, Jaskia had threw up a shield. Her comrades looked up to her, and they respected her as a best friend. She had a special bond with each of them, and right now she had to be detached. As a ‘Jedi bounty hunter’, she had perfected detachment. Blocking off the conflicting emotions inside her, she relaxed her mind and focused on what they should do now rather than what would happen to them without a mechanic.
Still, Starstone shook her head. “We can’t get them, Jask.”
Jaskia grumbled and took a look at the transmission machine. Updated with a f ew illegal enhancements, she saw it. A huge Star Destroyer blocking transmission. “Time for a little surprise…” Jaskia muttered. “Clee!”
“Got it!”
--
Twenty-eight year-old Scout Gash consulted the map with a frown. In the dark room, light blue holographic planets were spaced out around her in an almost-perfect view of the entire galaxy. The Imperial’s planets were labeled as red, whilst the Rebels were a bright orange. And there were currently ten times more of the former. But she wasn’t frowning about that. She looked at it every day to remind herself.
She was looking at Tattooine, out in the Outer Rim, a neutral planet. Enlarging the planets, she quickly scanned the map. There were only three main towns on Tattooine: Mos Epa, Mos Eisley, and Anchorhead. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s last known location was indeed Mos Eisley, but he could be anywhere by now.
“Bail said he had transmission codes,” she said, throwing a strand of blond hair over her shoulder. She wore a brown bantha-hide zipped-up sleeveless vest with the number 40 etched at the top, and the designer’s name on the side in Basic. Underneath it she wore a tan, tight shirt, and Corellian pants. With a little strut she could turn heads in any Cantina or bar. She had turned out to be a striking woman. A passerby wouldn’t know about the ‘datapad’ she used to store her lightsaber. With catches on three sides far away enough so that one would have to use the Force to pop the third, the datapad would snap, and out would come the two lightsabers.
Though two lightsabers wouldn’t help her find a Jedi who didn’t want to be found. Rubbing her temples, she sighed. “I can take Anchorhead,” she said. “Darrina, you take Mos Epa. And once I convince Naos, he can go to Mos Eisley.”
Across from her, Darrina nodded solemnly. “How old is this Jedi you’re looking for?”
Scout’s eyes rolled up towards the ceiling as she counted mentally. She had one hand out, putting up fingers and mouthing the numbers. “Fifty-one,” she said. “He should have white hair by now.”
“I have a picture of him when he was ‘The Negotiator,’” Darrina offered. “It’ll be easy to find one on Fruugle.”
Scout nodded. “Alright, let’s try it.”
Darrina nodded and bowed her head to look it up on her datapad. After a minute of tense silence, she nodded and hooked it up the computer jack. After opening it up on Drawing Hybrid (or DH for short), she proceeded to morph his face and change the colors of his hair and skin.
After five more minutes, Scout thought he looked a lot older. “That’s good,” she confirmed.
“I can’t make liver spots or anything,” Darrina said regretfully. “And it has no age generator like the second version does, so his face looks like it’s in the mid-thirties. I added a few more wrinkles, so it should balance out.”
Scout rolled her eyes. Darrina the computer geek. Darrina looked at her face and grinned widely. “It was just a matter of converting the inches into pixels and morph the designated targets into the right place. Then I had to choose the right color of white to go with the hair, because it might even be gray, and then I had to morph the crows feet around his eyes---“
“That’s enough!” Scout said, “freaking out.” She laughed. “Alright. Print me out three of those. I’ll have to—“
“Ma’am!”
Captain Antillies sprinted to her side, out of breath. His excitement radiated within the Force. “Yeah?” Scout asked, frowning again.
“We have the Death Star plans!”
“What?!” Darrina asked shrilly, dropping her datapad in shock. She didn’t even glance at it. “How?! Who got it?!”
“A ship,” Antillies explained. “It goes by the name of the BlueFire. Surely you’ve heard of it!”
Scout nodded. She had. It was the flagship of her best friend Jaskia Paine. Rumor had it that the woman had hundreds of thousands of Jedi under her command. Scout knew that wasn’t true, maybe fifty at the most, but their fleet had expanded to four ships, and the garrisons of stormtroopers had started to call their fleet the Ghosts. Once the Imperials had captured it the first and only time, no one was onboard. But something had killed the inspecting garrison when they went inside. Contact had been lost with them, and when the next went in, they only found the bodies. And once they lost contact once again, the BlueFire disappeared.
This was a story the Empire tried to keep from everyone hearing. But the Rebels knew all about it. And rumor was that it just narrowly escaped five squads of TIE fighters when they fled from unknown space.
It clicked.
The Death Star must have been there. Jaskia had turned from a Jedi Padawan into a galactic hero.
“Yes, Captain,” Scout said distantly. “And I personally know the captain of the Ghosts. It’s no surprise she managed to get those codes. Please, go inform Leia and Naos.”
“Keep all lines open,” Jaskia said. “Any transmission coming to this ship, broadcast it on speaker. Stay alive, people.”
“The last attack damaged our sensors.” Siri Tachi was frowning at a readout on one of the computers. “Only people directly comming us will get through. We need to stop and repair the ship.”
“Hull integrity?”
“Sixty percent,” Ni replied. He stood over a computer terminal. Another jolt shook the ship. “Docking bay just depressurized,” he warned. “Hull’s at fifty.”
“Get Rieken on the line,” Jaskia said. She stood and tucked the small ball in a pouch on her belt. Starstone looked at her quizzically. “Now!”
Starstone nodded and started to press the transmission numbers. She made an angry noise deep in her throat. “Dammit! Their shield is bouncing all transmissions back!”
“Try harder!” Jaskia started to pace, the only sign she was worried. After twelve years of gathering up the lost Jedi, Jaskia had threw up a shield. Her comrades looked up to her, and they respected her as a best friend. She had a special bond with each of them, and right now she had to be detached. As a ‘Jedi bounty hunter’, she had perfected detachment. Blocking off the conflicting emotions inside her, she relaxed her mind and focused on what they should do now rather than what would happen to them without a mechanic.
Still, Starstone shook her head. “We can’t get them, Jask.”
Jaskia grumbled and took a look at the transmission machine. Updated with a f ew illegal enhancements, she saw it. A huge Star Destroyer blocking transmission. “Time for a little surprise…” Jaskia muttered. “Clee!”
“Got it!”
--
Twenty-eight year-old Scout Gash consulted the map with a frown. In the dark room, light blue holographic planets were spaced out around her in an almost-perfect view of the entire galaxy. The Imperial’s planets were labeled as red, whilst the Rebels were a bright orange. And there were currently ten times more of the former. But she wasn’t frowning about that. She looked at it every day to remind herself.
She was looking at Tattooine, out in the Outer Rim, a neutral planet. Enlarging the planets, she quickly scanned the map. There were only three main towns on Tattooine: Mos Epa, Mos Eisley, and Anchorhead. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s last known location was indeed Mos Eisley, but he could be anywhere by now.
“Bail said he had transmission codes,” she said, throwing a strand of blond hair over her shoulder. She wore a brown bantha-hide zipped-up sleeveless vest with the number 40 etched at the top, and the designer’s name on the side in Basic. Underneath it she wore a tan, tight shirt, and Corellian pants. With a little strut she could turn heads in any Cantina or bar. She had turned out to be a striking woman. A passerby wouldn’t know about the ‘datapad’ she used to store her lightsaber. With catches on three sides far away enough so that one would have to use the Force to pop the third, the datapad would snap, and out would come the two lightsabers.
Though two lightsabers wouldn’t help her find a Jedi who didn’t want to be found. Rubbing her temples, she sighed. “I can take Anchorhead,” she said. “Darrina, you take Mos Epa. And once I convince Naos, he can go to Mos Eisley.”
Across from her, Darrina nodded solemnly. “How old is this Jedi you’re looking for?”
Scout’s eyes rolled up towards the ceiling as she counted mentally. She had one hand out, putting up fingers and mouthing the numbers. “Fifty-one,” she said. “He should have white hair by now.”
“I have a picture of him when he was ‘The Negotiator,’” Darrina offered. “It’ll be easy to find one on Fruugle.”
Scout nodded. “Alright, let’s try it.”
Darrina nodded and bowed her head to look it up on her datapad. After a minute of tense silence, she nodded and hooked it up the computer jack. After opening it up on Drawing Hybrid (or DH for short), she proceeded to morph his face and change the colors of his hair and skin.
After five more minutes, Scout thought he looked a lot older. “That’s good,” she confirmed.
“I can’t make liver spots or anything,” Darrina said regretfully. “And it has no age generator like the second version does, so his face looks like it’s in the mid-thirties. I added a few more wrinkles, so it should balance out.”
Scout rolled her eyes. Darrina the computer geek. Darrina looked at her face and grinned widely. “It was just a matter of converting the inches into pixels and morph the designated targets into the right place. Then I had to choose the right color of white to go with the hair, because it might even be gray, and then I had to morph the crows feet around his eyes---“
“That’s enough!” Scout said, “freaking out.” She laughed. “Alright. Print me out three of those. I’ll have to—“
“Ma’am!”
Captain Antillies sprinted to her side, out of breath. His excitement radiated within the Force. “Yeah?” Scout asked, frowning again.
“We have the Death Star plans!”
“What?!” Darrina asked shrilly, dropping her datapad in shock. She didn’t even glance at it. “How?! Who got it?!”
“A ship,” Antillies explained. “It goes by the name of the BlueFire. Surely you’ve heard of it!”
Scout nodded. She had. It was the flagship of her best friend Jaskia Paine. Rumor had it that the woman had hundreds of thousands of Jedi under her command. Scout knew that wasn’t true, maybe fifty at the most, but their fleet had expanded to four ships, and the garrisons of stormtroopers had started to call their fleet the Ghosts. Once the Imperials had captured it the first and only time, no one was onboard. But something had killed the inspecting garrison when they went inside. Contact had been lost with them, and when the next went in, they only found the bodies. And once they lost contact once again, the BlueFire disappeared.
This was a story the Empire tried to keep from everyone hearing. But the Rebels knew all about it. And rumor was that it just narrowly escaped five squads of TIE fighters when they fled from unknown space.
It clicked.
The Death Star must have been there. Jaskia had turned from a Jedi Padawan into a galactic hero.
“Yes, Captain,” Scout said distantly. “And I personally know the captain of the Ghosts. It’s no surprise she managed to get those codes. Please, go inform Leia and Naos.”