Escaping from the Ilum system through a random jump into Hyperspace, Xol and Dex leave the shattered remains of three sabotaged Imperial Star Destroyers behind them.
Fearing reprisal, the pair spends many months traversing the backwater spacelanes of the Outer Rim, ducking the Empire at every turn.
In all their time of travelling, Xol managed to discover that within the ornate box they took from the crystal cavern, was three more holocrons, two, once belonging to the Jedi Order and one of Sith origin.
Combined with the prophetic knowledge found on the holocron of Jedi Master Tyvokka, Xol engrosses himself into the in-depth study of each one, desperately seeking any technique that may give him an edge against the emperor.
In need of maintenance, running out of supplies, not to mention hiding places, the duo make their way further into the galaxy, to the Mid-Rim border world of Ord Mantell.
It is there they hope to find some temporary sanctuary and some provisions so that they can continue their quest to bring balance to the Force and bring down Darth Vader’s Empire.
The muffled sounds of a spaceport creep into the Wayfarer transport’s loading dock where Xol is training. He wears no armor, not even his helmet as he moves, repeating techniques over and over again until he is satisfied that he has mimicked perfectly the holocron’s image projecting beside him. His space now seems dedicated to these training tools of the Force, with Tyvokka’s now joined by his three new additions, all of which took a great deal of time just to unlock let alone understand their contents. The first holocron is that of an Iktotchi Jedi ace named Saesee Tiin, it contains mechanical schematics of some sort. The second is a dark pyramid with gold inlays, belonging to some ancient Sith calling himself Kla, that out of the three is the most curious, not only because Xol’s knowledge of the Sith language is very limited and will require further research in his master’s own recordings, but also, because it seems to be paired with an opulent necklace of similar styling. The third a slightly larger piece, is a dodecahedron shaped holocron that seems to be referred to in various recordings stored within as the Great Holocron. From these ancient artifacts, Xol has learned a great deal over the past few months since he retrieved them on Ilum. However, he still has yet to discern the whereabouts of the mysterious Master Kuro, the supposed last Jedi he was told to seek out, by an ancient voice from deep within the Force some time ago.
His focus is broken with the sound of the cargo bay doors opening, their loud warning alarms and flashing lights bringing Xol’s training regimen to a halt. He waves his hand turning off the active holocron and levitates his helmet, armor and lightsaber to him, letting them float in the air in front of him as he puts each piece on.
Once the doors fully open, walking up the gangway with three cargo containers on a repulsorlift loader behind him, Dex emerges. His cloak flapping in the wind, and a worried look on his face, he looks to his Yautja companion and says, “Xol, we are down a black hole without an escape pod, my friend.”
Xol, continues placing his armor on replying only with an inquisitive look, patiently awaiting the explanation that will inevitably follow a statement like the one Dex has just made.
“Well I sold the Imperial weapons we had, but it barely got us enough credits to get refueled and resupply us with a few days worth of ration packs, Dex says with a sigh. “How do we expect to fight the Empire without any money in our pockets?”
“The Force shall show us the way.” Xol says calmly before sliding on his helmet.
An unconvinced look on his face, Dex responds, “That all might be true, but for now, how about you and I let the Force guide us to the nearest cantina, so we can get a drink and figure out our next move, more importantly, just to get off this ship, its starting to smell like a Geonosian spawning chamber in here.”
Xol and Dex both arm themselves before exiting the craft and heading out past the spaceport into the Ord Mantell capital of Worlport. The nighttime streets of the city are teeming with movement, countless different races going about their after hours routines, filing in and out of various cantinas and brothels that line the streets near the spaceport.
As Xol stares around taking in his new surroundings, Dex placing his hand on the tall alien’s shoulder says, “You a gambling man, err, I mean Yautja, Xol?”
“There are some games of chance in my culture, but mostly we gained our entertainment from the hunt itself.” Xol responds, curious as to why Dex would ask such a question.
“Well, then, what say you and me, catch a rickshaw droid over to the Lady Fate Casino,” Dex says pointing across the city towards a brightly lit district off in the distance. “A merchant was telling me about it earlier, given your hunting experience, I think you might enjoy a game of Dejarik, might put a smile on that face of yours, that is, if you’re kind can smile.”
Xol ignores Dex’s remark and instead focuses his attention on the vehicles racing by them, he then steps into the flow of traffic right as a rickshaw is about to pass him. The droid comes to a halt, its glowing, yellow, eyes scanning up the tall figure blocking its path before it utters in a mechanical voice, “Apologies pedestrian but I currently have two occupants and can not accommodate your needs at this time, another like myself should be along shortly.”
Xol’s heat vision reveals to him the outline of two humanoids in the concealed cabin being pulled by the droid. Waving his hand in the direction of the passengers, he says to the driver, “They’ll get out and walk the rest of the way.”
The droid puzzled, looks back to his passengers and sees them get out of the cabin, one of the pair waves at the droid and says, “Its fine, and we’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Xol still waving his hand says, “They thank you for time and will allow us to use the remainder of their already paid service.”
To which the former passenger, still influenced by the Dark Jedi’s mind trick repeats back to the droid, “We thank your for your time and these men can ride out the rest of our prepaid fare.”
The droid bewildered, turns to Xol and says, “It appears that I am able to accept you both now as occupants, please board in the rear cabin and state your destination.”
Dex impressed by this, says to Xol, “Man oh man, you have got to show me how to do that sometime.”
The duo steps inside the cabin of the rickshaw and tell the droid to take them to the Casino. On the way, Dex decides to strike up a conversation. “Xol,” he begins. “I’m curious, how is it that you know so much about Imperial protocol, that performance on the Reclamation was nothing short of brilliant, you had commander Tykon quivering in his shiny, black, boots.
“My former master, Dark Lord Blades trained me in much more than just the Dark side of the Force,” Xol explains. He ensured I knew of the Sith, their counterparts the Jedi, the Empire, and many other things that would, I guess, ultimately aid me in the mission he had planned for me all along.”
Dex, acknowledging his understanding with a nod, asks, “One more thing my Yautja friend, that business on Ilum where you took a skull as some sort of prize, I fail to understand what use the Jedi or for that matter the Sith would have for such a grisly practice.”
Xol, sensing a fear in his companion calmly explains, “DX-1165, it is neither a Jedi or Sith tradition, in my culture, we sometimes hunt the soft meat and to honor our valued prey we take a trophy symbolizing a great achievement or step in our lives. We do not live forever but our trophies make us immortal in the eyes of our clan. If you were my prey Dex, I would do the same for you.”
Mildly unsettled at the idea of losing his head, Dex rubs along his neck and nervously replies, “Thanks, that means a lot to me, I guess.”
Dex’s questions cease and a silence falls over the compartment. Xol looks out the window, taking in the sights of the city whizzing by, while Dex thumbs over some credit chips he pulls from a storage pouch on his belt.
A short time later, the droid rickshaw arrives at the Lady Fate Casino, Dex and Xol step out from the rear compartment allowing the droid to drive off, the building before them is higher class than they expected for Ord Mantell. Its dazzling lights and flashing video ads light up the street as they make their way up to the entrance. Directly out front, they can see, elegant, top end speeders pulling up and being attended to immediately by valet droids as the well dressed drivers make their way up the stairs and into the casino. As the pair climbs the stairs, Dex pulls off his helmet, tucking it under his right arm before reaching the front door. Xol walking in front is halted by the outstretched orange hand of a rather well dressed, corpulent, male Twi’lek.
In broken Basic, the doorman says, “Apologize, Empire no welcome, try Imperial Palace, they like you.”
“Us, Imperials? Are your brain tails tied in a knot? I should just empty a blaster right into your f…” Dex says, before being silenced by Xol’s quickly raised hand.
“What my ex-communicated Republic friend here is trying to say is that in regards to the Empire we both hope it burns to the ground and that small vermin will gnaw on the rotting corpse of the Emperor as it burns.” Xol states, his words clear, and concise. “Does this convey to you our feelings on you calling us Imperials? Now, allow us entry to this establishment so that we may enjoy its many diversions.”
Xol assuming his statement was effective enough begins to walk past the Twi’lek, but as he does, he is stopped again by his hand.
“No entry, Empire. Guards will blast.” The Twi’lek says firmly as two guards emerge from the building, both armed with heavy blasters, one a Gran, and the other a Rodian.
“I fail to see how I can make myself any more clear, my bloated, orange, friend.” Xol says, his patience beginning to wane. “However, if you insist on not letting us in, I understand, and we shall be on our way, that is of course, unless you change your mind.”
As before Xol waves his hand subtly in the air. As he lets it rest at his side, the Twi’lek speaks up, “I change mind.”
“So you will let us in, and as an apology for our inconvenience you’ll give each of us some credits as compensation.” Xol says, waving his hand once more.
“You two in, sorry for trouble, here is one hundred credit worth gambling chip for both you.” The doorman replies as he reaches into his own pocket and pulls out two blue triangles with the number “100” written on them, handing Xol and Dex each one.
“Thank you for your patronage, your guards may return to their posts.” Xol responds.
“Thanks you for coming,” The Twi’lek repeats, “Guard, back in, no more needing you.”
The guards, confused, and annoyed do as they are told and walk back into the casino, Xol and Dex just behind them.
Leaning over to Xol, his hand partially covering his mouth, Dex whispers, “Seriously, you have to show me how to do that.”
The two enter the casino, staring all around they see sprawling game tables of all sorts as well as countless video monitors projecting events from all over the galaxy. In the rear a sizeable bar can be seen manned by several bartenders. A bevy of exotic dancers of multiple different races dance in clear, transparisteel boxes suspended above the gambling tables. Live music plays from a stage set in the middle of the main gaming area. The gambling floor itself is alive with action as various different species play the wide range of games. Near the exits, more heavily armed guards can be seen, with an additional few patrolling the tables. Dex reaches into his pouch, hands Xol a few gold colored credit chips, and says, “Don’t go spending all you credits on a pretty face, try and gamble a little, my game’s Sabacc, those are the tables on the far end, your welcome to join me, but if you are still interested in Dejarik, it looks like they have it set up on the other side next to the bar.”
“Appreciated DX, but I believe I will try this so called hunters game you recommended for me.” Xol replies, as he walks in the direction of the Dejarik tables.
Moving onto the floor himself heading in the other direction Dex shouts back, “Suit yourself big guy, just yell if you get into trouble.”
The pair goes their separate ways and seats themselves at tables that are available. Xol manages to find an unattended hologame and begins to play against the computer player built in, attempting to acclimate to the games unique style of play, one part chess to one part gladiatorial arena. At first, his skill level is promising, the Force allowing him to foresee his opponent’s next move, but his ultimate lack of knowledge in the individual holomonster game pieces leads to frustration and eventually after three or four rounds, Xol quits, retiring to the comfort of a bar stool and a harsh alcoholic beverage the bartender calls “A Reactor Core.”
A few hours later, his helmet sat on the stool next to him, Xol is still drinking, finding that his Yautja physiology does not seem to react to intoxicants in a debilitating way as it does with other species. Bored, he spins his half full glass in place, watching as the liquid swirls around and around drawing his thoughts further and further into the whirlpool. His concentration is interrupted when a cast shadow from behind him blocks any light entering into the glass.
“Yousan being the bombad Sit’ Lord weesan be hearin’ about?” a strange voice says from behind Xol.
“I am not Sith,” Xol replies, annoyed. “And, you are blocking my light.”
“Sit’, Jedis, or whatever you is, it all being the same to us,” the voice answers gruffly. “Meesan Boss wanting to be seeings you, yousa come with meesa before yousa gettin crunched right here.”
His patience worn out, Xol turns around in his stool and stands up. The five and a half foot tall Gungan standing before him is an unfamiliar species, with a duck’s bill, large, leathery, floppy ears, dark purple tinted skin and two yellow eyes set atop tiny stalks. ‘It’ already has a blaster drawn, and with the difference in height between the Yautja and this creature, it is aimed almost exactly at Xol’s groin.
With a half smile on its face, the purple Gungan says, “Steady now or meesa be blowin’ a hole right through yoursan matin’ organ. Yoursan friend, Dex be sayin’ you can be trusted, that yousa not like Empire poodoo, that yousa different. Meesa tink dat yousa all being da same, but Boss sayin he want to meet yousa so yousa comin’ wit’ me, no problems, and no ouch time, okie day?”
“You and your master can do yourselves a favor and release Dex or I will have both your heads on my trophy wall before this day has ended, do I make myself clear.” Xol responds angrily, his four tusks fully extended.
“Release?” the alien messenger replies with a laugh, “Heesa not taken hostage, heesan win big at Sabacc, makin friends with da Boss, and da Boss says that heesa havin’ job for yousa and him.”
“Just take me to Dex and we shall see about this job,” Xol says as he levitates his helmet towards his outstretched hand.
“I got big boomin’ bongo speeder out da front for us, no smartness keepin’ the Boss waiting, now is dere?” the Gungan replies, as he makes side-to-side motions with his blaster for the Yautja to follow him to the main entrance.
After leaving a credit chip on the bar next to his still half full glass, Xol walks in front of the Gungan toward the front of the casino. As the pair exits the building, a valet droid brings up a luxurious speeder, far larger and more opulent than anything Xol has ever seen in his life especially on Ord Mantell. The Gungan still having his blaster drawn ushers Xol into the back seat of the vehicle before climbing in himself, after relaying a destination to an unseen driver in the front part of the vehicle via an internal communication system, the speeder begins to move.
As the world outside flies by at breakneck speed, Xol turns to the Gungan and asks, “What do they call you, I tire of you knowing all about me when I know nothing of you or your master.”
“Booma, after the weapon,” the purple alien replies. “Meesa being one of da bestest men workin’ for Orlo.”
“What’s an Orlo?” Xol asks sincerely.
“Yousa been livin’ under a rock somewhere?” Booma replies, a look of surprise on his face. “Orlo is da bombaddest Hutt this side of space, biggest goobafish in the sea heesa is.”
“We shall see purple soft meat. We shall see.” Xol replies, his head turning back to the window of the vehicle.
Almost an hour passes before the vehicle stops fully at a well guarded gate leading into a complex of some kind. The speeder is waved through by the guard on duty and it starts to creep up a long driveway, a road lined with high fences and guard towers every twenty feet. Xol expected there to be a military fortress at the end of this path to destruction instead his eyes are greeted by a sprawling estate, with a jewel of a mansion as its focal point. Lush grasses and titanic trees make way to an artificial lake with a huge repulsorlift yacht hovering above it. Guards can be seen everywhere on the grounds, patrolling in pairs with several palm sized spherical droids floating above each pair.
Across the green plain of the lawn, a large assembly can be seen, partaking in some sort of musical performance. A gigantic throne sits in the middle of the gathering, a triumphant booming laugh emanating from its occupant, which in turn inspires the whole crowd to laugh.
“Dis where weesa be gettin’ out, big Boss Orlo over dat way wit’ his people.” Booma says, opening his door to exit the speeder.
Upon exiting the speeder himself, Xol is met by several heavily armed guards, mostly Nikto, their blasters trained on the Yautja at all times. Booma motions for Xol to follow him and the group lead by the Yautja and the Gungan cross the garden of the palatial Hutt estate to the large group sitting outside.
The crowd parts as Booma and the towering Yautja get close, allowing them to walk directly into the center which is clear save a small band playing off to the side, a Toydarian juggler and a couple scantily clad dancing girls who quickly move to Orlo’s side once Xol stands before him. Orlo’s throne is a testament to decadence with gold inlays set in some form of red marble, its top has a red veiled canopy that fans out of it and drapes to cover the front.
Booma walks to the side of the regal chair and presses a sequence of buttons retracting the obstructing veil to the sides like a curtain on a great stage. Once the curtain is fully retracted, Xol can see that not only was Orlo behind it but several more attractive girls who lay across him, a protocol droid and Dex in his full armor standing beside him.
Orlo himself is a rather large Hutt stretching longer than Xol’s fighter and much taller than the Yautja. He is dark blue in color with a black band, possibly a tattoo, running across his face at the eye level. In one hand he holds a control pad of some sort, and in the other he has a long forked pipe with tubules that hook up to a giant hookah like device behind him.
The great blue behemoth waits for the crowd to become quiet before speaking, his booming voice making all those in his entourage take notice. As he speaks his red colored 3PO droid begins to translate, its voice clearly reprogrammed to sound more sinister than a base model.
“Welcome Dark Jedi, I have heard tell of your kind from the old days, before the time of Vader,” the droid explains. “Your comrade Dex has informed me that you are on a mission to stop the Empire, but require some basic needs and he claims that you successfully eliminated three Star Destroyers without leaving a single survivor.”
Shocked that Dex would tell of that event to a stranger, Xol replies, “Yes Orlo, it is the truth, we have struck out against the Empire and are in great need of provisions that will accommodate us for longer than a few days journey. Now, it is my understanding that my cohort bested you in a game of chance and this leads you somehow to offering us employment, is that correct?”
With a huff of his pipe before speaking, Orlo replies, “Your friend, this clone is one hell of a Sabacc player, so he knows how to bluff well, so when he told me of your exploits, I was skeptical. However, his breed is made from Mandalorian stock, brutal and fierce, straight to the throat killers, so I believe you enough to offer you the following arrangement.”
Orlo commands that a table be brought forth, and without delay three Nikto setup a table and a holographic projector atop it, before bowing in subservience and leaving his presence. With a push of a button on the Hutt’s control pad, the projector turns on and displays a three dimensional hologram of an Imperial officer. He seems middle aged, has a dark skin tone and one eye that has clearly been cybernetically altered. “This is Count Raxus, an Imperial Moff that has become a considerable thorn in my side,” Orlo relays, angrily. “Before all I had to do is pay him off, and the Empire looked the other way when I conducted activitiy in this sector. However, as of late he has become greedy and demands more and more of me, this can no longer go on. I am a Hutt; our people do not negotiate with inferior creatures like Raxus. No bounty hunter or mercenary at my disposal will go near him because he is guarded by a well skilled Imperial Sith Lord; however that shouldn’t be a problem for someone as resourceful as you.”
With another push of a button, Orlo turns off the image. He demands the table removed and as quickly as it was assembled it is disassembled and taken from sight.
“What, may I ask is our reward, Orlo of the Hutts?” Xol inquires.
“One and a half million credits, two if you bring me Raxus alive,” The Hutt responds. “As well as several of my finest slaves, for you to use as you wish, do we have a deal dark one?”
“Mighty Orlo, I will rip out this Sith Lord’s skull and place it upon my mantle, this man he protects, Count Raxus is hunted and he will be your trophy, I promise you this!” Xol says with froth.
TO BE CONTINUED...
