Wraith Squadron

[Jors_Dedon]

Here it is. My Wraith fanfic... any suggestions, comments, criticism, and ideas would be helpful. (wait, except the criticism part).

The blurry image of hyperspace reverted to real space. "Lock S-Foils into attack position Wraiths." Crander Shray heard Captain Loren's instructions, and followed. Borleias radiated it's warm glowing light out on One Flight's X-Wings. A Star Destoyer loomed in the distance, which Crander's onboard computer painted as the "friendly" Errant Venture. He sucked in a deep breath, then exhaled in two intervals. The young human loosened his grip on the steering joystick, realizing once again that his knuckles hurt from squeezing the hard metal too often. "Are you asleep, Nine?" the voice of the hideously annoying Devaronian, Elassar Targon, cackled through his speaker. Crander had to take a second to realize that he was Nine. "Yes." A short ackward silence rang through Shray's ears despite the humming X-Wings.
"Don't fall asleep on me... you new guys always have a habit of doing that. It seems that the recruits don't get enough sleep at nights. Probably trying to think of pick up lines for Tyria."
"I'd rather kiss a Hutt, although she does look pretty similar."
Targon laughed. "That's the first funny thing I've heard you say. How long have you been here? A week?"
"46 hours."
"Counting the hours, huh? Trying to make sure how much time you get to spend with the Master of the Universe, so you can brag to your friends?"
"Trying to count the hours of how long I have to put up with you before I snap and kill myself, and no, I don't believe in friends."
The strong barking-like laughter of Elassar filled his ears again. "It's funny. The only humorous things you say are laser bolts at other people. I wish you put that energy into practical jokes. You could be my henchman."
"I doubt-"
"Incoming evils!" Wraith Lead announced calmly but urgently into his ear. The four Star Destroyers shot into view from hyperspace one second before Loren had seen them. Crander's targeting computer picked up four full squadrons of TIEs coming at them. Immediately, he yanked the navigational stick around to meet the incoming threats, causing a mechanical squeal from his artoo unit, Hum. Garik Loran continued, "One flight, come with me to protect Errant Venture. Keeping it safe until escape is our first priority. Flights two and three, poke the eyeballs."
"Might as well tell them what we want on our graves, eh Nine?"
"Shut the kriff up. Just shut your maggot infested mouth, and maybe we'll get out of this." Silence followed and Crander finally hoped that reply had actually wiggled into Targon's nerf-flea sized brain.
The TIE fighters were suddenly upon two and three flight. A third of the incoming fighters headed towards the Venture, leaving eight Wraiths to deal with twenty-nine TIEs. Almost four to one odds. Great. With a sharp jerk, he rolled and swung his fighter out to the right, flashing his belly to four of the oncoming TIEs. Elassar, his wingmate, snapped over to try to copy, but was scalded by fire meant for Shray. "What in the name of the Cold are you doing! You never said anything!," the alien hissed angrily. "Wingmates are supposed to stick together, Nine."
"Then stick. I'm doing my job," Crander snapped back. In unison with his words, he shot his fighter straight up and to the left, swinging behind an eyeball. Frantically the enemy fighter juked, desperately trying to get away from Shray. No use. His thumb brushed against his trigger before he evaded and rolled to the side, cutting his thrusters. Another TIE screamed past him and fired accidentily into the Crander's first target, destroying the TIE. Shray adjusted his targeting crosshairs a little before the other TIE crossed into them. Crander immediately sent a proton torpedo shooting out of his X-Wing and watched as the torp caught up with the TIE and tore through the cockpit. He slammed the acceleration and cruised through the wreckage.
Satisfied, he sent his starfighter into a steep nosedive and spared a second to look at the targeting computer. Elassar had broken off to go solo, and was doing terrible; two TIEs hanging on his tail, and another closing in. "I'd appreciate... a little... help here, Nine."
"You're a big boy, Eleven. I'm sure you can handle them."
"I'm coming, Eleven," a voice, who Crander recognized as the mechanical Voort saBinring, declared through the comm system.
Hum, the artoo unit droid who he had taken care of as long as he remembered, whistled a shrill warning, low to high, and Crander juked left and dove back up towards the fight. A lone eyeball attempted to stay on him but was thrown off and pulled out. A series of beeps and mechanical tones sounded through his ear. "Me?! I don't have the reflexes of a drunk Gamorrean! You're the one who had to be rescued from mynocks that time, remember?!" Angry beeps blatted back at him.
"What? The laser bolts weren't even close. You should be glad I actually got out of my fighter and got them off you in the kriffing cold of space... What? Where'd you learn that word! Well, you shouldn't have listened to me! If you hadn't-" Another high pitched beep rang in his ears. Instantly, he swung out to the side, cut his thrusters, and looped around. He brushed his finger against the trigger and sent two red burst of laser out into space. A TIE screamed by him and right into the crimson salvo, exploding instantly. Crander glanced at his navigational computer and slacked his jaw.
Only three other Wraiths remained; Captain Loran, Kell Tainer, and Shalla Nelprin. I can't believe it... These are supposed to be the Wraiths. 16 TIEs remained. Four of the eyeballs swerved around to speed towards him. He slowed his breathing and concentrated. Alright, here's the Tryxe Maneuver, perfect situation. Wait... wait... Hum's constant warbling began to sound louder in his ears. NOW! Frantically, Crander snapped his X-Wing to the side and shifted all power to his aft shields. The Seinar Fleet TIE fighter with twin ion engines, were far faster than the Incom X-Wing. Which could be a disadvantage. The TIEs tried to pull out, but at the rate they were going, it was impossible. All of them ran into each other's fire, and those who weren't badly damaged by the hits collided into each other. A huge explosion boomed and threw shrapnel behind Crander. His starfighter bucked and rocked, but the aft shields kept him from any damage. In the explosion, he didn't have time to see the other TIE rocket over to him. Involuntarily, he jerked his head up and saw the fighter blast down at him and unleash the two laser cannons in it's arsenal. Frink. Everything went dark.

Crander flipped the release switch, and the X-Wing simulator door hissed open. Most of the Wraiths were standing in the small room talking, others laughing as they spoke about the recent simulation. Garik Loran stood with his back against his simulator, staring straight at him. "I'd like a word with you, recruit. Privately, in my office," he said almost robotically calm.
"Yes, sir." Crander tucked his flight helmet under his arm and marched behind "The Face" as they made their way towards the Captain's office. Loran opened the door and stopped to allow Crander to enter first. He silently shut it, and paced around behind his desk, which was considerably messy. A datapad and stack of datacards lay on the end of the table; the recruitment information, no doubt.
"I'd like to commend you on your excellent pilot skills in today's simulation," Garik held out his hand and Crander shook it, swiftly and strongly, as he had always been taught. "You are by far the best pilot I have ever seen since I have been in command of this squad," he said smoothly, then without warning, slammed his palm down on the desk, "But what in the name of the Force, were you doing out there! You abandoned your wingmate, and for that, he died."
"I was completing the task how I do best: solo."
"You were not asked to fly alone. We paired you with a wingmate, and you've disobeyed orders." Face sat down on the purple chair behind the desk and covered his eyes with his hands, tiredly. "I saw your recruitment information, how you requested specifically to be in Wraith Squadron. This is the hard part: I want to let you join. Your flying skills are amazing, seven kills in a fight is enough to make any pilot envious, but when you abandon your wingmate to die. It... it..."
"I told Targon I was going by myself, he shouldn't have tried to follow me. I was doing my job."
"Wrong! Targon was doing his job! He followed orders, he tried to stick with you to help you out."
"I don't need help."
"Really?" He asked sarcastically, then added, "I thought when that TIE came swooping down, you needed help." Face let out a long sigh. "I'm going to refuse you, Shray. Unless you can find a way to cooperate with your wingman, you're leaving."
A short silence occured before Crander replied, "I guess I'd better pack my things." He turned to leave, but Face said quietly, "I never gave you permission to leave. Why do you insist on flying by yourself?"
"Personal reasons, sir."
"I don't seem to sound like a jerk, but I don't give a sithspawn!"
"An accident, sir."
"That's not very explanitory."
"It's as explanitory as it will get."
"You could face court marshall, Shray."
"I'm leaving if I don't fly with the Wraiths anyway." He straightened his back, and executed a clean, crisp salute, "Permission to leave, sir."
Garik sighed again, "Permission granted. You will stay for one week. If you continue to refuse you're wingman, you will be removed, understood?"
"Understood, sir."
"Good." Crander spun and marched out the door. Face rubbed his temples softly as a soft knock clicked against his door. "Enter my lair!" his low bass tone sounding like a deep tryllaphone. Dia Passak, a green Twi'lek and the woman of his life, slipped in with the grace only a dancer could possess. She glided over behind him and rubbed his shoulders, her hands lovingly spreading warmth throughout his muscles. "I heard you two shouting from in the hall."
"Was it that loud?"
"Not too much."
Face lowered his arms onto the desk and rested his head on them. "I hate being the bad guy. I wish Wedge was here."

A few minutes later, Face heard Kell's strong knock at his office. "My lair awaits, young Tainer!" Face lowered the lights to a dim, and tilted his head forward, looking like a crazy menace. Kell Tainer, a tall, human man from Sluis Van with a thick build, marched into the room. He laughed then bowed, "What do you wish, my master?"
"I have a task after you finish the Jedi."
"The Jedi are done, my master."
Face tilted his head up and talked casually, "Seriously, I need you to do something."
"Watch Shray?"
"Demolitions, pilot, and now a mindreader. You amaze me once again."
"Not the first time. Did you find why Crander just... flew alone?"
"He said 'personal reasons', but from his body language, I could tell someone close to him died. Not the look of a mourning lover, more like a family member or a friend."
"So do you want me to talk it out of him, or watch him like an Imperial Spy."
"Given your build, I think it would be hard not to notice you. Try and talk to him, just be... a friend."
"Easier said than done. Targon didn't work, and most people like him."
"I think it's because Elassar had the type of personality that Crander didn't like. Just be there for him."
"No problem. I'll employ my 'Tainer Tactics'."
"'Tainer Tactics'? When did you make those?"
"Just now."
"I hope they don't involve your usual strategy: blowing things up."
"No, I'll try and get him drunk, and then have him spill the tubers."
"You should write a holobook on that."
"I should, shouldn't I? I can see it now, 'Tainer Tactics, written by Kell Tainer'. If they make a holodrama of it, I'll let you star in it."
"Given the amount of free time we're getting, I could probably film one and be done when a new mission needs us."
"Yeah, what about that? What happened to 'Wraiths attack this warlord. Wraiths attack that corrupt individual'?"
"I don't know, but I keep getting the feeling that something big is coming... I can feel it in my bones."

"Don't you start on me too. I just pretty much got kicked out. The Face told me if I don't fly with a wingman, I'm leaving." Crander folded up his last pair of casual clothes and stuffed them into his tactical sniper duffel. Hum stood next to him, warbling with the attitude of a cocky Hutt. "I don't know where we'll go, maybe Skritch and Skrax will help-" Hum's beeps grew louder in hasty, angry protest. "Alright... bad idea." The little black and silver droid bleeped a suggestion. "No way! That is out of the question! I left five years ago... he's not going to want me back."
A slow, matter of factly series of beep responded.
"Well, this human isn't able to 'forgive', like you say most humans do. Remember that one guy, Calrissian?"
The little droid blatted at him.
"I swear, I should take you to a shop and have a guy install some gratefulness in you. You obviously don't have enough... What? Oh, shut off!" A sharp, strong knock sounded at his door, "Crander? It's Kell."
He rolled his eyes, "Come in, as long as it's not for a lecture."
The big man stepped in, shut the door and glanced at the spare chair, "Mind if I sit down?"
"You're my guest, and it is my utter responsibility to be hospitable and charitable. Please, have a seat," he recited the words like a voice recorder, walked over to a nightstand, and picked up a bottle. "Wine?," he asked sarcastically. Kell clearly had become a little uncomfortable.
"Uh... no thanks. I just wanted to come in here and talk a little, get to know you. You know, just hang out."
The younger pilot grew angry and spat out, "You want to know me? Here it is: My name is Crander Shray and I'm twenty three years old. I was born and raised on Ord Mantell where my father was a businessman and I hated it. I left when I was 18 and joined the Shadow Outlaws, a group of commando mercenaries and ship theives. I decided it wasn't for me, so I left, and here I am. I enjoy piloting, and like any civilized Ord Mantellian, I also enjoy gambling and drinking. There. That's me."
Kell had leaned back a little in surprise from Crander's hasty outburst, but he slowly leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "That's... interesting. I didn't want you to give your life story, I just wanted to know you."
"Well, now you do. Happy?" Crander managed a sardonic smile.
"No, sithspawn Shray! I just wanted to talk a little. What's wrong? Why are you so... angry?"
"You want to know why I'm angry? I'm angry because I'm better a pilot than any of you, but I'm being kicked out because I don't play by Loran's rules. He can't compete, so he's throwing me out."
"It's not because of jealosy. We're a team, and we are required to act like it. Things work out much better that way. Wes Janson, a pilot-"
"I know who he is."
"-was one of the original Wraiths when this squadron was just starting, and he-"
"He killed your father in the past, so you were just a bundle of hate when you joined. Eventually you realized that he was just doing his job and didn't mean to kill your dad. That's nice."
Kell sat back and stared at him. "How'd you know that?"
"A little Kowakian monkey-lizard told me."
A long silence followed his last statement, Kell still waiting for the correct answer. Crander shrugged. "I have a habit of computer slicing. So what do you want now? Why did you come here? To spy on me? To figure out what's wrong with me?" He leaned back so he was laying instead of sitting on his bed. "You're not a very good psychiatrist, Tainer."
The huge man let out a long sigh, "I'm not trying to be. To tell you the truth, Garik asked me to try to talk to you since you shut out Targon and himself." He stood up and snapped, "It looks like you can add one more kill to your count. I'll see you later."
"No you won't."
Tainer stopped in midstride towards the door. "Why not?"
"I'm leaving today. There's no way I'm going to fly with a wingman, so I might as well save you all the trouble."
"We'll miss you."
"No you won't. You'll miss my piloting skills, not me."
Kell turned around, red with anger. "Well how am I supposed to miss you if you shut me out! You refuse to open up to anyone! Really Shray, I feel sorry for you."
"Don't. I'm not looking for pity."
The huge man snorted in dismay and left.
Crander sat up and turned to Hum. "That went well." A blat of disapproval responded to him. "Oh, shut off."

"He's locked himself inside a cage, and won't let anyone in." Kell Tainer sat at a table with Tyria at his side, holding his hand, and Face across from him.
"What about the 'Tainer Tactics'?"
"He shot me down before I even got the chance." The huge man sipped a little of drink before continuing, "The stuff he told me you probably have on your report. Raised on Ord Mantell, his dad was a businessman, he left home and joined a gang of thieves called the 'Shadow Outlaws'... that sort of thing."
Face slowly let his fingers trail along the edge of his glass, sending drops of condensation dripping onto the table. "All of that was in his report. I had Intelligence check him out a little and he's not so innocent."
Tyria stirred, "I don't know about you, but being involved in a gang of thieves hardly sounds innocent to me. I've heard that the Shadow Outlaws usually stole from Imperials, but still..."
"It's farmboy compared to what his family does. Intelligence looked up Shray's father and found that he owns a massive casino on Ord Mantell, a front for a huge crime underworld tied to Black Sun before Xizor's death."
"What'd they do when Xizor died?" Kell asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, his head on his hand.
"They severed all their ties and connections."
"Why? I would think that they would jump in and try to grab up Xizor's place."
"I would too, but I guess they didn't want to get involved or something."
The three sat there quietly for a few moments before Kell asked, "What are we going to do? Do you think he's a spy or sabotage from the Imps? Asking specifically for Wraith squadron sounds a little... eery."
"If the Shadow Outlaws stole from the Imps, I doubt he'd have much love for them, but who knows? He's turned out clean from Intelligence so far."
"He said that he was leaving today."
Face shrugged, "I guess I'll have to let him leave. I can't make him be in the squad. I just wish I could get through his shell into the inside. I could see a few glints of the diamond we call 'kindness' inside him, but he refuses on saying anything." Face slowly stood, "I guess I'm going to go talk to him."
"Good luck. I always get the answering system."
Captain Loran turned and strode away with a confident, determined speed. Tyria laid her head on Kell's shoulder as she watched him go. "Does Face seem different to you than when you first met?"
"Yes, he seems to have grown up a bit. Although his boyish humor does shine occasionally."

"Ah, Captain Loran," Crander spoke cynically as he walked and glanced at his wrist chrono, "is it time for another lecture already? I'm still digesting the first one."
"Look, could you possibly, just possibly, put everything aside and actually respond to me, casually?" Face caught up with the younger pilot as he trudged toward the X-Wing hangar. The Ord Mantellian slowed his pace, "Talk, huh? That seems to be the subject for today. Everyone wants me to 'talk' to them, to tell them all my problems so you can fix them. I'm done speaking, nothing more is left to be said."
"Why do you have to be so difficult? Is it really that hard to fly with a wingman? You'd be a great help to me, to the New Republic, yet you won't let anyone near you without a snarl. If the death of your friend is still too near, I'll understand."
Crander instantly killed his forceful stroll. Face, already anticipating the sudden halt, stopped right with the younger pilot. The younger pilot stared forward, looking distant. "How do know about that?"
"Honestly, I don't, but I could tell from your body language that someone close to you had died. I looked up your family, and no one is reported dead, so I figured it was a friend. I know how hard it can be, I lost Ton Phanon, my best friend. We are alike, Crander. I got through it, and I think you can too."
"Let me ask you something. Did you kill Phanon?"
"No."
"Then we're not alike. There, now you know my problem, and I hope you're satisfied. I killed the only friend I had. Fix it, Face, fix it. You keep trying to make me open up, so I just did. It was a stupid routine mission. We stole some prototype Advanced Interceptors and got out of there, only to be tailed by TIEs. I had only a few weeks flying time..." he paused and tightened his lips so they wouldn't shake. "He flew in front of me so we could fit through a small gap and... my hand stumbled and hit the fire button. Bang."
Garik's insides felt like they slowly collapsed. From all of his actors training, he had never seen such silent sorrow. He could see Crander's eyes and lips, how the slightly younger pilot felt like screaming and crying, but held everything in. Either Crander was an extremely good performer, or he was clearly to the point of being suicidal, flying alone attested to that.
Loran whispered a solemn and sincere, "I'm... sorry."
"Now do you see why I don't fly with a partner?! Even though from that point forward a flight simulator was my home, I vowed I would never do it again. I would never be responsible for the death of a wingmate. For five years I've flown simulators and live fighters constantly, to make me into the best pilot ever. I moved to Antar Four and literally lived in a sniper training shed and hunted Quivry so I could improve my precision.
"There, you won. You get the 'I got Crander Shray to reveal his problems' medal."
"It was never my goal, Shray."
"Really?" He added bitterly. "It seems to me that I was the Wraith's newest mission."
"Look, I am deeply sorry about your friend, but I want to be as sincere as I can in saying this. You must get over it. I didn't actually kill Ton, but I blamed everything on myself because I said that I wasn't there sooner for him. There is a time to mourn for the deceased, but continuing to make your life miserable over something that cannot be controlled is... stupid. What do you think he would say to you, if he saw you like this?"
"He'd probably say that I should get on with my life."
"And you should. Not for me, not for anyone else, but for you.
A moment passed before Face straightened. "Sorry Shray, I didn't mean to preach to you, I'll get out of here. All of this talking has made my throat dry. You can leave if you want, that's your call, but if you want to stay and get a drink, I'll go with you."
Crander just stared at the ground for a moment, his shoulders slumping from his usual military straightness, as he whispered, "Son of a Hutt, Loran." He lifted his head and looked at Garik, "Maybe I'll... stay for a little while."
"Sure."
"How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"I'm walking towards the hangar, hellbent on leaving, and the next thing I know, I'm getting a drink with you."
"The impossible was always my specialty. Wait, that was the Rogues."

[xagete]

Hi! I just wanted to say that I really liked your story, and can't wait for you to write more! style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/smile.gif

[Jors_Dedon]

thanks...
Fan count = 1

[BullsEye]

bullseye is no more

[Jors_Dedon]

Here's the next part. I've decided to do it in smaller intervals (instead of 8 pages at a time!)

Kell slowly straightened up from his slouch with Tyria by his side. His movement caused her to open her eyes and mutter a sleepily, "Wha-?" She turned her head to where Kell was looking and watched his face smirk, "No way."
Face and Crander walked into the pilot's cafeteria in unison. Face in the middle of a story, and the younger pilot actually smiling. The Ord Mantellian still had a reserved attitude and seemed to keep to himself, but at least he was speaking casually. The young black haired pilot turned his naturally icy blue eyes and met Kell's. "Hey Tainer. I... uh... I'm sorry I blew up in your face. I figure that's happened to you enough times being in the demolitions business," he offered a sly smile as he extended his hand.
Kell shook it and laughed, "Apologize and insult at the same time. That's a first."
"Won't be for long, at least while I'm around."
"Glad to hear it, and good to hear that you've chosen to stay with a wingman."
Crander's face turned a little sour at the "w" word, but managed to say, "I'll give it a try... maybe." He turned his face to meet Tyria's, and gave a half bow, "Miss Sarkin."
Targon had come in with a towel, proof of the fact that he did work out, and looked wide eyed at everyone. His eyes searched the room, cautiously, then found Shray. "Am I hallucinating, or are you actually socializing?"
"Maybe. Hey, Targon, sorry about letting the Imps kill you. Face straightened me out. He told me I'm supposed to look after you, make sure you don't screw up."
"You apologized? Are feeling alright?" Targon reached over and put his hand over Crander's forhead, who turned away from the alien's touch. "Let me express this in diplomatic terms." Targon slowed his speech as if he was talking to a child, and made movements with his hands. "It, makes, my, heart, happy, to, gain, a, new, teammate. I-"
"Does he ever shut up?," the young pilot laughed.
Face took a nut from the bar counter and threw it at Elassar. "Not usually, unless food is involved." Face began to say something about Elassar when the Devaronian first joined the crew, but Crander didn't hear. The only thing running through his ears was the sharp, angry, beeps and blats coming from an artoo unit rolling through the door. "Hum! Oh man, I forgot to tell you that we're going to stay a little bit."
If the droid could get any more sarcastic and wrathful, it was now.
Tyria slowly sat up from Tainer's arms with the shrill whistles and beeps. "Did he just say what I think he said?"
"It seems that Crander's artoo unit has had some additional vocabulary programming."
Hum rolled next to Crander, pulled out his mini tool and tried to shock the pilot's knee.
"Hey! I just got here! I was going to get you, but Targon distracted me."
A series of harsh bleeps whistled in response.
The few Wraiths and recruits that could understand Hum turned in astonishment. "Sabotage? Who?"
Hum's reply was as furious as it could possibly get.
Tyria sat up even more rigid. "For your information, it is legal to have a woman mechanic, Hum."
Turning his domed head, Hum spat out a detesting remark and insulted her. The blonde haired woman stood up, "You little..."
The droid used his mechanic servomotors to lift himself a tad higher and forward, attempting to issue a challenge to her. Crander stepped in front of Hum, "Whoa... Hum, what was this woman doing?"
An enraged blat escaped the droid.
"Let's go see what's going on. Come on." He turned toward the door, and the droid followed close behind and to his right. Before they left, the black and silver droid "yelled" another insult at Tyria. Surprised and angered, the Ord Mantellian hit the droid on the head. "You stop that!"
The two companions rounded the corner, all the while Hum whistled to himself a Nausigan Ghetto song.
"It's a good thing there's no Nausigan's here, Hum. That song could get you killed."
Hum snorted a reply about how it's unlikely that Nausigan's could actually interpret his speech, but Crander didn't hear him. Everything faded in his mind as he watched a balding brute of a mechanic strut by. Shray's mind somehow did a flip and he found himself involuntarily twisting to the side. A vibroblade jabbed the air where his back had been. With lightning fast reflexes he didn't know he had, his hand shot out, grabbed the mechanic's wrist and flipped the attacker around. The big man let out a startled gasp as Crander pulled his wrist, did a sideways flip and kicked him solidly in the face. A sharp snapping sound echoed throughout the corridor as the mechanic's head was thrown back. He sunk to the ground, lifelessly. "What in the name of the Force happened?!" Kell Tainer had come around the corner just in time to see the struggle.
"I... I don't even know. This guy just attacked me with a vibroblade. ' Guess he didn't want to work on my X-Wing anymore."
"That was one heck of a kick, Shray."
"I know."
The now-panting Ord Mantellian crouched to search the corpse for any identification; his hand fished out a card. "Ryeta Glar. Great... just great."
"What's wrong? Other than the obvious, I mean."
"Ryeta Glar isn't even a mechanic, he's a bounty hunter. Currently under contract for someone I... know."
"Wouldn't he have tried to take you alive, then?"
"That's the bad part... it must not be that specific. Which brings up another problem... if a bounty hunter is willing to kill me for the money, then professional assassins will be as well."
"How could this guy even get in here? We're in the middle of Intelligence. This stuff is supposed to be classified."
"He must have had connections high up. Do you know when he was hired?"
"It hasn't been long, I'd say about a few weeks ago. You thinking he knew you were coming, or just seized the opportunity?"
"Not sure. I'll have to talk to Face and get some answers from Cracken."

[mirax terrik horn]

wooohooo go jors, go jors keep at it you can bump that fan count up to 2.

[Jors_Dedon]

style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/bigsmile.gif
Yaaaay! style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/happy.gif
Fan count: 1.5 (j/k Mirax.) <span style="font-size:12pt;line-height:100%">2</span> woo hoo!
I'm glad someone likes it. It gets my ju ju flowing!

[Jors_Dedon]

Hum bumped into Crander and whistled angrily. "Hum! Don't you think someone trying to stab me is a little more important right now?"
Hum snorted in defiance.
"Fine. Let's hurry this up. Now what was she doing?"
The astromech droid answered in matter-of-factly beeps.
"That's it! Just taking out the seat?! I'm sure she'll put it back in. Right now I need to talk to Cracken."
Hum bleeped a response.
"Let's just hurry it up. We need-" Time suspended once more, only this time Crander's mind didn't go crazy. A lovely brown haired woman bent over a toolbox and fished out a hydrospanner. The young pilot stopped in mid-stride, staring at her gorgeous face, eyes, and hands. There was something about her hands; so beautiful with the way she moved. Not noticing Shray, she climbed inside his X-Wing and crouched under the control panel. Hum kept on rolling, about to enter the room, before Crander reached down and stopped him. The little black and silver droid swivelled its head, about to utter a sarcastic remark, when Crander held his hand to mouth.
"It'll be better to watch her from here. Uh... make sure she doesn't mess anything up." For once, the little droid acknowledged him with an agreement. The Ord Mantellian turned to see her drop silently and gently from the X-Wing, grab another tool, and crawl back up. A few moments later, she shut the control panel and replaced the pilot's chair. Crander couldn't get enough of her; her gentle swaying, her fluid, graceful pauses. She lifted one of her petite, yet greasy hands and pushed a lock of long chestnut hair behind her ear. I know her from somewhere. She looks so... familiar, but from where? She turned to face away from him, so he walked casually in from the shadowed corridor. "Thank you for working on my starfighter. I hope I haven't been to hard on it."
The young woman turned to face him, smiled and, after picking up another tool, crawled under the vehicle. He leaned against the nose of his X-Wing. "My name's Crander Shray. I just started being a Wraith, so maybe I'll see you around some-"
"Hey! What are you doing?!" A thick, husky voice echoed across the hangar. A huge man in mechanic's coveralls half limped across the room. His face was crisp, with a handlebar mustache drooping around his mouth.
"I was talking with this mechanic. Is that a problem, Officer?" Crander stepped forward, menacingly.
The mechanic let out a stiff, loud chuckle. "More like talking to her. She's mute. Flera, if this jockey gives you any trouble, you'll know where to turn." The head mechanic (as Crander guessed) flashed a mock salute, and swaggered away.
She slowly crawled out from under his X-Wing, avoiding Crander's eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me you were mute?"
Flera turned to glare at him, but once seeing his smirk, opened her mouth in a silent laugh.
"Do you know any types of sign language?"
The mechanic nodded enthusiastically, and started moving her hands in a sign. Strangely enough, Shray knew what it was. "You know Korrinian Sign?! That's great! I learned that when I was younger! Let's see..." The black haired pilot moved his hands in a fluid gesture, much too shaky compared to her graceful movements, but she understood and nodded. [So how did you come around to joining the Wraiths?]
"It's a long story." An odd pause filled the hanger. "Um, I don't know if this is a delicate matter to you, but how'd you become mute? Please forgive me if it is personal, but aren't there doctors who can fix it?"
[How I became... this way is a long story. The doctors only can fix my vocal cords if they insert a machine into me, and I don't want that.]
"Well, this is a big galaxy. Isn't there someone who can fix them without a machine?"
[The only surgeons who can are too... expensive for me. That is why I'm here: to earn money.]
"Sithspawn. For some reason, you look so familiar to me, and I can't quite figure it out."
Flera let out a long sigh. [Have you seen any of Wynnsa Starflare's holodramas?]
"My sister used to love them so- wait a second... didn't you play one of Wynnsa's friends?!"
[And sang during Starflare's kiss with Jix Ylar...]
"... In Moonlight Tonight. I loved that song."
[Now you're just flattering.]
"No, seriously, I really loved it. It was called "The Way of Love," right?"
Flera's hands became a little shaky. [Yes.]
He cleared his voice and replied, "It went:
'When you stand next to me,
you put my mind in ecstasy,
come closer, boy, I need your touch,
hold me much'. Then-" Crander stopped when he noticed Flera was silently sobbing. "I... I'm sorry." He moved closer and put his arm around her. The brown haired woman flinched at first, then she grabbed him and cried quietly into his shoulder. Hum had actually been silent this entire time, until now. He turned his head and gave a "so what" dismissal beep. "Hey! How would you like it if I tore your voicebox out?"
The droid seemed to stare at Shray in disbelief, then exploded into a rage. Sure the little droid was usually stressed out, and always used bad language, but this time the astromech went off like a thermal detonator. The droid whirled around and around, beeping and blatting that Crander is a double-crossing nerf (expletive). "Hey, Hum... why don't you have some compassion for once?! ... What do you mean 'look who's talking?!'" Flera slowly withdrew from his arms and composed herself. "Look, I'm sorry about this little hunk of junk."

Hum stopped spinning, rolled to Crander's side and watched Flera's hand movements. {What's she saying? What the kriff is that frinking maggot of a Hutt saying?!}
"Losing your voice is no small thing. You shouldn't toughen yourself up when you don't need to," Shray paused and swallowed hard, "It's something that I'm starting to learn too."
[I,] the mechanic leaned weakly against the side of his starfighter, [I listen to my voice; listen to the soundtracks I made, trying desperately to recreate the sounds I hear.] She hit her palm angrily against the cold metal. [But I can't, it's...useless.] With that last hand sign, tears ran down her fair cheeks, causing a few small patches of grease to drip down her face. Crander's heart felt like it poured out of him, causing him to lean against the metal. He slowly picked up a rag and gently wiped her wet face. Their eyes met, and he looked deeply into her dark brown eyes. "What will the surgery cost?" She pulled her head back in alarm, her eyes wide. [I couldn't ask you to do that. It's much too expensive, and I hardly even know you.]
"What will the surgery cost?"
[Please, if you're trying to get me to like you, it's working, but you don't have to do this.]
"What will the surgery cost?"
She sighed. [Crander, please. I don't want you to do that for me.]
"But [i]I do. How much?"
Flera sighed in defeat, [About 200,000 credits. Crander, don't.]
"Fine. I won't buy it for you, but what if I help out?"

"Being from Ord Mantell, I'm naturally a Ralltiir Tiger at sabacc. I also... uh... know some people. I can't do anything right this minute, but I'll try very soon. I... I'll leave you alone now." The black haired pilot turned to go, but Flera stopped him. She leaned up and tenderly kissed his cheek. [Thank you.]
"My pleasure. You know, we've been talking and I don't even know your last name."
She blushed slightly. [Yes. My full name Flera Rezzar Jicoma Sharone.]
"Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Flera, or Vil."
The mechanic's cheeks flushed even more at the mention of her stage name. [I'll... see you around.]

"That is on a need-to-know basis, Shray, and right now you don't need to know."
Crander couldn't believe the words coming out of General Cracken's mouth. Shray, Cracken and Face sat at a table in the General's office. He stood up and fumed, "I don't need to know?! Someone is trying to kill me, and I don't need to know? Something strange is going on, Cracken, and suddenly you have become very suspicious in my mind."
"Me?!" Airen Cracken laughed out loud. "What about you? A young recruit, related to crime lords, and not seen for five years, until now, when you all of a sudden want to join the squad. It's a wonder Face even lets you near the Wraiths, much less be one of them."
"Go ahead, check my background. Go over every little detail you wish through your petty 'sources'. Comb through my entire life, right down to every time I brushed my teeth." A crisp military knock sounded before a young officer strode in and spoke into Cracken's ears. From what Crander could tell, they had found nothing. "Find all the 'Imperial connections' I supposedly have?"
The older man shut his lips tightly. "Think what you want, but I don't have time for this-"
"Neither do I."
"I have work to do, and so do you. Back to your duties."
"No."
"What?"
"Clean your ears out General, I said 'no'."
The red haired General turned furiously to Face; regained himself, "I think insubordination could be a pretty stamp on his record, don't you think so Loran?"
"The Wraith Squad has been all about second chances. Crander, you will show proper respect to your authority."
"I give respect where it is due, and that's not here. I said this before, but now I mean it: I'm leaving. No pep talks this time, Loran. I'm done."
"An insubordinate punk and a quitter, Face, I-" Crander couldn't take it. He snapped around and slammed his fist into the General's face. The motion caught the General off-guard and caused him to fall back. Face jumped up and caught Airen Cracken, "Shray! You will stop this at once!"
General Cracken gained control over his shock, and stood, "Physically attacking an officer is a high offense. You will now be reprimanded and taken prisoner as an enemy."
"You wish," Crander managed to utter. "I'm sick of you high-and-mighty officers, self-righteous fools. My guerilla team could've slashed you apart. Respect is something you earn there, and not shake around. This is a sad excuse for a military, where everyone falls down to "respect" the commanders... it makes me sick. Goodbye."
Shray turned and marched briskly out the door, regaining his solemn, angry posture. Cracken turned to Face, "You [i]want him in this squadron?! You need to consider some other recruits, Loran. Crander Shray has problems, and will be punished." He moved to press the comm link, but Garik put his hand over it.
"Why can't he have the information about Ryeta Glar?"
"You're defending him?! He punched me in the face!" Cracken felt his chin, his hand touching the line of blood running down from his lip.
"I need him in this squadron, he's an incredible pilot."
"His pilot skills do not balance his attitude. You should've let him go when he first left. He is an unruly, undisciplined, and arrogant punk, who has no place in the New Republic army. I am going to remove him."
"General, please. He needs this squadron just as much as the Wraiths need him."
"Why do you defend him?"
"Because I was exactly in his place a few years ago. I can see desperation all over his face. He has nothing to live for, no one to go to."
"Is this still not getting to you? He attacked me."
"Yes... give him another chance, General."
"I'm sorry Loran, but I can't." Cracken pushed Garik's hand aside, pressed the comm link, and spoke into it calmly, "Gaurds, refrain Recruit Crander Shray from leaving headquarters."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crander trudged quickly to his room, ignoring the other Wraiths he passed and keyed the door open. Hum, stood in the room, with all of the pilot's clothes and bags ready to go. "What? How'd you know we were leaving?"
{It happened all the other times, so I prepared. I'm glad we're leaving that bantha sweat of a mechanic.}
At this reply, Crander hit his fist against the wall. "Kriff! I told her I'd help her!" Hitting his fist against the wall wasn't enough, so Shray began to pound his head against it. "We only have a few moments before good 'ol Cracken's military task force comes knocking on my door. What the kriff am I going to tell her?"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What?!"
"The Rogues did it before, so the Wraiths are doing it as well."
"You're defecting?!"
"Affirmative, General." Face stripped off his military patch and placed it on Airen Cracken's desk, "I'll inform the rest of the Wraiths. I'm sure they'll do the same."
"But... I need you," the fiery red haired man hastily said, "the New Republic needs you."
"It's such a coincidence, don't you think? I need Shray, and you need me. You aren't going to get my squad without Shray."
"You stiffnecked pilots. I break my back all day-"
"Then that makes two of us. No use arguing, Cracken, you know that I'm as stubborn as an angry Krayt Dragon. What's your choice?"
"You just don't get it. That pilot needs discipline, he is far too unruly, and you are far, far too reckless. Practically inviting this pilot, who we know nothing about-"
"You shouldn't be scared of the unknown, sir."
"Yes, I should be. That's the problem. If I found out he was some murderer, no problem, I could deal with him quickly and easily. The fact that Intelligence can't find anything, and that he won't tell us anything, gives me reason to become very suspicious of him. There are very few cases where Intelligence can't find anything about someone, those times usually turn out to be bad ones."
A long ackward silence ensued, Face staring at the wall; Cracken staring at his desk, neither of them saying anything. Face stirred, then answered, "I will make sure he doesn't disrespect you, sir."
The General heaved a long sigh, then frowned, "I have a feeling I will regret this." He keyed his comm link, "Guards, bring Flight Officer Crander Shray into my office."

[Soontir Solo]

Not bad, I doubt Face would threaten to leave the New Republic over this recruit though.

[Jors_Dedon]

Yeah... I wanted to use that to show that Face isn't just jumping around and telling jokes, that he's become more serious since he is in command. It was an attempt to reveal that Face has been in Crander's shoes before, and knows what he's going through. I obviously didn't do it well enough. style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tongue.gif
Crander's Decision and... ? up next.

[Jors_Dedon]

<span style="font-size:36pt;line-height:100%">Part 4</span>

"Sir, General Cracken wishes to see you." A heavily armored security guard walked briskly in pace with Crander as he trekked toward the hangar, duffel bag in hand. Hum rolled at Crander's side, whistling nervously to himself as a few other guards walked beside them.
The Ord Mantellian looked sideways and counted four guards, automatically designating targets according to how close they were. "I don't give a Hutt's phlegm. I'm leaving."
The guard who spoke smoothly pulled out his blaster, "I'm afraid that wasn't a request. He wishes to see you, now."
"Look, I've had a bad day, this whole pilot thing-" Instantly, Crander jumped back beside another guard. As expected, a blue stun bolt lanced out from the first guard, but not before Shray threw his bag. The duffel bag hit the gun, making it turn sideways and accidentily stun a fellow guard. Bullseye. Another guard, a few feet in front of Crander fired a stun bolt, but the pilot sidestepped and tripped the guard closest to him into the blue beams.
Quickly and gracefully, he grabbed the other guard's blaster and shot two of the remaining guards. Hum whipped out an illegally modified minitool and sent a stun bolt into the last one. {Take that you miserable rancor carcass! You putrid garbage eating dianogah of a human!}
"Come on, let's get out of here." Crander dropped the blaster and strode away.
"What happened this time?"
Shray turned to see Kell Tainer crouching over the bodies, checking the pulses. When the huge man was satisfied that all were alive, he stood up.
"It's funny how you always end up seeing me fight. This time everything was intentional."
"So... are you a friend or foe right now? You just took out 5 guards who are supposed to be 'good guys'."
"I'm not trying to kill anyone or anything, Tainer. I'm leaving."
"Again?," the big man smiled as the younger pilot glared at him.
"For real this time. No pep talks."
"I know, I'm a horrible inspirationalist anyway."
"Look, I'm supposed to be in trouble right now. I punched General Cracken."
"What? Why?!"
"He called me a punk and a quitter. I just wanted him to eat his words and see how they tasted. I guess I'm in really deep now." He turned away, "I'll see you around, Tainer." Kell jogged up next to him and walked in unison with the Ord Mantellian.
"Sorry to see you go. I think you just set the record for being here the shortest time."
"Glad to find out I achieved something."
The two pilots came to the hangar, where Crander's X-Wing stood spotlessly in the bright glow of the strip lights. Kriff, I really hope Flera didn't screw up my X-Wing or something. Now is not the time. He looked up to see Garik Loran sitting on the nose of his X-Wing."
"Not now, Loran. I'm leaving."
"Good, because I am too."
Kell and Crander's heads went back a centimeter in surprise. "You defected?" they said at the same time.
"Yep. I told Cracken if Shray leaves, so do the Wraiths."
The Ord Mantellian pilot shook his head in disbelief and dissatisfaction. "Sorry to spoil your defection, but I'm still not flying for you guys."
"Why not?"
"It's going to be hard to fit the entire squadron in my X-Wing."
"The word 'cozy' comes to mind.
How about if Cracken gives you the information that you need, you apologize, then you both kiss and make up?"
"And Garik Loran saves the day once again," Crander added cynically.
"Shray, you seriously have issues."
"Tell me something I don't know."
Face leaned forward from his relaxed pose, donning the strict Commander-esque style not fitting to his personality. "You think you'll be fine once you walk away, right?"
"At least I'll be away from self righteous fools like Cracken."
"Once again, you're misfiring, Shray. Cracken was only doing his job, just like Targon was when he stayed with you. The reason he won't give you information is because he doesn't trust you, and for good reason. What would you do when some hot shot strolls in and wants to be recruited. You check him out and find that everything is buried, except that he's closely related with the Ord Mantellian Mafia. Normally, he wouldn't let anyone like you close, but I insisted that you get to join. What would you do?"
"You need a better strategy in your pep talks, Loran. Not: argue, put Crander in his shoes, get him to say he was wrong, then work it all out."
Face sighed in tired disgust, then became angry. "You are being such a little whiner right now, Shray! You want to walk away everytime you get angry about something. It takes someone with real guts to realize he was wrong and admit defeat. Suck it up."
Crander turned to his astromech droid. "Hum, start up the X."
Face dropped down from the starfighter, "Shray... please just try to work things out. You can't leave everytime something makes you angry. I've said this before, but I need you. We need you."
Out from behind the other vehicles in the hangar stepped the entire Wraith Squadron, as well as the other accepted recruits whom Shray had not met. Crander twisted his head and torso to look at each one, then his eyes found Flera. She met his gaze with sad, upraised eyebrows and tight, expecting lips.
Hum stopped rolling and did the same took in the entire scene. {Let's get the frink out of here.}
Crander sighed as he returned to face Garik Loran and laughed, "You just won't let me leave, won't you?"
The Face flashed his boyish smile, "Not a chance."

[mirax terrik horn]

hey jors if you dont post the next part of your story i will.muwahahaha

[Jors_Dedon]

Hey! I'm getting there. You need to learn something we call 'patience'. I want to make sure the next part is really good, (well, at least take out all the spelling errors. style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/tongue.gif )

[Jors_Dedon]

"Ryeta Glar was hired two weeks ago, and desired to become a mechanic using the name 'Elyon Ulyon'. Everything about him checked out; he had papers, a background... are you sure he was an assassin and not someone with a grudge?" Kell and Tyria slowly sipped their cup of caf as they and Crander sat alone in the cafeteria.
"I knew him when we were younger. The vibroblade was his weapon of choice..."
Kell asked, "Shray... tell me about you... about your past."
"Why?"
"Why not? Why hide it from everyone? It would make things a whole lot easier for all of us."
Crander slowly and carefully set his mug down, and stared straight into Tainer's eyes. "I try not to remember."
Tyria leaned forward, her eyes soft and gentle, "Can you do it just once?"
After a few moments, the young pilot rested his head on his cheek, and shut his eyes, keeping in the tears. "I was raised on Ord Mantell as Crander Louk Shray. My father is Plev Shray, head of The Staves. My older brother Briv was supposed to be the next King of Staves, when Plev died or became too old and I was designated the Ace of Staves, the second highest in the business, under no one but Briv. In The Staves, the Ace is usually the... the one who gets the most 'action'. He's the one right in the middle of the fray.
I wasn't raised to be some sort of superhuman, but to use my head, and not my arms in the middle of a fight. To turn your enemies against themselves was counted greater than simply beating them. So I did, I was raised to be accurate, precise, and smooth. Plev liked me to play sabacc in my free time since I was 5 years old; to get me to use my mind to outsmart others. I was also trained in Teras Kasi, and Velary Doul.-"
"Velary Doul?"
"A type of... exercise to be a sharpshooter; to not have to use two shots when one will do.
"I became reckless, stealing airspeeders for fun, then it became too easy. That's when I joined the Shadow Outlaws and started taking Interceptors from the Empire."
"So you didn't have a grudge against Imperials or anything?"
Crander shrugged, "Not really, I just did it because it was fun, it was a rush. Plev never liked that very much, he always said that it drew attention where it wasn't needed.
"A big deal was going on once, a really big deal, when I was assigned to... get rid of someone." Shray brought his hands up and rubbed his watery eyes as a single tear fell down his cheek. "I... killed someone alright, but he was completely innocent.
"Normally this wouldn't be much a problem, I usually wouldn't think twice, but... as I," He sniffed, "as I slit the man's throat, his... little daughter walked into the room." Crander slammed his fist on the table in melancholy anger. Little rivers of water poured out of his eyes, as he looked pleadingly to Tyria. "She couldn't have been over 4 years old and I... I'll never forget her pale, horror stricken face. Right then, I realized I had murdered an innocent man and I went to Plev, outraged. I asked him why he lied to me, telling me the man was a killer. He simply... shrugged it off and said that if he told me the truth I wouldn't have done it. In my fury, I pulled out a vibroblade and threw it at him, hitting him right in the gut. I don't even know if he is alive or not, but I doubt it." Shray wiped his eyes with his hand.
"I ran away with the Shadow Outlaws right after that. Our third raid was when Sinead and I were flying through a canyon, he in front, me behind. I hadn't put on my seat restraints, we were in a bit of a hurry, when a TIE shot me from behind. The bolt hit the shields, knocking me forward, my hand slipping and hitting the fire button. Loran told you the rest."
For a long while, Kell and Tyria just sipped their caf as Crander regained control of his face, and dried the tears with a napkin. Tyria leaned back, "Many of us come from hard pasts, and I can understand your grief, but why didn't you want to tell us about your background?"
"I don't want to be reminded of it. There's other things that I saw and lived amongst that I wish could be erased as well. Spice runners, thugs, hitmen, theives, spies, traitors, information brokers... all that stuff." Shray hung his head and shook it, "I wish I could've had a different life."
"I'm glad you were raised just the way you were."
"Why?"
"Because it shaped you into what you are now. You have incredible abilities, and you can now use them so no one else will go through what you did. There are probably a lot of things you could do, Crander, but this one will change everything for the better. I want you to know that I'm proud of you. You probably could've just shrugged your past off, and become the Ace of Staves... become the next monster, but you didn't." She put her hand over his, and looked sincerely into his icy eyes, "You probably could've commited suicide, but you didn't. There are a million decisions that you could've made, and you've chosen the best one.
"I know that you're not used to this, but we're here for you, and we care. We want to help, not so we can pat ourselves on the back and say 'Good job, Wraiths,' but so that we can help you."
"Thanks guys."
The cafeteria door slid open, and pilot with shock-white hair strolled casually in with Face at his side. No way. The two found Crander, Kell and Tyria, and made their way over. "Officer Shray, this will be your new wingmate, Jors Dedon."
"Jors! Elytab no eeha, tro'uuba!"
The younger pilot shrugged and flashed a smile that Crander wasn't sure he liked and replied with a smug, "Toognim grit'ah vee poi'nu."
Shray looked him up and down, noticing how much he had grown since they last met. Jors had a fine build, handsome features, with sharp green eyes and short, spiky hair that could blend in on Hoth. The recruit resumed his conceited smile and bowed, "Ace of Staves."
"Old friends, I hope?" Face asked cautiously, right hand on his blaster grip.
"I guess you could say that. Why don't you introduce me to your friends, Crander?"
"This is Tyria Sarkin, and her beau, Kell Tainer." The blond woman offered a handshake, but Jors took it and kissed it smoothly. "I am so happy to finally meet the great Tyria Sarkin."
Crander grabbed Jors' arm and pulled him back, "We need to have a little talk, privately, Dedon."
"Sure, Ace."

His boots clicked against hard metal corridors, producing the popping sound that he loved to hear. Crisp and clean. Unlike this place. His mind raced as his military strides carried him through his weapons factory. "Director Gresson, so good to see you today sir," a lowly subject managed to whisper as he got on his hands and knees, trembling. Gresson didn't even give the unworthy disgrace of a scientist a second look. He hasn't earned it yet. "Stand," his voice boomed, "continue your duties. I never told anyone to grovel before me."
"But sir, you issued an order yesterday that all subjects must bow to you when opportunity presents itself."
"Lies!"
The scientist resumed his shaking after a moment of still confusion. He managed to take a piece of flimsiplast out of his grey frock. "Sir, I... I have your issue right here."
"Forgery! Making illicit copies of orders from a high commander is an offense. Guards!"
The terrified human dropped to his knees, "Please Master Gresson. You have your signature right here! Do you remember?"
Trilin Gresson, the Twi'lek Minister of the Troch Installation reached out and took the flimsiplast. "I never made any such order." Four stormtoopers marched in with incredible precision; he liked that. "Take this man to a prison block."
"Sir, all the prison cells are full."
"Then put him in with someone!"
"He won't fit anywhere."
"Fine," Trilin snatched a blaster rifle from one of them. "I sentence you to death, measly scientist." He held the blaster to the man's head and pulled the trigger. A spray of blood shot out onto his clean Admiral uniform, making him furious. "What is this red liquid?!"
"Uh... that's blood, sir."
"Clean it all up." He crossed his arms and frowned darkly, brooding. "See to it that a scientist gives me a report of what this 'blood' is, in the morning."
"You have one on your desk from yesterday."
"Whatever," he waved his hand in dismissal, "I must go change. The Emporer is coming, and I don't want to look like this."
"Uh... sir, the Emporer is dead."
Gresson stepped back in surprise, "What?! When?"
"When the last Death Star was in construction."
"Another Death Star?"
"Um... yes sir."
He squinted his eyes, suspecting treachery. "What proof do you have?"
"There have been numerous holocam footage from some of the Star Destroyers."
"I want them in the theater at once."
"Sir, they are already there."
"Why didn't anyone tell me before?"
"We..." the stormtrooper noticed a slight shake of the head from his nearest companion, "uh... we were combing through it for untrue information. Making sure those Rebel scum didn't falsify the records."
Gresson clapped him on the back. "Good work. Are you sure it's true evidence?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, good. You are to be promoted. Um... what's the next level for a stormtrooper?"
"A squad commander, sir."
"Great! You are to be a squad commander."
"Uh... thank you, sir."
"Now... clean this mess up. I have... what was I going to do?"
"You were... going to pay me, sir."
"I was, wasn't I? Just name your price to the financial officer. Here is my stamp of approval. Now, I remember there was something else..."
"You were going to issue longer breaks for us stormtroopers."
"Oh yes! That was it? How long do you boys need?"
They all shrugged, "I don't know, a few hours maybe?"
"Done. But then..."
"You were going to change. The Emporer is coming."
The Twi'lek slapped his forehead, "That's right! Oh, I need to get ready. I can't go about looking like this."
'Admiral' Trilin Gresson turned and strolled away. As soon as he left the room, the stormtroopers burst out laughing. "We should hide his medicine more often, he's more fun this way."
"So what should we do now?"
"Anyone up for a game of sabacc?"
"What about the body?"
"We'll do it later. Grand Admiral won't even remember it anyway." Their laughter echoed throughout the room for a long while...

"Alright, what the kriff are you doing here?" Crander shoved Jors into his room and drew a blaster. The white-haired pilot shrugged and held out his arms, palms up. "What? No hug for your little brother?"
"I'd just as soon marry a rancor."
Jors feigned hurt, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. "You never changed, Crander Shray."
"I have changed."
Crander's younger brother fell backward onto the bed, "Coulda fooled me."
"I should just pull this frinking trigger, right now. It'd save us both alot of trouble."
Jors lifted himself to sit, his eyes glaring with anger, "Go ahead! I've got nothing to lose."
"Why did Briv send you? What's with the alias?" Shray yelled.
Jors closed his fist, opening one finger at a time. "First, Briv didn't send me. Second, Briv isn't in control... Dad is. Third, I hope you've gotten better at vibroblade throwing, cause you were horrible. Fourth, Arrekur Shray isn't my name anymore because I've disappeared. Fifth... I need a fifth, say something so I can correct you for number five."
"I don't trust you as far as I could toss a planet, Arrekur."
"Five, you've still got that paranoid Staves spirit as well."
"It arrived with you. How'd you 'disappear'?"
"Almost the same way you did, actually. Dad killed Searlait Jafilob, Crander. Personally." Shray's knees became a little weaker, although he didn't show it, at the mention of the kind, old Verpine mechanic. He had to wait a second before his voice was restored. "What'd you do?"
Jors smiled wickedly in revenge, "Remember the Star Sailor?"
The black haired pilot smiled, admirably, "You little bantha kriff."
"I accidentily left a few thermal detonators in there." He gestured a wide open circle with his hands, "Kaboom."
"So... what, you expect me to hug you because you're coming clean? What's the deal with Ryeta Glar?"
"Glar? Oh, he was here?"
"Don't pull that kriff with me. You were always on top of the source."
"Plev sent him here a while ago. He's planted more than a few contacts all over the place. Now that Glar's dead, they'll know where you are. I stopped by to see you. You've been gone for what... five years isn't it? It's good to see you again."
"I wish I could say the same," he lifted the blaster up to aim at Jors' chest, "now you can get the frink out of here, and go crawling back to Plev, telling him your little story didn't work."
"I always wonder why you call him Plev, and not 'Dad'."
"I don't want to be associated with him. Now get out of here."
Dedon slowly stood and fished out a folded document from a pocket, "According to this paper, I've been granted a new name and background as part by the New Republic. Last time I checked, killing an innocent witness is illegal."
"Innocent? Maybe I should tell them about all your activities with the Staves."
"That makes the both of us then, doesn't it? I came here to be a pilot, that's what I like. I didn't even know you were here."
"That's hard to believe."
"Believe whatever you want, but I'm staying."
"Over my dead body."
"I sorry you feel that way," instantly, Jors leaped forward, grabbing the blaster with one hand and palming Crander with the other. A blaster bolt went wild, missing Dedon by a inch. He flipped his legs around, tripping Shray and twisting the blaster out of his older brother's hand. Crander retaliated with a quick swipe to the forearm, but Jors blocked it, spun and kicked. The older pilot, now on the floor, ducked beneath the kick, and pulled Dedon's feet out from under him.
In one fluid motion, Dedon fell, Crander pulled a spare blaster out, aiming at his brother's head. He found himself staring into a blaster barrel as well. Dedon lay stretched out sideways to him, back against the floor, right arm outstretched with the blaster. He sat perpendicular to the white-haired pilot, blaster arm resting on his knee. "Funny, I didn't know blasters run without power packs."
Jors lifted his left hand, the Blastech power battery resting peacefully in his grip. Crander raised his hands in surrender. His younger brother slowly stood up, keeping his blaster trained on him. "A few years ago, I would have done this without hesitation." Dedon clicked the safety on the blaster, then threw it on the bed. "It's good to see you alive, Crander... no matter how slow you've gotten." Silently, he keyed the door open and left.
Shray, still sitting, punched a chair at his side and cursed viciously. Games. Aren't they? No, Arrekur wants me to doubt my gut.

[mirax terrik horn]

once agian bravo bravo marvelous simply marvelous........even though you screwed up a name. style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/mad.gif

[Jors_Dedon]

My favorite part as of now is when Jors has Crander's power pack in his hand. (I hope all of you realized that Jors swiped it when he palmed Crander. He knew that his older brother had a spare, he knew exactly where it was, and he got the battery without Crander even noticing.) :sigh: Jors is so awesome... style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/cool.gif

[Jeianni]

I know this is going to sound stupid and it's completely off subject, but Jors, are you male or female? I remember your first avater was the Gaerial Captison avater, and Gaerial's a girl, but in this fan-fic, Jors Dedon is a guy. I'm kind of confused....

[Jors_Dedon]

My avatar was Gaeriel because I think she's the hottest in all of Star Wars. I'm a male.

[mirax terrik horn]

fine jors i am sorry and i wont slam your fan flic any more(i still think you should have gone with the origanal name) but i am sorry.

[Jors_Dedon]

More to come in a day or so.

[xagete]

Do you remember the first time we talked, Jors, and I called you a girl? It was because of your first avatar. I was so embarassed when you turned out to be a guy, that I pretended that it was because my fingers typed the wrong word, and I really ment to call you him. Don't have any idea why I just told you that. style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/blush.gif

[Jeianni]

Happy Birthday Jors, sweet 16!! You're all grown up!!

[Jors_Dedon]

next small part...

'Admiral' Gresson slowly paced back and forth in his main office. Here, in the carefully hidden asteriod field, lay his immense facility. Why is the Emporer so late? "He is an incredibly busy man, Trilin," he answered himself. The Twi'lek carefully rubbed his leathery hands together while moving around in the small, dark room. The chrono said it was after midnight, but Trilin didn't care, he had thinking to do... hard thinking. Involuntarily, he began asking and replying to his own questions. "How can I speed up my weapons?"
"By increasing the speed of the droid's mind, of course."
"Increasing the droid's mind... brilliant."
"Why thank you."
"I could speed up the main core, then add another sect to the brain wave patterns, causing them to have an entirely new thought process, but it is not good enough. I need something more, something... something..." His stomach growled with hunger as his mind thirsted for the answer. He snatched a handful of raw nerf meat from his desk and downed it in a single gulp.
"What if... what if I widened the sensory perception?" His eyes widened at the thought. "It would be incredibly simple too."
"Yes! The droids wouldn't just behave like sentient beings, they would act like... superhumans. Better than any being."
"Of course, but what if I did more?"
"More?!"
"Yes. What if I not only increased the senses, but added some as well."
"Added some senses to what?"
"To what we've just been talking about!"
"What was that?"
Trilin raised his finger to scold himself, but stopped. "What was I going to do?"
"You are the one that's supposed to remember. I'm the creative side of your mind."
Gresson snarled in anger at himself, "It had something to do with... the project."
"Then go down to the experimental lab and try to remember."
"Yes."
Stealthily, Trilin snuck out of his quarters and darted into the shadows. The darkness comforted him, hid him from the tormenting. Hid... his face. Trilin touched his face, then scratched it in fury. Why? Something had caused him to have a hideous face, something that caused other Twi'leks to laugh at him. Laughing, teasing, pointing... those were the only things he could clearly remember. Ironically, that was what he tried to forget. Where was I going?
The labarotory. Trilin nodded, then resumed his journey.
Once reaching the sterilized area, he slipped inside and starting up the main computer. Bringing up the data on the Human Replica Droids, he began drawing a plan. Frustrated, he couldn't remember what he was going to do. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The Twi'lek pictured himself, standing in complete darkness, a misty fog encircling him. Breif images, too blurry to understand, drifted amidst the smoke. Trilin frowned with authority and whispered a forceful "Clear." Nothing. "Clear." The same. Gresson bunched his lips in childish anger. "Clear!" The grey smoke remained around his mind. He began to cry, physically and in his mind as well, he managed a small, pleading "Clear!."
The smoke disappeared. He clapped to himself in toddler-like gladness, remembering his plan for the HRD's. Seizing his chance for peace of mind, he rapidly tapped the keys on the computer, drawing, and expanding. "These will be better than superbeings. They will be like... like..." both of his minds whispered, "Jedi."
"Yes. Yes! Not just 5 senses but more!" Trilin's fingers blazed over the keypad. "Increase sight, increase smell, increase feel. Taste? Not needed, take it out. Increase hearing. Extrasensory preception... hmmm what is the program?"
The alien's mind gradually became cloudy again... causing his mind to forget the program. He squinted and frowned, his lower lip curling downwards in frustration. Why can't I remember?! With eyes shut, Gressons slammed his right hand sideways. It collided with a shelf, causing him to open his eyes in shock. The last thing he saw as he looked up was a glass container filled with a blue-ish liquid. The container shattered as it broke against his face. His muffled scream was the last thing he heard as all went dark.

[mirax terrik horn]

very good a little confusing with whats his name talking to himself. but otherwise very good.

[Jors_Dedon]

style_emoticons/<#EMO_DIR#>/wacko.gif Sorry it's been so long. Here's some more.

This, this is not good. Kray'ness Liet, a Rodian, marched through a long corridor, feeling fresh and aware after having a good night's sleep. The alien turned a corner, nearly stumbling into a young white-haired flight officer. [Oops, I'm sorry.]
"No worries. Hey, you're a clan Gri'andi'bar, aren't you?" The pilot stopped his stroll, putting his arm around the Rodian in a friendly gesture. The alien puffed out his chest with pride. [Correct.]
"You work for Cracken, right?"
[Yes. Everyone here does.]
"Right, right. Well when you get a chance, could you tell him-" drawing the alien's attention to his left, Dedon silently stuck a needle into the side of the alien's neck. Jors brushed his finger against a hair-sized trigger, then pulled the needle out. "-that Jors Dedon would like to speak with him sometime?"
[Why not just request it yourself?]
"I don't know."
[You can ask Cracken yourself.]
"Fine... I guess I'll see you around. Maybe we should get a drink sometime."
The two parted, the Rodian innocently unaware of the spy bug Jors injected into him. Dedon walked away, smiling smugly to himself. Amateur. Smoothly, he injected a microscopic device into his own ears. He tapped the small Corellian style music player in his pocket and was rewarded with the sound of the alien's footsteps.
"Good morning recruit, breakfast is in the cafeteria. Gym workout begins in 0.5 hours, so set your rear on 'rocket' and eat." Shalla Nelprin, the dark skinned original Wraith, stood in the doorway of her quarters, hands on her hips. Jors looked her up and down, his conceited smile radiating from his face.
"Could I have the pleasure of walking with you, Miss Nelprin?"
"You recruits," she sighed.
"Resistance to my superhuman charm is futile, Lt. Nelprin. Give in, you know you can't stop thinking about me."
Shalla laughed, then swung her leg around to playfully trip Dedon as they walked. Surprise came, when he casually sidestepped, avoiding the kick, then extending his own leg, pushing her off balance. Instantly, she stepped back, regaining her stance. Jors took a few easy steps forward, then stopped and turned around. "I thought we were going to breakfast together."
"Uh, right."

As soon as Cracken saw the troubled Rodian's face, he laid down his paper work. "What is it, Liet?"
[Our contact in the Troch center hasn't contacted us on schedule.]
"That is unlike him. When was his last report?"
The alien looked at his wrist chrono. [About 73 hours ago. He was supposed to have two for us.]
Airen Cracken slowly rubbed his eyes, "What was he assigned as?"
[Low degree scientist.]
"This Troch Installation. It's been a while since we worried about that. Could you refresh my memory?"
[Captain Gressons of the Imperial Regime hasn't been a threat to us at all. With all the Zsinj efforts, we haven't the time or need to deal with him. Our contact reported that there was some type of facility on an asteroid, that he is now working in. Actually, Captain Trilin Gressons isn't in charge anymore. A head scientist went insane and usurped the Captain, blaming him for treason. Now the scientist thinks he is Captain Trilin Gressons.]
"No one has ever told me this before. Why just now?"
["Trilin Gressons" has a 30 second memory, so not much work has been accomplished. In the 4 years he's been in control, about 2 months worth of progress has been made. Naturally, we didn't think him as a threat just yet.]
"Human Replica Droids? Did he say anything about what exactly they were doing?"
[He noted that they were attempting to update them, and mass produce them like soldiers. Only one was made a few months back, but it was destroyed due to faulty programming.]
"Well, our best guess is that our boy was captured and killed, which means they realize we know where they are."
[It is a small possibility, but the facts still remain. If they somehow have a new... mentally stable director, we could be in trouble.]
"I want all available resources to tag them, look for business deals, and watch them. The smartest thing to do is act while we still can."
[That possibility of any effect on the New Republic is incredibly unlikely, sir. It's only been a few days.]

[mirax terrik horn]

yet agian jors you have outdone yourself. very good.


p.s. you will be getting an e-mail from me soon.

[Jors_Dedon]

Ingredients for next part:
1 cup shaping of villain
3 cups fight scene action
1/2 cup of revelation

White... white all around him, surrounding and suffocating him. The patient let out a horrid gasp as his eyes slowly opened for the first time in what seemed like decades. His mouth, dry like the sands of Ryloth, managed to let out a painful scream. All his ears heard was a small moan. What happened?! Trilin Gressons slowly let his legs off the side of the medical cot. The touch of the cold, hard metal soothed his feet. With much effort, he slowly lifted himself to a sitting position and pushed himself off the bed. Instantly, his legs collapsed, plopping him onto the floor. Like the time Hyive pushed me on the playground. Like the time I slipped off my first speeder on Taanab. Like the... what? Trilin's eyes widened in amazement, at the realization of his memory! It's there! It's all there! With his legs shaking weakly, he managed to sit back up on the cot. I... I can remember! I remember mom, papa, and... and even uncle Pidro! I... I remember... Trilin's mind grew dark, I remember the Death Star's destruction, the Emporer dying, and... the stormtroopers. Gressons let out a whoop of joy at his new tool, only to be rewarded with a barely audible breathing sound. He let his eyes slowly droop to his hands. What?! The lumpy, disfigured green skin had growth and tumors covering it. No! My pretty hands! Mournfully he covered his fingers over his face, only to feel more deformed features. His mouth meant to say "NO" but all he heard was laborious groan. He half-ran, half stumbled into the refresher station on his side. His legs didn't respond as well as they had, but he eventually made it. He reached the mirror, and a horribly ugly alien looked back at him. Large lumps and scar tissue covered his face, some starting to overlap his eyes. In a cry of anguish he threw his fist into the mirror. He winced automatically, but felt absolutely nothing. Not the slightest twitch of feeling registered into his mind.
Puzzled, Trilin slowly pulled back his hands, a deep red blood covering his glass covered hand. The dark refresher station made it hard to see. Dark, dark... like the caverns on Ryloth. He covered his face with his huge, scarred hands, the glass points digging into his cheeks. He couldn't feel anything, and his eyesight was blurry. Trilin slowly let his body crumble to the floor, wondering why the gods of his home planet had bestowed him with such anguish. His grip of the floor weakened, as he realized he was covered in blood and tears. Who cares. Maybe I will be fortunate enough to die here. Somehow, someway, he felt another presence enter behind him. A Verpine surgeon, clad in white, slowly skittered in. Trilin slowly lifted his head. "Whaaaaaa-s wrong wi- me?!"
"We found you covered in glycozival acid, and you are extremely lucky, sir.-"
"Me? Mha!"
"- if we had found you later, you'd be dead. It was hard enough to keep you alive as it was."
"You shoul- have le- me die."
"Things aren't as bad as they seem."
Anger surged through Gressons. "The- see-m rea-ly ba- to me!"
"We are working on a voice modulator as soon as possible. The rest will take some time, but for now, you need rest, sir."
The Verpine helped Trilin back into the medical bed. "Can I get you anything, sir?"
Gressons voice dropped to an angry growl. "Fin- ou- which s-orm-roopers wor-ked yes-er-ay. Brin- them here."
The surgeon slowly turned and went out of the room, leaving Trilin to dwell on his thoughts of revenge.
Moments later, the four stormtroopers marched into the door with the Verpine behind them. From Trilin's hazy view he could see they avoided looking at his grotesque features. "Sir, are you alright?," one of them asked.
"I- fine. Is the Emporer coming?" Trilin sneered within himself, partly in disgust for how they had treated him, and partly in pleasure for what he was about to do.
"He is going to be late."
The Twi'lek slowly raised himself to a sitting position, keeping his right hand under the sheets at all times. The small blaster trigger protecter hurt his swollen fingers, but it'd be worth it.
"Late? I thought the Emporer died?"
The stormtroopers slightly rocked on their heels in surprise.
"Didn't he die?" Admiral Gressons asked with an innocent expression.
"Yes."
The Twi'lek allowed his face a dark frown, although they probably couldn't even recognize it. "So will you." Gressons allowed a split second for them to mull over the statement before he callously let loose the hidden blaster carbine. Red bolts of laser fire shot through the sheets, killing the stormtroopers. They fell down, starting a pool of blood.
Trilin turned his head to the Verpine. "That was the last four stormtroopers."
Trembling, the alien managed to allow a small "yes" to escape his mouth.
Gressons dropped the carbine to the ground, then leaned back, satisfied. "Clean up this mess, then bring all my reports to me. We have alot of work to do."

"The Wraiths have now been selected. Here are your papers. I hope you will be able to find a squadron that fits your skills accordingly..." Face Loran continued his encouragement in the background as Jors sat down.
His table faced the entire gym, allowing a visual vantage point. In this large, square-shaped room, Dedon could see all the Wraiths, some talking, others doing various workout exercises. He noticed, but pretended not to as Shalla Nelprin stalked over to him. "Come with me."
"Is that an order?," the asked as he slowly stood.
The woman turned her head lower, and flashed Jors an innocent look. "A mere request."
"With that pathetic look, I guess I'll have to... I'm a sucker for pity."
The two walked towards a wide area unoccupied by other Wraiths. Jors looked amongst them watching as Kell bench pressed Tyria.
Shalla stopped, then turned around. "Here we are."
"There's no equipment."
"I'm your equipment."
The Ord Mantellian smiled and laughed, "Whoa there, we just met, and as much as I'd like to get naughty, we hardly know each other."
"Oh, shut up." Shalla spun a high roundhouse kick at Dedon, which he dodged effortlessly.
"Is this some sort of prank? I thought we were supposed to excersise, not kill each other."
Lt. Nelprin laughed, "I want you to fight me. Nothing serious, just a friendly spar."
"Where I come from, 'friendly' and 'fight' do not mix, but for you, I'll make an exception."
Shalla crouched low, then leapt in the air, foot extended. Jors sidestepped and pushed her sideways. Nelprin stumbled then cartwheeled to regain balance.The young recruit just laughed and put his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, this is really ackward."
"You'll get over it soon enough." Shalla bent low and charged, when she came close to Jors, the woman shifted position throwing a punch. The younger pilot just stood there, then, with lightning fast reflexes, twisted his head to the side, grabbed her wrist with his left hand, and placed his right hand under her chin. "Hello." Like a graceful Twi'lek dancer, Jors spun and bent his head. His left arm (still clutching hers) swung around both of them. Suddenly, Dedon was behind her, with his left hand entangled with hers, his right hand gently holding her neck. "It will take me 0.3 Kasi pressure to snap your neck. I think that means you lose."
Somehow in the process, Shalla had woven her legs in between his. Nelprin kicked out causing Jors to let go and back handspring away. Seizing the opportunity, Nelprin turned and followed right behind the young pilot's retreat. When he landed feet first, she was directly in front of him. She swung her right fist for his face, but Jors anticipated the attack. He bent low, avoiding the strike, then grabbed the belly of her flight shirt.
Using it as an anchor, Jors slid under her legs and twisted around. In a matter of half a second, the Ord Mantellian was behind her once more, left arm entangling hers behind the woman's back. The recruit slid his other hand under her right arm and resumed the neck position. Despite his calm counteneance, Dedon was straining his efforts. He allowed half a second to pass before whispering. "Only 4 of my techniques aren't fatal, so, sweet dreams."
Using half a Kasi milli-pressure, Jors tightened his thumb. Shalla's body went limp, crumbling to the floor. The young pilot stood up to find everyone staring at him with shocked and apalled looks. "It's alright. Lt. Nelprin just decided to take a nap. That's all."
Crander leaned against the wall, sipping water, "You're a show-off."
Jors Dedon, or Arrekur Shray, bent low to the ground. "Why thank you, brother."
"Will she be alright?" An alien, who Jors recognized as Hohass Ekwesh, a Thakwaash.
"She'll be just fine. In a few minutes she will awaken very refreshed."
Garik Loran and Kell stood dumbfounded, jaws almost dropping to the floor. "Where'd you learn to fight like that, Dedon?"
"Same place as Crander, though I spent more time there. That makes me two things ahead."
Jors' older brother snorted, "What are they?"
"I'm more handsome, and a better fighter... especially with blastswords, isn't that right, Ace?"
"You cheated at the Tojarra Tournament."
The white-haired pilot chuckled, "I can't believe this is coming from Barabo'ki. You have no place to call me a cheater."
"What's Barabo'ki mean?," Kell asked, "I've never heard anything like it."
"It's an old language used by our Teras Kasi master. I'm not sure what dialect it is, but she taught it to us."
"What was her name?"
"You've never heard of her, but you probably know of her former master." Jors looked sideways at Crander, who's eyes held murder in them. Jors' brother twitched his head in warning, but the young pilot paid no heed. Dedon smiled proudly and continued, "She was Arden Lyn, an Emporer's Hand."

[mirax terrik horn]

gasp it just keeps getting better and better.very good jors, uplifting your character just like you do yourself, lol.

[Jors_Dedon]

Thanks... I'm not going to work on it for a while. Not enough time. Maybe in a few days...

[mirax terrik horn]

hey take your time. oh and i am re-reading everything. like i said i would.