First of all, I would like to point out that this is not intended to be an interactive story. But, seeing no where else to show off my unfinished story, I came here. Furthermore, i'm going to give a brief overview of the storyline, so you can better understand it. Here's the overview, quoted from RemRan Productions (My site):


N'lan Ataal is a young memeber of the Alliance. After graduating from an Alliance Academy, N'lan and his best friend, Jeff Erune, set out to join the army. They were soon selected as escorts for Princess Leia who was delivering data of a secret Imperial battle station to Alderaan.


When the vessel was captured, N'lan and Jeff were forced to part ways. N'lan found transport to the Rebel fleet via a pilot and undercover agent called Shiev Dorkov. There he met Jeff again.


Later, N'lan went to Ataal Construction Yards, where he discovered his father was captured. He traced his father to Golowa Spaceport where, after revealing to N'lan personally catastrophic information, he was killed.


N'lan soon set out to find the ledgendary Sith Saber, an artifact of evil. Upon discovering it's location, he was tempted by it's power.


Now only N'lan's small understanding of the Force can save him from the depth of the Dark Side.


P.S. - be sure to visit my site to get the whole scoop on characters! This story is becoming a mod, so also see the levels section!



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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Sith Saber: Spawn of Darkness

N’lan Ataal looked towards the low ceiling of the blockade runner. A muffled thumping noise reached his ears. The Star Destroyer above them had them in a tractor beam.
N’lan and his squad had been alerted of the attack made by the Star Destroyer long ago. The Imperials were trying to retrieve the stolen plans of a superweapon that the Rebel Alliance had gotten hold of. N’lan’s job was to keep the Empire from getting it back.
N’lan stole a sidelong glance at Jeff Erune, his Academy peer and best friend. Jeff leveled the blaster rifle in his hand at the white door facing them. N’lan quickly did the same. The Empire was entering through this door. N’lan just hoped he wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.
The entry door suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. Smoke poured into the room. White-clad stormtroopers, the Empire’s soldiers, poured into the room as well. Everyone started shooting. Blaster bolts flying everywhere, N’lan and Jeff both took off down another hallway. Turning around only to shoot the troops that came around the corner, N’lan raced forward. He soon realized that he had lost Jeff in the blaster smoke. He hoped Jeff would make it out in one piece. Soon more rebel troops joined the battle. They were going down like flies. The rebels couldn’t win this battle, but they were determined to win the war.
N’lan turned a corner, and opened a door to his left. It shot upward with a hiss, allowing him to pass through. The dimly lit hallway was nonetheless familiar. It was the escape pod room. Dashing to one of the pods, he quickly pushed the necessary buttons and punched in the security code. The door opened with a swish. He ducked inside the pod, and closed the hatch. He pulled a switch, and the pod ejected from the Tantive IV. He watched as space swirled around. Suddenly, the pod lurched. There’s nothing for the pod to hit out here! What was that? He thought. Looking out the viewport, he realized what was causing the lurches. Laser blasts.
N’lan had completely forgotten that were any pod to eject, the Star Destroyer would most likely fire upon it. Clenching his teeth, he hoped he could get out of range before he was space debris. The lurching stopped, but the pod was spinning wildly. As the gravitational dampers kicked in, N’lan leaned back and rested his head on the metal plating of the pod. It was only then that he realized someone was in the pod with him.
The man was in standard rebel trooper gear, but was not well-shaven. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” asked N’lan.
“Probably,” the man answered in a gruff voice. “I’m in Delta Squad. I know you; you’re from Alpha Squad.”
“Hmm. So what’s your name?”
“Shiev Dorkov.”
“Ah. I hope there’s something down there,” wondered N’lan, talking of the planet below.
“Oh, there is. There’s a couple of settlements. There’s a spaceport, too. And from the look of our angle, we’ll be heading straight for it,” answered Shiev.
“Uh-huh. You familiar with this planet?”
“Tatooine? Oh, yeah. I’ve got some contacts there...” He grinned in a way N’lan didn’t like.
N’lan looked back at the planet. Spaceport, huh. Sounds good. I’m gonna need to get off the planet as soon as I’m on, anyway. He braced himself as the pod started shaking.
“We’re coming into the planet,” Shiev observed. “Hold on tight!” He sounded as though he knew everything about this experience.
The small pod tore through the golden-brown atmosphere of Tatooine, racing faster and faster. The air whipped around the pod as it flew across the sun-baked dunes. The repulsorlift engines switched on, and the pod bounced across the dunes to land with a not-to-soft roll. When it finally halted, the entry/exit hatch flew open.
N’lan hopped out of the small interior. The twin suns baked his face and he strained to look around. “Great place you got here, Dorkov.”
Shiev smiled at N’lan. “Mos Eisley is a couple of klicks north-west of here.”
“Moss what?”
“Mos Eisley. The spaceport.” He acted as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. “We’d better get moving if we want to make it by evening.”
N’lan was sure this was not one of the more wisely things he’d done.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

At least by night, the sun had simmered down. It was cool, and the air was refreshing. N’lan Ataal and Shiev Dorkov had just arrived at Mos Eisley. Shiev took off, and wished N’lan good luck. He also recommended a place for refreshment. Relieved to get out of the burning desert air, N’lan stopped for a drink at the nearby cantina.
From the first step in, N’lan hated the place. Smoke, wafting across the room, was like an opaque wall. The smell was enough to send a handful of Jawas skittering out the door. Finally, the patrons were something else altogether. Aliens, humanoids and humans, all shapes and sizes, all colors, all smells. There were creatures that N’lan had never dreamed even existed. Not that he wanted to dream about them, though. He wondered why the place was so attracting to other species.
N’lan cautiously walked up to the bartender. A disgruntled human, the bartender got him the drink he wanted. N’lan slid a couple of credit chips across the bar top. N’lan walked out of the bar sipping his drink. Tomorrow, he thought, I’m going to get some decent clothes. Then I’ll look for transport out of here.
He walked along the quiet streets. When he finished his drink, he disposed of it on the street, seeing nowhere else to. Suddenly, a tall green alien popped out from behind a corner. Pulling out a blaster and yelling in some foreign language, he started to fire wildly. N’lan doubled back behind an alley wall. Probably a thug, he thought.
N’lan pulled his own blaster out. He checked the power reading. Full. He spun around the corner and fired. The bolt hit the alien square in the chest. The alien managed a muffled grunt as he hit the sand. Holstering the blaster, N’lan set off to find a place to sleep. He guessed this happened just about every night, as little attention had been drawn upon the fight.
Eventually, N’lan arrived at what seemed like a decent hotel. The Sandy Repose. He walked in. A thin, old man with a brown cloak and hood stood behind the counter. The man eyed N’lan cautiously.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Yeah,” N’lan replied. “I want a room. Just for the night.”
“Uh-huh. Sure, hold on.” He punched something into the data pad that lay on the desk in front of him.
“That’ll be 70 credits.” N’lan gave him the money. “Level 3, room #42. Here’s the key card.” He slipped N’lan the card. It was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, and considerably light. Intricate designs of circuits flew across the face of the card. “Thanks.”
As N’lan walked up the staircase to level 3, he thought about tomorrow. If I do happen to find transportation off this rock, where am I going to go? He got to level 3. A little bit down the hallway, he saw room #42. Probably the rebel fleet. That’s where Jeff is bound to be. He fit the card into the slot that lay on the wall next to the door. The door flew open. Inside the room was a small, but clean bed. Next to it was a door leading to the bathroom. There was also a arched window and a balcony that led outside to the streets of Mos Eisley. I’ll just have to think about it when the time comes. He got into bed, and was asleep before he could ponder anything else.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

[This message has been edited by Xizor42 (edited February 10, 2001).]

The next day was sunny and hot. As usual. N’lan woke up in the late morning. He stretched, and got out of bed. Well, the planet does have two suns, he thought as he dressed. The first thing I’m going to do is find some new clothes. This trooper uniform is getting smelly. He walked out the door and locked it. When he got to the front desk, it appeared the old man hadn’t woken yet. He set the card down on the desk and walked outside.
The reflection of the sun against the sand was almost unbearable. He wandered around for a while. Finally, he got to a clothes shop. He walked inside. A nice, cool breeze of recycled air washed over him. The small shop had clothes of every kind imaginable hanging on hooks everywhere. He then realized he was looking at clothes for a Dro’muk. The Dro’muks were a very strange species. They had seventeen tentacles and four eyes on top of a platformed head. He had worked with them once, on a mission for the Rebel Alliance. That was why the clothes here were so strange.
“You are in the wrong section, human,” said a bubbly voice to N’lan’s right. To N’lan’s surprise, it was a Dro’muk. They usually spoke very poor basic, but this one managed surprisingly well.
“Section?”
“That is correct. The human section is over there.” He pointed with a tentacle to a door N’lan hadn’t seen before. “My name is Shuru Sin. I am the manager here. Can I help you?”
“Um...sure, yeah. I just need some other clothes,” N’lan said as he followed the alien through the door.
“That is what everybody comes here for. Choose what you like.”
Inside the room, N’lan could see hundreds of clothing fit for humans of all shape and size. In the mercenary part, N’lan found a suit that would do nicely for him. It consisted of a black long-sleeved shirt and a brown vest that covered it. Somewhat gray-brown pants and tall black boots matched the upper half perfectly. A holster slung to one side and a pair of black gloves finished it off. He asked Shuru Sin for it, and the alien suggested he try it on. When N’lan came out of the changing room, he was a new man. It made him feel free. The bantha leather was amazingly soft. It was perfect.
“You know,” said Shuru Sin thoughtfully, “I could trade you that assembly you have on for your old suit. The clothes you have on were never very popular...and I’m sure that military uniform would fetch an interesting price on the market.”
“Sure,” said N’lan. He doubted the rebels would care.
After he had finished, he started the walk back the way he had come. He passed the hotel after a while. Soon he reached the cantina.
“Cursed place,” he muttered as he walked into the greasy area. N’lan stalked over to the bar, eyeing the patrons. Tugging on the shirt of the bartender, he asked where he could find a pilot.
“I don’t know,” the bartender answered. “It’s not my business. Find ‘em yourself.”
N’lan shrugged off the bartender’s rudeness and sat down at an empty table. He gazed around. The only difference he saw in the grimy place was the aliens. Even though he thought he had seen all the possible forms an alien could take, he was obviously wrong. Here were even more.
“Credit for your thoughts.”
“What - Shiev! What are you doing here?” N’lan asked.
“Just looking for customers.” Shiev answered with a grin on his unshaven face.
“Customers? But -” N’lan asked in confusion.
“Well, let’s just say I had a ship waiting here for a while.”
“But - the Alliance wouldn’t -”
“Don’t ask. It’s a long story. C’mon - let me but you a drink.”
“No! Why do you have a ship? What do you do?”
Shiev glanced around, grinning calmly at N’lan’s confused yet angry face. “I’m a pilot for hire. The rest doesn’t concern you.”
N’lan looked at him in disbelief. Shiev was a pilot? But what about the Rebellion? It just didn’t make sense. He resolved to ask him about it later. Right now, as long as Shiev knew how to fly, he was N’lan’s ticket out of this grub hole.
“Pilot, huh? Hey, you think you could give me a lift?”
“You?” Shiev asked. “Why do you want to leave now?”
N’lan looked around and waved his hand toward the group of Duros talking in their native language. He then moved his hand over to a couple of slobbering Chimara.
“That’s why. I can’t stand it here. You have to haul me off this brick.”
“Hey, sure. But, I’m gonna have to charge you.”
“It’s only natural. I’m headed for the Kamisahl system. How much?”
“Kamisahl? Well, that’s quite a hike from here. Let’s see....I’ll charge you 7,000.”
N’lan sighed and rested his cheeks in the palms of his hands. This trip had better be worth the crazy price he’s offering. “All right. Here.” He slid a credit chip across the table.
“We leave as soon as you’re ready.” Shiev’s eyes flashed as he pocketed the chip.
“Let’s go now. I’m ready,” N’lan said.
“Follow me.”
Shiev and N’lan walked for a while. It was about midday now, and the sun shone more fiercely than ever. N’lan watched hooded creatures scramble across the sand for the almost non-existent shade beneath buildings. He wished he himself had a hood, as the sun was beating down on him. It was easy to follow Shiev through the scarce crowd of passing people. The heat was nauseating. After what seemed like forever, they arrived at the landing silos. Shiev led N’lan through a door on the side of one of the large, open-roofed buildings. He stopped in front of the ship.
“Nice set of wings, eh?” Shiev beamed.
The ship was a rusty brown in texture. The nose was pointed, and was connected to a slender neck that ran down to the body. Off each side two amazing wings sprung out, bending at what seemed like the elbows. At the tip of each wing, a blaster turret stood. There was another turret right below the cockpit. Wires and various other objects were extruding from odd places, suggesting heavy modification. N’lan knew a good ship when he saw one, and this was one of them.
“It’s called The Riata.” Shiev said as he lowered the entry ramp.
“Very nice. As long as it can get us through the stratosphere.”
Shiev looked offended and narrowed his eyes. He then smiled. “Are you joking? This baby can run circles around any planet and back before you can say ‘jawa.’”
“All right,” N’lan said as he held his arms up in defense. No point in arguing. “Let’s go.”
Before long, the rusty ship was blasting its way into the dark void of outer space.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Jeff Erune woke with a start. Unfortunately, this start caused his head to come in contact with a metal object. Rubbing the top of his head and glancing angrily upward, he realized the object was the low ceiling of a small room. The “bed” he was on looked more like a shelf for holding data cards. The cold metal sent shivers through his light blue trooper’s uniform and up his back. Dim lighting surrounded him. Before long, he figured he was inside a detention cell.
Jeff was alone in the cell. It was probably an Imperial one. If he was lucky, it was one of a pirate ship that had come in contact with the Tantive IV. Either way, he needed to escape. He was dressed lightly; stripped of his gloves, helmet, and of course, gun. He was left with his shirt, pants and boots. Gazing around, he noticed a ventilation shaft in the top right corner across from the door. Such things were used to send chilly drafts of sickly recycled air through each cell. He decided that would be his best means of escape.
It took him a few minutes to tear the metal grating apart. He then hauled himself into the shaft. He crawled on his hands and knees until he reached another grate. He peered through the grating. Lying asleep on another hard bed was one of his fellow troopers. He recognized him immediately: Drang Rippen. He was in Alpha Squad just like Jeff. He decided to try to save him, too. Tearing the grate took no longer than the first time, but he managed. He lowered himself down into the room and slowly woke Rippen.
“Rippen! Hey, Drang!” Jeff whispered as he shook the man.
“What? Huh? Lieutenant Erune? What are you-” Jeff put his hand over Drang’s mouth. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.” Jeff motioned to the opened grate, and the still confused Drang followed Jeff through. They both crawled for a while. At random points during their travel, Drang asked questions Jeff couldn’t answer. These included questions about their location, status, and more. Finally, they got to another grate.
Looking through, Jeff saw a couple of Imperial stormtroopers guarding a collection of the Alliance’s blaster rifles. Those are ours! The Imperials have captured us, Jeff thought. He quickly formed a plan in his mind of what to do. Since there were only a few troops in there, Drang and himself would go down, get their weapons, and blast the troops. He knew what the odds were, and so did Drang.
“No way. Do you know what our chances of survival are in a situation like that?” Drang complained as Jeff told him of his plan.
“Do you know what the chances are of our survival if we simply crawled back to our cells and wait for them to interrogate us?”
Drang shook his head. “They have to be better than your idea.”
Jeff wouldn’t give up. “Drang, we have to! If we don’t, they are going to kill us! It’s our only hope; we can either die back there or at least attempt an escape here.”
Drang sighed. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
The grate slowly and quietly broke open. Jeff and Drang prepared themselves. Suddenly, Jeff jumped through the grate and on top of the first stormtrooper. He muffled his surprise as Jeff stole the trooper’s blaster and shot the fallen man. As Jeff looked up, he saw that Drang had already taken care of the other two.
“I guess that military training paid off,” commented Jeff.
“More or less,” Drang said as he checked his blaster’s power reading.
Jeff chuckled and quietly slid open the door to the room. The hallway was empty down both ways, save a stormtrooper that was working at controls at the end. Jeff turned to Drang.
“Our best choice is to take the trooper’s uniforms. That way we can infiltrate the ship and get to the hangers as soon as possible.”
Drang agreed. “Good idea. The only problem is, these uniforms have blaster holes in them. How inconspicuous is that?”
Jeff thought. “We’ll have to take the ones that have the most indistinguishable marks.” He picked up the one he had shot. “This one’s no good; it’s got the hole in the chest.”
“These two are okay. This one here has a shot in it’s thigh and the one over there has one in the helmet. You can always exchange helmets.”
“Right. Let’s go.”
Before long, Jeff and Drang were fully attired. They marched down the hallway, and the trooper at the end paid them no notice. It wasn’t long before they reached the hanger. They found the main control room to discuss the situation. It had a window overlooking the hanger bay. It also had an Imperial officer. Both Drang and Jeff pulled out their blasters at the same time, so two holes went through his chest. The officer fell without a sound.
“What do we do now?” asked Drang as he pulled off his helmet.
“Well, this trooper disguise worked perfectly,” said Jeff as he too removed his helmet. “Maybe we could get into a pilot’s uniform.”
Drang looked out the window. “I have an idea.” He searched the controls littering the room, and soon found what he wanted. He looked at a screen and punched in something.
“It’s a list of all the pilots and they’re identification codes.” He pushed a switch, and spoke into the control panel. “Pilots 27463-843 and 27463-844 please report to control room B. Repeat, pilots 27463-843 and 27463-844 report to control room B.” He switched the button again.
“There. Put your helmet back on, they’ll be here soon.” Drang said as he lifted the white helmet over his face.
Jeff did the same. “Got it.”
Soon the two black pilots arrived at the control room. The door swished open.
“Who called us here?” asked one of them.
Drang slowly walked behind the two of them. Jeff spoke, and tried to hide the body of the officer behind him.
“Commander Jemino did. He will be back in a little bit.”
The second pilot spoke up. “I know of no Commander Jemino. Is this a joke?”
“No, I am afraid this is quite serious.” Jeff said.
Suddenly, the first trooper let out a groan and fell to the floor. Jeff whipped out his blaster and struck the second. He fell on top of the first.
“Let’s get moving,” said Drang. They both fitted on the pilot’s uniforms and marched down to the docking bay. Each of them found a TIE fighter that was unoccupied, and they boarded.
Jeff’s TIE was small. He barely fit into the seat, and the controls were pressed up to his hands. He knew he had eliminated the officer in charge of controlling the fighters that left and entered, so he likewise knew it was safe to go. He fired up his fighter, and blasted out of the Star Destroyer with Drang right behind him. He realized then that the fighters had no hyperdrive. It would take them a few hundred years to reach another planet without going to lightspeed. He keyed in Drang’s frequency on the comlink.
“Do you realize what we’ve done?”
Drang’s voice was a mouthful of static. “Yeah, infiltrated an Imperial Star Destroyer!”
“No, I mean these fighters. They aren’t equipped with hyperdrives.”
“I know, and I just realized that although no system is within our life span, the rebel fleet is right near here. It just may take a while to get there.”
“Oh, that’s right. The rebel fleet was gathering on the outskirts of the Krugon system. We’ll be there in a few days.”


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

A medium-sized brown fighter slowly landed in the bay of one of the Rebel’s fleet ships. The fleet was gathered near the Krugon system, and the top officials in the main ships were discussing a location for a new secret Rebel base.
N’lan Ataal and Shiev Dorkov walked down the extended landing ramp. They had just gotten permission to land, and The Riata was currently being fueled. What struck N’lan as odd was the presence of two Imperial TIE Interceptors in the landing bay. He shrugged it off and decided to ask later. Their first objective was to find N’lan’s troop commander and ask him where Jeff Erune was. They found him in the medical bay, apparently sick.
N’lan walked up to Commander Luphen.
“Sir.” Luphen awoke.
“Ataal! It’s so good to see you. At ease.” He sat up on his bed, wrinkling the sheets.
“Good morning, sir.” N’lan thought it was odd that Luphen didn’t address Shiev in the same way. Instead, he merely glanced at him to acknowledge his presence.
Luphen turned back to N’lan. “For you! In my biological time it’s the middle of the night!” He chuckled. “So what brings you here?”
“I wanted to know the location of Jeff Erune.” He glanced at Shiev, who seemed uneasy.
“Ah, yes. He’s on this ship; he arrived not too long ago. You see, he was captured during the fight on the Tantive IV and somehow managed to escape. It’s quite an interesting story. I believe he is in his quarters. That would be level 7.”
“Thank you, sir.” He followed Shiev out, then popped back into the room. “Take care of yourself, sir.”
“You too, Ataal. You’re a good man.” Luphen saluted N’lan, and N’lan did the same.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Jeff Erune stood in a large room. He was in the troop’s quarters. Level 7 on this side of the ship consisted of several long hallways with rooms breaking off. These rooms held 20 beds each, some above others. The recycled air on board the ship was crusty, but Jeff took a deep breath of it anyway. He gazed out the small viewport at the ships lazily drifting within the fleet. There were ships of all shapes and sizes. The capital ships were so big, Jeff couldn’t see the full ship from where he was. Smaller fighters were darting in and out between the larger ships on patrol. It all somehow fit together, like a holopuzzle.
Jeff turned around. He somehow knew that someone was there. It was N’lan Ataal and another…unruly character. “N’lan! It’s so good to see you!”
N’lan nodded. “You too.” He took Jeff’s hand in his and shook it.
Jeff looked at N’lan closer. “Is something wrong?” N’lan nodded again. “Something’s come up. Just a few minutes ago, on my way here, I got a message from someone at Ataal Construction Yards. You know, the place where my father works. The person in the message seemed to be panicked. I’m going to see what’s up.”
“Sounds good.” Jeff seemed distracted. He turned towards the window and gazed randomly.
“The point is,” continued N’lan, “I need transport. I was hoping you could help me find someone.”
Jeff looked at N’lan. “Actually, I managed to acquire a ship through my escape from the Tantive IV. I could give you a lift.”
“Really? That would be great!”
“Sure. The thing is, the ship is undergoing heavy modifications and updates. It won’t be ready for a few days.”
“That’s okay. I’ve got things on my mind I need to work out.” N’lan glanced at Shiev, who was fiddling with some strange object.
“Yeah. Me too,” said Jeff. He turned towards the window again. He was so concentrated on his problems that he didn’t notice N’lan say his farewell and leave with Shiev.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Beedo blew the smoke from his blaster and stormed away from the dead man on the floor in a fury. Leaving the small building, he pushed his way through the crowds of Mos Eisley and managed to reach an open square. He found his way to the cantina with no problems. The information that that man had told him was enough to make Beedo extremely angry. He had shot the man when he told Beedo that Han Solo had killed Greedo.
Greedo was a Rodian, like Beedo. In fact, Beedo was Greedo’s cousin. Both of them had been traveling to Mos Eisley to look for work. Beedo had temporarily parted ways with Greedo because Greedo wanted Han Solo’s head. Beedo had gone searching for Jabba the Hutt, the criminal overlord of Mos Eisley. Surely Jabba could find Beedo some work. On his way to Jabba’s Palace, a man, one of Beedo’s spies, had told him of this murder. Beedo had shot the man in frustration.
Now, as Beedo entered the cantina, he sniffed the air with his keen nose. Among the common scent of horrible bodily hygiene that the patrons carried around, he smelled burnt flesh. Searching the cantina he soon came across a table with a smoldering mark on it. He slammed his fist on the table in anger. Obviously, someone had taken the body. Now Beedo had to settle a score with Han Solo.
On his way out of the cantina, he stopped. He couldn’t take on Han Solo! If this man had shot Greedo, then Beedo couldn’t possibly try to kill him. Greedo was a little more crafty and quick than Beedo was. The only way Beedo could quench his anger would be to kill people who had a physical resemblance to Solo. Beedo balled his fist in fury. Someday, he thought, someday, Solo. Watch your back.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

“A TIE Interceptor?” Shiev rolled his eyes in disgust. N’lan and Shiev were in the Rightful Ruby, a Kuat Drive Yards ship that underwent modifications for ships. They were looking over Jeff’s nearly finished ship.
“I think it looks great!” N’lan disagreed. The TIE had been totally remodeled. The cockpit had been replaced, and could now fit two people. A turret had been placed on top of the opening hatch, as well as two proton torpedo launchers located right below the window. The ship also boasted a hyperdrive engine and a shield generator.
“It’s still an Interceptor. I think it’s a terrible idea,” Shiev mumbled.
“Lighten up! I’ll bet you that this ship can outrun and outgun your ship.” N’lan said, turning to face Shiev. Shiev smiled challengingly.
“We’ll see.” He turned away and stalked off to The Riata, which was waiting in the next-door docking bay. N’lan shook his head and followed him. Although Jeff wasn’t present, he knew he would be pleased with the results of his ship.

Jeff paced his room. It was about 0200 in his biological time, but he just couldn’t get to sleep. Some personally devastating information was on his mind.
Jeff knew he was born on Alderaan. He knew that the planet was a prosperous, peaceful place. He also knew that his parents had always been on the Empire’s side, and had wanted Alderaan to join the Imperials. They were both politicians, and had been trying to convince the Alderaanian government that the Empire was the right way to go.
Jeff also knew that he had an older brother. Tlat Erune. Tlat was with his parents. When he was old enough, Tlat immediately joined the Imperial Navy. He was soon positioned as commander of an Imperial base on a distant planet. Jeff’s parents were so proud of him.
Jeff himself had never liked the Empire, or the way it worked. His parents were ashamed and embarrassed of him. They sent him away when he was 18. Jeff had never seen them, or his brother, since then. Then, as soon as Jeff had returned from his escape from the Star Destroyer, he had been informed that Alderaan had been destroyed by the Empire.
Jeff hadn’t known what to make of this news. Somehow, before he was even notified about it, when he was still in his fighter with Drang, he had felt the planet explode. At that time, he had thought it was a hallucination. But here it was, in fact. He knew it was true, but couldn’t bear to believe it. And so here Jeff was, pacing. Finally, after about 45 minutes of Jeff’s thinking, he realized he would have to see for himself. When his ship was finished being modified, he would drop N’lan off at Ataal Construction Yards, then go to the site of the explosion. It was all he could do.


------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Shiev Dorkov leaned against the frame of N’lan Ataal’s bedroom doorway. He watched with little or no interest as N’lan packed a few things in his pockets.
“Where are you going?” Shiev asked.
“I thought I already told you. I’m going to my father’s construction company because a distress call came to my attention.” N’lan finished packing and turned toward Shiev. “You can come along, if you want to.” Shiev shook his head.
“Nah, I’ve got some…business to attend to on this ship.”
N’lan looked at him quizzically, but knew better than to ask. He nodded instead. “This might be the last time we see each other, then.”
Shiev shrugged. “I doubt it.” He turned away from the door and gestured. “C’mon, I’ll take you to the docking bay.”
N’lan nodded again and followed Shiev out. They walked the entire way in an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the doors and elevators they took to get to the bay. When they got there, Jeff was waiting expectantly at his newly improved ship.
N’lan looked up at it. “What happened to the other one?” He asked Jeff.
“The other what?” Jeff asked back.
“When Shiev Dorkov here landed the ship,” he pointed to Shiev, who nodded in Jeff’s direction- “I noticed another TIE. What happened to it?”
“Do you remember Drang Rippen?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah, that kid who had recently joined Alpha Squad. What about him?”
“Well, he was instrumental in my escape. He had stolen a TIE as well, and he wanted no more of it after it delivered him here. He instead donated it to Research and Development, where the Alliance could study it and discover weaknesses.” Jeff gestured toward the ladder that led up to the cockpit hatch. “We should go soon.”
N’lan nodded. “One minute.” He jogged over to where Shiev was talking to a rebel commander.
“Yes,” Shiev said. “I want to see General Dodanna.”
“I’m sorry, General Dodanna only speaks to representatives of the Alliance.”
Shiev glanced about in irritation. He then pointed to a tattoo that was on his arm. N’lan had noticed it, and couldn’t place his finger on where he had seen it before. Shiev then pointed silently at The Riata, where several men were carrying boxes out the cargo hatch. The rebel commander narrowed his eyes in realization.
“Yes, sir. I will personally escort you to him.” The commander saluted Shiev. Shiev nodded.
“In a few.” He turned to N’lan. “Well, N’lan, it’s been great. I’m sure I’ll see you sometime again.” He took N’lan’s hand in his own and shook it.
N’lan patted Shiev on the back as Shiev turned away and followed the commander. Although quite a few questions had risen in N’lan’s mind during that strange conversation between Shiev and the commander, he resolved to ask him about it when he saw Shiev again. He then walked back to Jeff, who was already climbing up the ladder. Jeff looked down and gestured for N’lan to follow him. N’lan did.
The cockpit was small, but roomy somehow. Jeff had slid into the pilot’s seat. N’lan hopped into the back seat, which faced the opposite direction from Jeff’s. As he did, N’lan noticed the firing controls for the turret on top were next to him. They were placed in such a way so that they could be accessed either from the pilot’s seat or N’lan’s. There was also a viewport right in front of N’lan, so that he could see outside as well. N’lan also noticed, with some surprise, that his seat was equipped with an ejection device. He presumed that Jeff’s seat had the same.
“Ready to launch?” Jeff asked over his shoulder.
“Ready as ever,” returned N’lan.
The small fighter blasted out of the hanger.


------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Due to the small man’s dense weight, he fell rather quickly to the bottom of the gorge in Beggar’s Canyon. Beedo kicked some small rocks after him, and stalked off. So far, Beedo had killed three people since he heard of his cousin’s death. All of them somehow resembled Han Solo. He wanted to make sure the universe knew of his hatred for it, and as far as he was concerned, he was doing a good job of it.
He walked over to his small fighter, which was parked not 20 meters away. He had flown the ship out here, then pushed the man off the cliff. It had satisfied his disturbance for the day. He needed to get off this planet to find more victims. He started up the fighter, and was soon racing through what there was of a stratosphere on Tatooine. All of a sudden, the empty void of space opened in front of him. Beedo angled the ship and calculated the coordinates. He pulled a switch, and soon his fighter was blasting through the colorful sub-dimension known as hyperspace.

A small, red light and a monotone beep relieved Beedo from his sleep and brought his attention to the exiting of hyperspace. He flipped a switch to turn the noise off. Suddenly, the colors that swirled around him turned into white lines, which then rapidly grew smaller, and then turned into white spots. The spots drew contrast against the vast black space. Beedo took no notice of it as he flew towards the floating spaceport known as Golowa.
Golowa, unlike most spaceports, was relatively clean. It was also the size of a small city. Comparable to Nar Shadda, Golowa was positioned near the Hapes Cluster, right on top of the Perlemian Trade Route. It was a common place for smugglers, traders and merchants to go about their ways. The manager of Golowa is an old, gambling Hutt by the name of Droga the Hutt. Droga was the reason Beedo had come to Golowa.
As Beedo’s ship entered the hanger, he let the landing gear unfold before letting the ship down on the deck. As he got out, a dozen or so peddlers wandered up, offering cannon recharges, viewport scrubs and decoration paint for his ship. He brushed them away. When they persisted, he shot one and glared around. They all backed off, and half went to bother another spacer.
Beedo walked for a while. He saw a few people that looked disturbingly like Han Solo. All of them looked at him. By the time he got to the private turbolift that would take him to Droga, he was quivering with anger. He dialed the access code required to operate the lift. The door swiveled open, and the turbolift took him up. It was only a few seconds before the door once again opened, revealing an open chamber.
The smell was so bad in here, with the overdose of perfume in a vain attempt to override it, Beedo could have sworn he was in the Mos Eisley cantina. Several species were leaning on posts, helping themselves to food, and conversing. Some soothing music was playing, and a slave was dancing. In the middle of the circular room was a large Hutt. Hutts were known for their bad hygiene and horrible attitude. Droga was no exception. Wrinkling his nose, Beedo stalked up to the platform that Droga was on.
Droga the Hutt laughed a deep belly laugh and spoke in his native language, Huttese. “Turga Booda, Chung graei orm boonedea.” <Welcome, Beedo.>
Beedo spoke Huttese as well. <Dispense with the pleasantries, Droga. I have business to discuss.>
The Hutt laughed again. <As do I, Beedo. We all are very busy. Please let me conduct mine before you do.>
Beedo shuffled his feet. <If it concerns me.>
Droga laughed again. <Oh, it does, Beedo. It does.>
Suddenly, half a dozen trandoshens walked from behind some pillars. Some wielded Rail Detonators, an explosive weapon, while others held various blaster rifles. All of them had a strange mark on their chests. It was some kind of political symbol. Beedo had never seen it before. There was a star in the middle, surrounded by a strange circle. Three lines ran through the star, and four spikes protruded from the circle. The entire emblem was black.
Droga continued to speak. <As you most likely don’t know, I was alive during the ancient Clone Wars. That was when I built Golowa. Back then, the Sith and the Jedi were fighting on almost every planet. Billions of innocent lives were caught in the struggle.>
Beedo interrupted. <I fail to see how this concerns me.>
Droga put his hand up. <Patience. All in good time. As most rumors tell, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine started the Clone Wars in his efforts for power. He ordered the cloning of all his Dark Sith apprentices. His head of operatives in cloning was a young Sith named Xuric. He was the same species as the famed Jedi Plo Kloon.>
Beedo put his hand up in another interruption. <Do you expect me to believe these lies? The Clone Wars were serious, but no one knows this much about them.>
<As I said before,> Droga countered, <I was present during all this. As were most Hutts. I am only revealing this information to you to make it easier for you to complete your task.>
<What task?>
<I will tell you soon. Now listen. When the Sith were defeated by the Jedi, Xuric was forced into hiding. He was one of the only remaining Sith to survive. Now, Xuric has seen it to be the right time to come out of hiding. He knows very little of the galaxy now from then, so he has requested me to tell him of such. I recommended you as a bounty hunter. Now the question is whether you will accept Xuric’s offer as his personal hunter.>
Beedo looked at the trandoshens, then back at Droga. He realized what little choice he had. Suddenly, he had no desire to tell Droga what he had come to tell. <I’ll do it,> Beedo said.
Droga laughed a rumbling laugh and waved for the trandos to escort Beedo to his ship. Beedo hoped he had made the right choice.


------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Dorgus and Speedo died right then and there, as their tofu ship was eaten by Speedo, in which case ending the story. "HAHA", kid from simpsons THE END!!!!!!!!!

Hey! No fair! I once created something called the Sithsaber! Everyone's plagiarizing!

------------------
Play epic RPGs such as Dark Exile, or duel in the Interdimensional Arena @ The High Citadel

High Emperor: Cool. Now i'm using it.

I think we can safely disregard Maxwell's post, eh?


------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

From the moment N’lan Ataal’s feet hit the rusty inside flooring of the construction yard’s landing platform, he could tell something was wrong.
Ataal Construction Yards was on the grassy, dry planet of Myrrh. Myrrh was basically deserted, and didn’t have enough gravity to hold it’s own atmosphere. The grass that lived there thrived on constant, pounding gamma energy supplied by the planet’s nearby sun. In order for the construction yards to be safe from this radiation, an extremely large bubble had been created. It covered nearly half the continent that they were on. The continents were bordered by large flows of molten rock.
N’lan pulled out his blaster pistol. He heard Jeff climb down the ladder.
“I would help you, N’lan, but I’ve got some urgent business to attend to,” Jeff said apologetically. N’lan dismissed it with a wave of his hand.
“It’s alright,” he said. “But if you can, try to stop by when you’re done. I’ll probably need a ride out.”
“Sure,” Jeff said. He took N’lan’s hand, shook it, and climbed the ladder again. N’lan watched as the interceptor soared out of the hanger bay, through the bubble, and out into outer space. Just then, N’lan sensed danger. Acting on instinct, he dove three meters to the left. Not a second later, three explosions marked where he had just been. N’lan pointed his blaster everywhere, but couldn’t seem to find what had shot at him.
The room was filled with parts of spaceships, droids, and random junk everywhere. Grease stains littered the walls, and a mechanical smell wafted through the room. A foe could hide anywhere. N’lan sensed the danger again. He couldn’t figure out how. He dove and did a summersault in front of him. Another explosion rocketed where he had been. Luckily, this time he could tell where the shots had come from. He had seen the projectile right before he had leapt, and realized it was a rail detonator. He looked upward. There, on a thin catwalk, stood two droids. Both of them appeared to have been cobbled together with spare parts. The first one looked like an IG assassin droid, but twice as small. It was painted red, and had a blaster in one hand, as well as a rail detonator implanted in its arm. The other droid was right next to it. It was completely different.
It looked like a floating R2 unit head with arms. Two claws protruded from the bottom. It was about the size of an R2 head, and N’lan suspected it was. What was different was that it had a vocabulator grill right below it’s single eye. Also, it appeared to be coaxing the other droid not to shoot at N’lan. Right now it was doing just that. The red droid knocked the little one away, and continued to fire at N’lan with the blaster rifle. N’lan took cover behind a large X-Wing engine before returning fire. Three of eight shots hit the large droid in the chest, and it fell off the catwalk. It tumbled to the ground and landed with a large crumpling sound. Emerging from his hiding place, N’lan approached the fallen droid. Sizzling bolts of electricity swarmed over the red hulk. He kicked the heap, and it shuddered. N’lan turned around and stalked towards the exit door.
As he did so, he heard a small, yet powerful voice call after him. “Sir!” It screamed. “Sir, please do wait!” N’lan turned around. The small, floating R2 head was hovering towards him. He pointed his blaster at it and told it to back off. It merely held up its claws in defense, and protested.
“Sir! Please, I do wish to assist you!” N’lan lowered the blaster, and so did the droid’s arms. “Sir. May I ask you a question?” N’lan nodded. “Would you perhaps be a relative of Amer Ataal, owner of Ataal Construction Yards?”
N’lan put his blaster in its holster and started to walk towards an exit door. “Yeah. I’m his son,” he replied. The droid seemed to quiver in delight.
“Sir, I was sent to from him to you. I was about to board a message pod to deliver myself to you when this horrid droid attacked you!” He gestured towards the fallen lump. N’lan wanted to know more.
“Why did the droid attack me?” He asked.
“It was most likely one of the master’s…failed projects.” The droid hovered close to N’lan.
“Hmm. And how is my father?” N’lan asked again, contemplating what the droid had just said.
The small droid imitated a sigh and turned away. “Master Ataal met a most unfortunate fate…”
“Dead?”
“No, not dead. Just captured. I don’t know by who,” the droid added, seeing N’lan’s quizzical look.
N’lan knew the way to the main control bunker well, so it was not really any problem for him to travel there. He went via hovertrains, mostly. All the while he tried to pry the information out of the little droid, but to no avail.
“What is your name, anyway?” N’lan asked the droid as he boarded another train and started it up.
The R2 head floated by a window and gazed at the towering piles of junk flying by. “My manufactured name is A2-R630. Master Ataal called me ‘A-too.’” N’lan nodded and gazed with the droid.
“A2, huh. Well, I can live with that. I suppose you’re not going to tell me how you came to be in my father’s acquaintance.” The train slowed down. It came to a halt and N’lan and A2 left it. They boarded another one, and A2 started it up.
“Actually, sir, he built me. I’ve been with him since he started his business at Nar Shadda. I was one of his first projects there.”
N’lan stared out the window. A large crane was hauling what looked like a large part of a space cruiser. It picked it up, swung over and threw it into a pile of scrap. Soon the train stopped and N’lan hopped out. A2 followed close behind as N’lan walked towards the small bunker that lay in front of them. The small building was not large enough for more than one story. It was a parallelogram in shape, and the top slanted northward. A large door covered the entrance. N’lan tried the switch, but it was locked.
“Allow me,” said A2. A small, drill-like appendage extended from the droid’s head. He flew over to a small panel on the opposite side from the one N’lan was trying to access and stuck the appendage in. It twirled around a bit, then a light on the panel blinked from red to green. The door rumbled open as A2 disconnected.
“After you,” the droid said.


------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Hey Xizor how are you? Well I just wanted to tell you that your Story is excellent.

------------------
Peace over Anger,
Honor over Hate,
Strength over Fear

So far.

------------------
Peace over Anger,
Honor over Hate,
Strength over Fear

Thanx!

------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Jeff Erune sat in the cockpit of his starighter. He was staring into hyperspace, mesmerized by the swirling patterns. He had hoped to fall asleep during the slow trip, but he couldn’t manage to. Then a red light blinked, and Jeff pulled the deactivation lever. He sat in anxious suspense, awaiting the bright glow of Alderaan. He knew it wouldn’t be there, and it wasn’t.
His ship floated through small and large chunks of rock. It was a graveyard. Billions of people had been killed in a matter of seconds. He could tell that it had been blown up, but he couldn’t imagine what had done it. He dodged pieces of rocks, some big, most small. On the big ones he could still see signs of heat melting off. He slumped back into his chair and stared.
His entire family, save his brother, was gone. Now no one would know or care about Jeff’s ancestral history. No one would ever realize what pains his family had taken, the risks they took, the treasures they held so tightly. No one would ever see. Jeff simply sat there, looking into nothing. It was unbearable.
He could somehow feel people, bodies, around him, all of them dead. He guessed that he was having some insight into ghosts, spirits. They were swirling around him, speaking to him through voices in his head. He saw his parents, trying to stand up for what they thought was right. He saw his grandparents, always traveling, visiting worlds, cultures, exploring. He saw his little cousins, always causing mischief and getting into trouble. It was these factors, these elements that made Jeff’s family distinguished. It made his family so easy to remember. And now it was all gone.
Then a thought occurred to Jeff. Although he could always talk to N’lan about his problems, he thought it might be better if he talked with someone who knew what he was feeling. Maybe Tlat would understand. Jeff knew the coordinates to the base that Tlat commanded, and he plugged them in. He would visit Tlat, and talk to him about what was happening. He just hoped Tlat wasn’t an emotionless military machine. He hoped the Empire had left some good in him.


------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

N’lan Ataal readied his blaster as the doors to the control bunker rumbled open. A2 hovered right behind him. He stepped into the dark room, lit only by the light from the doorway and a small switch to his right. He slammed his fist against it and the lights flickered on. It was a mess.
At least five men in uniforms with the Ataal Construction Yards insignia on them were lying either dead or unconscious on the floor. Three more were slumped over control panels. There was another, smaller, one-man door just around the corner that closed as N’lan walked up to it. He managed to catch a small glimpse of a green and brown suit. He looked for the controls that operated it. He soon noticed the key card slot. He looked around in hope that the card was somewhere near. Unluckily, it wasn’t. Then he remembered A2. N’lan turned toward the droid. “Could you open the door, A2?”
In answer, A2 flew over to the key card slot. A small, flat appendage extended from a hole in his head. The droid inserted it into the slot, and a light turned green. The door swished open. It had opened to a hallway. The hall was lined with blast marks and bodies. N’lan cautiously walked down, pistol ready. He turned around a corner just in time to see his father and three aliens. One of the aliens turned and activated a switch. A force field, of pure energy, lit up in front of N’lan. The field was transparent enough that he could see the three men in front of him. Two of them were Rodians, a green-skinned species known for their ability as bounty hunters. The third was an alien that was unknown to N’lan. His father was shackled with stun cuffs. Amer Ataal still didn’t notice N’lan.
Amer was an old man. He was taller than normal humans his age were, and he had a white beard that matched what hair remained on the top of his head. His brown cloak covered his outdated, wrap-around suit. As far as N’lan knew, he had that suit forever.
N’lan yelled through over the buzzing sound of the field. The Rodians swiveled around, then laughed as they beat Amer over the head with the butts of their pistols. N’lan glared at them furiously. He watched Amer catch a quick glance at N’lan, then fall unconscious. N’lan felt surges of power flow through him somehow, like he was absorbing electricity through a power socket. It was…different, though. The power was webbed out everywhere, connected to everything. It was then that N’lan focused his anger toward the aliens. In an explosion of rage, N’lan funneled the energy into them. A light came from N’lan’s hands. As one of the Rodians turned in horror, a red, flashing ball sparkling with that same energy sped towards him. It slid right through the force field. The Rodian held his hands up in defense and screamed. In a flash he was thrown against the wall by it, disintegrating before he touched it.. The light disappeared, and nothing but a smoldering mark was left on the wall. His blaster was soldered to the floor, a melted chunk of metal. The other Rodian and the unknown alien ran away in fear.
N’lan collapsed on the ground. The surge of power had drained his energy. Now he felt not the glory of victory, but an empty darkness. He felt dead, yet very much alive. Alive enough to feel the agonizing effects. A2 floated next to him.
“Are you all right, Master Ataal?” It asked worriedly.
N’lan stood shakily. He held his head. It throbbed painfully. He nodded and looked to where Amer was.
There stood a figure, wrapped in a cloak. N’lan felt the dark power waving off from him. The figure was glaring at N’lan. Then it laughed. It laughed like a predator that has overcome its prey. It laughed, and as he did, the dark waves protruding from him rippled with energy. Then he spoke. It wasn’t Basic. It also wasn’t any of the other common languages spoken in the Galaxy. It was an ancient language…and Amer had taught N’lan some when N’lan was a child. It was the language of the species that the famous Jedi Master, Plo Kloon, had spoken.
Plo Kloon was one of the Jedi that was powerful enough to have a seat in the Jedi Council, a collection of all the most powerful Jedi in the Galaxy. That was before the Clone Wars that wiped them out.
The figure spoke in a way that made N’lan quiver.
<Congratulations,> it said. <You have tasted the first drink in the ocean of power. You will become strong. We will meet again, young warrior.>
With that, the figure waved his hand. Amazingly, like nothing N’lan had ever seen before, Amer’s body rose without assistance. It floated through the air, around a corner. The cloaked man stared at N’lan, then dissolved into the air.
N’lan collapsed again, and went unconscious.


------------------
"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Beedo awoke through the sound of a buzzer on his door. He sat up and scratched behind his first set of ears. He then remembered where he was and jumped to his feet. He opened the door and a red protocol droid stood there.
“The Lord wishes to speak with you, Master Beedo,” it said. Beedo pushed the droid out of the way and ran towards the nearest turbolift. He opened it and punched in the code for the top level. The top level of the space station Beedo was currently on was a large dome. That dome was what housed his employer’s personal quarters and work area.
When he got to the top, he shoved his way through a hallway of various aliens and humans. He came to a large, palace-like door. Two Weequay guards held their axes in such a manner that signified Beedo couldn’t pass. Beedo held up a card. The two Weequays bowed their heads in apology, and opened the door.
It opened into a huge room. A transparensteel dome covered it, and the floor ramped up on all sides. It all focused your attention on the middle of the room. In the middle stood, or rather, floated an oversized throne. Ancient symbols covered it, and it was black. A dark black like Beedo had never experienced before. Although Beedo had been to this room many times, he always saw a different black in that chair. Beedo walked up to the throne. In it sat a figure wrapped in black. Beedo could faintly feel vibrations rippling off him. His hood covered his face, but he now removed it. His face was scarred from battle. A metal plate covered his nose and mouth, because oxygen was poisonous for his species. Tubes ran from small, mandible-like appendages on the bottom of the plate to his back. These enabled him to breathe the air that was right for his species. Beedo bowed.
“Lord Xuric.” Beedo knew that Xuric could understand Basic.
<Beedo. I have an important task for you.>
Luckily, Beedo understood some of Xuric’s language. “I heard that the old man escaped.”
<Yes. He did. I let him. You see, it is better to kill a man when he is on the run, when he feels he has outsmarted his captors. Also, I led his son to think we were headed towards the aquatic planet of Equaris.>
“You want me to kill him?”
<No, not his son. Leave him to me. But do away with the old man. Yes… do so, and you will be rewarded with several thousand credits.>
Beedo nodded and began to leave.
<One more thing,> Xuric said. Beedo stopped, still facing the door. <Be careful with this man, Beedo. He’s not what you think.>
Beedo continued through the door, towards his ship.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

[This message has been edited by Xizor42 (edited April 30, 2001).]

Ouch...mine eyes doth pain me from all this reading off a monitor.

And I thought reading code was bad. No wonder my eyes are 20/2k

Did you actually read it, though? Try it. Moost people who do say they really like it. Plus, it'll give you a clue to what's going on when this becomes a mod. (See my sig for more info)

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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Tlat Erune slid into the chair that was positioned opposite his desk. He was facing outside, into space. Two TIE Fighters were completing their four- hour guard duty, circling the base. He watched them fly by, engines noisily screaming. He pressed his fingertips together. Research in the Dark Flow asteroid belt was moving along nicely.
The asteroid belt circled the star known as Shirraj, which meant “Moving Blackness” in Duro. The Duros were the first to discover Shirraj, when they first developed space travel over a millennia ago. A war broke out when the system was discovered. It was fought between the Duros and the Nemoidians, the Duros’ cousin race. They fought over the only remotely inhabitable planet in the system, Shi Amia. Shi Amia means “Cursed Land” in Duro. The reason for this name is pretty easy to understand.
The planet is covered in molten rock. The atmosphere is barely held up by the planet’s weak gravity field. Some continents and islands of hard stone rise above the magma, but no one wishes to visit. When the Duros landed, after the war was won in their favor, they wanted to expand their civilization further and create cities on Shi Amia. After a few explorations, however, the planet was found to be mysteriously dangerous. Besides the magma, another force was guiding the Duro scouts to their demise. The Duros quickly packed up and left in fear, naming the system cursed. They refuse to go anywhere near it anymore.
The Empire, after stretching its power to the far corners of the galaxy, grew curious of the rumors surrounding the system. They sent Tlat Erune to construct an outpost and to observe behavior of the planet.
Tlat reflected on these facts. A few weeks ago he had sent the eighth scout group to the planet to investigate. Out of the twenty scout troops he had sent, fifteen had come back from their five-day journey. The scouts reported that two had fallen into the molten rock. The other three were gone without any insight to where they had disappeared.
Luckily, the others that had survived reported the presence of a landmark not seen before on the planet. It first appeared to have been a simple, erosion-formed cave. Then the trooper that saw the structure scanned the cave for any signs of life. Instead he detected several metal plates were holding the cave in place. Before he could explore any further, he was alerted to the deaths of his fellow troopers. The remaining resolved to leave before any others were killed.
Tlat leaned further into the foam chair. Suddenly a lieutenant opened the door to Tlat’s chamber, breaking his train of thought. He swiveled the chair to face the nervous officer.
“What is it,” Tlat asked impatiently. The man facing him wiped his brow and held a datapad up. Tlat took it out of his hands and read it while the man spoke.
“Sir, an unidentified ship has entered the sector. Our gunners warned before opening fire. The pilot identified himself as Rumner Erune. The ID checked out, and he asked to see you personally. We thought you might want to know.”
“What of him now?” Tlat asked, handing the pad back.
“He is still outside the base in what appears to be a modified TIE Interceptor. We thought those were still in development.”
Tlat crossed his arms in thought. Rumner Erune was Tlat’s father. Surely Rumner wouldn’t visit him in a TIE. “Lieutenant, the only Interceptors released for battle yet are on Lord Vader’s personal Star Destroyer. That is for your own knowledge. About the intruder, let him land and escort him here immediately. This is a matter of family importance.”
“Yes, sir.” The man left Tlat alone again, and he swiveled the chair back towards the window.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

N’lan awoke. He regretted it immediately. A searing pain in his mind caused him to grimace. He buckled over in pain. It was then that he realized that he had nowhere to buckle over to, and fell off the bed he was on. He shook his head and the pain slowly dissipated. He then realized he was in a medical bay. There were three more beds in the white room, and a bacta tank in front of him. N’lan stood up and brushed himself off. He noticed he was still in his brown suit. He decided to look for A2.
He opened the door and walked into the hallway. Navigating through the building that he guessed was still the control bunker. He managed to find the small droid in the operations room. Control panels everywhere glittered with flashing lights. A hologram table in the middle of the room was flashing 3D images of people. N’lan looked toward the main control center, and A2 was plugged into the front. A screen in front of him was scrolling through lettering that was too fast for normal humans to read.
“Hey, A2. What do you have going here?” N’lan held his hand to his forehead as a small throbbing started up.
“Master Ataal! You have awoken. I am sorting through a list of individuals that have left this station in order to identify the alien that you saw earlier. When I do, I will be able to find the trajectory in which his vessel traveled.” The droid turned back to the screen. “So far I have identified 368 life forms that have come and gone since three days ago. None match the cloaked figure.” The droid turned back to the screen.
“Wow, A2. You’re always one step ahead of me. So how long was I asleep?”
The droid continued to watch the screen. “32 standard hours. 33 in the next ten minutes.”
“I see,” N’lan said. He watched the holograms of figures periodically flash. He noticed that the aliens that were too wide to fit in the projector completely were either cut off or squeezed. This made several species look strange as they passed through. After a few minutes of this, the throbbing in N’lan’s head was getting worse. He sat down instead and watched through a window as large cranes lifted parts next to other parts and connected them as sparks flew. He watched this for a while. He realized he was looking at the ship section of Ataal Construction Yards. He walked over to another chair and saw smaller cranes doing the same thing. He was seeing droids being constructed. The control bunker was designed so that the men who worked there could oversee the construction at any time.
A2 said something that drew N’lan over. “What did you say?” N’lan asked.
“I said, I have found him. Him and the direction in which he traveled.” A2 spun his connection socket around, and a rotating image appeared on the holoprojector. It was the cloaked man that had taunted N’lan. He felt anger rising in him. His pains got worse, and he had to sit down. “Where did he go?” N’lan asked.
“He left towards the water world of Equaris. He traveled via Lambda-Class shuttle.” The droid unplugged himself and hovered next to N’lan, who was staring at the hologram as it turned around.
“We have to follow him,” he said.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

[This message has been edited by Xizor42 (edited April 30, 2001).]

“You have clearance to land on field platform P-43. You may then proceed to Commander Erune’s headquarters, through escorts.” The comm channel switched off. Jeff Erune led his modified TIE Interceptor to the designated platform within the oxygen bubble that surrounded the asteroid. He opened the hatch and stepped down a ladder that folded out beneath him. As two Stormtrooper escorts walked toward him, Jeff covered the Rebel Insignia on his shirt with the vest he was wearing. The two troopers arrived. One mentioned to follow while the other backed up behind Jeff with a blaster ready. Eventually, the troops and Jeff came upon Tlat’s room. The Stormtrooper that was in front of Jeff pulled out a keycard and stuck it into a slot. A light plinked green and the trooper behind Jeff mentioned to enter.
The room was small. It had several lights positioned that gave an eerie, uncomfortable feeling to it. A chair with its back to a desk and Jeff was facing a huge viewport that allowed him to see much of the asteroid field. A voice behind the chair announced, “Guards, stand outside.” The guards complied.
The chair spun around and in it sat Tlat Erune, the brother Jeff had not seen since they were children on Alderaan. Tlat was Jeff’s older sibling, yet he was a bit shorter. A mustache nearly covered his top lip, and his Imperial cap did the same for his eyes. “Jeff,” Tlat said. “Surely you didn’t think you could fool me by identifying yourself as Rumner, did you?”
Jeff shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter anyway,” Jeff said. “Our father is dead.” If Tlat felt any surprise, he hid it well.
“Yes, I know.” Tlat leaned foreword. “What the Empire did was for the best.”
Jeff flushed with anger. “How can you say that? After all our parents did for the Empire, it repays them back with nothing short of a painful death. The Empire is heartless, Tlat, and I want you to see it.” Tlat leaned back into the chair and pressed his fingertips together.
“Jeff, you must understand that the Empire merely needed to demonstrate their power. Had our parents known about it, you know they would have agreed. Don’t press me with your trivial matters. I have more important business to attend.” Tlat swiveled his chair back towards the window. Jeff sighed.
“I suppose your matters are more important than our family. I thought there was more to you than that. Well, goodbye, Tlat. I may never see you again.” Jeff turned through the door, and was escorted to his ship. He flew off towards Ataal Construction Yards.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

N’lan Ataal took stepped on to the hovertrain. A small screen alerted him to the fact that he was travelling towards the hangar bay. He waited for A2 to float aboard before starting it up. The train was large enough to hold over 30 people. N’lan guessed his father had many employees before the dark man had invaded. He watched A2 until the train came to a halt. He stepped out onto a catwalk. In front of him was a vast room. At the end of the room was a large exit/entry hole for the ships. The vehicles inside were of various model, but most of them N’lan recognized to be his father’s creations. There was one ship that caught his eye.
About the same size as the Rebel Alliance’s standard X-Wing, the ship bore red and white as its paint. The cockpit nose held the pilot in front of two engines, capable of light speed. Two large wings spread out at a 45 degree angle from the cockpit, both bearing laser cannons. A proton torpedo launcher sat within the cockpit.
N’lan had known about this model for a while. In fact, it had been designed in the early stages of Amer Ataal’s business. The only reason for its unpopularity was the price. Although it could easily rival the Alliance’s X-Wing or Y-Wing starfighters, the ship cost more than double to manufacture. N’lan knew that he couldn’t afford to wait for Jeff to arrive, so he left a holographic message in the bay if and when Jeff came. N’lan opened the cockpit of the red ship, and mentioned for A2 to crawl behind the seat.
“Is it wise to be taking this ship, Master Ataal? I’m sure your father would not approve,” the droid pointed out.
N’lan checked his knowledge on how to fly ships. “If he knew it was for saving his life, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” He fired up the engines and closed the cockpit window. Easing the ship out of the docking clamp, N’lan eased the flight stick upward towards the blackness of space.
Soon, the moon Ataal Construction Yards sat on was nothing but a small speck in the sparkling void. A red light flashed. N’lan asked A2 what it meant. “It means that there is a ship coming out of hyperspace right towards us!” N’lan shifted the stick to the right, allowing the ship to bank off away from the approaching vessel. As soon as the ship came out of hyperspace, N’lan recognized it.
“That’s Jeff’s ship!” N’lan turned his red fighter around and sent a comm message towards Jeff. Jeff answered quickly.
“N’lan? I was just on my way to pick you up! Nice ship you got there.” Jeff’s Interceptor flew up and away from it’s destination towards Ataal Construction Yards.
“Yeah, thanks. I’m borrowing it from my father, who just so happens to have been captured as of now.” N’lan turned around to face A2. “See? He likes it.” If A2 could roll his eyes he would, for he turned around grumpily.
Jeff turned the Interceptor towards N’lan, who barrel-rolled backwards, leading Jeff’s ship. “I’ll come with,” Jeff said. “If it’s all right with you.”
N’lan nodded and adjusted the microphone leading towards his mouth. “Sure,” he said. “Let me send you the coordinates and we’ll be on our way.” He asked A2 to send the numbers over. Soon N’lan and Jeff had entered the realm of hyperspace.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

“Commander Erune. I am quite pleased with the progress on the Shi Amia project. I understand you have discovered a certain form of construction on the planet surface. This is indeed moving along as planned, maybe better.” Supreme Commander Luphen paced Tlat’s office, hands clasped behind his back. “However,” he continued, “I am not here to congratulate you. No…I am here on business quite the opposite.”
Tlat Erune shifted uneasily in his chair. Luphen turned back toward Tlat and narrowed his eyes. “I assume you know the identity of a certain…member of your family. Jeffuof Erune. Known to your family as ‘Jeff.’ Although the Empire is pleased with your family’s loyalty to the Empire, the affiliation difference for your brother is unfortunate. For this he has a price on his head.
“Now, I am here to protect one of the most important rules the Empire upholds. As you doubtlessly know, the Rebel Alliance is becoming quite a problem. I think it was unnecessary for Grand Moff Tarkin to pass a law that forbids any Imperial interaction with the Rebels. I think this way because I believe that it is a given fact that no officer would consult with a Rebel.” With this he unclasped his hands and leaned on Tlat’s desk. “Needless to say, I know about your discussion with the Rebel known as Jeffuof Erune.”
Tlat leaned foreword. “Commander, if I may, it was merely a short family discussion.”
Luphen stared at Tlat. “Family discussion?” Luphen exploded. “Commander, I think it is unnecessary to point out that you engaged in casual conversation with a Rebel! Not just any Rebel, but one that has a price on his head! A large one! Commander, I am outraged that you believe that this can slip past your higher-ranking officers! Do you know the penalty for this?” Luphen glared.
“Demotion, sir?”
“No. Usually it is death. The reason my superiors have decided against it is because of your leadership with the Shi Amia project.” Luphen calmed down and strolled toward the door. “You have 48 standard hours to report to the Star Destroyer Guardian. There you will receive further instructions.” He left Tlat to his office.


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"The Answer to everything...Life, the Universe, and Everything, is...42!"
--Deep Thought
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Project Leader of RemRan Productions

Come on, comtinue the story