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Date Posted: 19:20:58 06/10/02 Mon
Author: Dark Star
Subject: Putting up the first part of a Starwars story....

I know Fawndoo, normally I wouln't put this up, but I need to know if I should contiune to write it or just drop it as is.


Title: The Gift

By E. J. Lawrence

You know what’s funny? When you’ve got a lightsaber ready to be plunged into your neck, and you’re muddy, and sopping wet, you think of the strangest things. Like right now, instead of thinking to myself, how the Poodoo did I get into this fix, and exactly how will I get out of it? I’m wondering what my attackers family would think if they saw him now.
This whole mess started out days ago, back on a moon known as Nal Shaddaa. Also known as the Smugglers moon, a place where most noble of people tend to avoid. It’s not exactly kid friendly, and most young wanna-be’s don’t last very long here. There’s a hierarchy here, same as just about every where else. (And don’t let the Jedi kid you; they’ve got the lower ranking Jedi as well. The one’s that haven’t made the grade, or have slipped up and gone bad for a while. I’m sure they’re stacked on the bottom of the Force pecking order.) Humans are on top of the order here, especially the Corrillians, then the more human looking aliens, and then the weirder ones, and the lowest of the low, those that come off as being very sinister, like me. You can see so many mixed species here: Aqualish, Arconas, Barabel, Bith (who are mostly with jizz bands), some blood Carvers, a couple of Bothans, Chandra-Fan, Devarioan, Falleen, not to mention some of the less liked Gamorreans, and Shistavanen wolfmen. Then there are individuals like me, the strange ones that folks tend to avoid because they’re either terrified of us, or they’re puzzled by us. Mostly it’s the former; at least it is for me.
My name is Shivadra Sintyn, I’m a Iridonian, born on the planet Iridonia, this backwater planet in the so called “Unknown Region” of the Galaxy. I suppose the fear comes from the fact that I look like something out of a holohorror-drama. Nine small horns stick out my head, covered by black hair. Red skin, with tattoos over my face don’t really help my case, not to mention yellow eyes; I’ve turned a few heads, and not in the good way. Iridonians tend to stick out like sore thumbs, sort of like Devarioans, we remind a good number of species of evil sprits, and other bad influences in their culture. And even when I’m with a group of Iridonians, well I still stick out. See I’m not, as they say on our planet, “Pure breed”. Nope, I’d never get to be that lucky would I; not ol’ Shiva.

My mother was a Zabrak, the main inhabitant of Iridonia. There are several types of Zabrak that live on Iridonian. Each society has a distinct type of vestige horn that comes out of our skulls. Each clan has a particular type of colored horn, and how it’s shaped. You can tell the rank of an Iridonian by the number of horns that they sport, and the clan that they come from. On Iridonia there’s a hierarchy that sets each clan apart and keeps the strife between the clans to a low amount. Every year one child is born with thirteen horns, that child automatically becomes Premier, or the leader of all clans. The clans have their leaders as well. The Premier is assisted by a group of councilors that are selected from each clan; the only rule is that these councilors must have twelve horns. Each clan has its own leader as well, which is chosen from the noble rank, any Iridonian with eleven or ten horns. Nine to eight horns makes you part of the upper classes, six to seven horns, and you’re a normal citizen. A Zabrak can have no fewer then five horns, and those with five are considered not to be favored by the Maker. Then there are those who are regarded with some shame, as if they did something to anger the Maker. I’m one of those Shamed ones.
We might not look any different then the normal Iridonians, but we have something that’s tainted us. In my case it’s my heritage. My grandfather was a noble, and my mother, who was highly interested in adventures, left the planet when she was nineteen standard years. As I understood it, she lived a very sheltered life, and took off at the first chance she got. Upon arriving at a space port on Kuat, she met a Zeltron male who I have never found a name for. In her naiveté she took him on as a guide and started up a tour of the galaxy. However the Zeltron, like every one of his species, eventually seduced her then went on to another mate. My mother, discovering this, insisted upon retribution for the Zeltron’s action, and the poor girl that he had taken up with wound up quite scarred from the “meeting” that my mother had insisted upon. She returned to Iridonia, and within ten months had me. While I look, and act like any normal Iridonian, the difference comes in that I have some of my father’s pheromone control. Which I must be cautious in using as some of the scents make others ill, and is considered a weak way of dealing with a situation. It also allows others to know that my father wasn’t an Iridonian. Is it no wonder then that I tend to like to stay in places where there are different species?

The Dark Hutt, a local cantina, is the best spot for a smuggler such as me to hang out at, as numerous sources of information come in from space daily. So here I was minding my own business, sipping my drink, pure water, that’s what my kind tends to drink when we’re off planet. Keeps our senses on the right, when this one associate of mine, a Falleen by the name of Zintar, came walking over, and sits down next to me at the bar. Thing about Falleen is they like to use pheromones as a way of creating a false sense to the person they are going to talk with. I’m use to Zintar, so when he comes over making with the pheromones I just hold my breath and cancel them out of my senses, and let him talk. He smiled at me, and I just nodded, keeping my head straight.

“Shiva,” he starts up with, and leans in on me, trying to get me to look at him. At once I tense up, and he backs away. One thing about Iridonians is that when we get into a situation that we don’t like we tense up, and then we attack. And when we attack, well, let’s just say there will be little left other then a mushy pile on the ground. “Okay be that way.”
“Be what way, Zintar?” I ask in a cool way, and he grins once again.

“As always, you are the essence of callousness. All business and no pleasure, eh, Shiva?” he asks in a light growl. There’s a slur to his speech, he’s been on a binge, exactly like Zintar. Falleen tend to waste their credits on certain indulgent aspects of life. And there’s a sack of credits hanging on his belt, which have been lightened from the time he got them. Must have had a score for the Hutts, good for him, better to be back in the black with them then in the red; it’s what I tell everyone that asks me. Of course not everyone does, and I don’t freely offer it up. Zintar’s been in the red for a while with the Hutts, a long while. So I don’t blame him for going overboard on this occasion.

“All business and no pleasure, Zin? Not when I’m dealing with a Falleen.” I said, and tried to relax a bit. “So what’d you score?”

“Information about a few new members that were planning on stealing some spice from Yaga,” he said with a grin. Only a smile on a Falleen’s reptile face can come off as being utterly pleased and sinister at the same time. Yaga the Hutt was a younger member of Jabba’s family. A nephew I think; a bit impulsive and eager to prove himself. Normally such information as Zintar gave Yaga would only warrant a small sum of credits, but with Yaga, well, the kid’s a bit to quick to hand over money that he doesn’t have. Zin must have gotten five times as much from Yaga for the information as it would make Yaga look all the better in his mother Yandella’s big bulbous eyes.

“I take it they didn’t last very long after you informed Yaga.” I commented, and took a sip.

Zin, again with that nasty smile, “Took Yandella less time then I thought. Their ship was rigged. The venting system will blow out and they’ll wind up dead from decompression. She said she’ll send some one to pick up the spice later on.”

“Better hope it’s not you.” I told him.

“Me?” he laughed, and shook his head, the top knotted hair falling over his left shoulder. “She loves me now. She claims I’m her son’s favorite person. Unlike some people around here that she wouldn’t go near with a ten foot pole, claims that some beings are just bad luck for her.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumbled into my glass. “You do remember Bolix, Yaga’s last favorite person, don’t you? Gand was squashed flat faster then a dianoga in a waste containment tank. Then again, squishing you would only slightly obscure that stench she carries around with her. You tend to reek of Hutt slime most days, Zin.”

The smile fell from his face, “Not nice to go insulting me, you know that my family’s linked to the Black Sun syndicate. I could have my cousin simply send out one of his friends and…”

He stopped suddenly when he felt my blaster ramming its muzzle into his gut. “Keep talking Zin and you’ll make a mark on Nal Shadda yet.”

“You know, you don’t have to be so mean, I was just kidding.” He laughed, although this time it was a terse, nervous kind. “You know… a joke.”

“Iridonians aren’t known for their sense of humor, Zin. I don’t joke.” I said calmly. “Now, what do you have to tell me, and it better be good because you’re starting to annoy me, and I’ve been wanting to give this new toy some action…”

“It’s worth it, trust me.” He said; I didn’t lower the blaster. “And to show you that I’m a stand up guy…I’m only going to charge you…. three hundred credits.”

“Click, thrummmm,” replied my blaster.

“Two hundred and fifty,” he still had that stupid smile on his face.

“How about fifty; and I let you walk out of this bar with all your delicate limbs attached,” I told him. Zin smiled and held up a finger indicating he wanted a hundred more, or he’d open his mouth to the bartender about my blaster. Then there really would be trouble, the guy behind the bar was a Klatooinian, whose people were in service to the Hutts. Any action against Yaga’s new favorite and I’d be a mangled mess of torn limbs and innards. So Zin won this round, I slid the blaster back up my sleeve and I pulled the hundred and fifty from my pocket and showed it to him.

“There’s this guy, Garic Wissint, a Corrillian that has something that’s worth a whole load of credits to the right people. Claims it’s a holocron that was created by the famous Nadd Sadow, the Sith lord. Now I’ve heard rumors, and they’re just that, but some reputable people were telling me that there’s been some dark activity happening around the Galaxy, and I’ll bet anything that the right buyer could make you quite an offer for that holocron.” Zintar smiled at me, and I put the credits on the table. Then he grabbed my hand and held on. “But I haven’t told you the rest. And I can think of ways for you to pay me for that.”

Idiot! I thought and flipped him over onto his back, and dislocated his shoulder in the process. “Consider that payment. Now talk before I break the arm as well!”

“Alright,” he gasped, as I twisted the injured appendage, “I’ve learned that he’s on this little planet Evvoia, not much to look at, basically a small mining camp.”

I nodded, let go. Then I left in a hurry. Knowing Zin as well as I do I knew he’d want me to pay for that humiliation that I just dealt him. So I rushed to my ship, the Chimera and took off as quick as I could. If I’d have known that Zin was holding back some much needed information I would have kept on twisting. But as it was I didn’t, and I flew right into the worst situation I could ever place myself in.

* * * * * *
Valtor Tesh hated silence. For him quiet only led his mind to wander and he didn’t want that happening. Not now, not before he was about to take the biggest risk in his life. Only two weeks before he had learned that the small device that was in his family’s possession was an infamous holocron that could hold information about the original order of the Sith. It was then that he had decided to tell someone, someone who had enough clout to actually get the Jedi to look into the case. After all, he didn’t need to be labeled as some dark force user. It was his cousin Garic who had found it, and who was holding it right now. All Valtor wanted to do was get rid of it, but Garic wanted to hold onto it. He though it would be useful, believed they could make a mint if they were able to find some order that was practicing Sith sorcery. Valtor, on the other hand, always felt that such an object should be in the hands of those who could control it, and figure out a way to destroy it. Like his father Valtor was a historian, and what he knew about the old order of the Sith was enough to make his skin crawl when he thought of them. These dark lords, who used the force as a way to extract power and dominate civilizations, had brought the galaxy for a while into utter darkness. Only when the Siths created their own downfall were the Jedi able to expunge their order, and that was over a thousand years ago.

“Sir?” a young woman, dressed in the style of the Naboo, came out to greet him. She was quite young, much like his Tasha, and came off with a light air of refinement in her actions. “Mr. Tesh?”

“Ah, yes?” Valtor said quickly getting up and nearly knocking over a statue in the process. The girl smiled as he excused himself.

“Not a problem. The Senator will see you now,” and she gestured for him to follow her into the office. Valtor gave a nod as she held open the door. The room inside was an elegant office, statues from Naboo, and other outer rim planets stood on pedestals. While the room was quite ordinary, there was something slightly unsettling about it. Voltar wasn’t sure what it was, but he was sure that the rooms stiff uniformity, and orderliness gave it an unappealing manner. As if the owner of the office was trying to show that he could maintain complete control over his environment.

“Sir,” the girl said in a soft spoken manner. The man at the desk looked up; he couldn’t have been five years older then Voltar, yet his face showed a youthful nature and at the same time held an aged look about it. “This is Voltar Tash, the resident historian for the Tinuia University.”

“Thank you Nebia,” the man said and stood up to meet Voltar. “That will be all.” The girl nodded and left just as quietly as she had come in.

“Senator Palaptine,” Voltar greeted him and shook his hand. “Glad to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard much about your work here at the Senate. My daughter…she’s interested in politics. She goes on and on about how impressed she is by your achievements for Naboo and other planets.”

“Well, I do try,” Palpatine said with a polite smile. “Please, take a seat.” Valtor sat. “I was told that you wanted to see me on a matter that dealt with the Jedi. Is there any reason why you did not wish to speak with your own representative, Sentator Akinta?”

“Well, yes there was, Senator,” Valtor explained as Palpatine sat across from him. “You see, Senator Akintra…well, she…Sir, if I may say so…and mind you I rarely say anything bad about people I don’t know…it’s just…to put it bluntly, Sir…Senator Akintra has very little respect for those she serves. She’s more interested in making Kuat into an international vacation spot then of actually dealing with matters that concern her people. And, as I know you are a good man, and one I can trust, I wanted to speak to you on a matter that regards the assistance of the Jedi.”

Senator Palaptine leaned forward ever so slightly, “Oh,” he raised his eyebrows just a bit, “And what is this matter that would regard Jedi assistance, Mr. Tash?”

“Senator,” Valtor started to get that uneasy feeling again. Though Palaptine retained a calm and sincere look, Tash just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. But he had already piqued the interest of the Naboo Senator, so he continued. “You see, Sir, I’ve been told that you are a close friend of Chancellor Vallorum, and since he has the pleasure of being among those who can certainly get a response from the Jedi…well I thought that you could arrange for him to speak with them about this.”

From the small case he was carrying Valtor pulled out a data card and handed over to the Senator, “Sir, on that card is vital information about a holocron that a relation and myself have discovered. This very holocron, I have been informed by a dealer in the outer rim, is of the nature of the Sith order. Reputedly it is that of Nag Sadow personal collection.”

“Have you actually seen this holocron?” asked Palaptine as he glanced over the data card.

“Yes and no, Sir,” replied Valtor and explained that while he had seen the item, he could not get it to activate, and couldn’t verify if it was actually Sadow’s.

“But you are certain that this is a Sith artifact.” Palaptine stated, and Valtor nodded. The Senator smiled at him and slipped the data card into a pocket in his vestments.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Tash, I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. This information is in capable hands, and you should forget all about it.” Palaptine instructed Valtor, who nodded then blinked. Palaptine stood, and Valtor followed him.

“Thank you for your time Senator,” smiled Valtor, who couldn’t quite remember what had been happening, or what had been said.

“You are quite welcome Mr. Tash,” Palaptine concluded the meeting shaking Tash’s hand once more. “And I assure you that I will do all I can to fix the problems that we have discussed. You can inform President Mu’ro that the Tinua University will be granted that loan.”

“Thank you again for your time Senator,” smiled Tash as he left the office. “It was a pleasure speaking to you.”

“No, Mr. Tash,” replied Palaptine as he left. “The pleasure was all mine.”

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