Episode II: Part 5
Deuce ran around the corner, falling heavily against the stone wall and drinking in the dusty air. Ghost followed a moment later, carrying the unconscious body of Mag Toth, the Zabrak smuggler. Ghost eased the smuggler to the floor, and then turned to the hallway to listen for any pursuers. Once he caught his breath, Deuce knelt to carefully check the smuggler's wounds.
Immediately Mag jerked awake, managing to choke back a yell.
"Where ... where am I?" He coughed then doubled over in pain. When the coughing fit released its hold on him, Mag slowly sat upright. "Sithspawn! There isn't a part of me that doesn't hurt!" He hissed.
"In that case, I'll spare you the whole 'pain is weakness leaving the body' drek."
"Thanks, I feel like I just wrecked a speeder head first."
Deuce smirked and glanced at the smuggler's blood-soaked right shoulder, bruised head and claw marked face. "Well, you look like it, but if you're talking and breathing I'll put my credits down that you'll live."
"What happened? I remember carrying some tool bags down a hallway with some knuckle-dragging, nerf-herding pirate poking me in the back with a blaster rifle. Just after that, everything went nuts. It was like some bad holovid. The lights went out, some fool opened fire with his blaster on full auto, and people were screaming like idiots," he swallowed with a dry and hoarse throat, "including me."
Deuce sighed, "I don't know all the intel, but this is what we're guessing. Somehow the slavers got wind of this place and convinced themselves there was some great treasure here. They found something all right, but I wouldn't call it a treasure. It's closer to what they deserve. Anyway, it was in that room, down the hall from where you had been. It had these two long, smoky obsidian boxes that took up a good part of the room. The pirates, stupid di'kutla that they are, cut away the obsidian layer and uncovered a metal inner chamber that had a
keypad. The moment one of them tried to bypass it, everything went crazy."
"Ok, I'll bite, what was in there?"
Ghost shifted his weight uncomfortably and exchanged a glance with Deuce. The sergeant sighed and looked back to Mag. "Short answer is a walking nightmare. If they weren't so raving off their head, I'd feel sorry for the things. They're people or were people anyway. Somebody did some very bad things to them. Changed them, altered them. They look like they were human and still kinda look human now, just twisted in some way. Like a really perverse idea of a human. Anyway, that's just all lead up. The bad part is that we both think those monsters were Jedi before they were ... altered."
"Frak."
"Couldn't have put it better myself. We need weapons and fast if we're getting out of here in one piece."
Ghost tensed, "Incoming."
From around the corner, the sounds of blaster fire echoed off the stone walls. Brief bursts of light intermixed with shouts of anger and screams of pain. One of the pirates, the burly human that had been shoving Deuce and Ghost with his rifle, burst into view. Needle-like claw marks slashed across his arms and bruises decorated his right cheek. Around his right eye, a particularly ugly bruise had appeared and threatened to swell the eye shut. His shirt was in rags but his flak vest was nearly intact if unfastened. In a wild panic, the pirate skid to a stop in the room and leveled his rifle at the trio from instinct. Deuce eased his hands up to try and put the man at ease.
"Easy now, son. We've got bigger bantha to shoot than each other."
"Things ... the things ... Sithspawn ... what they're doing ... "
Mag eased himself to his feet, the adrenaline of the moment giving him more energy. "What are they doing?"
Deuce cast a sideways glance at Mag, "Don't ask, I'll explain later."
Suddenly, the pirate spun at some motion at the corner of his vision to face the hallway again. His good left eye widened and a scream of terror ripped from him as he leveled his rifle and jerked the trigger. A steady stream of blaster bolts poured into the darkness until nothing moved. The man crept forward a hesitant step, panting from adrenaline and fear. In the following silence, a pair of human feminine hands, skin as pale as clean snow, lashed out of the blackness and sunk dark claws into the human's vest. His scream rose in pitch as the hands jerked him off his feet and back down the hallway. The scream stopped abruptly and the rifle skittered back to the edge of the doorway, dented with spots of blood. A lilting giggle drifted from the hallway while the rifle spun, and slowed to a stop.
Snatching up the rifle, the scout trooper checked the charge on the ammo pack. "Time to go."
Deuce grabbed the smuggler by the left, less wounded, arm. "You heard the man. We've worn out our welcome."
Racing across the room, the trio bolted through a doorway and into another dark corridor beyond. From a pocket, Deuce withdrew a small glowstick then bent it in two until it snapped and emitted a dim greenish glow. Using its feeble light as a guide, the three pushed on. Along the walls, intermittent runes and carvings could be seen on the walls or floor, but otherwise the corridor was clear of any features. Eventually, the floor gently angled down and emerged into a
modest-sized room, four to five meters square, which contained computer terminals that appeared as old as the building itself. On the far side was a similar doorway to another corridor. Once all three were inside, Deuce spotted a familiar Jedi symbol for 'emergency'. On a hunch, he pushed open the panel beneath, revealing the lever and turned it. Hidden emergency doors slid out quickly to close off both doorways.
"That'll hold?" Mag asked with a suspicious look at one of the doors.
"Depends. If they're Jedi, and they still remember enough of those mystic Jedi tricks, doubtful. If we're lucky, they're not Jedi or they're too bloodthirsty to remember much of anything except to act like a rabid animal."
Mag turned away from the door and gently rubbed the bruise on his head. "Ok, so what can they do?"
Pulling a second glowstick from his pocket, Deuce shook then bent it so it would glow like the first one. This new one he handed to Mag Toth. "Glad I swiped these from that pack I was carrying." The sergeant took a deep breath and looked around the room. In the light he spotted a set of worn, dust-covered chairs. He knocked some dust off one and sat. "Like I said I'm not all that sure. They're stronger than most, a bit faster, but light bothers them. Obviously they're hungry."
"Hungry?" Mag turned a bit pale, his imagination showing on his face.
Deuce shook his head slightly. "No, they aren't serving up people as a main dish ... not exactly. There are only two of them and I think they've got a liquid diet. Drained two of the pirates dry like you'd suck juice from a fruit or a spider eating a bug. Leastwise it looked that way."
A faint hum of power echoed feebly in the room. Deuce and Mag looked over at Ghost who had knelt down and removed the cover from one of the terminals. A mass of wires were spilled over the stone flooring. The scout glanced over at the two with a hint of a smile. "Generator's still attached. Some power still there, but not much."
Deuce sat forward in his chair. "Can we use these terminals to see anything?"
"Don't know yet, could be. I think this might have been an auxiliary power room." Knocking the dust from his hands, Ghost bent over the dim lights of the console. "It's old, real old. This will take some time."
"We don't have much of that, trooper. Make it sing for us."
Ghost nodded silently in reply and went to work.
"Damn, my head hurts, I need to sit." Mag eased himself into another chair.
"Sergeant?" Ghost said quietly.
Deuce rose and crossed over to join the scout trooper. Ghost tapped a pair of dimly lit controls which caused a small section of wall to open in front of them, revealing that the 'wall' was merely a transparasteel window that overlooked a large hanger below. Scattered here and there were the dusty, rust-covered remains of Jedi starfighters, crates and repair equipment. The stormtroopers took that in but it was the dimly-lit obsidian chambers, ten in all, scattered throughout the hanger that caught their attention.
"This is going to be ugly."
Immediately Mag jerked awake, managing to choke back a yell.
"Where ... where am I?" He coughed then doubled over in pain. When the coughing fit released its hold on him, Mag slowly sat upright. "Sithspawn! There isn't a part of me that doesn't hurt!" He hissed.
"In that case, I'll spare you the whole 'pain is weakness leaving the body' drek."
"Thanks, I feel like I just wrecked a speeder head first."
Deuce smirked and glanced at the smuggler's blood-soaked right shoulder, bruised head and claw marked face. "Well, you look like it, but if you're talking and breathing I'll put my credits down that you'll live."
"What happened? I remember carrying some tool bags down a hallway with some knuckle-dragging, nerf-herding pirate poking me in the back with a blaster rifle. Just after that, everything went nuts. It was like some bad holovid. The lights went out, some fool opened fire with his blaster on full auto, and people were screaming like idiots," he swallowed with a dry and hoarse throat, "including me."
Deuce sighed, "I don't know all the intel, but this is what we're guessing. Somehow the slavers got wind of this place and convinced themselves there was some great treasure here. They found something all right, but I wouldn't call it a treasure. It's closer to what they deserve. Anyway, it was in that room, down the hall from where you had been. It had these two long, smoky obsidian boxes that took up a good part of the room. The pirates, stupid di'kutla that they are, cut away the obsidian layer and uncovered a metal inner chamber that had a
keypad. The moment one of them tried to bypass it, everything went crazy."
"Ok, I'll bite, what was in there?"
Ghost shifted his weight uncomfortably and exchanged a glance with Deuce. The sergeant sighed and looked back to Mag. "Short answer is a walking nightmare. If they weren't so raving off their head, I'd feel sorry for the things. They're people or were people anyway. Somebody did some very bad things to them. Changed them, altered them. They look like they were human and still kinda look human now, just twisted in some way. Like a really perverse idea of a human. Anyway, that's just all lead up. The bad part is that we both think those monsters were Jedi before they were ... altered."
"Frak."
"Couldn't have put it better myself. We need weapons and fast if we're getting out of here in one piece."
Ghost tensed, "Incoming."
From around the corner, the sounds of blaster fire echoed off the stone walls. Brief bursts of light intermixed with shouts of anger and screams of pain. One of the pirates, the burly human that had been shoving Deuce and Ghost with his rifle, burst into view. Needle-like claw marks slashed across his arms and bruises decorated his right cheek. Around his right eye, a particularly ugly bruise had appeared and threatened to swell the eye shut. His shirt was in rags but his flak vest was nearly intact if unfastened. In a wild panic, the pirate skid to a stop in the room and leveled his rifle at the trio from instinct. Deuce eased his hands up to try and put the man at ease.
"Easy now, son. We've got bigger bantha to shoot than each other."
"Things ... the things ... Sithspawn ... what they're doing ... "
Mag eased himself to his feet, the adrenaline of the moment giving him more energy. "What are they doing?"
Deuce cast a sideways glance at Mag, "Don't ask, I'll explain later."
Suddenly, the pirate spun at some motion at the corner of his vision to face the hallway again. His good left eye widened and a scream of terror ripped from him as he leveled his rifle and jerked the trigger. A steady stream of blaster bolts poured into the darkness until nothing moved. The man crept forward a hesitant step, panting from adrenaline and fear. In the following silence, a pair of human feminine hands, skin as pale as clean snow, lashed out of the blackness and sunk dark claws into the human's vest. His scream rose in pitch as the hands jerked him off his feet and back down the hallway. The scream stopped abruptly and the rifle skittered back to the edge of the doorway, dented with spots of blood. A lilting giggle drifted from the hallway while the rifle spun, and slowed to a stop.
Snatching up the rifle, the scout trooper checked the charge on the ammo pack. "Time to go."
Deuce grabbed the smuggler by the left, less wounded, arm. "You heard the man. We've worn out our welcome."
Racing across the room, the trio bolted through a doorway and into another dark corridor beyond. From a pocket, Deuce withdrew a small glowstick then bent it in two until it snapped and emitted a dim greenish glow. Using its feeble light as a guide, the three pushed on. Along the walls, intermittent runes and carvings could be seen on the walls or floor, but otherwise the corridor was clear of any features. Eventually, the floor gently angled down and emerged into a
modest-sized room, four to five meters square, which contained computer terminals that appeared as old as the building itself. On the far side was a similar doorway to another corridor. Once all three were inside, Deuce spotted a familiar Jedi symbol for 'emergency'. On a hunch, he pushed open the panel beneath, revealing the lever and turned it. Hidden emergency doors slid out quickly to close off both doorways.
"That'll hold?" Mag asked with a suspicious look at one of the doors.
"Depends. If they're Jedi, and they still remember enough of those mystic Jedi tricks, doubtful. If we're lucky, they're not Jedi or they're too bloodthirsty to remember much of anything except to act like a rabid animal."
Mag turned away from the door and gently rubbed the bruise on his head. "Ok, so what can they do?"
Pulling a second glowstick from his pocket, Deuce shook then bent it so it would glow like the first one. This new one he handed to Mag Toth. "Glad I swiped these from that pack I was carrying." The sergeant took a deep breath and looked around the room. In the light he spotted a set of worn, dust-covered chairs. He knocked some dust off one and sat. "Like I said I'm not all that sure. They're stronger than most, a bit faster, but light bothers them. Obviously they're hungry."
"Hungry?" Mag turned a bit pale, his imagination showing on his face.
Deuce shook his head slightly. "No, they aren't serving up people as a main dish ... not exactly. There are only two of them and I think they've got a liquid diet. Drained two of the pirates dry like you'd suck juice from a fruit or a spider eating a bug. Leastwise it looked that way."
A faint hum of power echoed feebly in the room. Deuce and Mag looked over at Ghost who had knelt down and removed the cover from one of the terminals. A mass of wires were spilled over the stone flooring. The scout glanced over at the two with a hint of a smile. "Generator's still attached. Some power still there, but not much."
Deuce sat forward in his chair. "Can we use these terminals to see anything?"
"Don't know yet, could be. I think this might have been an auxiliary power room." Knocking the dust from his hands, Ghost bent over the dim lights of the console. "It's old, real old. This will take some time."
"We don't have much of that, trooper. Make it sing for us."
Ghost nodded silently in reply and went to work.
"Damn, my head hurts, I need to sit." Mag eased himself into another chair.
"Sergeant?" Ghost said quietly.
Deuce rose and crossed over to join the scout trooper. Ghost tapped a pair of dimly lit controls which caused a small section of wall to open in front of them, revealing that the 'wall' was merely a transparasteel window that overlooked a large hanger below. Scattered here and there were the dusty, rust-covered remains of Jedi starfighters, crates and repair equipment. The stormtroopers took that in but it was the dimly-lit obsidian chambers, ten in all, scattered throughout the hanger that caught their attention.
"This is going to be ugly."
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