STAR WARS/PREDATOR: MASTER XOL'S SAGA (PART EIGHTEEN)

Escaping the clutches of the galaxy's most feared bounty hunter, Boba Fett.

Xol, Dex and the rest of the crew have crashed on an unknown jungle world.

With most of the gang still frozen in carbonite, Dex revives them all realizing that Typ's slab seems to have gotten lost in the descent. Believing him nearby Xol seeks out the Jawa and attempts to ascertain their current location at the same time.

Once reunited and knowingly safe from Boba Fett, the group hopes to reestablish contact with the Rebel Alliance and perhaps the Jedi Order should these resistance groups still exist.

More worrying still to Xol, is the notion of whether or not those groups would trust him after all that he has done...

Dusk begins to nestle into the jungle canopy as the crew sit on their slabs and wait for Xol's return. It has been hours since the cargo ship that held them has been seen so they see no harm in starting a fire. Dex splits a ration pack among the group before tending to the fire. The chirping of insects and strange calls of animals sound off in the heavily forested distance. Though the unfamiliar noises unsettle Wompit and Boomah, Dex finds them oddly comforting. Seeing the worried looks on the other two faces, he signals Xol using his comlink.

“Big guy,” Dex tests. “Do you copy big guy?”

“I receive you 1165,” Xol responds with a low whisper, attempting to not give away his position. “What is so urgent?”

“Nothin' really big guy, just wondered if you found Typ yet?”

“I am tracking the low level signals that the carbonite slab's control console puts out. Shouldn't be more than a few yards away. I will signal if there is a concern.”

The Yautja cancels the link and continues moving stealthily through the brush. Within a few minutes he comes to the point where Typ's signal should be coming from but surprisingly he sees nothing except for dense leaf litter and the small creatures that inhabit the forest floor beneath him. Staring down from the tree he has scaled, he can see a faint heat signature from just below the ground. He concludes that Typ's slab crashed so hard into the soft ground here that it has immersed itself in the soil. With a heavy sigh, Xol jumps down from the tree and lands at the impact site below.

Surprisingly, upon impact instead of dense jungle turf, he is met with a spongy almost springy texture beneath his feet. Unsure of what could be the cause of such weird terrain, he carefully moves closer to the site of Typ's crash. Upon approaching the earth beneath his feet heaves and open up like a whirlpool. Inside is a gaping maw filled with teeth, tentacles and a razor sharp beak. The beast is a Sarlaac and judging by its demeanor, it seems rather displeased with the Yautja being so close. However, what Xol takes as displeasure is something different altogether. The creature continues to heave and Xol can even see fluid spraying out of it. The fluid is not water but carbonite gas still suspended in transport agent just like what the carbonite slabs use to store their contents. This can only mean that the Sarlaac has unwittingly activated the thawing process and is now choking on the resulting release of fluid. With a heavy cough and a shriek, the immense beast spews a tiny figure from it's mouth.
The figure sails through the air and into the bush all the while only reciting one word as he flies. “Uteeni!” the small shape sounds as he crashes off into the jungle.

Knowing full well this is Typ, Xol rushes to the Jawa and checks to see if he's alright. When he finds him, the small creature is dazed, panicked and completely coated in mixture of dense mucus and bits of plant-life he has careened through. Shaken but seemingly not hurt, the diminutive Jawa stands up, attempts in vain to brush himself off, then makes a series of hand gestures at Xol, chattering quickly as he does so.

Understanding that Typ would like to be away from this place, the Yautja allows the slime-covered little creature to hop up on his back so they may return to camp more quickly.

At camp the crew sits patiently around the fire as dusk turns to night, telling stories to one another that for the most part have been told a million times before. Nonetheless the group shares laughter regaling their many misadventures and pitfalls that at the time were harrowing but now are little more than punchlines.

Xol lands in the camp with a thud, startling even Dex who had been scanning the forest the entire time. Typ partly happy to be back on the ground hops down from the Yautja's shoulders and begins to nestle the ground like it were a long lost friend.

“Do I wanna know why Typ is all...well goopy?” Dex asks curiously, his head tilted.

“Trust me 1165, you most certainly do not.” Xol responds as he flings clumps of remaining mucilage from his shoulder.

After a few moments of reunion, the crew gather round the fire and resume talking amongst themselves. This goes on for only so long before the night finally gets the better of them, and the crew bed down for the night, huddled together for warmth near the fire. Xol and Dex remain awake, taking the first watch. They discuss the future amidst the hum of the jungle fauna and roar of Wompit's snoring.

“Xol,” Dex begins after a long silence. “If I didn't know any better I would say this is Rakata Prime just a couple clicks south of where you found me.”

“You mean where you tried to trap me 1165?” Xol responds in a playful tone.

“Hey, you have your sequence of events and I have mine, I will just leave it at that.”

“I do believe you're right. The computer in my helmet seems to have drawn the same conclusion based on what little data we have at hand. But why would a bounty hunter like this Boba Fett bring us out this far instead of taking a traditional hyperspace pathway. Furthermore why enter the atmosphere of the planet at all?”

“Same reason that Jedi evaded the Republic and led my commando pod and I here, privacy. Not many would dare venture out this far let alone know about this system Xol. Fett's probably got his ship here somewhere where he would have transferred us from that cargo bucket to its hold and then made a jump to hyperspace and probably make his way back to some Outer Rim hole of a planet where he would cash us in on bounty. Remember Xol whilst you were away, I did do a little bounty hunting of my own. Count Raxus back on Ord Mantell wasn't the only one that knew not to mess with Dex Kamino.”

“Do you presume that he is here still?”

“Safe to say he's not big guy, but he will be back and probably with help.”

“Help?”

“Yeah, nothing special just some throwaway mercs to soften us up like he did back in the market with those droids. Why do you think the Confederacy used to use those stupid clankers. They were dumb as a Gamorrean with a hangover but there were just so many of them that we had no choice but to fall back sometimes.”

“Well let us make sure we are not here when he returns.”

“I agree ol' buddy but unless you've found a way to fly us all across the galaxy using that magic of yours, we aint going to make it too far. There are a few ships here that in half decent shape, I'm sure with Typ to help we could have one off the ground in a couple days.”

“We don't need such unnecessary measures, my young friend. Before we left our Star Destroyer, I left behind a little message for the crew in our absence. I will activate said order now, and they should be here in no time.”

“This didn't occur to you back at the Dark Star market?”

“It had, but with the whole being darted into unconsciousness and then frozen in carbonite, for an unfortunate second time in my life, I haven't had an opportunity to employ it.”

“Sorry Xol, I don't mean to bust your mandibles about this sort of thing, it's just my way of dealing with Qiin being gone.”

“I miss her too Dex, and she may have been taken from us far earlier than was necessary but I know she has ascended to a far greater place. A place I will be lucky to find myself when I go.”

“Well you best get some shuteye big guy, I will finish up the watch. I won't nod off with Wompit makin' all that racket over there.”

“Very well 1165. Rest easy and we shall be on our way soon.”

Xol, draping his cloak over his body as he lies down, falls asleep quickly, his body greatly fatigued and in need of rest. Hours pass and with the breaking of the dawn, the Yautja awakes to find the remaining crew still asleep, and bacta patches covering his injuries, no doubt placed there by Dex in the night. To his surprise though, his clone compatriot is not present. He seems to have stoked the fire quite well and meandered away from the camp. Concerned Xol orders the remainder of the group to stay and takes off into the jungle on the trail of the clone commando.

Dex has made no attempt to hide his tracks and though the trail takes him a great distance. It does not take him more than an hour or so to find his friend. When he does find the lone soldier, he sits in the ruin of his old encampment. The one in which the pair first met. Next to him are three tarnished helmets, similar in configuration to Dex's own helmet. He doesn't look up as Xol nears the camp, he sits solemn on a fallen log, his camp overgrown with jungle foliage in the years since their departure. A single tear streaks down Dex's cheek as he sits, staring into the visors of the helmets set before him.

“They were my brothers Xol. Not like other clone troopers. We're bred to form a cohesive unit, four parts to make one whole. I've never stopped thinking about the day I turned on my own brothers Xol and killed them right here, in the middle of some awful jungle on the edge of nowhere and for what? Well you know...nothing.”

Unsure of what to say in response, the Yautja merely walks into the camp and sits down next to his grieving friend, allowing him to continue speaking uninterrupted.

“What are the odds of coming back here? I never planned to ever set foot on this rock again but by some cruel joke here I am again. I was scared to come here actually, worried that they'd be waiting for me. Back from the dead or some other frackin' nonsense. I had to come here Xol, I'm sorry. After Qiin, I got to thinking about all the guilt I keep held up inside of me and I figure the only way to come to terms with that is to see them again. I buried them proper this time, said my piece took their helmets as reminders of my three brothers and was just about to fire off a few rounds to properly close out my long overdue funeral ceremony. I'd be honoured if you joined me Gr'rit'Xol.”

“It would be my pleasure, DX-1165.” Xol replies, firing up his shoulder cannon for use.

The pair look to the sky and fire three volleys of fire up into it. The streaks of energy fire dancing in the morning glow of the sunrise. After the blaster fire ceases, the pair stand silently for a moment with the heads hung in remembrance. With a heavy breath Dex replaces his helmet upon his head and gathers the three by his feet into a mesh bag he has stored in his belt pouch. The clone lost in his own thoughts stands in the camp for a moment more as Xol looks on from a few feet away, continuously scanning their surroundings as he waits for Dex.

“DX-1165,” Xol speaks softly from the silence. “I do not wish to be insensitive however, we should proceed back to the rest of the group for pick up.”

“You're right big guy,” Dex replies nodding his head in agreement. “I just hate saying goodbye.”

The pair begin their march back through the jungle toward the camp where the crew has remained. As they approach the camp they hear uproarious laughter. The sound is music to their ears and Xol and Dex drop their guards and walk calmly into the encampment. The fire, still burning strong has now been outfitted with a makeshift spit, which Typ occasionally turns. On the spit itself is a large, fish like creature with a long lizard-like tail. The first quarter of the creature has been removed along with its head. The remainder sizzles and cracks over the open flame.

“Itsa good'n tasty flipperfish,” Boomah says between bites. “Wompit be hittin' it with a big'n frackin rock.”

The pair, half starved themselves sit with their crew and indulge in the cooked animal while they await their ship's arrival. Xol salutes Wompit for his successful kill and gives him a pat on the shoulder. The Savrip is elated at the Yautja's approval and personally plucks some warm meat from the carcass and hands it to Xol.

The hot noon day sun makes its way through the forest canopy and fills the camp with thick, muggy and warm air. The crew exhausted by the heat shares a canteen of water over stories and continues to feed their fire when a sound emanates from Xol's wrist gauntlet that lifts all their spirits. It is the sound of an incoming transmission, a sign that they can leave the harsh world of Rakata behind. Xol unfastens the holographic attachment from his gauntlet and throws it down in the center of the camp. The projection disc crackles to life and the hologram of a pilot droid emits from it's lens. The markings on the droid confirm that it is in fact Xol's ship and a thread of worry unravels from the Yautja's mind.

“Greetings and salutations Master Xol,” the holographic image begins. “I am ATA-22, acting captain of your Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer. We are responding to your urgent distress call. Do you require extraction from your current location or perhaps a bombardment sir?”

“That will not be necessary 22,” Xol replies, seemingly annoyed by the droids overuse of formality. “Send a pilot with a transport to our current position as quickly as possible.”

“Roger, Roger Master Xol.”

With a raised hand, Xol retrieves the small holographic projector and turns it off. Upon doing so, Dex laughs to himself and he begins to gather his gear. Curious, the Yautja turns to his friend and makes a quizzical gesture at the clone.

“No worries big guy,” Dex chuckles. “I wasn't laughin' at you, I was just thinkin' about who this Roger guy is and why do all those Trade Fed clankers say his name instead of yes, or affirmative like other droids. It's always bothered me I guess.”

“I worry about the path your mind takes my old friend,” Xol teases.

The crew continue to gather their things and dowse the fire with what water they have left. As the white smoke of the smothered fire billows up into the sky it is parted by the downwash of the transport's engines as it lands just next to them. Excited the crew rush aboard, racing one another up the gangway as Xol walks at a normal pace behind. Once seated on the ship they secure themselves in for the takeoff and with a triumphant rush of power, they burst off into the sky headed towards their ship waiting in orbit. Once they leave the atmosphere, Dex unbuckles himself and takes over the pilot chair from the droid that is currently doing so. The bewildered droid, unsure of what to do, straps itself into Dex's old seat and remains motionless until they dock with the Star Destroyer. Once in place, and the ships engines power down, the crew run to the exit just as quickly as they entered and cheer with happiness as the gangway lowers itself allowing them to run around in the hangar bay of their capital ship. Xol stands and waits for Dex at the bottom of the walkway watching as Wompit joyously throws Typ up into the air only to catch him again when he comes back down. This celebration by the Savrip, is met by panicked chattering in Jawaese as Typ exclaims that he is going to be sick. Just as Wompit puts his bewildered friend back on the floor, Dex slaps Xol's back and brings the distracted Yautja back into focus.

“Well that was fun Xol ol' buddy,” Dex jests. “Let's not do it again for a really long time. Seriously though big guy, I really appreciate what you did for me this morning and I guess in a way, I'm thankful for what you did all those years ago. Let's be honest, the big alien I met back then should have put my head on the wall with the others but you saw something in me that I think I'm only coming to realize about myself right now big guy. Long story short...thanks.”

“You are most welcome Dex,” Xol responds humbled by his friends sentiment. “I must go to the medical area and have my wounds fully tended to. Bacta patches alone will not heal my burns, so I must leave you in charge of the ship for the time being. Once you have stowed your equipment, please chart a course for the Dark Star market into the navcomputer. We need to reclaim the Wayfarer before the syndicate has a chance to take it for themselves.”

“Of course big guy. One thing though.”

“What is it, DX-1165?”

“Well, when we go get my baby back from that pile of Twi'lek slime Persk. Can we finally name these ships. I heard from other pilots that it is not good to be aboard a ship especially in wartime that doesn't have a name.”

“Very well. Your superstitions aside I do think it might be best that the Empire had a name to call their enemy when we come to destroy them. As captain of this ship, I will begin by calling this Gladiator-class Star Destroyer, The Hunter in honour of my people.”

“Good one big guy, I like it. Usually you name them after women but I like it. I say that Lambda shuttle we got kickin' around in the cargo bay gets a good name too. How do you feel about The Battle Axe? It's fitting for warriors like you and I, the frackin' bucket looks like one anyway and it also can refer to women.”

Xol approves of the name and is about to respond when the punchline of the joke his friend just told occurs to him and spoils his concentration. With a hard shove he pushes the clone commando nearly over and begins to laugh wholeheartedly. His eyes well up with tears as he walks down the ramp toward the medical bay leaving his bewildered friend at the landing area behind him.

“So I guess that's a yes huh big guy?”

Xol still blind-sided by Dex's comment simply laughs hard in response and continues to walk away.

Hours later, after some much need recuperation in the medical bay, Xol returns to the bridge. A flash of sadness dances on his heart as he looks at the console where Qiin used to sit, now occupied by one of a thousand identical battle droids. Dex sits in the captains chair with his feet kicked up on the command console. His helmet off, the clone stares out the front viewport into the endlessness of space.

“Hey chuckles, look who is finally back to their old self.” Dex says with a greeting smile. “Just pulled up on the edge of the system, the Dark Star market is just ahead and the ol' girl is still left untouched. We received a commlink from P3 and he says him and the other pilot clankers locked down the ship when we didn't rendezvous back at the ship after a couple days. So far, the syndicate hasn't attempted to board but they have been trying to establish contact, so we may not have much time.”

“We have all the time in the universe my friend.” Xol replies with a cold tone. “Inform P3 to uncouple from the station and prepare for docking procedures with The Hunter. We are going to pay Irondo Persk, a personal visit.”

Dex repeats the orders to P3 and steps down from the command console, and replaces one of the droids at a navigational terminal. Xol allows his friend to pass and takes his seat in the high chair, he analyzes his mecha-deru systems and sees that all are still intact before issuing orders.
“Droid, bring us to a position at the epicenter of the market station and prepare to open a commlink with the station itself.” the Yautja commands as he focuses his mind with the Force.

Without questioning, the battle droid engages the hyperdrive and plunges The Hunter into a short leap through space. When it emerges from hyperspace, the sizable Star Destroyer stops exactly where Xol had commanded and the hull of The Hunter casts a long shadow over the Dark Star station. Still adhering to his prior orders, the battle droid opens the communication link with the station itself awaiting a response. Within moments a comlink is established and Irondo Persk's visage appears in hologram form in front of Xol's console.

“This is Irondo Persk my Imperial benefactors,” the Twi'lek begins. “So good of you to pay out your reward for in perso...wait what? How could it be you, you're with Boba Fett, frozen in carbonite! How could this be?”

“You once told me Persk, that life is like Sabacc” Xol replies with his claws tapping on the console in front of him. “You said, that sometimes an opponent shows their hand, and other times they use guile and subterfuge to win the day. I have an alternative theory for you. Sometimes your opponent you grimy Twi'lek, needs to be taught a lesson so you let them win a hand or two, and then just when they think they have won, you draw a wild card and crush their soul. For you even this is too good. You shall pay for my apprentice's spilt blood soft meat. Goodbye Persk.”

“Wait, wise Xol. Perhaps there is an arrangement we can come to that would be mutually benefi...”

Xol ceases the communication link, and begins to channel the Force. All the sadness and loss that he bottled up inside when Qiin died he now unleashes into the mechu-deru powered systems. With a slide of a forward toggle this power spills into the forward weapons array of The Hunter and begins to charge up. Red lightning arcs flicker from the main cannons and dance along the hull of the ship. With a tremendous rush of power, the Yautja stretches out with his power and blasts the main station with his amplified lightning sending a furious tempest of energy against the unprepared structure. Though the facility has weapons these are quickly overloaded and begin to explode violently wherever they are placed. Next to go is the shields surrounded the station itself, the faint blue covering of their energy field shudders and fizzles out in the wake of the attack. Though he cannot see it for himself, Xol can sense the panic and fear or those inside and he knows that Irondo Persk must be among those whom are afraid. With one last roar of dark side energy, the Yautja superheats the hull plating of the station until finally under the heat and stress it explodes, splitting the station in two. The separated pieces begin to have internal chain reactions as they drift in space and from deep inside their superstructure, a rapid succession of flashes and plumes of plasma induced flame pour from them, inevitably ending in an energetic explosion that decimates the main structure and parts of the surrounding market. As the debris sails off into the endless black of the galaxy, Xol can see out the viewport the numerous ships that survived the attack that are evacuating what remains of the Dark Star market. Satisfied, the Yautja powers down the forward weapons and slumps into his command chair, exhausted.

“Woo-hoo!” Dex shouts. “Way to go big guy, that fixed em right up! The Wayfarer is just performing final docking maneuvers now. All things considered, mission accomplished.”

“Excellent Dex,” Xol replies, his voice heavy with fatigue. “Take us out of here, and I don't care where we go, just as long as the Empire isn't there when we get there. I need to go to my quarters for a while, alert me if anything comes about.”

“Will do big guy, maybe I will try that lightning thing while you're away, I should get the hang of it in no time. Doesn't look very hard at all.”

Drained from his ordeal, Xol steps down from his command chair and proceeds to his chambers to meditate. Rolly and Rondo come to attention outside his room as he approaches and steps through the door. Setting his helmet on the mattress behind him, Xol kneels and begins to meditate, communing himself with the living Force, allowing what remains of his previous aggression to wash away as he reaches out trying to find some clue as to the whereabouts of the Jedi Order or the Rebellion. He knows his powers are great but not endless and does not feel confident that he will discover their location this way. Regardless, he tries and channels all of his focus and power toward his goal.

Hours pass and to no avail he has not seen one thing that would lead him to believe that the Jedi are still alive. Discouraged he begins to break his focus and stand but just as his mind begins to return to the world around him, he can hear a distant voice reciting his name. Attempting to control his excitement Xol resumes kneeling and returns to his more focused mind. As he plunges back into the warm embrace of the Force the voice he hears is much more clear. He has heard it before, it is the voice of Darth Vader's son, Luke Skywalker.

“Master Xol, I will now speak with you but I must be honest, I did not wish to originally.” Skywalker says plainly.

“What changed your mind Skywalker?” the Yautja inquires.

“A young Nautolan woman came to me through the Force and told me of your intent. I had no choice but to agree with her viewpoint and seek you out. I know you wish to collaborate with us and the Rebel Alliance once more but I must tell you, I cannot agree to any form of partnership without the approval of the other members of the Jedi council and of course the leaders of the rebellion. You cannot meet us where our base is located, that is too risky and frankly worrisome to many, so we shall meet at a neutral location. Travel to  the Ithorian capital city of Tafanda Bay on Ithor. There we will meet in the center of the jungle sub-levels. There we will be able to discuss things in greater detail.”

“As you wish Skywalker.”

As those final words ripple outward into the Force itself, the link between Luke and Xol ends.

Rushing to his feet, Xol does not use the comlink in his helmet, instead resorting to the communication panel on his wall. With a flip of the switch he calls Dex on the bridge.

“Ahoy big guy!” Dex answers casually. “It's all quiet up here Xol, we have it locked down nice and tight.”

“1165, we must immediately disembark!” the Yautja says insistently. “Make a course for the planet of Ithor, we are going to the capital.”

“Aye aye captain, full speed ahead and don't spare the fuel cells!”

The Hunter soars through hyperspace, and arrives at the Ithor system in a matter of hours due to its close proximity to their last location in the galaxy. Feeling it best to not to upset the Rebels or the Jedi, Xol and the crew depart aboard the Wayfarer to the floating herdship city of Tafanda Bay. They leave The Hunter under the control of ATA-22 and the rest of the droids. Once docked, the pair instruct P1 to bring the Wayfarer back to The Hunter as they do not want a repeat of what happened at the market. The hustle and bustle of the capital around them, the crew find the nearest lift that can take them to the jungle sub-levels. Acquiring one, they make the slow journey not only descending the herdship into the jungles below but also across said jungle to the agreed meeting place that Luke Skywalker has told them.

Much time passes as the group traverses the dense jungle, they occasionally come across Ithorians enjoying the natural world around them but soon as they find themselves near the center of the sub-level, a place where few tread and even less like to go. This dramatic heart of the Ithorian wilderness seems eerily silent as Xol, Dex and the others arrive at the rendezvous point. Their shaken confidence in whether or not they are in the correct place is dispelled as they see clearly left behind to the mark the point is a white flag emblazoned with the Rebel Alliance symbol. It is draped over a large, flat rock that acts as a makeshift table surface.

“I don't think this is the place.” Dex says sarcastically.

At the sound of the clone's voice, movement can be seen from all around them. Lightsabers in a variety of colours flare up all around them and soldiers dressed in camouflage appear from the dense brush. Their blasters are trained immediately on Xol.

“I am sorry Master Xol that we had to take these sorts of precautions,” Skywalker's voice says from behind a group of soldiers. “You are not ignorant as to why we would react this way, I did not forget Ateyru. General Solo was there the day he crossed your path. As you know he did not return to me and ever since then despite the insistence of some of my peers, I do not trust you. Though we did have much to speak of when I revealed Project Rebirth to you, now you are fortunate we speak at all. I did promise you and your apprentice one thing Xol and that was to hear you out alongside my fellow leaders and decide as a whole whether or not your proposal will be received. So that you may address them properly, I will introduce you to the leaders of the Rebel Alliance, some of whom you may already know.”

A procession of individuals take their places around the table as Skywalker announces them one by one.

“General Han Solo you have already met, along with his companion Chewbacca. From there we have Alliance President Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar whom you met on Kashyyyk and Commander Juno Eclipse who is the head of our fighter division. With me representing the Jedi council is Master Anya Kuro whom I believe you are already familiar with, and finally Master Leia Organa, to whom Ateyru was a Padawan.”

Xol's heart lifts as he sees Master Kuro after so long. He gathers his thoughts and shrouds his feelings before beginning to speak, “It is an honour to be meeting you all, some for the first time.” Xol begins knowing that his every word is under scrutiny. “Once I fought alongside you, battling the Empire under the rule of Vader but since that time I have ventured down a different path, one that still shares no love with the Empire but away from what Master's Yoda and Kuro taught me on Kashyyyk. Along that journey I have forsook many of you believing that you had turned against me or simply abandoned me. I know that now to not be the case. Regrettably, innocent lives have been extinguished by my hands before this revelation. Nothing can undo my past transgressions since I left your ranks and those same acts have stained any good reputation I once had with many of you, so now I must stand before you as a stranger. Yet, I still must ask that we join forces to finally bring down this Empire once and for all. I have been in the presence of this new emperor and he is very cunning and this is only surpassed by his connection to the Dark Side. He will stop at nothing to destroy you and resort to any tactic to do so. Though I do not expect to be welcomed with open arms into your ranks once more, I do believe that we have similar goals, so much so that we can band together and slay the beast that plagues us all. Should you feel as Skywalker does and not wish such an alliance, then I will understand but if you know my words to be true, speak now and do not let anyone silence you. I will leave you all to deliberate and decide the fate of this proposed alliance between your two groups and my own.”

With a bow of graceful thanks, Xol steps away from the table, anxiously awaiting the decision of the delegates stood before him. He knows that without them, he may never succeed.

TO BE CONTINUED...

STAR WARS/PREDATOR:MASTER XOL'S SAGA (PART SEVENTEEN)

Pursued by assassins at every turn, trapped by the CEO of the Dark Star syndicate, Irondo Persk. Xol and his crew have now been taken prisoner by the notorious bounty hunter, Boba Fett.

 

In an attempt to save her master the young Nautolan apprentice Qiin was killed. The darkness of that moment, with all it's pain and sadness chisels onto the soul of the Yautja. Though he swore against a steadfast pursuit of the Dark Side, he cannot erase the hurt he has felt and now feels, and the temptation towards more savage things becomes ever more great.

His mind swims in the unconsciousness brought on by Boba Fett's darts. This dreamlike state has always been a dangerous one for Xol, for in this place, all manner of things tend to creep in...

Thoughts flood into Xol's mind, flashes mostly, of everyone he's ever lost. The string of faces end with the vision of Qiin falling into a pool of glowing green blood just like the Yautja's very own. With this abrupt ending shocking his senses, he awakes though he cannot open his eyes or move his body. The sensation is terrifying, a darkness that is inescapable and invasive of the mind, causing panic to rise up in his throat.

“Am I dead?” Xol asks with his mind's voice. “Is this the void?”

“No sadly, but trapped you are.” an elder voice replies.

“Master Yoda? It cannot be you. I am unworthy of your advice anymore.”

“Mine to make, that decision is,” Yoda quickly responds. “In times of need, come to those in need, the Living Force does.”

“I am not in need, I am being punished. Punished for things that I have done in pursuit of my ideals.”

“Yes, punished you are, but only by yourself. Frozen in carbonite, you truly are. Held against your will, your body is.”

“I have been stored in carbonite before master, and this is not the same.”

“Truth in your words there is, yes. Awake you must be, in order to escape, so come I have to open your mind. Help you I will, to escape this place and continue along your path.”

“I've never heard of anyone awake during carbonite freezing, how do I escape?”
“Focus on the control panel you must, speak to the machine through the Force you can. Only then, will you be set free.”

“But my old master, what if setting me free means the loss of more lives?”

“Heavy your heart weighs on the past. Guided by the Dark Side your actions sometimes may be, but Sith you are not. Corrupted by evil, a Sith heart is. Yours is one of hope, spurned by anger it can be. Let go of the anger you must learn and hope you must grasp. A heart of a Jedi, you will always have. Knew this you did, when first we met. Knew you would fall away I did, but never fall entirely you will.”

“Your confidence in me master has never ceased to baffle me.”

“Think as I do you would, if weighed by sadness your soul was not Xol...”

The faint echoing of the old Jedi's last word evokes a feeling of guilt in the Yautja, as he tries to focus his mind on the control panel attached to the frozen carbonite slab that encases his body. Toggles flip and buttons push as the Yautja deciphers the panel's inner working but the strain of such a task is incredibly difficult. He wishes he had the strength to merely phase through the solidified cocoon around him and walk free, but he lacks the power. Like sinking into a deep sleep, Xol concentrates on the apparatus that will reverse the freezing process and focuses all of his effort onto it. With his mind void of all other thought, the carbonite terminal responds quite readily and activates the thawing program. Like a bath of warm water, heat surrounds his body and he can feel his flesh beginning to fill with life once more and allow for movement. Still weak from the freeze, the Yautja spills out onto the floor into a heap, his armour making a loud clang against the bulkhead beneath him. He gasps for air as his helmet's respirator has yet to kick in and his lungs has been in disuse for so long. The hibernation sickness he feels this time is far less severe than when Blades had him held prisoner, which can only mean the duration has been far less as well. With air filling his lungs again, the Yautja flips open his wrist gauntlet control pad and turns on his armour's systems. It also appears that the Boba Fett has not disarmed him, which the veteran hunter finds to be very peculiar.

Flicking over to his heat vision, Xol can see the room around him is quite cramped and seem to have been loaded with only the slabs of him and his friends. Assessing the control panels on the other slabs, he sees their configuration is identical to his own and it should be somewhat easy to free them all within minutes. As he begins the process for Dex, he can hear the faint sound of footfalls before his hearing is overwhelmed by the sound of the carbonite thawing behind him. Concerned, he flips over his gauntlet again and adjusts his helmet's systems to filter out the sound of the slabs electronics and home in on the footsteps.

“A neat trick,” the angering voice of Boba Fett says from behind. “but too little, too late alien. I knew not to trust those Dark Star idiots with the freezing process.”

Xol whirls around drawing his lightsabers, slashing at the spot where the bounty hunters voice emanated from. To his shock he hits nothing but air, and can see no heat signature on his HUD. He knows the artificial sound of a recording or speaker and has determined that neither is being used. He circles round ensuring that the cunning Mandalorian does not have the opportunity to flank him.

“Your file with the Empire said that you could pass through solid objects,” Fett begins to taunt. “So why did you not free yourself back at the station before I had the chance to shoot your friend? Or, did you not care about that Nautolan, Xol? I certainly didn't. She should have stayed underwater where she belongs.”

Xol knows that Boba Fett is taunting him and though he feels his mind is guarded from such words, they pierce through anyway, enflaming his hatred for the Mandalorian even more.

“Only scavengers chitter from the shadows when true predators make the kill.”

Before Xol can sense his presence his helmet is shunted hard to the left by a strike across the face from the stock of a blaster. The Yautja lashes out wildly attempting to counter the phantom attack to no avail. He is struck again, this time from the right side and again in the leg where his armour is weakest and his prior injury still unhealed. With a roar of pain, he collapses on one knee barely able to stand up. He is almost certain that the last bludgeon broke his leg.

“Such weakness in an opponent is not something I would expect from someone like yourself,” Fett says with a laugh. “You'd think with such a large reward out for you that you'd at least be a challenge. I've killed Gundark pups more ferocious than you.”

Xol unable to pivot quickly or gain a standing position, cycles through his vision modes until he can see the Mandalorian. When he does, he finds that Boba Fett has employed some sort of dynamic cooling system to obscure himself from Xol's sight. With this new vision mode employed, the Yautja throws both of his lightsabers at the bounty hunter, and despite the Mandalorian's quick reflexes, Xol still manages to slice his blaster in two.

“I thought you might have had a couple more ways of seeing me alien. I'm just sorry it cost me a blaster to find out that I was right. No matter though. I have more.”

Casting his sundered weapon aside, Boba Fett raises his forearm and fires a plume of ignited plasma at the Yautja. Though Xol's armour can resist the heat, his clothing and exposed areas catch fire and he begins to burn.

The pain is excruciating and every effort he makes to use the Force is thwarted by the pain coarsing through his body. As the unspeakable heat of the flames swirl around him, Xol's mind reaches a state of clarity. He ignores the pain, and focuses on the world around him. With a strong outward push of energy, he snuffs out the flames surrounding him and stands upright. In truth he is lifting himself from the floor with the Force but he knows the gesture will disturb the bounty hunter. His seared flesh aches with every breath but he moves himself forward toward his attacker.

In response, Boba Fett launches four darts from his wrist launchers and a net in rapid succession. This barrage is swatted away with ease by the approaching Yautja and the net is split by lightsabers as it crosses his path. Distraught, the bounty hunter reaches for his holdout blaster in his boot and fires three rapid shots at Xol. These blasts are deflected by lightsaber blades ricocheting them back at the Mandalorian. He ducks to evade the bolts and is narrowly missed.

Boba Fett stands up again and continues to fire his weapon at Xol desperately trying to land a shot when a black armoured fist connects with his helmet on his right side.

“Hey little brother long time no see,” Dex exclaims between laboured breaths. “How's dad?”

“Shut up clone! You and your impure brethren are not my equal. I must admit though, I am surprised to see something like you alive so far past it's prime.”

“I'm like Corellian ale, baby Boba, I just get better with age!”

Outraged by Dex's quip, the bounty hunter ignores Xol entirely and draws his survival knife with the blade facing downward. Dex responds by drawing his wrist knife and the two enter a melee.Though the pair know that the knives won't penetrate armour, they punch and kick and attempt to drive the blades into the weak points of one another. Boba Fett and Dex's techniques are nearly identical as neither can seem to land a wounding or killing blow.

Exhausted and with Xol drawing near, Boba Fett unexpectedly fires his grapple into the ceiling. The magnetic hook clamps securely before reeling in the bounty hunter pulling him only a couple feet off the ground.

“You know I can still get at you right little brother?” Dex jokes as he positions himself for a jump into the air.

“Yes joke defective clone,” Boba Fett replies. “Ask yourself one question. Can you fly?”

With the push of a button on his wrist, the bounty hunter releases clamps that hold the doors that serve as the floor of the loading area in place. With a quick whoosh, the metal bulkhead retracts and makes way into vast open sky, raining the contents of the room, including Dex and Xol out into the air. The slabs of their friends still frozen in carbonite rush by the duo as the hurtle out of the cargo ship they were being held in and plummet toward, the jungle terrain below. Xol attempts to grab the cargo ship with the Force but he is still weak from the strain of combat. Looking to his right he can see Dex struggling to steady himself as he falls.

Xol attempts to quiet his mind and let the Force be his guide. Again, just like when he was facing Boba Fett, he sees the solution clearly and with all his might begins to simultaneously push against the downward force and pull his friends toward him, levitating them somewhat as he slows their descent.

Noticing the change in speed right away, Dex begins to hysterically laugh with joy, “Thank the cloners,” he shouts. “I love being friends with a Jedi!”

As Xol's focus becomes more and more concentrated, the once panicked and terrifying fall has slowed to near stopping, as if the group were riding an invisible lift down to the planet's surface. Within just a few short minutes, the crew have all landed onto the dense forest floor of the planet below. Xol exhaustedly lies on the ground heaving heavy breaths, while Dex goes around to the still frozen slabs and begins the thawing process for all of them.

“That was unbelievable big guy,” Dex says as he kneels next to a control panel. “What is the plan now?”

“We will seek out what is left of the Jedi Order and the Rebellion,” Xol gasps. “Against the Empire we had a chance of success but now, all the dark forces of the galaxy will oppose us. No longer can we hunt alone, we must gather our tribe and flush out the Emperor once and for all.”

“Good plan. I like it but, one question big guy? Where's Typ?”

TO BE CONTINUED...

STAR WARS/PREDATOR: MASTER XOL'S SAGA (PART SIXTEEN)

After his rescue from the Emperor's clutches on Hoth,

Xol returns to his modified Gladiator Class Star Destroyer.

His thoughts ever stained with the fact that the Emperor is capable of cloning Yautja with his level of power. Should the leader of the Empire be able to do such a thing on a massive scale just as was done at the time of Dex's birth, the galaxy will be a smoldering ruin and Xol will only have himself to blame.

This new Emperor is capable of so much but only if he is allowed the time to do so.

Xol, the reformed Dark Jedi turned revolutionary, may be the only hope for the galaxy or perhaps its undoing...

The gentle whir of the ship around him, Xol sits in his quarters, patches of blue bacta gel pasted over his countless injuries. He quietly meditates within the Force, seeking guidance or perhaps a glimpse into a possible future that awaits him in days to come.

With a hiss, the door to the room slides open, and Dex dressed in his fatigues walks in, eating a muja fruit with his bootknife.

“Hey big guy, you've been in here a while.” Dex remarks. “You need to eat something, and plus don't you think a bacta bath might be better than those patches? You aint exactly dealing with a couple of scraped knees.”

“DX-1165 I know you mean well,” Xol explains. “However, if you had woken up as often as I have in a bacta tank or regenerative chamber you'd opt for the patches too. The Force is also a path to healing, so my injuries are not nearly as severe as they once were. You are correct in your assessment that I require nourishment, though perhaps something a bit more substantial than muja fruit may be in order.”

“I hear ya Xol, but on a ship full of droids, the galley is a little bare.”

“Then we must resupply, we move against the Empire soon and we may not have a second chance once we do. Where is the nearest world we can do so safely without attracting attention?”

“In this oh so discreet Star Destroyer that the Empire is sure to be looking for?” Dex answers sarcastically. “There is a market station I know about a short jump away and we could take the Wayfarer. A cargo hauler, even one as heavily modified as ours shouldn't stand out in a crowd of em.”

“Very well, gather Qiin, Boomah, and Wompit. I'll meet you at the Wayfarer.”

Dex unquestioningly leaves, walking down the hallway towards his quarters while still carving away at his fruit.

After gathering his equipment and armour, Xol heads down the opposite way in the direction of the bridge. Once there, he presses a series of controls on the command chair and jacks in his wrist gauntlet. With an affirmative beep, the bridge lights go dim and Xol exits the bridge, making his way toward the hangar bay.

As the Yautja enters the hangar about to embark on another escapade, he glances around the near empty bay. The droid crew busily scurry back and forth conducting the ever necessary repairs, ensuring nothing is in disrepair before the battle against the Empire. He can still see the blackened scorch marks from the battle against the Rodian pirates. He knows that for all it's faults, this ship is home and may even become his tomb should he fail to defeat the Emperor.

That last solemn thought breaks him of his nostalgic daydreaming and he briskly walks toward the Wayfarer where he can see Qiin waiting for him at the end of it's gangway.

“Master it is good to see you healing well,” the young woman says with a smile.

“Apprentice, what troubles you?” Xol quickly replies.

“But how...?” Qiin stammers.

“Your heartfelt greeting would have been just as appropriate aboard the ship in the company of friends. So, I can only conclude that something troubles your mind. Something perhaps you wish to say to me in private. Do not hesitate young one, speak your grievances. Empty your mind of worry.”

“My master, I have a terrible feeling about the future. I have foreseen much death and sadness.”

“We both know that the future is always in a state of flux. Do not be controlled by it, a masterfully powerful young Jedi Knight I once knew succumbed to that very thing and it inevitably destroyed him. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master Xol.”

“Excellent. Now let us get aboard before Dex decides to leave us behind.”

The young Nautolan follows her master, a look of worry still spread across her face. As the pair enter the loading area of the Wayfarer, they see Wompit excitedly strapped into his seat awaiting liftoff. Qiin seats herself next to the immense Savrip while Xol continues on to the pilot's compartment.

The Wayfarer leaves the hangar of the Gladiator with a triumphant burst of thrust before dropping speed momentarily and plunging headlong into hyperspace. The ship now underway, the crew relaxes in the common area, eating what palatable rations remain and enjoying a game of Dejarik. Dex occasionally leaves to monitor P1 and P2's status but otherwise the group carries on a shared discussion like those conducted at a family meal.

“Dex illuminate us,” Xol inquires awaiting Qiin's next move on the Dejarik table. “What do you know of this market station we're visiting?”

“I have to be honest with you Xol ol' buddy, I've never been. I got the coordinates from that smuggler Han Solo. He told me it's a good place to pick up supplies should you not want to attract too much Imperial interference. Apparently it's ran by some Outer Rim syndicate calling itself Dark Star. They might seem corporate but the Holonet says different, these are some real tough customers, but nothing we can't handle.”

“Most reassuring as always my old friend.”

Some time later after a few games have been played and Wompit has been well fed on protein paste rations. Dex is called to the bridge by P2 for docking with the market station. Curious, Xol follows interested in seeing what sort of environment he'll be walking into. To his surprise, the station is much more than it's name implies. Though an obvious space station is at it's center the surrounding structures are modified derelict craft, mostly old spacecraft from the Clone Wars. Their aged hulls spliced with illuminated signs and holographic bulletins. Interconnecting them all are intricately constructed transparisteel walkways. People and droids like insects scuttling from one retrofitted craft to another.

As the Wayfarer gets closer, Xol can see that patrolling the outer hulls are Viper droids, picking off space parasites like Mynocks that don't move off. As the Wayfarer moves into final docking position, Xol is reminded of the impoverished conditions of Ord Mantell and the many pains his crew suffered there. He knows that the Empire is what they must avoid but wandering into a den of venomous serpents is not much of a second choice.

The docking clamps hook onto the Wayfarer and with a rough shake, secure into mooring before the sealed entrance hall is extended out to the ship. With a secondary shunt, the hall mag-seals to the ship's gangway. The crew in the meantime has gathered in the loading bay awaiting the moment when they can exit the ship. With the Wayfarer fully secured, Dex leaving the ship under the watch of P1 and P2 exits into the bay. Boomah, seeing the clone trooper arrive, hits the airlock release and the doors open.

A rush of aromatic air wafts into the dock as Xol and his band make their way into the complex. A few feet in they already see the crowds moving among the stalls are quite dense and difficult to manoeuvre as a group.

“Alright you bunch of monkey-lizards!” Dex shouts overtop the bustling crowd. “You all know what we need so try and round it up. Also, if you run into any trouble, use your comm! Xol and I are going to head to the station, Wompit, Boomah and Qiin, stick to the market and keep your eyes open for anything interesting.”

“Okee-day, Boss'n...” Boomah exaggeratedly replies, disgusted by his surroundings.

The two groups split off away from one another disappearing into the churning masses of market-goers. Xol and Dex make their way through the crowd towards the central hub of the space station. Along the way it appears some of the other visitors to the station are giving the pair a wide berth. Xol disregards their behaviour as he has seen it every day he has been in this galaxy.

The duo reach the entryway to the station and stop to rest taking in a stall that sells Outer Rim weaponry. As Dex inspects an antique slugthrower, Xol notices an illuminated red dot appear on the commando's back. Quickly flipping to his infrared vision mode, he can see that the dot is coming from a weapon sight a far distance away back the way they just came. Pushing Dex with the Force, Xol throws the surprised clone into the market stall just as a blaster rifle shot rings out.

Xol uses his helmet to track the would be assassin, and jumps above the crowd onto one of the sturdier market stalls and begins a pursuit. Dex on the other hand is clammering out of the pile of weapons he's fallen into and follows Xol through the crowd.

“Outta the way ya bunch of nerfherders!” Dex shouts, firing off a couple rounds into the air.

The frightened crowd near Dex drops to the ground, some screaming as they head for cover. With no obstruction, the clone commando has a clear shot at the gunman. He takes aim with his blaster and fires a short burst.

Blazing red bolts of blaster fire zip down the street and erupt with sparks and flame upon hitting the fully armoured assailant. With a thud, the attacker falls to the ground and ceases to move. The crowd somewhat confident that the fighting is over, begins to slowly stand up glancing back and forth between the fallen sniper and Dex who is still walking toward the body, his gun drawn and at the ready.

Xol jumps down from the tops of the stalls and through his heat vision can see the gunner is still alive, but barely. The heartbeat he can hear through his sensors is getting more and more faint. He walks to the body and turns it over. The helmet worn by the gunman hides his face so Xol removes it. Underneath is an exhausted, wheezing Mon Calamari. His bold yellow eyes fearful as he sees the Yautja standing over him.

“I had no choice, it was for my family...” The brownish coloured alien explains in gasps whilst raising an outstretched hand with something in it.

Upon closer inspection, Xol can see that it is a small information disk used in most holographic readers, nothing sophisticated.

“What is this assassin?” the Yautja demands. “Who are you and why have you tried to kill my friend?”

No response comes from the Calamari as he heaves his last breath and dies. Xol closes the young alien's eyes before standing up and placing the disk inside his wrist reader. A few seconds pass and a digitized voice message begins to play.

“Tuulan of the Golden Reef clan, your troubles with my employer stretch far beyond the gaming tables. You have a debt that can only be cleansed by blood but, you're in luck. A very special bounty as you know is being broadcast on all Holonet frequencies throughout the Core Systems and the Outer Rim. The bounty is for a rogue Jedi named Xol and his companions. The Empire is offering one percent of the total income they receive from their spice mining operations on Kessel for the head of Xol and the elimination and/or imprisonment of his cohorts. This is all well and good but no one knows where to find him, except for me. Meet me at the Dark Star market in three days and if you succeed my employer will erase your debt and ensure the safe return of your loving wife and three adorable little fish babies. If you make any attempt to go to the Empire behind my back for the reward I will filet you myself. Do not worry about finding me should you be successful, I will find you.”

The message ends as abruptly as it began. Xol turns to Dex who is then just arriving and plays the recording again. Dex listens intently before kneeling down and frisking the dead body for any more clues. With a sigh, he stands and looks to Xol.

“Well good buddy, I don't know what to tell you. Some innocent gambler gets made an accomplice in an attempted headhunt for you and I, gets outfitted with some pretty state of the art weapons and armour but yet is so underqualified for the task that he misses his target?”
“He only missed my dear friend because I moved you out of harms way,” Xol says in an educating tone.

“Don't get me wrong Xol, you saved me back there but this Mon Calamari wasn't goin' for me. That bolt was meant for you, he's just such a bad shot, he fired at me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Listen, you heard the recording. This guy is obviously more comfortable in a casino than in a war and also this helmet he has on has some sort of advanced tracking system hooked up through the holonet. This guy wasn't alone when he took the shot, he had someone coaching him along the way, I'd bet my life on it. Besides, tagging you first is what I would have done. Nothing personal big guy.”

Xol understanding but still a little unnerved at his friend's cold logic looks around to see if anyone in the crowd is paying particularly close attention to the pair as they stand over the body.

From down the pathway, hiding among a pile of old machine parts, Xol can see the glint from a droid's eyes. Scanning the rest of his surroundings, he can see that the one hidden droid is not alone, more than a dozen lie in wait but have yet to make their move.

“It's a trap,” Xol whispers to Dex. “We were supposed to be corralled here, and now we're out in the open.”

Dex pretends to continue rummaging in the dirt around the body but responds to the Yautja via the comlink, “So what's the plan big guy?”

“It's nearly an even split ahead of us, you go nine o'clock and I'll take three and we'll work our way toward twelve.”

“The others have been signalled so whenever you are ready Xol.”

“On my mark, we go.”

A few seconds elapse as the pair go over their strategy in their head. The droids shuffle in the debris, inching their way closer and closer.

“Now!” Xol yells, firing plasma caster shots off into the piles of junk and drawing his two lightsabers. As the Yautja speeds off in the direction of his first target, Dex reels around, unslinging his blaster rifle from his back and opens fire.

Dex's suppressive shots are enough to flush the droids out of hiding. Four Buzz droids, seven old Trade Federation Super battle droids and three of the old style droid commandos. Apart from the Buzz droids who are skittering towards Dex, the rest are all armed with fairly new Imperial issue blasters. As they rain a barrage of fire down upon Xol and Dex they show little concern for any bystanders and even kill a couple of frightened patrons who are caught in the crossfire.

Dex rolls to cover, taking shelter behind a large engine unit, the bolts of his attackers pinging against its hard metal exterior as he rolls. The ominous ticking of the buzz droids growing closer makes the experienced clone commando retract his wrist knife.

Xol dodges and darts between blaster bolts, deflecting what he can with his lightsabers and propelling them back to their corresponding gunmen. This quickly dispatches three of the seven Super battle droids, showering the metallic catwalks of the market near them with droid parts, black lubricant and sparking electronic pieces. The resulting combination of elements starts a few small fires in the vicinity of the ruined droids. Xol uses the oily black smoke of the fires to obscure his path from the battle droids but the commando models seem unphased and continue firing, striking him in the legs, where his armour is much more sparse. The searing hot wounds send the Yautja to the ground, rolling into cluttered piles of scrap and merchandise before smashing against one of the stalls.

Dex can see his friend in danger and comes out from behind his cover, firing round after round at the encroaching battle droids near his friend. His lack of attention however, allows the Buzz droids the opportunity to leap onto his torso, shoulders and head. He flails to get the powerful saw wielding automatons off of his armour, even resorting to firing his blaster back toward himself, blowing the one nearest his helmet into two pieces. The ones at his shoulder and chest bare down with their saws, the rotation making a squeal as the razor sharp edges of the weapons cut into his armour. A second later, the saws become rusty red with blood as they penetrate just passed Dex's protection. Screaming, he punches one with his knife in the eye sensor, destroying it instantly whilst grabbing the second and throwing it to the ground. As it rebounds and attempts to make another leap attack, he stomps down on it with his boot crushing it. It sparks and twitches under the angry clone's foot before finally dying. Seeing his friend still in danger, Dex runs toward the battle droids, firing as he goes, sending one more Super battle droid to the ground in a smouldering heap.

Xol can see his friend approaching fast but he can also see one of the commando droids taking aim, most assuredly having a fatal shot on Dex. Enraged Xol stretches out his hand and unleashes a hellish lightning attack that cuts through the droid before melting its metal exterior. Dex dives for the Yautja's position and fires another shot into the nearest droid, killing it. As the body of the automaton falls with a loud crash, the remaining droids close on the injured pair, their blasters at the ready and whining with energy. Xol and Dex know that it will be nigh impossible for them to make a move at this point without being killed and although their bodies bristle with anticipation, their minds are desperately scrambling for a way out of the situation they are in.

From the distance a roaring sound approaches, as it grows closer the pair can tell that it is swoop speederbikes on full throttle. As the rumble comes so close that the ground vibrates around them, blaster fire erupts from out of sight, each bolt skillfully striking the droids and frying them with electricity. Ionic weapons electrocute the machines, disrupting their power and making them fall lifeless like marionettes with cut strings.

“Uteeni!” shouts a voice from the distance.

Xol and Dex recognize the voice and immediately struggle to get up. As they help each other to their feet, they can see standing over the decimated droids are a few Jawas draped in their traditional brown robes with bandoliers of tools across their chests. The leader waving his weapon over his head in victory is Typ. When the Yautja and his clone comrade approach the diminutive Jawa, some of the other Jawas raise their weapons but Typ waves them off, instructing them to lower their weapons. Excitedly, Typ hugs Xols leg which causes the large alien to wince as the Jawa has unknowingly inflamed his blaster injury. Realizing he has pained the Yautja, the small creature apologetically pats Xol's shoulder and chatters at another Jawa to bring a medical kit.

Patrons of the market gather round unsure of whether or not they are safe, whilst more opportunistic Ugnaughts squabble with the scavenging Jawas over the droid bodies littering the street. A short time later, Qiin, Boomah and Wompit arrive, dismayed at the scene of carnage around them.

“Typ Typ!” Wompit shouts, recognizing his long lost friend.

The Savrip without asking grabs the Jawa and proceeds to nuzzle him. Appreciative but smothered, Typ gently pats Wompit's head before asking to be let down by pointing to the ground.

As the crew kneel to Dex and Xol's level on the ground, they take over the bandaging duties from the eager if not scrappy Jawas and begin to inquire about the attack.

“We expected common street thugs not droids,” Qiin exclaims. “How is it such a force was sent to attack you both.”

“This was a well laid trap my apprentice,” Xol replies, gritting his teeth as the bandages are applied to his wounds. “Someone had the foreknowledge that we were coming here and set up a scenario that should have killed us all. Thankfully they lacked the foresight to anticipate our splitting into two groups upon arrival or the random chaotic arrival of our friend Typ.”

“Who do you think is behind it Master?”

“With a Moff's fortune in credits up for offer in exchange for my head, my list of enemies cannot be measured by datapad anymore.”

The conversation halts as a group of soldiers marches down the street toward them. They move in an orderly file, all wearing the same white dress uniform with a black star emblazened on the right side of their torso. At the lead is a well dressed man in similar uniform but with the addition of a cape and cane. The leader leaves behind the soldiers at attention, accompanied only by a black 3-PO droid as he walks over to the group.

“Pardon the intrusion, I am Aydalon Borek security liaison of the Dark Star syndicate. We responded as quickly as we could to this situation which has escalated far beyond what we expected. We initially thought you might have been the cause of the disturbance but upon review of our video footage, we saw who you are and immediately understood why someone would want to do you harm. However, your identity does not concern us as we are no friends to the Galactic Empire. The facilitator of this station, Irondo Persk would very much like to meet you.”

“You'll understand if I don't fully trust your intentions, Mr. Borek.” Xol replies looking towards Dex for any insight.

“Oh good you speak Basic,” Borek replies. “We weren't sure if you did given we have never seen a species such as yours before on our station. To your point about suspicion, I wholeheartedly understand. If it would ease your mind, this offer to meet is extended to you and all of your crew. Weapons are allowed of course.”

“I will accept your invitation Mr. Borek. Your complex security system may shed some light on who has set this trap for us. Also, seeing as this incident has disrupted our acquisition of supplies, would it still be possible to acquire the items through you directly.”

“Of course Master Sol?...I do hope I am pronouncing your name properly. Just give your list to my protocol associate HX-PO and he'll make the necessary arrangements. Mr. Persk will prefer to handle the credit transaction. Droids can never be trusted with money.”

Believing the conversation has ended, Borek turns on his heel with his cane under his arm and claps twice toward the assembly of soldiers. The ranks split into two columns and allow Xol and his crew walk between them. With Xol's legs still badly hurt, the pace is slow but Borek waits for them every step of the way. The crew follow the security detail through the station into the central hub at which point the soldiers break away and stand guard.

With the swipe of an access ident-card, Borek opens a heavily sealed doorway that accesses an immense lift.

“This is the main service lift for the central space station Master Sol,” Borek explains. “It can transport a security team of one hundred individuals or two of our armoured walkers to Mr. Persk's penthouse suite in case of an emergency.”

“That's a little overkill don't ya think there Bork?” Dex snipes.

“It's pronounced Borek sir and yes, it does seem like an extreme level of response but you see Mr. Persk has many powerful enemies. Something I am sure you can understand given your current status with the Empire.”

“My mistake Mr. Borek.” Dex replies, holding back a laugh.

As the lift comes to a halt at the penthouse level. Borek shows the crew out before re-entering the elevator car and closing it's door. The penthouse level is wondrous, a board room on one side and a palatial living space complete with churning spa and pool on the other. Seated alone at the far end of a custom Sabacc table is a handsome young Twi'lek male dressed in well made clothes, his braintails wrapped in black warming scarves.

“Gentlemen, ladies, and Jawas.” the man says calmly gesturing with an subservient bow. “Do come in. It is very rare I receive such esteemed guests so far out here in the Outer Rim. I am Irondo Persk, CEO of Dark Star syndicate, and I must express my sincerest apologies regarding the ordeal you've undergone on my beloved station. Now, as I've already stated, do come in and partake in a friendly game of Sabacc with me, I do so long for a game that isn't so one sided.”

Obliging, Xol and Dex sit at the table while Qiin and Boomah pour drinks from a decanter located next to the gaming table. Wompit wanders toward the pool and splashes the gentle crystal clear water with his great paw. Typ and the rest of the Jawas munch on a tray of fruit set out next to the decanters.

Irondo shuffles the cards and deals a hand to each of the men sat at the table. As each player mulls over their first plays, the Twi'lek strikes up conversation.

“Gentlemen, life is like Sabacc in many ways. Take your situation today, you played the hand you were dealt and surprisingly your opponents had a trick card up their sleeve, just as suddenly though you too had made a bold play. Someone out there has gone all in against you and as a result has busted. Or have they?”

“How do you mean Mr. Persk?” Xol curiously asks.

“Well, Xol. Sometimes your opponent shows their hand and then other times they play a few cards to feel you out before cutting you down on the final play using subterfuge and guile all the while. Sometimes they just use incapacitating drugs in the food and drink.”

Surmising the message being conveyed by the sly Twi'lek, Xol and Dex move to stand and reach for their weapons. Restraints erupt from the arms and back of their chairs and lock them into place. The heavy gauge metal is too strong for either of them to move free. Glancing over his shoulder, Xol can see the Jawas fall unconscious along with Boomah. Qiin manages to keep her footing and draws her lightsaber. Wompit, unsure of what's happening steps away from the pool and proceeds toward the table.

From the back of the room shrouded by a large, decorative statue of a female Twi'lek; a Mandalorian warrior emerges and walks behind Persk, his custom blaster rifle already drawn. Wookiee pelts dangle from his left shoulder and a half cloak drapes over his right. Spotting Wompit, the newly arrived warrior fires a dart at the Savrip, staggering the humongous creature until he falls to the floor unconscious.

In response to the assault of her friends and her master, Qiin ignites her lightsaber and charges. The Mandalorian fires a shot so fast that the inexperienced Nautolan could not parry it and is struck in the forehead. Only a trickle of blood comes from the intricate wound just below her scalp. Her eyes empty of life and she collapses to the ground, her lightsaber retracting as she falls.

“I told you Persk to use Dioxis on the Nautolan, didn't I.” The Mandalorian coldly comments. “If I hadn't been here, she'd have done you in and they'd have escaped. Then Jabba would have both your brain tails to swat away the flies from his throne.”

“They're lured and restrained,” Persk snidely replies. “What more do you want Fett?”

Xol's gaze hangs with Qiin's lifeless body. He can feel an anger rise inside of him, the same that once liberated the young Nautolan from her Imperial slave master. He focuses all of his rage on Dex's restraints. The metal of the bindings frays and splits, wheezing and whining with every second. Xol growling continuously, phases his body out of the chair bypassing all of the restraints with ease.

“I remember you murderer,” Xol snarls. “You were at Jabba's palace. I will destroy you for what you've done Mandalorian. There will not be a piece left visible to the human eye after I'm done with you.”

The armoured assassin paying Xol's threat no mind, throws a thermal detonator at the Yautja. Xol flings the explosive across the room, exploding it at the far end of the room. As the concussive force of the explosion washes over him, he can feel a series of stings in his neck. Xol grips his throat and feels three darts shot into it. As he angrily rips them from his carotid, his vision dims and becomes fuzzy. His legs give under his weight and he falls to the floor near Qiin. Her silent face the last thing he sees before his vision blackens and he falls unconscious.

TO BE CONTINUED...

STAR WARS/PREDATOR: MASTER XOL'S SAGA (PART FIFTEEN)

The death of Lord Starkiller came at great cost to Xol,

He let his guard down and in that moment, his former Dark Jedi master; the spectre known as Blades struck from shadow and brought him down with a lightsaber strike to the heart.

That cold moment was the last thing Xol experienced.

Slain on Hoth, so close to reaching the Emperor and ending this war once and for all...

The familiar cool of Bacta tingles on Xol's skin. His eyes flash open and he can feel a pulse of pain from his latest injury. Clenching his teeth he tries to cope with the sensation and looks around. He is in an Imperial medical bay, his clothing and armour have been removed and replaced with a black and grey dressing gown. Sat atop a metal gurney, he can see no one else around. The overhead lighting is so intense he is not sure if he is even alone in the room, unable to see into the black beyond five feet around him. He noticed that he has binders on his hands and ankles and judging by the disturbing lack of connection with the Force, must be in the affected field of an Ysalamir. The pain from his chest erupts again, and in frustration, Xol rips at the fabric surrounding it. To his surprise, he can see well healed scars and signs of surgery. The Empire saved him? The Yautja, keeps his confusion at bay and instead, sits upright and begins to walk around the room. Once he leaves the light he can see that he is held in a large area devoted to Bacta healing tanks. The layout is similar to his ship's med-bay but the size of the Bacta tanks are far larger than his. The surface of them is so cold that the transparisteel covers have a dense layer of frost on them.

As he reaches out his clawed hand to scratch away the ice crystals, he can hear a door open from down the corridor. Light stretches out from the open doorway and the distinctive mechanical footsteps of a droid can be heard.

“Master Xol,” the unseen droid says into the darkness. “Now that you are awake the Emperor will see you now. Please come with me.”

Curiosity piqued and with little other choice, Xol steps down from the tank ledge and walks toward the open door. Standing at the end of the rows of churning, chilled Bacta tanks is a sleek, black RA-7 protocol droid without any Stormtrooper escort. Still complying with the droid's request he follows it from the doorway of the medical bay through a series of access tunnels, uninhabited and freezing cold under Xol's bare feet. His breath like a mist hanging around his face as he follows the droid for more than a half hour. Then at long last, the pair reach a doorway. It's larger than the others he's seen, made of stone masonry and looking as ancient as some of the temples he saw on Rakata Prime. The columns on either side are inscribed with a multitude of Old Sith glyphs, only a few characters are even recognizable to Xol.
The droid leaves the Yautja at the doorway and walks back the way it came.

“Enter, lost one.” an unfamiliar and foreboding voice says from beyond the doorway.

Feeling no need to fear, Xol steps forward into the pitch black room. To his shock, the effects of the Ysalamir seem to disappear immediately after entering, and he can feel an intense presence in the Force, familiar but yet somehow not all at the same time. With a twist of his hand, the binders restraining him unlock and fall harmlessly to the ground.

“Good.” the new and ancient voice says. “You have progressed well, and though your path is twisted and unpredictable it has led you inevitably to me, just as you were once led to Master Blades.”

“Who are you?” Xol snarls at the mention of his old master's name. “Are you the Emperor I have heard so much about? If your power is so great, why don't you come out and fight me?”

“Patience Master Xol, your bestial rage will not bear you any fruit against me.”

Calming himself Xol responds, “Why have you brought me here and why have you saved me?”

“Your life was spared, because you had yet to achieve your destiny, one which I have foreseen. This grand revelation is the very reason why so many have come to me to seek bloodshed and instead stand beside me. This was the way for your old master Blades. Once a revolutionary himself, he now serves my purpose and understands his role in bringing you, an alien blessed with a purity of Force ability the likes of which the universe had never seen and trained him in the ways of the Jedi.”

“Blades used to say things very similar to me,” Xol scoffs. “He said I would be able to one day return home and in the process defeat Vader and bring stability to the galaxy. That turned out to be nothing but manufactured myth and lies. Blades like all of you just wanted the power of the galaxy himself. Like him, whoever you are, you will die.”

“Bold words Xol, but that has always been your way. Though, you may want to rethink targets for now. I should not be the one you are worried most about. You will find Master Xol I can be most persistent when my hand is forced. What you did to Project Rebirth on Kamino was only a minor delay in creating the finished masterpiece. Now I shall see what makes you so special.”

From a few steps away, a ring of blue flame a few feet in diameter cuts the darkness with such intensity that Xol looks away out of reflex. When his sight adjusts, he can clearly see sat in the ring are his armour, clothing and weapons. The ring's flame has reduced to a low flicker so Xol has no trouble reaching past and grasping his items. In minutes he dons the entirety of his equipment and then waits in the stillness of the room.

“Well you Imperial soft-meat!” Xol yells impatiently. “You wanted a fight Emperor. Well then let's have a fight.”

As a response to the Yautja's impatience, the room begins to illuminate fully. Torches lining the walls of the vast circular room flare with blue flame and drench the stone worked masonry of the interior with light. More ancient Sith symbols line the walls, like a vast repository of knowledge scrawled for eternity into the rock. An upper level can be seen with a balcony overlooking the floor below. Sat atop it is a grand throne and two flanking statues of Sith warriors carrying swords. The swords are themselves large torches of the sapphire coloured flame. Resting comfortably in the great seat is a figure wearing a large, ornately decorated black robe. The hood of the robe is drawn over the wearer's head so far that it completely obfuscates the face of the one who wears it. Behind the lone spectator are two Imperial Royal guards, their crimson armour a stark contrast to the darkly garbed dignitary.

Across the floor of this arena of sorts is a large stone door, a possible exit or path of entry to access the balcony. Xol charges up and unleashes both his lightsabers, and as he is about to land the first blow against the stone door he sees it shift violently outward, as if forced from inside. Another violent shove from inside cracks the rock and makes Xol assert a more defensive stance in response. The Yautja can sense the same energy from when he entered strongly emanating from beyond the door, like the scent of blood. Something troubles him however about what is inside, the feeling he gets is so familiar like being greeted by a loved one or revisiting a childhood home. It unnerves him and he frustratingly cycle through all his helmet's vision modes, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of what may lie behind.

A final blow from inside shatters the stone, sending hunks of rock barrelling out into the open area where Xol stands. The explosive blast from the rock has sent a haze of dust into the air obscuring the sizable combatant that emerges.

Shock, horror, and confusion fills Xol's heart as this new opponent steps from beyond the dust. Standing as tall as him and armed to the teeth is another Yautja. The armour is a more traditional steel grey compared to his own blackened style and gripped in each hand are skillfully crafted lightsabers, much different than his own. The triangular laser reticule of the enemy Yautja activates and shines at Xol's helmet.

“How can this be?” Xol asks in disbelief.

“I told you I was persistent Master Xol,” the Emperor responds. “I found a way to finally clone you, power and all. Trained by my own hand of course. That and all your pesky rage and individuality has been bred out of him. This is a pure killer, a true predator if you will, for the Empire.”

“You'll never leave this place alive!” Xol snarls. “I swear it!”

“On the contrary, Dark Jedi. You won't survive this day and in your place will be this agent of destruction born from your own blood. Enjoy your last moments Master Xol, and take pride in how close you came to almost defeating me.”

The Emperor's laughter signals the start of the combat and the Yautja clone ignites his twin orange lightsabers and strikes in a well executed series of thrusts and strikes. Xol has no choice but to defend, still recovering from the shock. This new attacker is unlike anything the experienced master has ever had to face before. The clone seems to know each move Xol will make before he makes it. He barely parries an assault before it hits him. To give himself some distance he attempts to use the Force to push the clone back. However to his surprise and shock, the clone counters with an identical attack creating a collision of the two waves of force in between them both which sends the pair flying away from each other in either direction. Though it may not have been the outcome Xol wanted he takes advantage regardless and throws an ignited lightsaber like a glowing red spear toward the clone, simultaneously running headlong toward the clone to execute a one two combination that he hopes will serve him well. The clone responds by using his own abilities to deflect the saber away and leaps into the air, dodging Xol's charge. As the clone acrobatically flies overtop the veteran Yautja he displays incredible martial prowess and kicks Xol in the back. The strike bows Xol's back and makes him stumble. In his attempt to regain balance he fumbles the lightsaber that remains in his hand. Xol reaches out to reclaim his weapons with the Force and finds his efforts blocked by the clone who has already reclaimed them to his own hands. The clone drops his enemies lightsabers at his feet and unexpectedly begins to laugh.

“What is so funny, you Imperial abomination?” Xol asks, gasping for air.

“I do not believe that you could have possibly been the source of my genetic code.” the clone answers with a chuckle. “You are pathetic, not even a challenge for a being as magnificent as myself. You disgrace me and my Emperor.”

The clone disgusted by the exhausted Xol, looks up to the balcony and asks, “What is your will my master? What would you have me do with this vile thing?”

“Finish him.” The Emperor says coldly before standing up to leave the balcony, his red guards following close behind.

“As you wish my master.” The clone responds before turning back to Xol. “Master Xol, you of course are the reason for my existence in the first place, so as one last gift to you before you die you may retrieve your weapons. You deserve a sporting chance after all.”

“Keep them, scum.” Xol utters with a low growl. “I already have that which I need most of all. Something you'll never have.”

Xol stands to meet his attacker and brushes himself off. The clone, thinking the elder Yautja foolish prepares his lightsabers and kicks Xol's away from him. With a loud scream Xol charges headlong toward the clone, using the Force to maximize his speed. In a blur he surges across the arena floor but as he reaches his opponent he is stopped flat in his tracks by the clone's orange lightsabers, which now have impaled Xol through the upper torso causing him extreme pain. Xol unleashes a yell of fury as the clone pushes further forward with his blades.

“You actually believed you were faster than me old one?” the clone mocks. “Now you are dead, stuck like a womprat on the end of a forcepike.”

“Am I really, you laboratory grown idiot?” Xol replies with a cockiness peppering his words. “Or did you and your new Emperor not educate yourselves on my abilities in the Force. I can allow objects to pass through my body as if I were the air itself, so these chest wounds, are like you. Nothing more than an illusion.”

The clone looks to see that his strikes have indeed not penetrated the armour and flesh of the older Yautja but are merely stuck right through his intangible form. Xol ducks allowing the blades to pass with ease out of his body and in that same moment, he restores his tangibility and sweeps the clone's legs, tripping him up. The clone, falls backward onto his back. Staring up at Xol from the ground the clone can see the elder Yautja draw his wrist blades out from his gauntlet. The jagged metal edge of them shines in the torchlight for just a moment before Xol plunges them into the clone's chest plate.

“I also have the real armour of my ancestors, you false shadow of a creature.” Xol says as he digs his razor sharp weapon deep into the clone's body. “You, like your armour are a copy. A lie created by a megalomaniac dictator to destroy something he barely understands but ultimately fears. Your existence should never have been and even though you are not truly one of my kind, you are the closest thing I have seen in many years, the Emperor will pay for what he has done, I can promise you that. Rest now, and meet the Black Warrior in my people's land of the dead and when I see you there, we will continue our battle.”

Xol hearing the last breath of the clone slide out, grasps his lightsabers and using the Force leaps to the balcony. He can see that just behind it is a hallway that is partly ruin and rock like the room he stands in but then changes to a reconstructed passageway made of modern materials. He bolts down the hall and upon reaching the next doorway without fear phases through it. Xol rolls forward as he passes through the door so that he can be at the ready on the other side. Just as he suspected, the Emperor would not go unattended as he sees around him ranks upon ranks of stormtroopers standing guard in front of a Lambda class shuttle craft. The shuttle's gangway is deployed and the Emperor is boarding, followed by six of his royal guard.

Without hesitation the ranks of stormtroopers open fire with their blasters sending a torrent of bolts toward Xol. In defense, the Yautja becomes intangible but given the sheer volume of fire coming toward him he is finding it difficult to hold on to his focus. Each bolt that passes through him feels like an electric shock channelled directly into his mind. After what feels like an eternity, the first volleys are complete and a portion of the troops are having to reload. Using these precious few seconds, Xol restores himself and begins cutting a swath through the ranks, using his Force abilities to fling soldiers left and right, there screams following them as they fly. Those that fire upon him, are parried by his lightsaber and cut down. His armour takes a few hits but none of them strong enough to penetrate it's dense structure. As he becomes more and more surrounded and is unable to ward off the horde of stormtroopers, he is left with no choice but to sheath his lightsabers and focus all of his energy into the Force.

Arcs of lightning snap and whine as they pour from Xol's body and cut the air. The stormtroopers, incapable of fear proceed to assault the focused Dark Jedi. With a flash of energy, the flitting tentacles of electricity turn into bolts and lash out in all directions incinerating anyone caught in their path. Stormtroopers, armour and all ignite into ash upon contact with one of the red snaking arms of lightning. When Xol feels that all the troopers have been eliminated he loosens his focus and walks overtop the bodies around him toward the shuttlecraft. The Emperor, with a wave commands his crimson guards to descend the gangway and cover his escape.

Once the royal guards exit, the shuttle immediately takes off, raising it's gangway as it flies. Between the shuttle and Xol stand six of the Emperor's personal guard. Though not Force users, the Yautja knows by reputation that these elite combatants should not be underestimated. The guards fan out and take up positions around Xol, powering their forcepikes as they do so and assume a much more offensive stance. The group charge all at once hoping to take the experienced Force manipulator by surprise. Admittedly overwhelmed Xol leaps out from the center of the formation to a more open spot in the landing area. Suddenly a disturbance in the Force fills Xol's mind, but he can not determine what from and his only opponents are more than thirty feet away now. From the corner of his eye he sees the source and moves to dodge. Heavy green ion blasts fired from the shuttle narrowly miss the Yautja but the final shot shudders him and makes him lose his footing. The ionic interference caused by the close shot seems to be minorly affecting his heads up display but not so much that he has to remove his helmet. Xol stands up to face his adversaries who now grow closer to him, their pikes drawn forward like lances as they charge. Though not making a sound, the royal guards' techniques are well executed but fueled by furious hatred for Xol. Each strike that is evaded is answered by two more nearly striking the Yautja in an unprotected area. Unable to focus on so many strikes at once, Xol is caught by a strike to the back of the head and another to the solar plexus which doubles him over, followed by a third bludgeoning blow that collides with the back of his knees, buckling his legs. In response, Xol reaches out to unleash an arc of lightning against one of his attackers, which is successful and sends the now scorched royal guard to the ground but soon after a powerful downward strike to the hand interrupts the Yautja's Force attack. Drawing his lightsabers, Xol proceeds to enter a melee exchange with the remaining five guardsmen. His weapons clash and spark as the guards parry his attacks. He can only infer their weapons are made of lightsaber resistant material. After already battling one powerful adversary today and expending a great deal of energy dispatching the multitude of stormtroopers, Xol can feel his reserves draining away and he knows he must do something soon to either defeat these imperials or retreat. In desperation he headbutts the center guard sending him reeling and strikes another with an elbow before levelling a dual lightsaber strike against a third. While one of his blades was turned away, the second snuck through and pierces the crimson armour of the royal guard with much resistance. It appears that even their armour is denser than a standard stormtrooper and like their weapons might actually be near invulnerable to glancing lightsaber attacks. One of the remaining four guards nearest Xol lands a successive three hit combination of strikes that pounds the Yautja sturdy chest. In the moment that this attack stuns him he can feel white-hot searing pain flood into his body as one of his attackers stabs their pike into his exposed and unarmoured collarbone narrowly missing his neck and a second does the same to back of his leg bringing once again to his knees. Angry but exhausted, the Yautja savagely lashes out but to no avail unable to gain enough reach on the pike wielding guards.

Xol feels like a cornered animal at the end of a hunt, and though he will fight until his last breath, he wonders which one of his attackers will bring him down. As the guards move in for another series of strikes against the partly disabled Xol, a blaster rings out striking one of them in the head, though it was not enough to kill the guard, it did get their attention. The four turn to meet their new challenge whilst keeping an eye on the Yautja never leaving him unguarded. From the distance in addition to hearing further blaster fire, Xol can see a purplish energy orb strike one of the guards and blast them back with a severely damaged chest piece. Summoning all of his remaining strength, he brings himself back to his feet and reenters the melee. Between glances toward his opponents he sneaks a look at what has come to interfere with this clash between him and the guards. From down the hangar, Xol can see Dex leading the charge along with Qiin, Wompit and the Gungan Boomah. Though the royal guards of the Emperor are formidable martial artists, they cannot seem to keep the motley crew at bay.

Dex enters a hand to hand exhange with the lead guard and has his blaster knocked out of his hand, which only leads the clone commando to deploy his fist-knife and plunge it into the underside of the guard's armpit where the armour has a weak point. The nerve clusters and blood vessels struck there are enough to bring the guard down.

Qiin attempts to cover Dex from an attack but is unable to keep up with royal guard attacking her and is struck in the head, sending her to the ground. Upon hitting the ground, Boomah fires a couple shots at the same guard to assist the prone Nautolan. The guard having no choice but to parry the blasts with his pike turns his attention away from Qiin. She uses that chance to slash at the guard's feet using her lightsaber and severs the lowers half of the guards leg, bringing him to the ground next to her, screaming. When he falls, Qiin raises herself up and stabs downward into the guard delivering a coup de grace. The guard's body falls limp and the young woman brings herself back up to her feet.

Wompit angrily storms toward Xol and is blocked by the remaining two guardsmen. In true Mantellian Savrip form he reaches out to grab one of the guards and despite being stabbed by a pike in the arm as he does it, he manages to get a hold of him. Wompit obviously upset about his arm, crushes inward on the guard making the man scream in agony and then throws him to the ground, only to stomp on him as hard as he can. As he does so, the second guard moves in for another strike against the Savrip. Seeing this, Wompit picks up the limp body of the first guard and as if using the body as a club hits the second guard. The powerful blow wasn't enough to kill but did send the guard to the ground, where Wompit proceeds to continue bludgeoning him to death shouting, “Red trooper not hurt master big guy! No! No! No!”

The tremendous Mantellian continues so long that his weapon and his target are far beyond dead and Xol raises his hand to stop the enraged attack.

“Quiet yourself Wompit, I am alright now,” Xol reassures the behemoth. “I am safe because of you.”

The scuffle over, the rest of the group rush over to the injured Yautja and help him up. The pain in is leg is dramatic enough that Xol places weight on the other to compensate.

“Your plan to go down here alone sure seemed to work out huh, big guy?” Dex scolds jokingly. “We got a nice Bacta bath back at the ship with your name on it and this time I may even let you have bubbles.”

A forced smile appears on Xol's face behind his helmet. “Thank-you DX,” he says with a tired voice. “I should have had you there with me...”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda,” Dex replies. “I shoulda settled down with a nice blue-green Twi'lek girl on a paradise colony years ago but you see me cryin'? Of course not, I wear this helmet all the time.”

Xol laughs and knows what his old friend's message is through his humour. He understands and is glad Xol is alive.

“Alright, Qiin and Boomah,” Dex orders, “You take the lead. Wompit and myself will hang back with Xol until we reach the Wayfarer, copy?”

The still slightly stunned Nautolan and purple Gungan nod in agreement and set out ahead of the group.

“So we are still on Hoth?” Xol inquires.

“You betcha big guy, and Wompit didn't even bring any mittens,” Dex answeres sarcastically. “You try and raise these kids right and look what you get, nothing but defiance.”

“How did you get here, the Emperor's presence must have brought half the Empire, not that I am not appreciative of the rescue Dex.”

“No sweat, it appears the Emperor travels light then because we had no idea he was even here. In fact, the big ships guarding this frozen marble booted out into hyperspace two days ago.”

“Strange things are going on 1165, and this new Emperor is incredibly cunning. We have to watch our next move because he may have already anticipated it.”

TO BE CONTINUED...