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[scarjarbinks]

The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story (3)

Episode Three Heaven of Alloy

Their small craft was welcomed by a crew of red, skeletal droids with a single eye. One, slightly larger than the others, beckoned the shuttle with two illuminated batons. Tam remarked how she did not need anyone to tell her how to land her ship.

Kaz was first to exit through the cargo bay. He had only been on TIL-03 once before, and though his experience was brief, it was markedly unpleasant. Wegil followed him with the remaining two soon after while the R9 unit remained inside as interim guardianship.

The four inspected the dimly lit station with scowls upon their faces: scant buildings, mostly strips of identical motels and one large dome that Kaz had claimed was a gambling hall. Near the landing bay, an administrative office was tucked aside and almost blended into the ubiquitous grey landscape.

Wegil scratched his left cheek with a long and uneven pinky nail. “I could think of three other waystations that would be more comfortable than this one, and one is Hutt controlled.”

The door to the administrative building unsealed with a hiss and revealed from within a droid of overtly feminine build. Tam tucked her brow, her mouth gaping. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

A short walk was necessary before the strange specimen could be within range to speak to the group. Unease filled Vrina as he made out a Humanoid face with a half-rusted body. Her joints creaked with each step, though artificial confidence practically exhumed from the droid. Her hips swung with every gait and she held a similarly coquettish posture as she stopped to greet them.

“Welcome to Tillo-Three, where all of your ship and crew’s needs can be met with a smile. I am Operator em-ee-nine-five.” The voice that rattled from her seemingly punctured speech modulator unnerved each of them. “Of which services do you request?”

Tam was the only one who could muster the strength to speak. “Emmy? Uh, well, our ship is damaged. Specifically—”

“Scan complete. All major systems of your ship are functioning at near capacity. All damage is surface and can be mended within a half-cycle. Would you like to use this time to take advantage of our luxury suites and top-of-the-line game hall?”

The pilot exchanged a quick shrug with her captain. Kaz said, “Sure. Are there enough rooms for each of us?”

“Yes, and at a cutthroat rate of one-hundred-and-fifty credits per night.”

The Zabrak cackled while the two Humans stressed. “I’ve got this. Consider it a gift.” He stepped forward and drew an account card from a pouch on his belt. The droid stared at the object and chirped as if thinking.

“I am unable to process cards. Credits are preferred.”

Kaz’s face flushed crimson. He blinked and tried his best to avoid turning to Tam, whose hip was cocked and arms were crossed. “I told you,” she hissed.

“I know,” he said. After a shallow exhale, he stepped forward and dismissed Wegil with a tap on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to have something that’s, erm, not so luxurious?”

The femme droid clicked twice before responding. “Absolutely. Allow me to guide you to what we refer to as our ‘basic accommodations’.”

Wegil bumped Vrina with his elbow and whispered, “Why do I have a feeling this is going to be significantly less than basic?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to be right.”

A navy-blue custodian droid marched in front of a row of stout cylinders, each large enough to potentially house all four of the guests. The rattling Emmy slowed to a stop and gestured to a heavy iron door. “Your access code is zero-three-six-nine. Please register this to your memory as I am not authorized to repeat sensitive information.”

Vrina cracked a smile. “Hey. I’m so sorry, but what was that code again?” The droid crooked her neck to stare at the Mikkian, but a loud, repetitive clicking accompanied her completely still body. This pleased the Zabrak who approached the droid with curiosity painting his face.

“Seems you broke her, clown.”

He pulled back his head wrap to scratch just under where it rested on his crown.

Kaz stepped past Wegil and prodded the access pad, but each button was stiff and unresponsive. An obnoxious honk resounded from a surprisingly tiny speaker.

“Are you putting in the right code?” The shuttle’s pilot leaned in to inspect the pad.

“Yes, Tam. Let me just try again.” After another round of struggling, the same alarm blared once more. The femme droid broke from her glitch to turn to the bearded man, startling the Zabrak.

Her voice strained from the modulator and progressively lost volume as she spoke: “If you have issues entering your room, you can make your way to the main administration…”

Tam pressed the palm of her hand into her forehead. “This is among the top five worst experiences I’ve ever had. I’d rather be target practice for pirates.”

Shaking his head, the smile that settled on Kaz’s face gradually dissipated as he looked past the three and back to the landing pads. “That’s… Eerie. Tam.” He pointed his finger to two identical ships that lowered on either side of their shuttle.

She fumbled with her comlink. “Are-Nine?” It responded gleefully. “Can you scan those incoming ships? What do you mean there’s nothing to scan?”

Kaz spoke into his device as well. “Do you mean that comms are jammed?” The droid whistled back, its tone irritated. “They must have a way to scramble their signal, too. But theirs…”

“It won’t settle on another signature. It’s complete nonsense.”

Wegil thumbed his nose. “Hate to interject, but those ships are either pirates or you’ll have your first taste of the eff-ess-ess. Just one blaster?” He scratched his chest and clicked his tongue. The pilot clenched her fists.

“This could be good for us,” she said through her teeth. “After all, they have no idea who we are. They could see our ship and think it’s genuinely here for repairs.”

Vrina’s mouth parted, another strange headache seeping into his skull. He listened to the others banter for a moment before turning to the Zabrak, who bounced an expression of equal discomfort. “Wegil, did you contact anyone to tell them where you are?”

Both Humans spun to face the horned man. Tam drew her blaster, a sleek but humble DL-18. Its narrow barrel found itself locked onto the tense Zabrak. She asked, “Well? Did you?”

Kaz redirected himself to the ships yet spoke to the group in a stale tone. “That makes sense. There’s no way you were still unconscious during our escape from Coruscant. You could have hacked our hyperdrive coordinates and we would never know. We used your body to launch a crate—there’s no way you were still asleep.”

“You what?” Tam blinked and turned to acknowledge her captain. In that instant, Wegil lunged forward and struck the woman’s wrist with pointed knuckles and followed up with a push. Kaz growled and hopped forward to interject the attack but his punch was deflected with a flexed bicep.

The pilot reconstituted herself, crouched, and took aim. The Zabrak twisted his body to extend a leg with as much force as he could muster. His heel collided with the woman’s head and she yelped while crumbling backwards. Kaz shouted her name and brought up either wrist to shield himself from a series of quick attacks. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Vrina sprint to the pilot’s weapon.

Kaz’s knee rose into Wegil’s gut and the bearded man did not hesitate to detach himself to drop a heavy kick into his right ankle. After falling to the ground, a circular blue beam struck the Zabrak in the small of his back. The man thanked Vrina under his breath and rushed to his companion’s side. “Tam, are you okay?”

She opened up one eye, and then the other. Her captain helped her to her feet. Tam grimaced and felt her forehead. Wegil had managed to break skin. “He was… More of a threat than I thought. Where’s—”

The bearded man beckoned Vrina over and he obeyed after a moment of hesitation. Tam thanked him and requested her weapon’s return. “Oh, yeah.” He turned over the blaster and she slipped it back into her holster.

Tam frowned and broke from Kaz’s brace. “What do we do with him?”

After a moment of deliberation, the Mikkian spoke up. “If he’s in with the Federation, we could maybe use him as a bargaining chip?”

“We?”

He raised either hand and backed up. “I mean—you. You two can do that.”

Kaz hummed. “Vrina Hon, are you willing to work with us for the remainder of this mission?” He received a nasty glance from Tam, but he chose to ignore her. “Know that your tooka may have to go a few more hours without eating.”

He scratched the back of his neck and pouted. “He is kind of chunky…” Vrina sighed and looked up to face both. “Okay. Sure. Just tell me what to do.”

The pilot had been crouched next to the idle body of Wegil while the comedian and her companion spoke. She pulled a small device from his waistband. “This must be what he used to contact the eff-ess-ess.” Tam rotated the conical object in her hand and the two inspected it with blank stares. “Oh well.” In the next instant, her fist tightly enclosed to crush it.

Upon opening her hand, several pieces of metal fell from her palm and littered the ground next to the Zabrak’s unconscious body. Vrina asked, “Do we try to sneak our way back to the ship?��

“I’d say we just toss him off a platform and get it over with.” She grazed her forefingers over the still-bleeding scar on her forehead and seethed.

Kaz stroked his chin before speaking into the comlink. “Are-Nine, are we fit to get out of here?” It chirped back with a positive affection. “Can you try to get them out, then?” He turned to Vrina and filled him in: several maintenance droids were still on-board. The Mikkian could not prevent himself from grinning. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head to dismiss the question and Tam pat her hands clean. She examined the somewhat distant landing bay with a careful eye. “I can spot a handful of figures from here. Whether or not they’re armed… In any case, we’re outnumbered and outgunned.” Then, to Kaz: “We’re completely banking on the fact that they don’t know who we are, what we look like, and what our business is. If Are-Nine did his job, we should look innocent enough to slip away unnoticed.”

Vrina cut the bearded man off. “They’ll notice the carbon scoring before anything else.”

“That’s what I was going to say,” Kaz nodded to the Mikkian. “Plus, there’s only one ship here. If these people truly are attempting to establish a government from the shadows, they’re not dumb. We have to be prepared to run or fight.”

“With one blaster?” He shook his head.

Tam raised the DL-18 and raised her eyebrows. “I’m a damn good shot, Vrina Hon.”

The gravelly voice of Wegil knocked each of them off-kilter. “So are they.” He kept his face pressed against the cold cement even as Tam pointed the weapon to him.

She growled, “I’m taking this thing off of stun.”

“Now, wait a moment,” Wegil insisted with a clever smirk. “They know me. You have two potentials and one almost certainly results in your death.”

Kaz shook his head when Tam readied her weapon in a ploy to execute the vigilante club owner. “I can only guess. What do you have in mind? No, stay on the ground.”

The Zabrak became still just as he motioned to push himself up from the ground. “As you wish. I’ll skip to the good part: if you three meet the officers and introduce yourself as an interested party, then we can be free to exit this station unharmed. Since you’ve already scrambled your shuttle’s signature, they won’t have a way to trace any previous routes.”

A heaviness settled onto the group as each of them considered this. Vrina reminded the pilot that she had very little time to decide and it was probably best for her to holster her weapon. “If these guys see you pointing a blaster at their contact—”

She cursed under her breath and agreed with a hasty unequip. Kaz followed through by helping Wegil to his feet, each muscle tensed in preparation to retaliate. He dusted himself off and slowly walked off in the direction of the landing bay. The droid, Emmy, trailed behind them.

With a shudder, the Mikkian said, “What is this thing doing?”

Wegil looked back and grinned. “She can’t speak, anyway. I’d wager to say it makes our plan that much more legitimate. Come now, at least pretend to be interested in what they have to say.”

The pilot asked through her teeth, “How are you even standing right now?” A breathy laugh expressed through the horned man’s nostrils. She rolled her eyes.

A short expanse of stairs connected to a wide platform housing their shuttle and two larger, much more expensive ships. Tam caught herself admiring the weaponry and cleared her throat to refocus. After a brief wave to the Federation officers, the two parties met up.

Six were present with ostensibly more still hidden in their ships. They wore similar outfits, white tunics and matching slacks—all of which were form fitting and sleek. Four of the representatives were women. Their hair was mowed into a buzzcut, exaggerating their otherwise gentle features that appeared marred by a certain experience none of them shared.

“Commander Isten,” Wegil greeted the shortest woman. “I never thought I’d see you out of your office.”

“It’s nice to stretch my legs.” Her tone was deadpan, unmalleable even as she spoke to those behind him. “This is quite a haul. Whatever you’re doing to convince people of our cause, never stop. The droid, too?”

Each turned to face the stiff and rusted Emmy. The Zabrak turned back to Isten and shook his head, a calm smile planted on his face. “The droid works here. As much as I believe I’ve done an excellent job, it may be beneficial to hear the Federation’s mission statement from its source. Care to take it away, Commander?”

She nodded once. “Our goal is to have a universal presence among each civilized planet, to establish a perfect and functional trade network without the cumbersome element of excess taxation. Each planet will know what the other has and will order accordingly. There will be no more unnecessary bureaucracy. There will be only abundance.”

Though Kaz’s throat was tight, he managed to squeeze out a question. “The difference between the Republic and the Federation is—”

“Transparency. Locals will not be permitted to join the Federation. This ensures that outside ideals will not pollute the already efficient think tank we have spent decades constructing.”

“I see. What will be the role of, say, Jedi?”

Isten’s posture did not change, but Vrina felt a spike of irritation when she raised her chin. “That’s a curious question. Since we’re exchanging curiosities, may I enquire about the damage your shuttle has taken? Small arm scoring and quite a considerable amount of it. I wasn’t aware one could make so much trouble coming from Dantooine.”

The commander waited for the group to process her question, but Wegil was quick to respond with enough confidence to at least steady his companion’s nerves. “There has been an increased presence of pirates since—”

Once again, the woman jumped to cut their speech short. “Since Exegol and the rumored revival of the Jedi. I know there is a temple on Dantooine. You,” she nodded to Kaz who felt his body freeze. “What is your name and occupation?”

He attempted to remember the disguise he chose for this mission: simple black garments, a tight belt, newer boots without much scuffing. “Kazuda Krishan,” he lied. Wegil noted how he chose to stick with his first name and hoped that the other two were just as wise. “Senior mechanic from Dantoo Town.”

Behind Isten, a man with a yellow ribbon tightly wound around his neck unveiled a palm-sized tablet from his pants pocket. She kept quiet while the man hurriedly tapped the screen. Wegil mentally weighed his options and attempted to adjust his demeanor when he felt the woman’s gaze envelope him.

The man spoke up: “No records for Kazuda Krishan. Three-hundred-seventy-four recorded entities with the surname Krishan, four-hundred-one recorded entities with the first name Kazuda.” He paused, seemingly for effect. “Zero of which resides on the planet Dantooine.”

Isten raised her eyebrows. “There appears to be some discrepancies, Mister Geun. The Federation of All Systems wish only to be involved with those who prize transparency and honesty. One down, two to go. You.”

Each nerve in Vrina’s body became lit as she felt her cold glare fall onto him.

“What is your full name and occupation?”

“Um,” he looked to both Wegil, then the beet-red Kaz. “My name is Vrina Hon, with an ‘o’, and I’m a stand-up comedian from Coruscant.”

“Where in Coruscant?”

He blinked once. “Galactic City. No need for comedians in The Works.” The group watched the woman break a smirk. Once again, the man behind her began to run calculations on his tablet. This time, the search was considerably quicker.

“This identity checks out, ma’am,” he nodded. “Photo and all.”

She hummed, pleased. “Well, then. We have one who is willing to tell the truth. Now, there are a myriad of possibilities running through my mind at the moment. You might be the ringleader of this group,” Isten paused to assess the group as a whole. Tam’s nostrils flared. “Or she may be. Name and occupation?”

The pilot rendered her teeth as an impenetrable gate. Her eyes were hard as they fought against the prodding examination of the Federation commander. After a few tense moments, Isten shrugged her right shoulder. “No matter. I have no power over any of you, so if you do not feel compelled to give us information, so be it. Wegil, I am afraid a majority of your haul will not be useful to our cause. You see,” she took in a deep breath and addressed each member one-by-one. “The Federation of All Systems is in an exciting phase where we are looking to fill many slots in our communications and engineering department.”

Tam exhaled a short, harsh breath. “This was an interview? We’re not interested.”

“None of you? Not even you, Vrina Hon with an ‘o’?” Commander Isten crossed her arms. He felt a subtle ache flit about his skull. “Where do your skills lie other than telling jokes? I can see that you are honest and full of integrity. Can you fly?”

“N-no. Pretty useless on that front. Typically, I just walk everywhere.”

Wegil stepped into the conversation with a slow swipe of the hand. “At least the news can spread organically this way. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”

Isten looked past the horned man and to the Mikkian. “I was not finished. Since you are an honest individual, let me try to clear up something that’s been weighing on me: what exactly happened in Gil’s Gab?”

The Zabrak choked on a hard swallow and visibly tensed. “Commander Isten, there’s no need to ask anybody but me about my club.”

“Go on, then. Explain to me why two of my captains were in your club when it was attacked by a rogue company of terrorists? Explain to me why you are with them now, still?”

Each of the five officers behind her drew their weapons: compact blaster rifles of a model nobody in the group could identify. Tam felt the impulse to reach for her blaster, but Kaz reached out to touch her arm. She understood that this would be the move that ended her life. With unshakeable confidence, he said, “My name is Kazuda Xiono, son of Hamato Xiono.”

Isten smiled. “I know. Go on.”

He creased his brow and hesitated to continue. The officers’ weapons did not waver, each of them dedicated to one member of the group—including the confused Emmy.

[scarjarbinks]

The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story (2)

Episode Two A Ballad of Self-Preservation

"Two?" The pilot spat through the comlink that was tightly gripped in Rokkna-1's hand.

"I-I didn't think it'd be a problem."

The transport shuttle increased speed and navigated away from the pick-up zone with a steady hand. Vrina busied himself while the two argued by plucking larger shards of glass from his sand-brown tunic. He winced after extracting a particularly long specimen. The Human, now tilted by the heated debate between him and his pilot, examined both guests while a grimace strained his face.

"Critical mission failure, Kaz. Remember when you said we wouldn't be wasting our time? And now—blast, we have sky skiffs on our trail."

"Easy. Open the hold and keep us steady." The man brandished his brand new DL-44, straightened his wrist, and locked his shoulder.

A long pause preceded the pilot obeying the command. Air escaped Vrina's lungs and he held onto a groove in the wall. The still-unconscious Zabrak was only a short distance away in case he had to reach out to save him from slipping out of the shuttle.

Kaz was greeted with a powerful bolt striking the hull just above his head. He recoiled and recovered within the same movement. The weapon's iron-sights hovered over two slender vehicles that struggled to maintain ascension. Their noses were pointed at the shuttle and fired off another debilitating round. Only one struck the underside of the ship, but the impact was enough to knock the Human to his knees.

He threw himself into what insignificant amount of walled cover there was between the open door and bay. The pilot shouted, "It's not like this thing has shields! It's not military!"

"That's right," Kaz exhaled under his breath and steadied his breathing and brought the comm to his face to respond. "Slow down and descend—hard."

Panicked but attentive, she asked, "Like, cut engines?"

"That works!" Kaz turned to the Mikkian. "Hold onto your pal."

Vrina stretched to grab ahold of Wegil's arm and brought him closer. "Just so we're clear, I wouldn't really call him my 'pal'."

The Human frowned, his posture suddenly tense. "Then why is he here?!"

A lurch from the shuttle drew Kaz back into the plan. He pulled himself up and aligned his heavy blaster onto one of the two sky skiffs. Its pilot had a difficult time readjusting the nimble vehicle's altitude and left its underside open for a volley of well-timed shots.

Two struck the skiff in its tail, flipping the pilot off after an explosion launched the nose upward. The shuttle made a hard bank to the left and Kaz was tossed to the ground. His new weapon tumbled out of the open door.

Vrina was desperate to maintain upright while struggling with the limp weight of Wegil. He shouted to the bearded man and asked if he was injured.

"I'm okay," the man crawled backward and found himself back behind the same feeble amount of cover as before. Into the comlink: "Tam, what happened?"

"They're called buildings, Kaz. Maybe you've heard of them."

He rolled his eyes but could not prevent a smirk from creeping onto his face. To Vrina: "Hey, throw me that blaster I lent you." The Mikkian's eyes widened and he patted his chest and hips before shrugging. "Are you serious?! Then, I don't know, use some kind of Force power and knock this guy out of the sky!"

The skiff had managed to catch up to their shuttle but missed each shot as Tam gently bobbed the ship from side-to-side.

Vrina let go of Wegil long enough to rub either eye with his palms. "I don't know what you're talking about! I don't even know where we're going!"

"Well, buddy, as of right now, we're all on the same page." Kaz's eyes searched the small cargo bay for some kind of answer.

Adjusting himself and the unconscious body, he shouted, "Why did you set off a detonator in Wegil's club?" The Mikkian raised his voice and repeated his question after a moment of silence from the Human who appeared to be lost in thought.

Kaz looked up to Vrina and grinned. "Quick, turn on that grav-lift and shove it my way. Tam," he spoke into the comlink. "Nose up and route everything you've got to engines. Seal the hatch in sixty. Does this thing have a charged hyperdrive?"

"Surprisingly."

As soon as the Mikkian stood, the shuttle began to pivot and he nearly lost his footing. A stray bolt from the skiff struck the interior of the bay and a shower of sparks washed over both Vrina and Wegil—though, the latter of the two did not seem to mind much. Completing his task with only minor difficulty, a waist-high crate rolled toward Kaz after a dainty push. The Human drew another sticky detonator from his belt. "It's too slow!" Another blast hit the underside of the shuttle and an alarm began to blare.

Wegil slid down the bay floor while peacefully snoring. Holding onto a wall panel, Vrina could not extend his arm far enough to fetch him.

"Actually, that's perfect." Kaz set the detonator on a ten-second timer. Just as the Zabrak's body struck the crate, the Human attached the explosive and helped guide the heavy package out with one final exertion. In another movement, he crouched and whipped the body back inside just as the bay door began to seal.

Looking down and through the open cargo bay door, Vrina watched the crate skid off of the ramp and arc into the path of the skiff. The pilot was quick to pull right, but the compact explosion caused a nebulae of glittering debris to strike both him and his vehicle. The door sealed seconds later.

Kaz let go of the Zabrak and turned on his comlink. "How long before we find a route?"

"Routing power to stabilizers in thirty, will be free to jump in three minutes."

"No more friends?"

"Just the ones you brought on board. Hope they're worth it, Kaz. I saw what you did with our credits."

He chuckled and relaxed with his back against the bay door. "They were fake, anyway."

"Yeah," Tam's voice lilted. "But we could have done a lot of damage with thousands of fake credits."

From Kaz's point of view, the Mikkian held onto the panel for dear life. To his right, a groan from Wegil. "Hey," he greeted the disoriented Zabrak with a salute. "How was your nap?"

"M-my… What?" He blinked thrice and frowned. His gravelly voice dragged against their ears. "What's the clown doing up there?"

Vrina cleared his throat, his typically blush-hued skin became red with effort.

Both the Mikkian and Zabrak were ushered to the passenger hold and were instructed to find a seat from either row that lined each wall of the shuttle. The air was polluted with smoke that carried with it a scent of charred plastic.

With crossed arms, Kaz watched the two sit opposite each other. "You two really aren't friends, huh?"

Wegil clicked his tongue. "I barely know this fool, now I'm swept up in some anti-species terrorist attack. Some kind of protest, kidnapping."

"That's not quite what's going on here," the bearded man attempted to calm the Zabrak's nerves. He remained at a distance, choosing to hover in the central corridor that led to the cockpit. Vrina could make out a shorter figure operating the pilot system. Kaz looked to Wegil and offered a weak smile. "I'd like to start by saying, I'm sorry that I, erm, knocked you unconscious."

"Alright. So it was you, then."

"Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Well, maybe one or two specific people. You, uh, the one with the head wrap."

The Mikkian blinked and touched the side of his head. "Vrina Hon."

Kaz nodded once. "Okay, Vrina Hon. I'd like to ask about your involvement with the eff-ess-ess." He watched the Mikkian's expression wilt into confusion. "You hid a lot of truths in your, I guess, comedy set. You knew that Gil's Gab was a meeting ground for several high-ranking members."

"I… Didn't."

"You—wait, what?" The Human's confidence diminished. He turned to the pilot and she shook her head, eyes still on the control panel.

Wegil lifted himself from the seat and approached Kaz with weighted steps. "Hey, now. That's an unfounded claim. Who are you to blow up my club and whisk me away into hyperspace?" The two were face-to-face, though the bearded man had no fear in his eyes as he stared down the irate Zabrak.

"We are agents of the New Republic, commissioned by Senator Hamato Xiono to piece together nuggets of intelligence regarding the networking and goal of the eff-ess-ess."

The Zabrak exhaled through a wide grin. "Your faith in yet another totalitarian regime stuns me." He turned and seated himself, this time much closer. "A flag can mean many things, agent, but it comes down to those who uphold its original intention."

"And we do."

"Republic, Empire. Good, evil. These words are ultimately meaningless."

Kaz furrowed his brow and straightened his posture. "What is the Federation of Six Systems, then?"

"It doesn't have a flag, I'll tell you that much." Wegil maintained a wild grin. "And it's name is subject to change. Our friend here, the joker—he was right on the money."

Vrina blinked. "You mean… About the name?"

"Six systems, sixteen systems. When news spreads, the name will, too."

The Human cautiously approached the Zabrak but kept several feet away. At that moment, he was glad to be unarmed. "You're giving away a lot of information."

"Just what I know."

Tam called back to her companion, her voice straining to compensate for the distance. "Breaking into neutral territory. We're going to need to find a place to hide out while Are-Nine and I change the shuttle's signature."

"Copy that." Kaz crossed his arms and pouted. He scanned Wegil's expression for a long moment before being interrupted by Vrina raising his hand. "Erm, yeah?"

"I know you already said we'd be back in time for breakfast, but I'm going to need confirmation on that." His shoulders shrunk. "I have a tooka to feed."

Wegil shuddered. "Disgusting things."

The Mikkian frowned and leaned forward with both hands on his thighs. "I happen to like mine and don't want it to starve."

A chain of electronic squelches sounded from the pilot's den. Tam removed herself from the cockpit and stood by Kaz with stiff eyebrows. "Who exactly are these guys and why did we waste our entire day and all of our resources to bring them on board?"

Kaz gestured to The Mikkian and introduced him with a bright disposition. "This is Vrina Hon, a comedian and Jedi."

Equally astounded, both Tam and Wegil repeated, "Jedi?" The Zabrak continued, humored. "Since when?"

Vrina wagged his hands and scrunched his shoulders. Through a grimace, "I'm not—sir, I'm going to need you to stop telling people that I'm a…"

"Got it," the bearded man winked. "You're undercover as a stand-up comedian and it's all super secret. Makes sense why your jokes were so bad." Both he and Wegil shared in laughter. Tam made her way to stand in front of the blushing Mikkian.

"I don't think he's lying." She craned her neck to take in his outfit. "No laser sword. Nothing useful utilitywise. Kind of run down shoes." The pilot turned her attention to the Zabrak. "And what about him?"

Wegil stood up from his seat and cleared his throat. "I'll introduce myself. I'm—" His voice trickled away at the sight of Tam's blaster. The line of sight was secured to his chest.

"I didn't ask you."

"Yup, that's fair." The Zabrak seated himself and held both hands next to either ear.

Her eyebrow cocked. "Well, Kaz?"

"Yeah," the bearded man stroked his chin and took in a sharp breath. "He's the owner of the same club that's been welcoming captains of the eff-ess-ess. He seems to know quite a lot about their affairs. All in all, maybe the mission was more of a success than we expected?"

Tam sucked on her teeth and mulled over the stream of potentials. "You seem pretty intelligent," she nodded to Wegil. He shrugged one shoulder. "Why are you wasting your time running a comedy club?"

"You have to be intelligent in order to know how to profit off of others while refusing to be profited off of yourself."

"Solid logic. And you've chosen the side of the Federation because they are a better option than that of the New Republic, or retrospectively, that of the Empire?"

"An individual alone can not choose to join the eff-ess-ess, though one can agree ideologically. The Federation makes an offer to the lower levels of planetary government, specifically federal and local. If the offer is pleasant, they are then hired to install the Federation's circuitry onto the entirety of the planet—not just measly occupations scattered about towns or cities."

"And you've decided to give us this information for free?"

Wegil leaned back in his chair. For the first time since waking up, he appeared to be completely relaxed. "What other ways are there to prepare you for the inevitable paradigm shift of shared galactic ideals? Brute force? Vrina," he swung his gaze to the Mikkian. "How many were killed while I was unconscious?"

He forced a hard swallow and looked to the Human with glossy eyes. The man's face hardened. After a quiet exhale, Vrina responded: "Just one." The lie scalded the inside of his ribcage.

"Just one?" The Zabrak bounced a loose nod. "And do you believe it was justified?"

Immediately, "Yes. Of course."

"Of course the death was justified," Wegil teased. "Of course murder was necessary." He turned his focus to Tam. "Now, I've only known you for a handful of minutes, but I know you wouldn't lie to me. Even with your blaster pointed at my heart, you'd at least grant me the courtesy of honesty. How many died—from the detonation, from your desperate escape?"

Her eyes flashed and her trigger finger shuddered. "One." Then, through her teeth, "It's about to be two."

"You agents truly are an extension of the New Republic. Go on, then. Eviscerate me."

A smirk creaked onto Tam's face, but she was mindful of her tone. "Why would we do that?" The blaster dropped to her side and found its way back into its holster. "We'll be more than happy to drop you off at the nearest waystation. I'm sure there are other shuttles who wouldn't mind making the trip to Coruscant."

Vrina stretched his arm upward once again, but did not wait to be called on. "My tooka," he shook his head. "What about my tooka?"

Kaz frowned. "I thought Jedi were discouraged from having attachments. I guess that doesn't extend to pets—"

The Zabrak scoffed. "Why do you keep insisting this one is a Jedi? The myths of the temple on Coruscant are false. It's no more than a glorified museum."

"Maybe," he crossed his arms. "But why would a museum need cycle-long protection?"

A small voice peeped from the Mikkian's throat: "I just want to go home."

After a click of the tongue, Tam shook her head. "No can do, not for hours. Are-Nine," she called back to the cockpit and craned her head. "Anywhere we can dock?"

Three distanced chirps were ostensibly translated by everyone except Vrina. Tam and Kaz glanced at each other with exhaustion painting their faces while Wegil shook his head. "What?" The comedian who was very much not fluent in droidspeak scanned the room. "What did it say?"

"I'm bringing it in," Tam elbowed Kaz as she passed him. He nodded and resolved to take a seat on the row opposite from the Zabrak. The pilot sustained a playful conversation with the astromech droid hidden somewhere in the pilot's den.

Wegil pressed his gaze on to the Human until he was forced to make eye contact. "I'd rather you just eject me now." Vrina furrowed his brow and shifted in his seat; frustration wound its way up his limbs and into his throat. Recognizing his body language, Kaz ignored the horned man's prod and turned to the comedian.

He proceeded to explain that their shuttle was to dock at a droid-operated refueling station called TIL-03. "A once-asteroid-turned-moon of the planet Kerrond. It's… It's perhaps not the most joyful place to land, but the droids are efficient to say the least."

Vrina straightened his spine and huffed. "I've never heard of any of these places." His peripheral caught a glimpse of the pilot's den. A massive, water-laden planet filled the window. The shuttle twisted its pathing left and carefully locked onto one of many empty landing pads. "Not a lot of business?"

"No need to pay droid employees, right?" Kaz scratched the tip of his nose and relaxed into his seat. "It can be as busy or as quiet as possible. Doesn't make much of a difference."

The Zabrak rolled his eyes and leaned forward with a sniff. "I never had droids in my club. I'm glad to have nourished the economy for organics. What?" He hissed at the two men who stared him down. "I'm not evil or anything. They are slaves, after all."

Vrina stretched either leg and began to massive his knees. The right side of his leg throbbed in a dull ache, a large, hidden bruise spread from his right thigh and past his ribs. "Can I stay on the ship?" With hope in the Mikkian's heart, he looked to Kaz who stolidly shook his head. "Ah. Dosh."

[scarjarbinks]

(1) The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story

Episode One A Clown, And That's All

Spires of apartments, each ubiquitous in their design, flowed like crude circuits along an ancient motherboard. Following tight alleys in the way a hawk-bat would delicately chase the scent of granite slugs, Vrina—a mauve Mikkian who favored a headdress to obscure his head-tendrils—navigated the dank streets as if guided by intimate knowledge of the sprawling maze.

With his presence masked by way of heel-toe footfall and springing steps, he successfully traversed the ground level of Coruscant without much interference—save, perhaps, the preference of avoiding detritus that would penetrate his worn leather boots.

A cramped alleyway, its stones glossy from fallen humidity, spat the wanderer into the shoulder of a well-traveled intersection. In less time it would take to light a death stick, Vrina arrived at the entrance of Gil's Gab as an intruder of a group that had converged on top of him. He was polite in the way most strangers are: a brief nod or a disingenuous smile. Two Human women and an Iridonian male were already under the influence of some unidentifiable and ostensibly trendy drug.

They kept their wits about them as they spoke with the Trandoshan bouncer. He grumbled in Basic, "Invite only tonight."

With confidence stemming from the ether, the emboldened Iridonian raised his chest and lifted his chin. "I'm—we're friends with Wegil."

"Old myth that all Zabraks know each other." The stiff guardian severed the conversation without another thought.

Vrina broke from the group while the two women fruitlessly argued with their companion. The Trandoshan peered down to the heretofore silent man. "Good evening," the Mikkian bowed his head but maintained eye contact. "I actually do know Wegil, but I'm not too sure how much you believe me after that guy. Do you, erm, have a list?" He searched the bouncer's attire. No tablet, just a DL-44.

"Name?"

"Uh, Vrina Hon. Impressive that you can remember all of those names without, y'know, a list."

"Smarter than most of my kind. Speaking," his eyes reduced by a fraction. "Why is a Mikkian so far from home?"

Vrina crossed his arms and cocked a hip. He was not offended by the amount of venom that laced the bouncer's tone. Most transients would pose the same question for a Trandoshan who appears to have been conned into a low-paying job. "I'm here to perform comedy."

A concave of seedy individuals, each imbibing and shouting. The Mikkian traversed with soft steps through Gil's claustrophobic aisles. Though he recognized very few patrons, some were, of course, impossible to ignore due to their status. Such entities dealt with business practices he would rather steer clear from, yet a pull of his excited consciousness understood when to bow as a show of respect and when to simply ignore them.

Vrina passed the stage where he was to perform and waved at the Ithorian drummer—a talented fellow by the name of Bup Nolot who rattled away upon two snares and three cymbals of various sizes. He appeared too-focused to respond, perhaps intent on keeping a steady rhythm or altogether refused to associate himself with a glorified jester.

The backstage was a small respite from the bombardment of intermingling dialects and languages, though it was only an inch-thick drape that separated him from the rest of the club. He did not expect to be alone. Vrina was meant to open for a favored comedienne dubbed Real by the regulars of Gil's and her absence meant he would potentially have to fill her time slot.

A knock on the wall behind him. With his eyes still glued to the audience, Vrina greeted Wegil with a click of the tongue. "Looks like I'm the headliner."

A copper-hued Zabrak approached the Mikkian from behind. He joined Vrina in scanning the sea of flushed faces and spitting lips. "Do you have enough material?" The low-scratch of his voice collided with the amount of noise that polluted the club.

"Eh, well," the comedian took in a sharp breath and crossed his arms. "Let's just hope that they don't remember the first five jokes from last week. Anybody I have to worry about?"

Wegil frowned. "In what way?"

"You know. Pirates, ganglords, politicians. Anybody notable?"

"Only you would rope a politician in with pirates. Since you mentioned it, sure." The Zabrak leaned to the left and gestured a nod outward. It was as if a beacon shone from the center of the crescent-shaped bar: an antsy male Human nursed eight ounces of scarlet liquid with hunched shoulders. He kept his head down, uninterested in those who took residence next to him yet kept a subtle conversation with the barkeep.

Vrina shook his head. "I have a feeling he wasn't invited."

"He's certainly found his way in here, though. He hasn't said a single word to anyone other than the bartender, one of his own kind. I would prefer not to deal with any acts of speciesism tonight. You and Bup are the only two who can see the entire club wall-to-wall."

The Mikkian thought back to the drummer's intense focus and exhaled. "So you'll pay me for my services of doing twice the work as a comedian and taking on an additional role as a spy." He sucked on his teeth, head bobbing while mentally creating an addendum to the first half of his set.

Wegil clasped Vrina on the shoulder and forced eye contact. "I'm not paying you extra for the simple task of paying attention. If anything or anybody suspicious worms their way in…" The club owner paused and drew his head away. "Try to work in a joke about me. I won't take it personally."

"You're acting as if that wasn't half of my set. Right, understood, but what about covering for Real?"

With a sniff, the Zabrak pulled away and nodded twice. Soon, the Mikkian was once again left alone and felt the weight of the near future pressing into his skin like the heat of too-many suns orbiting a desert planet.

Vrina did not have much time to prepare for the amount of improvisation thrusted upon him. The emcee of the night, a stocky Rodian, hyped those who were listening into an enthusiastic applause. After a lengthy introduction presented in choppy Basic, he introduced the Mikkian. As they exchanged the microphone, the reptilian whispered a few words of encouragement: "If you are not funny, I will take over. No problem." He backed away with two thumbs up.

The initial warm-up dragged on as expected with very few individuals chuckling and pulling the attention of their friends to the stage. With more eyes on him, he began to feel at ease. "Everyone's heard the buzz around the eff-ess-ess, right?" He pursed his lips and made eye contact with as many who cared to pay attention. "A federation of only six systems. What an arbitrary number! How are we supposed to check if that's even correct when they won't give up who the systems are?"

For the first time all night, the Human at the bar spun his stool to face the comedian. Though the lights had been dimmed, he could make out a few key features: jet black hair and a matching beard. The Mikkian did not hesitate to continue. "If they were really trying to be intimidating, they might as well have said six-hundred. Sixteen would instill more terror for a terrorist organization!"

A quarter of the audience responded with a lukewarm chuckle—Bup's drumline accompaniment made sure the comedian's jokes never truly fell flat. A figure entered his field of vision to the right. One passive glance drank in the sight of Wegil who did not seem to find any of the Mikkian's jokes humorous in the least.

It was time for his improvisation muscles to be flexed. "Well, you want to keep the numbers small, I guess. Zipping around in taxis would be more cost efficient than buying fuel." A tight grin appeared on the Human's face. Vrina prevented himself from paying too much attention to him. "No need for a base of operations either, really. Just rent a hotel room or, perhaps, meet at a club."

A movement in the back caught Vrina's attention. The Human exited from the bar to the bathroom, pushing his way past a drunk Twi'lek who gestured unkindly to the man. The energy of the room became dense and the once idle chatter fell away to usher in silence. It was as if he had captured the attention of every single patron.

His throat closed, but he knew that, as a comedian, there could never be dead air. "Everybody here knows our lovely host, Wegil, yeah? Let's be honest, of everyone on-planet, he would be the one to house the eff-ess-ess. Watered down coolers to keep them drunk and drain them off their coffer, ill-tempered Trandoshans to keep an eye on their credit pouch." Vrina began to wonder how much of his material was rooted in truth. The Zabrak unwound from his position backstage and navigated through the back. "Safest place in all of… All of—"

A pressure settled into Vrina's skull and he promptly returned the microphone to its stand as Wegil approached the bathroom with a drawn blaster, one bouncer trailing behind him. The Mikkian hurriedly waved a good-bye to Bup as the audience began to boo them both. His lungs inflated as he twisted through the narrow tunnel behind the stage and was forced to stop by way of another Trandoshan bouncer.

"You need to finish your, what is it, comedy," the hulking figure encroached on Vrina's personal space. "If you can even call it that. Wegil's already sent the credits to your account, so I'd recommend—"

A blast shook the lobby and a wave of truncated screams pinched the Trandoshan's focus. With the bouncer's lowered guard, Vrina slipped through what little space the corridor offered and sprinted toward the stage-left exit. If his movements were deft enough, he could remain under the cover of darkness for long enough to join the growing crowd of patrons that also attempted escape.

Rubble could be made out from within the thick plume of smoke that emanated from the bathroom. Vrina slowed to a stop and examined the situation. Two bodies writhed on the ground and another was motionless. He took stock of who was left in the club: half of the patrons, the remaining bouncers… The bartender was already gone.

As the smoke began to clear, Vrina approached the center of the lobby and squinted at the bodies on the ground. A familiar skull-shape, horned and round. He debated whether he should usher the Zabrak out to safety or—

Vrina was lifted from the ground by a pair of scaly, calloused hands. The Trandoshan heaved the comedian forward and watched as he rolled over a table and barreled into several chairs. Broken glass stuck to the Mikkian's simple outfit, a few shards hid in exposed skin.

"He infiltrated our place of business," the bulky reptilian guard sneered and stepped forward. Vrina attempted to straighten himself to a seated position. Two more bouncers slunk in from the corners of the club and approached the Mikkian as well. "And staged an attack!"

"I—what? Me?" Vrina rotated his torso to face the other Trandoshans and experienced a sharp pain in his ribcage. "Ah, dosh." He seethed and grabbed his side. "H-how could I have set off an explosive if I was up on the stage?"

The main Trandoshan signaled the others to stop. He looked down at the pathetic Mikkian with racing eyes.

"Also, whoever did that is doing all of you a favor. Now, listen to me," he exhaled as the guards began to close in once again. "You are all much too talented of warriors to be stuck in here all day catering drunkards. What have you been doing all this time? What's your motivation?"

There was a moment of hesitation, though his gaze never fell away from Vrina. For a moment, there appeared to be a modicum of empathy that flashed in the Trandoshan's eyes. "We've been waiting to tear someone apart."

The Mikkian flinched and swung both palms to defend himself. A gasp from the Trandoshan as a gust of wind knocked him off of his feet. Vrina's brow furrowed but there was very little time for him to ruminate as the remaining bouncers enclosed him with clawed hands outstretched.

Several bleats of a small caliber blaster sounded from the debris-laden corner of the club. Either bouncer roared when struck in their armor, another in his arm. With their luck pressed, they each drew their heavy blasters and scattered to find cover from upturned tables. Vrina spent this time erecting himself to his feet and so did the once-fallen Trandoshan.

Now careful of his enemy, the bouncer kept his distance with two fists balled and ready for use. Vrina blinked and did the same, though both palms were flat and directed in the same fashion as before. No matter how many times he mentally willed himself to throw wind, nothing as exciting occurred. He began to doubt that it had ever taken place—a trick of the eyes, an anomaly of a pressure shift within the building.

While he was distracted processing the anomaly, the firefight behind him resulted in the dropping of both guards. A bright voice shouted: "Duck!"

Without a second thought, Vrina shrunk to the floor and watched as the second of two red bolts struck the remaining bouncer in the center of his forehead.

For a one brief moment, the Mikkian considered snatching the DL-44 from the Trandoshan's holster to take charge of the situation, to feel as if he were not helpless. The same voice called to him with an edge that convinced Vrina the scenario was not quite over. "Are you armed?"

"N-no."

"Well, why not?"

Vrina turned to face the same Human he had been instructed to spy on earlier. Almond-shaped eyes and well-groomed, about the same height and body type as he was, though somewhat more muscular. "So I should, erm, get a blaster?"

The man rolled his eyes and turned the heel of his weapon toward the comedian. It was a feeble blaster with slender design, uniform in color, but did not seem to reflect a sheen. A perfect weapon to conceal. "I assume a Jedi would know how to use one of these."

"A—" The device was shoved in his hand and the mysterious man excused himself to fetch the much more powerful DL-44 from the fell bouncer.

"It's probably a good thing they didn't know how to handle one of these, huh?" Sucking his teeth, the man looked down the unmodified sights and nodded. "I mean, I barely know how to use one of these, sure, but they were just awful."

Vrina straightened his wrist after acclimating to the surprising weight of the small blaster. "What exactly did you just call me?"

The man threw a humored side-eye at the Mikkian. "C'mon. It'd be nice to have someone who knows what they're doing by my side."

"But… I'm—oh, dosh." He watched the Human step away while offering a tight hand signal that meant nothing to the comedian.

Kept crouched and insecure, Vrina trailed behind the Human with the blaster limp and pointed to the floor. In the many patrons' effort to escape, they had made quite a mess: shattered cups and plates, food tracked under heel, abandoned death stick cartridges. The unconscious form of Wegil caused the Mikkian to pause his trail.

"Do you know him?" The Human kept his weapon pointed to the only way in or out. An expectation of being ambushed was palpable. "You have to let me know now if this is someone worth saving. Like, now."

The truth bit at Vrina's tongue. He wanted to be honest and admit that he knew very little about the Zabrak, but the fear that he would be tracked down by a vengeful conduit of illicit affairs forced his hand. "Yeah, he's worth it." The man gave him a signal to fetch the club owner.

Calling out in just above a hushed voice, "I'm surprised we haven't run into the see-ess-eff."

"Right." Vrina heaved Wegil up and balanced him on his feet. "I-find-it-surprising…" He growled while ushering the unconscious body to the door. "How-heavy-people…" A moment to catch his breath. "Actually are."

The man ignored his sentiment. "We have one shot. I'm really going to need you to muster all the strength you have." He slipped a rod-shaped comlink from his jacket pocket. A pleasant chirp sounded when he began to transmit. "Rokkna-1, critical mission failure. Resort to plan-B, but with the pick-up coordinates of Plan-A."

A woman sighed as a response. "Always with the plan-B. Copy, Rokkna-2."

The individual identified as Rokkna-1 turned to Vrina and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, the mission failure wasn't exclusively, entirely your fault."

"I didn't think it was. Wait, was it?"

"Ready up your friend."

With a shake of the head, the Mikkian stood Wegil upright and braced him. "Where are we going? What's happening?"

The whirring of an incoming shuttle paired with sirens that belonged to that of the Coruscant Security Force. "You'll be back in time for breakfast. On five."

Vrina's heart rattled in his chest. Under his breath, "Dosh."

The feminine voice called in, but the sound was muffled while the comlink was tucked in the man's jacket pocket. "Clear, Rokkna-1."

"Nevermind—FIVE!" The Human set off through the front door with large strides. His shoulder checked the door and swung it open with enough force to allow his new companion the chance to exit the building's threshold and into the dark street.

A shuttle with seamless and bulbous edges hovered several feet above ground, its ramp already dropped and open for entrance. The bearded man hopped on board with an effortless bound but fell to his knees and spun to help the Mikkian and Zabrak aboard.

The excited but passive ambiance of each street in the intersection was interrupted by the aggressive whine of hidden speeders. Rokkna-1 demanded the Zabrak first and Vrina agreed, shoving the body onto the ramp with one final expression of strength.

With the CSF seconds away, the transport shuttle began lifting away from the ground. The pilot spoke through the comlink, but there was too much distance for the Mikkian to make out any one word. The Human disappeared inside of the hull for a handful of seconds. Vrina's chest seized as if a deadly poison had finally taken hold of him.

With the ramp now several feet above his head, he could just barely jump to grab on. His feet kicked the air, his fingers without a decent grip. The first round of blue bolts swept by him but missed by mere inches.

"Hold on, friend!" Rokkna-1 returned with a silver can in his right hand. He activated the device and rolled it off the ramp while extending an arm to lift Vrina onboard.

As soon as it struck the ground, the canister popped and began to spray a viscous white smoke to obscure the underside of the ship; flashes of blue looked like lightning trapped in dense clouds. Once the Mikkian had been pulled in and was comfortable enough, the ramp inhaled and sealed with a pressurized click.