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The Voyages of Targon Karashi

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04.10.2012 , 10:44 AM | #101
Chapter Five

Targon and his new companion didn’t have to look hard to find the next clue of this investigation. All they had to do was follow the crowds and screams to the next murder sight.

They found another Jedi, and he was killed in much the same way as the others.

“What monstrous Sith kills like this?” Targon asked fiercely.

“You think I know?” Joan countered.

Targon frowned. “You’re part of Imperial Intelligence. I thought they knew everything.”

“Not quite everything,” Joan shook her head.

“Targon!” a voice called out.

They turned and saw Rick and Gabrielle approach.

“Rick!” Targon sighed with relief. “What happened here?”

“You’re asking us?” Rick asked. “What about you? Where’s that senator?”

“He’s dead,” Joan answered harshly.

Rick and Gabrielle studies the woman dressed all in black.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Rick inquired.

Joan took off her aviators and stared at him with her piercing green eyes. “The name is Snipes, and right now we’ve got a serious problem.”

“You’re an Imperial Agent!” Gabrielle hissed. “I can tell by the way you carry yourself.”

“If we judged everyone that way,” Joan growled. “Then everyone would be calling you a hussy.”

Gabrielle made a move to punch her, and Rick did as well. But Targon stood between them.

“We don’t have time for this,” Targon stated. “We need to find that last Jedi and…”

A bloodcurdling scream filled the street, and people started panicking. The hum of lightsabers was heard a ways off, and then another scream.

Targon led the way as they ran down past the several shops, leaving the crowd behind. They came upon an alleyway, where a Cerean lay dying.

“Oh no,” Targon gasped, recognizing him as the last of the Jedi team. He ran to kneel over the dying Jedi.

The Cerean gasped for breath as his body trembled from the wounds. His eyes glanced up at Targon.

“We failed…” he rasped. “We all failed…”

“Who did this?” Targon asked.

“A demon…” the Jedi replied. “When her claws sunk into my skin…she could reach into my mind…and I could see into hers…”

“Rest easy,” Targon supported his head. “What did you see?”

“I…had received the warning from Hazo…I had been watching your companions…she knows where they are now…”

“What does that matter?” Targon asked.

The Cerean grasped his arm with his last bit of strength. “It’s you…” he rasped. “I saw her mind…she’s after you…it was never…about the…senator…it’s you…”

Then he breathed his last and fell limp.

Targon laid him down easily and closed the lids of the Jedi’s eyes. Then he stood.

“Alright, guys,” Rick shuddered. “What’s going on? I am really freaked out!”

“The Sith has gone for the others,” Targon stated.

“What others?” Joan asked.

Targon started running, and the others followed. “We have to find Sorgal, and Greyhawk and Xana. They’re in danger!”

They found the cantina quickly, and they ran inside. It was empty of customers…but more importantly, it was empty of Sorgal.

“Where is he?” Rick asked. “There doesn’t look like any sort of struggle…”

“Look again,” the agent in black pointed to the bar.

Gabrielle approached and noticed the spot of blood on the counter. “I think it’s Sorgal’s,” she said.

“How would you know that?” Rick asked. “It could be anyone…”

They heard a whimpering in a far corner. Targon made his way over and found a small serving girl hiding beneath the counter near the drink dispensers.

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “You can come out now.”

The woman was hesitant, but then she crawled out and glanced fearfully at the group. She was still shivering and whimpering with fear.

“What happened?” Targon asked.

“There was a man sitting there,” she pointed to the bloodied spot. “He had messy black hair…and rusty red armor.”

“Okay, it was Sorgal,” Rick sighed.

“He…” the girl shuddered. “Something grabbed him and slammed his head into the counter. Everyone was gone…there had been murders…”

“Who did it?” Targon asked.

“I didn’t see…” the girl shivered. “It was like there was nobody there. Then he was dragged out the back door. That was several minutes ago.”

Targon frowned. He patted her on the shoulder. “You should find the police, and then go home. You’ll be fine.”

The girl nodded and left.

Targon turned to the others. “We need to get to the others now!”


A fearful and confused crowd had gathered at the swoop tracks when they arrived. Police were on the scene, surrounding the tall control and spectator tower.

High above, atop the building, someone was laughing while holding two people by the throats.

Joan peered through her rifle’s scope to get a better look.

“Two hostages,” she stated simply. “An old man and a young woman.”

Gabrielle pulled out her binoculars and handed them to Targon. He looked through and saw that it was indeed Greyhawk and Xana.

The other person, though, he didn’t recognize at all.

“What is that?” he asked.

“I’d guess a Sith,” Joan shrugged. “But I have no idea what species.”

Targon took another look. It was a woman. She wore nothing but a minimum of gold trinkets and belts. Her reddish skin glistened and sparkled in the sunlight. Burning red hair flowed in the breeze, and from behind…a tail swished back and forth.

“What is that? A Barabel?” Rick asked.

“Definitely not a Barabel,” Joan replied.

Targon frowned. “It doesn’t matter who or what she is, I’m going up there.”

“That’s a fool’s move,” Joan hissed. “She wants you to go up there. I’ll take a shot – a single bolt is all it would take.”

“And if you hit her, she’d drop them!” Gabrielle snapped.

“Got any better ideas, sister?” Joan asked.

Targon wasn’t going to sit around, though. He headed off alone, pushing past the crowd and the police perimeter.

An officer tried to stop him, but Targon flashed his lightsaber.

The policeman shrugged and backed off.

Targon was about to open the door and head in, but then he heard the agent call out to him.

He turned in time to catch a grappling hook she had thrown to him.

“Best not to be predictable,” she shouted to him.

Targon nodded and swung the cable up. The hook fastened onto a ledge of the tower and he started to climb. When he reached the end of the cable, he tossed it up again. This time it didn’t catch and simply clattered back down.

He tried again and this time it caught. He resumed his ascent.

A voice called down to him.

“Ah, so you’ve finally decided to show up.” It was the strange woman’s voice. It was youthful but fierce and cruel. “About time – my arms were starting to get tired.”

Targon ignored the taunt and kept climbing. Then the voice laughed again, loud and fearsome. It made his body quake with fear.

“The young Jedi Knight, bravely climbing the tower to save his friends. But which one will he save in time? The old man or the pretty damsel?”

Targon glanced up, and saw that the Sith was looking down at him, holding both Greyhawk and Xana over the edge. The hostages appeared to be unconscious.

“You know what’s so hilarious about you Jedi?” the woman asked with a sharp-teeth grin. “It’s how you always try to save everyone – so you end up not being able to save anyone.”

“Don’t you dare do it,” Targon shouted to her.

“You’re daring me, eh?” she laughed. “Well alright then, if you insist…”

She released her hold and both her hostages started tumbling from the ledge.

Targon’s eyes widened. He swung himself along the cable to catch the closest one – Xana. Then he reached out with the Force to call Greyhawk to him.

The Sith laughed, but then she looked out over to the crowd. “Oops,” she snickered. “It seems I forgot that the hostages were the only thing keeping the crowds down there from shooting me. Oh well, things can’t be too easy, can they?”

A storm of lasers flew up towards the Sith as Greyhawk was nearly in Targon’s grasp. But then the shots diverted course.

They were headed straight for him.

He grabbed a hold of Greyhawk and slid down the line. He reached a ledge and set them down, just as the rain of lasers poured down on him.

Targon’s lightsaber flew to his hand and twirled about, deflecting all the bolts away. One ricocheted off his saber and struck the grapple, dislodging it from its place.

He caught the line as soon as shooting stopped, grabbing it just before it fell out of reach.

It was time for a different strategy.

Throwing the line up, he immediately started swinging back and forth until he got himself enough momentum to hurl himself up and over the edge.

He landed on the roof and activated his saber again.

The Sith turned around to face him, her burning eyes seared into his mind. He remembered having seen such eyes in one of his visions.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Jedi,” she smiled. “I am Darth Succuba.”
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

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04.10.2012 , 10:50 AM | #102
Chapter Six

Targon raised an eyebrow. “You’re a new one,” he said. “Has the Empire gotten sick of all the others failing?”

“Pretty much,” the Sith smiled.

She pulled out her own saber, the crimson blade fit with the rest of her red and gold appearance.

Targon strafed to the left, facing directly at her. She moved to the right at the same pace.

“If this is all about me, why kill the senator and the Jedi?” Targon asked.

“This is my first job,” the woman shrugged. “I wanted to get you riled and scared…and I wanted to have a little fun as well.”

“You’re sick,” Targon stated.

“Am I?” Succuba grinned. “I hadn’t noticed. However, I’m sure you’ll be a lot more fun to play with than those other guys. They didn’t know how to impress a lady – my type especially.”

“I guess I’ll be sure to disappoint you,” Targon charged.

She caught his saber easily and smiled at him. “Oh, but you won’t. Not in the slightest.”

Their blades parted again, and this time she charged.

Targon made a move to block her, but she leaped over him and landed at his rear. He spun around quickly to deflect her next attack.

She struck again, lower this time. Targon moved to intercept, but it was a ruse. Instead, she pulled away quickly and came at his chest.

His reflexes were good, though, and he was able to catch blade just before it struck him.

Again and again she attacked. Her speed was intense, though not quite as swift as he knew Arachne to be. But instead, she made up for it with her grace and charm. Every move was like she was dancing and playing with him.

Her scales glistened, blinding him occasionally. Worse, however, was how she emanated a powerful influence over him. It messed with his mind…causing his eyes to see only her.

And she was enchanting. Lithe and strong, she knew full well of her sexually appealing appearance, and she made full use of it. She kept at him, and forced him into awkward defensive stances where he could see parts of her that he knew he shouldn’t be seeing.

But above all, she was aggressive. With her efforts to distract succeeding, she kept up her brutal assault. It took all of Targon’s focus to keep his eyes and mind on the fight instead of on her.

It was harder than anything he had done before. Other Sith had immense power, overwhelming him with their strength. And others still had speed and agility to keep him jumping.

But Succuba was different. She was personal, she stood on the same level with him, and she kept hitting harder and harder.

Then again, it might have been she was the same…it just took more effort to keep holding in the continual fight.

Targon mustered his physical and mental strength and locked sabers with her. Her wicked grin was right in his face, and she was pushing forward.

Unwittingly, Targon felt himself giving ground. He wanted to keep holding against her…but keep himself away from her.

Then he felt himself at the edge of the tower. He glanced back for less than a second, realizing the great height he was at.

And she was still pushing forward.

With a roar, he pushed back as hard as he could. And then he made the effort to spin them both, so that their positions were reversed. Now she was at the edge, and he was pushing forward.

She laughed. “This has been fun,” she grinned. “We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“I’m afraid not,” Targon hissed.

“Really? If that’s what you really think then let me give you something to remember me by.”

Her left hand broke away from her saber’s handle and slashed at his neck.

Pain seared through him, as though the wound was poisoned. He grabbed his neck and cried out in pain.

Then she made a lunge, but just as she did so, a blaster bolt from the agent’s sniper rifle struck her foot.

She howled and lost her balance. The Sith then started to tumble off the tower…but before she did, she reached out with her tail and wrapped it around Targon’s leg.

Then the two of them plummeted to the ground. They struck the walls of the tower several times.

Targon felt his insides grow weak as they fell. Then they parted, each falling separately.

Targon reached out with the Force to cushion his fall. He barely did it in time as the ground came to meet him. He wasn’t killed from the fall, but the landing hurt like none other.

Yet he didn’t notice it as much as the burning in his neck.

Succuba hit the ground at a roll, and then she was back on her feet. The shot to her leg hadn’t been as bad as thought, and she was still able to walk.

But she found herself surrounded by more than a dozen policemen. They swarmed around her and took her to the ground.

Targon felt himself getting weak, and his eyes were dimming. Someone was at his side.

“You should be dead!” Rick gasped.

“Thanks for the support,” Targon groaned. “How are the others?”

“The police are sending some people up to bring old Greyhawk and the Falleen down right now. And they’ve got the Sith in custody.”


“We haven’t seen any sign of him.”

“The agent?”

Rick growled. “We tried to stop her from making such a reckless shot…and I think we upset her. She disappeared while everyone was watching the two of you tumble.”

“What are we going to do about Sorgal?” Targon asked as he felt himself fading.

“I don’t know,” Rick replied. “But don’t worry…we’ll find him. And we’ll get you to the ship now.”

Rick paused, and then said, “Man, she really scratched you there, didn’t she?”

Just before he lost consciousness, he heard shouting and screaming.

The policemen were launched into the air by a massive burst through the Force. The Sith was on her feet and scampering away.

She climbed into an unmanned swoop bike and zoomed away.

Targon could have sworn he could hear her laughing. And then things went black…the last thing he could feel was the wound on his neck.”


Sorgal awoke with a blinding light pointed directly into his face. He growled and groaned at it and tried to get away. But he found himself bound to a chair.

“You’re awake, good,” a strange voice said.

Sorgal struggled in vain against the bonds. “Who’s there? Who are you?”

“Don’t concern yourself with things that aren’t important,” the voice said.

“Too bad, I am concerning myself!”

The voice laughed and then changed the subject. “I feel I should thank you – capturing a rogue Sith Lord is much easier after he has been drinking. The best of my men would have had quite a fight on his hands were you sober. But such as it was, all he had to do was give you a little knock on the head.”

It was then that Sorgal registered his sore head, and the bandages wrapped around it.

“Couldn’t handle a fair fight, huh?” Sorgal growled.

“Oh, he’s quite good at those, but he doesn’t like them much.”

“Me neither,” Sorgal shrugged.

“I’m sure you’re still in a bit of shock after all that has happened,” the voice said. “It must be disconcerting to find yourself tied up and alone. But don’t worry, your friends will be coming to join you soon enough.”

“Friends?” Sorgal scoffed. “What makes you think that they’re my friends?”

“You might not appreciate their companionship, but I am certain the feeling is not mutual. They will come for you, and I have made arrangements that they do.”

Sorgal hissed. “You really think you’ll be able to hold me? If you know I’m a Sith, then you know what I’m capable of.”

“True,” the voice assented. “But after your drinking venture, I imagine you’ll have quite a hangover any time. That should keep you unfocused.”

“It won’t last long.”

“I know,” the voice replied. “I never leave anything out of the calculations. That’s why I’ve installed this for you.”

Sorgal suddenly cried out from a pulse of electricity that shot through his system.

“What was that?!” he roared.

“Force binders,” the voice replied casually. “They’ve been prepared to shock you every fifteen minutes…and whenever you try to struggle against them.”

Sorgal tried to break free, and found himself screaming from the intense shock again. It was worse this time.

“I’ll kill you for this!”

“That’s not in the cards,” the voice stated.

“What do you want from me?!”

“It’s not just you,” the voice said simply. “Your friends will be here to rescue you soon enough. Then I can get what I want.”

“Which is?”

The voice tsked. “Too many questions can get you into trouble.”

“So can drinking, apparently,” Sorgal grumbled.

The voice laughed at that. “Indeed. I want you to know, sir, that this isn’t anything personal. It’s just business.”

“Oh, and that just makes everything okay then, doesn’t it?”

There were footsteps moving away and the voice said no more. Sorgal was left alone with the light glaring in his face and the binders shocking him at their designated intervals.
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

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04.10.2012 , 10:57 AM | #103
Chapter Seven

It was a long flight back to Dromund Kaas. Joan had never felt so irritated in her life. She had been trained for sniping – she was one of the Ministry’s best. Yet twice now she had failed to make easy shots.

That first one with Jedi Master Hazo…that had been because she realized he had additional information too late after she pulled the trigger.

But the other one was because those fools had tried to stop her for fear of hitting the young Jedi. That was stupid – she could hit anything, and anything she pointed her scope at was what she hit.

But instead, both had been mediocre and ineffective. Sure, the Jedi had died, but not instantly. And apparently the wound on the Sith girl wasn’t as effective as she had thought.

As her ship landed, she shook her head and sighed. It was time to put her personal gripes aside and go report to Director Enro. He would want to know about Senator Mulok’s death…and the strange new agent of Viruul’s.

She walked briskly to the Ministry, speaking to no one and keeping away from the crowds. Along her path, she passed a couple people she knew, but she ignored them. Even if they saw her and called to her, she just kept walking.

Inside, she noticed that the Ministry was oddly quiet again. She didn’t like it, and she wondered if Viruul was paying another visit.

But it turned out not to be the case, as she did see other operatives, workers, and analysts about. She saluted to officers she passed, and she nodded to a fellow agent that she knew. But she spoke to no one.

She had to get her report in. Enro needed to know about her mission’s developments, and then they could decide how next to proceed.

Night was falling, but Joan knew that Enro would be in his office at this hour. He often was, since he had so many things to manage.

Arriving at the door, she knocked twice. There was no reply.

With a frown, she pressed the controls to open the door. They didn’t respond right away. She had to push the button several times before the door finally complied and opened.

The room was dark inside, and she couldn’t see a thing.

“Director Enro?” she called out. “Sir?”

A cold chill of worry was running down her spine. Something was wrong.

She turned on the light. Nothing looked out of place.

Enro was sitting in his chair behind the desk. It was facing away from her.

“Sir?” she called as she walked in. “Sir, are you alright?”

She turned the chair around and recoiled in alarm.

Enro’s eyes were wide open and empty. His mouth was agape and blood trailed down from both corners of the mouth and down his throat. Several slashes had been made along his body, his uniform was tattered and soaked with blood.

Joan gasped and held her hand to her mouth.

“The tubby director was sticking his fat rear into places he shouldn’t have,” a voice said from behind.

Joan whirled around and gasped to see the Sith woman standing in the doorway. Her tail swished from side to side, and she ran her left hand through her hair casually.

“You killed one of the Ministry’s directors?!” Joan felt the rage rise inside her.

Succuba laughed and walked by her towards the director’s body. She stood behind the chair and placed lifted the corners of Enro’s mouth upwards with two of her claws.

“But Tubby so enjoyed it,” she smiled. “See? He’s all smiles here. I don’t think he’d ever had so much attention from a woman before.”

“You’re disgusting,” Joan snapped. “By what right do you…?”

“By the right as Lord Viruul’s apprentice,” Succuba cut her off. “I saw you on Telos, missy. I know what you were trying to do, capturing the poor senator and bringing him to this dismal place. I think he preferred my visit more than he would have appreciated yours.”

“What do you want?” Joan hissed. “Why kill Enro?”

Succuba pinched the dead man’s cheek. “Tubby was getting awful curious, weren’t you?” She then patted the cheek as she stared back at Joan. “He was getting into Viruul’s business, having him followed and accessing his files.”

Joan tried to keep herself from growing pale. So he knew?

The Sith seemed to hear her thoughts. “Of course he knew about you and Enro’s investigations. Viruul doesn’t like to be investigated – he feels it insulting someone would question his authority…or his loyalty to the Empire.”

“Viruul’s loyalty is only to himself,” Joan snapped, but then she wondered if that was a smart thing to say.

“And he is the Empire,” Succuba smiled. “Along with the rest of the Dark Council. The Sith are the Empire, little agent, not the bumbling, clueless proles. You should know that by now.”

“So what?” Joan folded her arms. “Are you going to kill me too? I warn you I won’t go down easily.”

“No, Tubby’s the only one I’m visiting today,” Succuba yawned. “I’m tired after playing on Telos. Aren’t you?”

Joan scowled at her.

Succuba then laughed and started to leave. Just before she went out the door, though, she stopped and peered at Joan.

“You’d best be careful from now on, missy,” she said with a cruel grin. “I make men’s deaths enjoyable, but I don’t afford the same luxury to women – especially pretty competition.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Joan hissed.

“See that you do,” Succuba nodded. “And see that your duties are only on the Empire’s business, not your own – or any other men like Tubby that you know.”

And with that, she vanished.


Targon entered the cockpit, finding Rick fiddling with some transmission.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Rick turned and smiled at him. “You’re up! How do you feel?”

Targon sat in the co-pilot’s seat. “Weary,” he replied. “And perturbed.”

“I’ll bet,” Rick nodded. “Well, I’ve got good news and bad.”

“What’s the bad?”

“We never found Sorgal,” Rick sighed. “It wasn’t the Sith that took him.”

“Who then?”

“Well, that’s the good news…sort of.”


Rick continued moving the dials on the console back and forth. “An encrypted message was left on our ship…I found it when we arrived. We’re getting all ready to go, but we’re trying to figure out where to go.”

“What’s the message?”

“I’ve decrypted some of it…text only. It says that whoever has Sorgal is willing to return him…for a ransom of five thousand credits.”

“That’s not very much,” Targon raised an eyebrow. “Must be low-time thugs.”

“I know,” Rick nodded. “Problem is…I’m trying to figure out where the message tells us to take the ransom.”

“Do you intend to pay?”

“Of course not!” Rick scowled. “I may not like that Sith much…but he’s part of the crew, and I’ll do what I can to get him out of there.”

Targon smiled, “Anything I can do to help?”

“I think I’ve almost got it,” Rick shook his head. “You should rest up…that’s a nasty wound you got there.”

Targon reached up and felt where the Sith had slashed him. He could feel the marks, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. It was, however, still sore.

“Well,” he shrugged. “At least we know we can beat this Sith too, seeing as she failed like all the others.”

Suddenly, his head burned inside. He grabbed his skull and groaned.

“Failed, did she?” an unfamiliar voice asked. “Indeed?”

Targon found he was alone. He wasn’t aboard the ship anymore. Now he was standing in a strange room. Dark and thick mist surrounded everything.

And then he saw a large chair, and a black shape sitting on it.

It was a black figure, as dark and strange as a spectral wraith. Standing beside the seated figure was Succuba, smiling at him.

“Who are you?” Targon asked. The fear inside him was incredible – as terrible as when he had been in the presence of Kronos.

“I’ve been waiting so long to finally see you, Targon Karashi,” the figure said.

“Who are you?” Targon repeated.

“Can’t figure it out?” the figure sat up and stared at him with unseen eyes behind a skull mask that seemed to weep blood. “I’m the one who’s been so eager in finding you.”

“You’re the one that’s been sending all the Sith and bounty hunters after me?” Targon growled.

The figure nodded. “Yes, and amazingly, none of them have been successful. It is astounding how completely they’ve failed me…or how powerful you truly are.”

“What do you know of me?”

“Not enough,” the figure shrugged. “I’m eager to know more. Now, however, we can get to know each other quite well. You see, Succuba is within you now.” He pointed to the scar on Targon’s neck. “And I am within Succuba…and so in you.”

“Who are you?” Targon asked.

“It is well that you fear me, young Jedi,” the figure laughed. “I am Lord Viruul. There is much that we shall accomplish, you and I. But first, you must learn to fear me, and then to obey me.”

“Never!” Targon shouted.

The Sith Lord laughed. “You will no doubt resist,” he nodded. “And it is good that you show your strength in doing so. But you will fail, Targon. You will be mine.”

Then everything faded away, and he found himself back on the ship, sitting next to Rick.

The captain was shaking him. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

Targon glanced around and then he nodded. “I’m fine…” he replied. “Must have…lost my strength for a moment.”

Rick nodded, not quite understanding. “Well, I just decoded the last bit and I know where Sorgal’s being held.”


Rick’s face was grim, and his eyes showed fear. “Corellia.”

Targon’s eyes widened. “Does that mean…?”

“We don’t know for sure,” Rick shook his head. “But I’d be willing to bet on it. This is, however, the one time I hope that I don’t collect on that gamble.”

Targon sighed. “We don’t have a choice…if Quinn has Sorgal…we need to get him back."

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Rick frowned. “But I said I’d do what I could, didn’t I? And I’m a man of my word.”

Targon nodded and sat back in the seat. He felt himself trembling.

He knew who the enemy was, now…but that only made him more afraid.

Conclusion of Episode Thirteen
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

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04.11.2012 , 09:53 AM | #104
Episode Fourteen – True Colors

Chapter One

Despite the familiar niceness of the planet Corellia, the crew of the Lone Eagle felt only grim dread as they landed on one of the docking pads in Coronet City. They all remembered the darker elements of the city dwelling deep below the surface.

“So,” Greyhawk sighed. “Any idea where we start looking for Sorgal?”

“Well, we can’t go knocking on Quinn’s associates,” Rick grumbled. “We don’t even have proof he’s the one that has him.”

“And they’ll probably shoot us instead of talk to us,” Gabrielle added.

“True enough,” Rick nodded.

“What do we do then?” Targon asked.

A dock worker walked up to them. In his hands he held a datapad.

“Excuse me,” he said softly. “This is the ship, The Lone Eagle, is it not?”

“It is,” Rick nodded.

“Good,” the man hurriedly handed them the datapad. “This was left for you.”

“Umm…thanks,” Rick glanced at it as the man scurried off.

“Well,” Gabrielle folded her arms. “That wasn’t subtle at all.”

“It probably isn’t supposed to be,” Greyhawk stated.

“What’s it say?” Targon asked.

Rick studied the text on the datapad. “There are a set of coordinates on a map…and a message. It says, ‘Bring the money here and you’ll be reunited with your old friend.’ That’s odd…Sorgal’s not exactly an old friend.”

“It might mean someone else,” Targon suggested. “Or it might be a misunderstanding. Regardless, let’s go.”

They followed the coordinates on the map to a large area of warehouses. They were all rusted, old, and falling apart. A few vagrants huddled in the shadows of the buildings.

The message pointed out one warehouse in particular. Walking inside, they found the entire place completely empty.

Except for Sorgal tied up to a chair in the middle of the room.

He didn’t look very happy to see them. He glared at them with angry eyes, and he shouted something at them, but it was muffled by the gag in his mouth.

They hurried across the floor and gathered around him. Rick untied his bonds from the back as Targon took the gag from his mouth.

Sorgal sucked in a deep breath and spat. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s a trap?!”

“Of course we know it’s a trap,” Rick sighed. “That’s why we came armed.”

“It won’t matter,” Sorgal said as he rubbed his wrists once they were free. “Come on, let’s just get out of here…”

The door opened to the warehouse and a troupe of policemen walked in.

“Hold it right there!” the lead officer shouted. “You are under arrest.”

“For what?” Gabrielle asked.

“Put your hands upon your head and kneel on the ground slowly,” another officer ordered.

“And drop your weapons,” the first officer added.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Rick sighed. “What’s this about?”

“Kidnapping and holding a man for ransom,” the policeman replied. “We got a tip about this place, and here we find you caught in the act.”

“We weren’t kidnapping!” Targon shouted. “We were rescuing!”

“Save it for your lawyer,” the police said as they approached to put cuffs on them.

Xana’s eyes suddenly went wide.

“What’s wrong?” Targon asked softly as he saw her concern.

“He’s here…” she gasped. “He’ll kill us all…”


Part of the roof shattered and a shadow of movement dropped down. The police drew their weapons, but they couldn’t see anything through the cloud of smoke and dust that filled the warehouse.

The group was about to take this moment to run, but they suddenly found themselves all bound together by a steel cable. They couldn’t move, they couldn’t break free…all they could do was watch…

…as the first police officer was lifted into the air, blood trickling from two wounds in his chest.

Then he dropped, and the next man was cut down by a slash to his abdomen.

The rest of the troupe started shooting all over the place, unable to see what was attacking them. One by one, they dropped dead, and their blood painted the floor of the warehouse.

When the last man dropped to the ground, the room was silent.

And then slow, heavy footsteps approached the tied up group. They couldn’t see anyone or anything…except for the growing trail of blood footprints getting closer.

A surge of electricity erupted as the form of a giant appeared. Now they could see the heavily armed, thickly clad, brooding person that they all knew from experience before.

Apparently, even Xana knew who he was.

“And here’s the merry little band, all together again,” the giant chuckled. Then he turned his glance to the Falleen. “And what’s this? Looks like I’ve caught a bonus in my net. How are you Xana? It’s been a while.”

She said nothing, her fear bound her tongue.

The giant laughed. “I don’t care if you won’t talk to me, but there’s someone who’s eager to see you all. Let’s not keep him waiting, shall we?”

He dragged the bundle of prisoners across the bloody floor to the hole he had come through. Then he fired a grappling cable up and pulled himself and them up to the roof.

There he had a large speeder waiting. He threw the group in the back seat after relieving them of their weapons. Then he climbed into the front and took off.

“I’ve got to admit,” the Phantom glanced back at them. “You made it a lot easier than I thought. Even with the unexpected visitors.”

“What? You mean they weren’t your guys?” Rick asked.

“Why kill your own men?” Greyhawk asked.

The Phantom growled and turned back to driving, saying no more.

“I don’t think they were his guys,” Xana said simply.

“Could have fooled me,” Sorgal grumbled. “It was awful convenient and coincidental when they showed up just as you freed me.”

“So much for freeing you,” Rick growled. “Now we’re all caught. Hey, Jedi, why don’t you just call your weapons to you and get us out of this mess?”

Targon, Xana, and Sorgal all gave him a look, as the Phantom chuckled and glanced back at them again.

“They’re not as stupid as you, Rick,” the giant stated. “And I’m not stupid either. You try anything and you’ll be kissing the pavement.”

“Aren’t we wanted alive?” Gabrielle asked.

“Either way works,” the large bounty hunter shrugged.
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

TargonKarashi's Avatar

04.11.2012 , 09:57 AM | #105
Chapter Two

They were kept in a dark room for a long time. No light, no visits, and no food. They couldn’t tell the time as it passed. They had absolutely no idea if it was the same day or three days later.

And then a door opened, and in walked the Phantom.

“They’re ready to see you now,” he stated.

“They?” Rick glanced up at him, blinded by the new light. “Who’s ‘they’?”

The Phantom grabbed him and brought him to his feet. “Come along. All of you.”

They filed out the door, one by one. Three armed guards led them through the cold hallway. The Phantom followed behind them, casting his grim shadow over their heads.

It was a long walk, and they saw no signs of daylight, or other prison cells, or anything but blank metal walls and simple carpeting on the endless path ahead.

Finally, they came to a door. They were led in, finding themselves in a large audience chamber. Rows of seats spread upwards in this circular room, and armed guards stood at the ready all around.

“Not this again,” Xana sighed.

“How do you know what’s going on?” Targon inquired.

She shook her head. “I ran into Lycos Quinn many years back, when I was a new Jedi Knight. He had me in a place like this…had me fight his guards until I consented to work for him.”

“What happened?”

“I was able to escape,” Xana replied. “And I gave him something to thank him for his hospitality.”

“And what was that?” Rick asked.

“A scar over his eye.”

“Oh!” Gabrielle smiled. “So you’re the one that gave him that.”

“Yes, she was,” a voice called down to them.

They looked up and saw Lycos Quinn standing in one of the rows high above them. He was dressed in his typical finery – and he wasn’t alone.

“It’s funny the way the world works, isn’t it?” Lycos asked with a smile. “Here I am expecting to have the crew of the Lone Eagle, and I get you too, dear Xana Kalar. Looks like luck is smiling on my business these days.”

“Really?” Rick asked. “Better than when we last met?”

“Oh yes,” Lycos nodded. “I got the business contracts I wanted, even after your escape. And most of my competition was speedily dealt with.” He paused. “Ah, and I almost forgot…I wanted to thank you all for killing Algayne. It saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Always happy to help,” Rick nodded.

“He’s a smug one, isn’t he?” someone said next to Lycos.

“He always has been,” Quinn nodded.

In the dim light, Rick was able to see Lycos Quinn’s companions and their little entourage. A chill of fear ran through him as he recognized them.

The one that had spoken was a large black man, bald and strong, leaning on a gilded cane. He wore a white suit, lined with gold. Rick knew it was Ryon Jefe, the biggest drug kingpin in the Core Worlds – and one of the most ruthless businessmen ever.

Standing with him was a bounty hunter, a Zabrak that hid his eyes with a visor, but couldn’t hide his air of arrogance. Gabrielle and Greyhawk both seemed to recognize him.

Then there was a Hutt that looked almost a spitting image of Gardogga. But that was impossible…Gardogga was dead. Then Rick saw his blind eye and mottled coloring in a single spot on his belly. This was Togga the Hutt, Gardogga’s nephew.

With him was the infamous hit man of the Hutt crime cartels – a small man in a re-breather mask and a large, dirty hat. Djehad Nguyen.

Apart from them, there was a Twi’lek woman in the finest apparel that money could possibly buy. Her skin was soft pink, and she had gold all about her – bracelets, necklaces, a simple crown, a piercing on her belly button, and foot collars. The only person this could be was Nalia Yunis, the “Queen of the Underworld”.

And beside her was a deadly looking assassin droid – bristling with weapons and ready for the kill. Her famous bodyguard, T-100X.

Rick hadn’t personally met these people…but he knew who they were all too well. He had dealt with their underlings…and a few he had no doubt slighted.

“What’s this all about, Quinn?” Targon asked.

“Business, Jedi,” Lycos replied. “Just business.”

“What kind?” Gabrielle asked.

“Surely you know, don’t you?”

“And what’s with them?” Greyhawk inquired. “What’s with the party of criminal scum?”

“I don’t like his attitude,” the Hutt rumbled.

“Not many do,” Greyhawk sneered.

Lycos laughed. “Don’t worry, Togga, their attitude will just make things more interesting.”

“Oh, more gladiator games?” Rick growled.

Quinn shook his head. “Hardly, Rick. This is the grand auction, and you are the items up for bid.”

“What for?”

“Come on, Rick, you know plenty well,” a voice called out. It was a familiar voice…one that made his blood run colder than ice. He turned his head and saw a man sitting on the last row, way up high.

He had green and brown armor and his face was hidden behind a turban. He was busy cleaning his rifle, and staring down at them with amused eyes.

“There will be time for reunions later,” Lycos stated. “But for now, let’s show our guests to their new quarters.”

The guards took them and led them out of the chamber, through a different door, and down another cold and dim hall.

They came to another room. This was lit, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable. They were chained up to the wall, hanging in much the same way they had been on Algayne’s ship.

The Phantom kept a silent but close watch on them, just waiting for anyone to make an attempt to escape. Nobody did. His presence alone was enough to ensure that.

After they were securely bound, the Phantom and the guards left. Only two men were left to watch them. One was a Gamorrean brute, and the other was an extremely tall man. He was slim and easily six and a half feet tall. His face was concealed, and he never looked at any of the group in the eye.

“Well,” Sorgal growled. “So now we’re all in a lovely situation, aren’t we?”

“Your attitude isn’t helping,” Gabrielle stated.

“Helping what? Escape?”

Rick sighed. “You know…I’m just waiting to see how our situation can possibly get worse than being up for grabs by the worse criminals.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Xana said. “Things might just go as you suppose.”


A large transport was dropping off hundreds of travelers in the spaceport at Coronet City. Most were refugees from the newly sparked war along the Republic/Imperial border. Others were immigrants coming to look for work in one of the supposedly most prosperous worlds in the Republic.

But there were two individuals coming for a very different reason.

One was large and thick, covered in a black hood and cloak. He had a re-breather over his lower face, and pale skin. The other was taller, clad in red, and wearing a dull gold mask.

They made their way inconspicuously through the crowds of the spaceport and headed out into the wide streets of the city.

“So, Hellion,” the taller man growled. “How do you plan to find them on this crowded and populous world?”

“Easily,” the other man shrugged. “I know exactly where they are.”

“You do, huh?” Vinitar frowned. “And when were you going to tell me about this?”

“It’s not important,” Hellion stated. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Not important?” Vinitar grabbed his shoulder harshly. “Let’s not forget that we are on a Republic world, surrounded by enemies. I am not going to follow you around and hope that you know what you’re doing.”

“Watch that tone,” Hellion shrugged Vinitar’s hand off of him. “If you don’t want to come along, that’s fine.”

“We have a job to do,” Vinitar snarled. “I’m seeing it through.”

“Good to know,” Hellion continued walking. “Soon, you won’t have to worry about this job any longer. It will be done – for both of us.”

“You’d better hope so,” Vinitar growled. “For your sake.”

“I can best you any time,” Hellion countered. “My master is still alive and on the Dark Council. Yours has been dead for a while now…and he died a broken, sickly man before the entire Empire.”

“You’re an insolent bastard, Hellion.”

Hellion spun around and thrust a strong finger into Vinitar’s chest. “And you’ll be a dead man, lost and forgotten, if you tempt my anger any longer.”

“You overestimate your power,” Vinitar hissed.

“We’ll see,” Hellion stated as he continued walking.
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

TargonKarashi's Avatar

04.11.2012 , 10:00 AM | #106
Chapter Three

The group had been hanging in their shackles for nearly an hour before someone finally came in. They had made a couple attempts to get out of the chains, but there was the problem of the cuffs sending an electric shock to everyone when one person struggled against them.

So after a few tries, they quit trying that and started pondering on other ideas. No one had said much during that time until the door opened and someone walked in.

Rick went pale as the heavily armed man with the turban walked in, chuckling at the sight of six fugitives hanging there so vulnerable.

“Well,” he said as he leaned against the opposite wall. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you all in person. All I’ve been able to find is tales of your little…exploits and misadventures.”

“Who are you?” Targon asked.

“What? You mean Rick hasn’t told you?”

Everyone glanced at Rick, who sighed and shook his head. “His name is Shazzar – and he’s one of the deadliest bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

“I’m flattered,” Shazzar laughed. “Seems you really haven’t forgotten much after all, Rick.”

“Forgotten what?” Greyhawk frowned.

Shazzar rubbed his fingers together distractedly. “It’s not my place to tell you something like that. I would have thought Rick had told you…but I guess I figured wrong.”

“Those days are long gone,” Rick stated. “What’s the deal, Shazzar? What’s with the big bosses and you here?”

Shazzar nodded. “Ah, yes…this nasty business. Well, Rick, it seems you all have made a lot of powerful people mad. And I’m not talking just about the Empire.”

“Yeah, we’re not big fans of the criminal culture,” Greyhawk growled.

“Undoubtedly,” Shazzar nodded. “And they aren’t fans of you. Fact is, every one of those big shots – and their buddies too – wants a piece of you. And they’re willing to pay Lycos Quinn a whole lot of money to get it.”

“How much are we worth?” Rick asked. Everyone frowned at him. “I’m just curious…”

“More than you’ve ever been in your life, Rick,” Shazzar replied. “Mr. Jefe wants you, Rick, for botched smuggling jobs in the past. He also wants your Twi’lek friend here for killing a couple of his men.”

“It was a bounty job,” Gabrielle growled. “He should be taking out his anger on Quinn…the man who hired me.”

“That’s what I’d do, sure,” Shazzar shrugged. “But you’re expendable.”

“Quinn already threw me out,” she spat.

“And so he has no reservations in selling you to Ryon Jefe.”

“What about the others?” Targon asked. “What do they want?”

Shazzar gave him a fleeting glance. “Togga wants you, Twi’lek, for killing his uncle.”

“I didn’t kill that slime!” Gabrielle snapped.

“Quinn says you did,” Shazzar shrugged. “And more importantly, Togga believes it. He also wants the old soldier for his actions on Ord Mantell…and escaping from Gardogga.”

“Aw,” Greyhawk growled. “The Hutts just all want a piece of me, don’t they?”

“Not something to be proud of,” Shazzar stated. “Unless you don’t mind rancor pits.”

“What does that woman want?” Rick asked. “I’ve never met her in my life!”

“Who is she?” Sorgal asked. “She’s pretty hot…”

“Beautiful and ruthless,” Shazzar nodded. “Nalia is the self-proclaimed ‘Queen of the Underworld’.”

“And what makes her think she deserves that title?” Rick asked. “I know a lot of people…”

“Rick, Rick…” Shazzar shook his head. “You know plenty well.”

“I do?”

Shazzar laughed hard. “You can drop the act, Rick. You can’t hide it anymore.”

“Hide what?”

“Who you are,” Shazzar replied. “Come on, time to spill it. Your friends here are dying to know what you really are. What do you suppose they’ll think of you when they find out? What do you think they’d say?”

“Stop it!” Rick shouted. “Those days are long gone! I’ve gone straight!”

Shazzar sighed. “I won’t push it anymore, Rick. But you’ll have to come clean soon, or you’ll find yourself alone and unlikable. Nobody wants to trust a person that keeps dark secrets from them.”

“What does Nalia want with us?” Targon asked gruffly.

“Alright, Jedi, alright,” Shazzar nodded. “She wants you all. The girls – she’ll let them go free. The men, well, they’ve got other uses.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Sorgal hissed. “What sort of woman…?”

“She was a slave once, but she got her freedom,” Shazzar answered, cutting him off. “As a Twi’lek, she knew the stereotypes and prejudice that the galaxy saw her kind as. She worked hard, using her talents to become a wealthy woman. She has a fortune both above and below the table. And she has a vendetta to free oppressed women everywhere.”

“How do you know so much about her?” Greyhawk asked.

“I did a couple jobs for her in the past,” Shazzar scratched his head. “Rick knows, don’t you old pal?”

Rick frowned.

“Anyway, she’s got most crime rings and businessmen wrapped around her finger. She’s got the looks, the charms, the smarts, and the moves in bed to get everyone to work or deal with her.”

“And what good are we to her?” Sorgal asked.

“She likes keeping male slaves,” Shazzar shrugged. “You’ll also be profitable to sell to others, perhaps even the competition. She keeps all the bases covered, and she uses every pawn she has available. The pawns, right now, are you all.”

“So what are you doing here?” Targon asked. “What’s your play in all this?”

Shazzar’s eyes shone with a smile. “The whole crew of the Lone Eagle up for grabs in one spot?” He laughed. “How could I pass it up? While it’s not sporting, at least the job gets done.”

“What do you want us for?”

“Just you, Jedi,” Shazzar shook his head. “I’m just after you. The others can go free, even Rick, after he double-crossed me.” He winked at the captain.


“I’ve got a client that’s turning to desperate measure to get his hands on you, Jedi. Don’t ask me why, I just do the job. But what he pays will be twice what I spend here at the auction.”

“And that’s it?” Greyhawk scowled. “You just let the rest of us go?”

“What is your angle?” Xana frowned.

Shazzar sighed. “I’m doing you all a favor – because Rick and I go way back. All I want is you, Targon Karashi. The others will be fine…if you don’t try anything. I won’t let you all be taken by those fat cats. You’re too entertaining to read about in the papers for that.”

“How do you know Rick?” Targon growled. “What is this that you keep hinting at? Who are you?”

“I am Shazzar, Jedi,” the bounty hunter stated. “And I’m doing a job and making a living. I won’t lie to you and say that this is all business, nothing personal. It’s not. Why don’t you ask Rick about the past he and I share?”

He walked out of the cell and closed the door behind him. The guards stood silently, as if they had no idea about the conversation that just transpired.

Greyhawk growled. “I suppose we can be expecting more visits like that from the other crime bosses, eh?”

Targon looked over to Rick, whose face was grim and solemn.

“What was he talking about?” he asked.

Rick didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor.


“Start talking!” Gabrielle snapped.

Rick suddenly broke away from his trance of brooding and looked at them as though he were seeing them for the first time. “What?”

“What was towel-head yapping about?” Sorgal hissed.

They were all staring at him, their eyes inquisitive, confused, and even accusatory. They were in this mess for his sake, he realized.

He let out a sad and tired sigh, and then he prepared to lay down the cards.
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

TargonKarashi's Avatar

04.11.2012 , 10:04 AM | #107
Chapter Four

Rick’s face was sorrowful as he conjured up and relayed the memories of the past that he had tried to bury for years.

“I was once part of a mercenary kill squad,” he said at last.

Shock and confusion flashed on everyone’s face, but no one spoke. They waited until they would hear it all.

“As an orphan on the streets of some city world, I forget where, I started as a simple thief. Every day was stealing a bit of food or some change…and then I joined a gang and got involved with the turf wars waged eternally in the ghettos.

“I worked my way up – first as a scout, then a fighter…I killed my first time at a rumble with the bosses of the town. I killed their best man.

“Just so happened,” he continued, “a crime lord’s muscle was around, looking for new meat. They saw the fight, and without a word they dragged me off to meet their boss. As it turned out, the man was a retired bounty hunter called A’kasa.

“He trained dozens of hunters and killers, and he was always looking to recruit more. He found young boys off the street and put them to the test. Those that didn’t make it either died or were sold off as slaves.

Rick paused as he shuddered; thinking about what sort of lives those boys had to endure. But in retrospect, he wondered if their lives had been the better ones.

“As things got on, I became one of A’kasa’s favorites. The other one was a young man a little older than me. His name was Shazzar. A’kasa soon had us doing the bigger jobs. Shazzar was the bounty hunter that charged headlong against the boss’ enemies…and I was the getaway, the backup, and sometimes the knife from the back.

“Shazzar and I got real good at what we did. We mastered everything A’kasa had to teach about fighting, tracking, and killing. We got it in our heads we didn’t need the old bounty hunter anymore.

“So we struck out on our own. We made a fortune doing a job for an Exchange boss. With the money, we split it even…Shazzar bought himself his armor…I bought my first ship.

“We were freelance, and we went all over the place. We’d work for one crime boss and then the next job would be for his rivals. But then…things were getting less interesting.

“Shazzar went off on his own…working for some Hutt that he eventually killed. I found myself working smuggling and piracy jobs for a strange man. He wasn’t a criminal mastermind…at least, he didn’t seem like one. He just got a crew together and sent them out on jobs.

“My crew wasn’t too bright. One by one, they got picked off by idiocy faster than I could replace them. Someone that our boss had us doing these jobs against was hitting back. Turned out it was a man named Ryon Jefe.

“I didn’t want any trouble with a drug lord, so I went to my employer and threatened to quit unless I was allowed a larger cut and more access to his circle. He revealed himself to by Lycos Quinn, and he gave me what I wanted.

He stopped for a second. “So you can see how everyone seems to know me, right?”

Shaking his head, he went on. “Lycos got me into doing harder jobs, the kind that if you got caught, you’d rather get killed than be put in jail. He got me a new crew – a half-wit guy named Munis; his son, a fiery teen named Valens; and a woman named Jolli. She was a doll, but she was a killer too.

“We hit banks on Muunilist, transported slaves to Sleheyron and Kessel, and smuggled weapons to Quinn’s allies on Hutta. The pay was huge, and it got bigger with every successful job.

“I was trying to save it, at first…I wanted to become one of those fat cats that Quinn was battling. He was inspiring, the way he came from nowhere and was shrewdly becoming the biggest boss in the Core Worlds.

“But then…Ryon Hefe’s boys made a move. I left Munis on the ship for a while…the rest of us were taking care of business with a turncoat. They came to the ship…and Munis thought it was his son. They killed him and took the ship.”

Rick gave a sad smile then. “That’s the story I told you before, Targon, if you remember.”

“So you’re a crook,” Sorgal shrugged. “So what?”

“There’s a lot more,” Rick sighed. “We were stuck for a while…but then Shazzar showed up. He had become a successful hunter…but nobody had seemed to hear of him. He offered to help me out, and of course I accepted.

“With Valens and Jolli, we hit one of Hefe’s storehouses. We destroyed all the merchandise…and killed everyone. There was a ship – an X-5 Defiant. It was Hefe’s newest smuggler ship, called the Midnight Owl. We took it, repainted and renamed it. Jolli called it the Bird of Prey.

“At Shazzar’s behest, we didn’t go back to Quinn. He told us about other jobs…better jobs. Jobs for Black Sun, the Hutts, and the Empire.

“Jolli was all for it, and I was…close with her. Valens had hesitations, but when I signed on, he followed.

“They were bloody jobs – tasks that required a lot of killing and maiming. The crime lords and the Empire had plenty of people to kill. Ambassadors, malcontents, businessmen, senators, governors, soldiers, officers, and…Jedi.

“Shazzar found Jedi to be a great challenge…and the pay for their heads was enormous from certain people. Jolli loved it too, she loved the idea of killing those warrior monks that had such ‘special powers’. I…I liked the work too.”

He took a deep breath.

“Most of all, I liked working with Jolli. Shazzar was a friend, and Valens was a smart kid…but Jolli…she was something else. Fierce and ruthless and strong…especially in bed.

“Then came the job…the job that changed everything. I don’t remember the planet…but it was a burgeoning colony of several hundred…or thousand. There was a Jedi that was trying to take down the criminal enterprises in the Outer Rim. I don’t know…he had some sort of vendetta going.

“Anyway, we were tasked to get rid of him. Our first step was to get him there…to draw him to a place where it would be easy to take him down. The best place was the colony’s power plant.

“We killed the guards, the workers…anyone that got in our way. Then we waited until the Jedi came. He didn’t come alone, though. He had a squad of troopers with him. They were ready to arrest us…or kill us, if necessary.

“There was a firefight. Things weren’t going well…we underestimated the Jedi. Shazzar sent me to get the ship. I was to be ready to get us out of there once the job was done…I didn’t understand what sort of idea it was…not yet, anyway…

“Valens was taken by one of the soldiers and dragged away. I never saw him again after that…there wasn’t time to look. I saw from afar what happened then…

“The Jedi cornered Jolli. She was ready to fight, but he didn’t want to continue. He was trying to negotiate with her, yet in her arrogant self-confidence she wouldn’t hear any of it.

“So he got into her mind, trying to use some Force trick or something. She fought against him, tried to shoot him…and then she snapped. The Jedi kept pushing, trying to stop her…and she couldn’t get him out of her head. The only way was…”

He stopped as he fought back a tear of forgotten pain.

“She put her gun to her head and pulled the trigger.”

There was a long silence.

“After that, Shazzar enacted his plan – to blow the power plant and everyone in it. He made it to the ship just in time, and we flew off, still drunk with the shock of the confrontation.

“The explosion was worse than expected,” Rick said slowly, painfully. “Shazzar expected a low yield…to collapse the building and kill the Jedi with his companions. But it was stronger…and the blast followed the fuel lines through the colony.

“That was when something in me just snapped…and I decided to stop this madness. Killing wasn’t what I wanted – after seeing hundreds die in a single instant.

“When Shazzar went to collect, I took off and headed for the Outer Rim. I painted the ship and gave it a new name. And I didn’t keep anyone with me this time.

“I turned to gambling, light smuggling, and a few charlatan schemes…until I couldn’t handle crime anymore. Too many people were on my trail…Algayne, Gardogga, and others…”

He stopped, suddenly short of breath and strength.

“So you decided to go straight,” Greyhawk finished for him.

Rick nodded, a few tears burning their way down his cheeks and along his scruffy chin. “I…I didn’t want any of you to know…especially you, Targon.”

Targon was finding it hard to breathe, and even harder to grasp what all he had heard. But he didn’t have time to say anything, as the door opened.

“Aw, having a happy little bonding moment?” the arrogant Zabrak mocked.

“What do you want?” Gabrielle hissed.

“The dealing’s done,” he smirked. “Hefe won the greater part of you, especially you, Rick…and you too, Twi’lek.”

“What does he want with us, then?” Targon asked.

“Not you, Jedi,” the Zabrak spat. “Quinn was waiting for another contender to place a bid before you were sold. But say goodbye to your buddies, Jedi. Quinn wants you up front so the client can see you well.”

“And us?” Greyhawk growled.

“Well,” the Zabrak scratched his chin. “Hefe and I will be back to collect you, but the green girl and the old man will be staying. Nalia and Togga bought you two. As for you, Twi’lek,” he grinned. “You’ll be coming with me.”

“What for?” Gabrielle growled menacingly.

“You’d best watch your attitude, schutta,” the Zabrak growled back. “No girl gives Hel Katarn attitude.”

“Too bad, I just did.”

“Well, I’ll be breaking you of it, don’t worry.”

He snapped his finger and the guards took Targon and Gabrielle down and dragged them out the door.

Both of them gave Rick a final glance before they were taken down separate halls.
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

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04.11.2012 , 10:07 AM | #108
Chapter Five

Hellion and Vinitar walked into a large open square in a poor immigrant district. There was nobody about, and the windows were all shuttered up.

“What is this?” Vinitar growled. “Someone know we were coming?”

“Fool,” Hellion shook his head. “This is where the people from the warzones come and live…and with crime at an all time high these days, they don’t like to come out of their apartments much.”

“How do you know so much about Republic worlds?” Vinitar asked.

“It’s not something you need concern yourself with.”

“You’ve been saying that an awful lot recently,” the taller man frowned. “It’s almost as if…”

Three large men emerged from different areas across the square. One was a towering Togorian with black and gray fur. The shaggy hair fell over his black suit of armor. In his paw he held a large blaster pistol, and his feline face gave a nasty snarl.

The second man was a Nosaurian with brown scales the color of mud, and just as dull too. There was a nasty scar across his snout. His claws gripped an old-style blaster rifle, and from his belt dangled three human skulls.

But it was the last man that had the worst look. He was a large and muscular Nautolan with dark blue skin. One eye was brown, but the other was a cybernetic with a red lens. An ugly scar ran down his face, and half of his head tails were missing or damaged. His right arm was cybernetic, all the way to his shoulder. In its prosthetic hand was gripped a vibroblade.

They each walked forward, closing the distance between them and the Sith Lords.

“What’s this now, Hellion?” Vinitar asked. But his eyes shown with a rage that told he had an idea what was going on.

“Just a little something that you need not concern yourself with,” Hellion shrugged and walked towards the bounty hunters.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?” Vinitar hissed.

Hellion glanced at him with his burning eyes. “I don’t joke, Vinitar. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“Then what…?”

“There are countless reasons,” Hellion growled. “I don’t have the patience to list them all. Suffice to say…why share the glory and reward when it can all be yours?”

“So you hired bounty hunters?”

“A fitting end to the Heretic’s apprentice,” Hellion smirked.

“I thought you said you could take me yourself,” Vinitar said as he activated his twin sabers.

Hellion nodded, “I can.” Then he pointed to the fierce and silent Nautolan. “So can he.”

“You think so?”

“Let’s find out.”

The Nosaurian and the Togorian both fired their guns. Vinitar blocked the lasers and then moved to attack.

That was when the Nautolan crossed blades with him. The two struck at each other, but neither broke the other’s defenses.

The other two kept shooting, causing Vinitar to divide his attention.

In a rage, he kicked the Nautolan and charged at the others. But then he felt a vise grip on his ankle and pull him to the ground. It was the Nautolan.

His cybernetic hand squeezed tighter, until Vinitar could almost hear the bones in his foot break.

He roared in fury. “I am Sith!”

Hellion laughed in reply. “No, you are dead.”

The Nautolan lifted him up by the leg and hurled him into one of the ghetto buildings. Vinitar crashed through the boards on the window, then through the glass itself, and then through the weak wood floor.

With a snarl, the Nosaurian activated a thermal detonator and threw it into the building after him.

A few seconds later, the entire structure lit up in flame and smoke.

Hellion smiled behind his mask, nodding with approval.

“Well, that was easier than I thought,” he shrugged. “Good work, gentlemen.”

“When do we get paid?” the Togorian asked gruffly.

“We don’t work for free,” the Nosaurian nodded.

“You’ll get paid when our business here is done,” Hellion replied annoyed. “I’m going to Quinn’s estate now to deal with the last bit. You all wait, and I’ll pay you when I return.”

“What good is the word of a Sith?” the Nautolan folded his arms.

Hellion laughed. “Look at it this way – I won’t run out on you. You’ll either get a pile of credits by the end of the day, or you’ll get my saber through your chest.”

“Awful confident for a Sith,” the Togorian growled. “Especially after we just killed your companion.”

Hellion’s eyes glared at them. “Understand two things, bounty hunters. First, I am more powerful than Vinitar was. Second, I had him killed without a second thought…and I actually liked him a little. The same cannot be said for you three.”

With that, he walked off, leaving the bounty hunters glaring at him until he was gone from sight.


Targon was brought in to a dining room, where the several crime bosses were in the midst of a large banquet. Serving droids went to and fro, bringing new dishes in and taking away the old ones.

The obese Hutt sat back and let slaves spoon the food into his expecting, eager mouth. He licked his lips sloppily, and occasionally got a slave girl’s hand as it poured his meal into his jaw. He smiled at that, and at her humble subservience.

Jefe had two slave girls at either side of him, handing him his utensils and his glass of wine when he called for them. If they were slow in response, he rapped them harshly with his cane.

The Twi’lek woman glared at them both while she ate, obviously disgusted at their use of slaves for dining. She ate slowly and regally, only occasionally trying to avert her eyes to something more pleasing.

Quinn sat at the head of the table, conveying every type of table manners and civility that could possibly be expressed. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled as Targon was brought in.

“Ah, and here’s the most valuable piece of them all,” he said. “How have you found our accommodations, Jedi?”

Targon made no reply, just stared at the lot of them. Inside, he was disgusted with their display. Then he caught a glimpse of Shazzar sitting by the window, lazily fiddling with a dagger.

The sight of him made him recall what he had just learned about Rick. It was odd. Now he was seeing this man in a different light…though the knowledge of this man’s killing of hundreds was sickening.

“I can understand your reluctance to speak,” Quinn nodded, taking a sip of wine. “After all, we didn’t exactly have you brought here through a kindly invitation. However…sometimes business requires things to be a little more direct.”

Jefe glanced up at the Jedi. “So you’re the young man that happens to be one of the most wanted people to the Empire, eh? You don’t strike me as that special.” His accent was thick with culture.

“What’s it matter what he looks like?” the Hutt rumbled. “What matters is he’s worth a lot. I could make quite a profit by selling him to the Empire.”

Nalia rolled her eyes at them both. “He’s a handsome one, that’s for sure. He’d be a good man for presenting and hosting.”

“Of course that’s all you think about,” Togga laughed. “That and what’s beneath his robes.”

“You’re a fat and despicable slug, you know that?” Nalia hissed.

“Not as much as my uncle, rest his soul,” Togga growled. “Pity that the wench that killed him is going to you, Jefe.”

“If you can’t pay the money, you shouldn’t bid,” the black man shrugged.

“Gentlemen, please,” Quinn sighed. “There’s no need for arguing at the table, especially in front of the guest.”

“What do you want with us?” Targon asked. “Why all this? Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

Togga and Jefe laughed. Their servants and employees in the room laughed as well.

“Are you so naïve, boy?” the short mercenary in the hat asked from Togga’s side. “No one gets to be left alone when they’ve crossed the big bosses and messed with their business.”

The droid beside Nalia perked up, “Observation: It appears the Jedi is unaware of the true extent of his actions to the Firm and its associates.”

Quinn nodded, “Indeed so.” He turned his eyes to Targon. “Do you know who your friend Rick Orlan is?”

“Yes,” Targon nodded. “He told us before you dragged me here.”

“Did he now?” Shazzar looked up at him. “He told you all of it?”


“Did he tell you that he has botched and ruined many business deals and ventures of every person in this room?” Quinn asked. “Togga, Jefe, Nalia, me…he’s even swindled and broken the hearts of the servants and slaves and employees.”

“That sounds like him,” Targon nodded.

“He’s also the reason you are here,” Shazzar stated. “He’s been selling you out. The Empire knows about you because of him…and I’ve been tracking you thanks to him.”

“No, that’s not right,” Targon shook his head angrily.

“You’ve only seen his side of things,” Shazzar shrugged. “On the ride back to Dromund Kaas, you and I will have lots to discuss.”

“Now hold on, Shazzar,” Quinn raised a hand. “You haven’t won the bid for the Jedi yet. And chances are you won’t once the last man arrives.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Quinn nodded. “That is, unless you are willing to hand over that squealing informant Alen Heigren over to me in exchange for the Jedi.”

Shazzar shook his head. “Sorry, Lycos. He’s under my protection now…I don’t want you doing anything…unpleasant…to him. He is a friend, after all.”

“Like Rick is?” Targon asked.

Shazzar cocked his head. “Exactly.”

The door opened and Lycos stood. “Ah, and here’s our final guest now!”

Everyone turned to look at the new arrival. Targon felt the dark presence and his knees started getting weak. He glanced over and saw Darth Hellion enter.

The Sith Lord nodded to Quinn. “I am grateful for your hospitality, Mr. Quinn. However, let us get right to business and spare the pleasantries.”

“As you wish,” Lycos said.

Shazzar was on his feet, his hands clenched into fists. “You didn’t say you were inviting Sith here, Lycos.”

“Didn’t I?” the crime lord laughed. “I thought I mailed you the guest list last week. Oh well…”

“You cheated me out of the whole group,” Shazzar hissed. “And now you’re going to cheat me out of the Jedi alone?”

“I haven’t cheated anyone,” Quinn frowned. “Lord Hellion, here, just happens to have the payment ready right away. And he’s willing to pay quite a bit more than you, bounty hunter.”

Targon frowned. “What will happen to the rest of my friends?”

“Doesn’t matter anymore,” Hellion growled. “Not for you.”

Jefe smiled. “Well, I know that Rick will be enjoying his life in the mines of Kessel by the end of the week. As for the girl…Katarn’s probably having fun with her right now.”

“You’re sick,” Nalia hissed.

“Just be glad it isn’t you,” Togga laughed. “After all, it’s all that you Twi’leks are good for, isn’t it?”

Nalia rose in anger, her droid reached for its gun. Togga’s mercenary drew his, and other guards were getting ready for a fight. Hellion growled and put his hand on his saber.

A door opened, and the Phantom walked in to make his presence known.

Targon’s eyes widened when he saw his lightsaber dangling on the giant’s belt. With all the confusion, now was the best chance.

He called the lightsaber to his hand.
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

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04.11.2012 , 10:10 AM | #109
Chapter Six

“So,” Sorgal growled. “This whole mess is really your fault, eh, Rick?”

“Leave him alone,” Greyhawk glared at him.

“Why should I?” Sorgal countered. “His little crime life has led us from one fiasco to the next…and all this time I thought it was just because we were all so popular!”

“Don’t you ever drop the attitude?” Xana asked.

“No,” Sorgal replied with a smirk. “And this is a good time for attitude. After all, now Targon and Gabrielle were dragged off to who knows where? They might be dead now, and we’ll soon be. Or at least as good as dead. I would rather have shared my master’s fate than to be a servant boy.”

Rick said nothing in his own defense. He simply stared at the floor, his face plastered with melancholy and regret. Were it not for the soft breaths he took, and the occasional blink, he might have passed for a dead man.

“Well,” Sorgal spat. “I’m not about to sit around and wait to be carted off!” He started fighting against the chains again, and the shocks zapped through everyone.

“Stop it!” Xana cried. “It’s not helping! We need to find a different way!”

Sorgal didn’t listen to her. Instead, he kept struggling, vainly trying to wrest himself free from the chains, or at least rip them from the wall.

It wasn’t working out, and the shocks were getting worse. He had gotten used to it from being a captive for so long.

That couldn’t be said for the others. Greyhawk roared and kicked at Sorgal, striking his shin.

“That’s enough!” he roared. “You’re hurting the others!”

“I don’t really care,” Sorgal stated. “I want out!”

“There will be a different way!” Greyhawk practically shouted.

The Gamorrean grunted at the disturbance among the prisoners, and he started menacing them with his axe.

All of a sudden, the tall guard slammed his hand into the green pig’s neck. The Gamorrean squealed for a second, and then fell limp to the ground.

The prisoners stared at him confused.

Then the guard took off his outfit and revealed his face. He was a young man with a small braid of hair at the back of his head. He smiled with his blue eyes.

“Well folks,” he said as he deactivated the chains and took them down. “Your different way has arrived.”

“And who are you supposed to be?” Sorgal asked suspiciously.

“The name is Ryner Sanpo,” the young man replied. “I’m a Jedi working with the Corellian authorities to bring down these criminal goons.”

“Huh,” Greyhawk nodded slowly, studying the young man. “Can you prove that?”

Ryner answered by igniting his green lightsaber. “Convinced?”

“Enough,” Xana shrugged.

“Now, where’s our stuff?” Sorgal asked.

“In that locker,” Ryner pointed to the case. “I’ll check for guards, and then I’ll contact the police. We’ll bring this crime party to an end.”

“Wait,” Rick said suddenly. “What about Gabrielle?”


Katarn’s breath stunk of alcohol, and he huffed it right in her face.

His groping hands were forcefully trying to strip off her clothes.

She fought back as hard as she could, but he held her down firmly with both strength and weight against the guest room bed.

“Quit fighting,” he growled. “You might actually enjoy it.”

“Pig!” she roared.

“Schutta!” he spat back at her. “No one takes a kick to my groin and then expects not to get away scot-clean! I’ll have you, little brat. That’s all your race is good for, and Jefe agrees.”

His fingers were trying to rip the last of her undergarments off. She could hear the fabrics straining, the fibers coming apart.

He slapped her as she struggled again. And then he slapped again, just because he so enjoyed the last one.

“I like the sound your skin makes when my hand hits it!” he grinned. “I bet I’ll like the way you moan when I get to it.”

Gabrielle hissed and roared, trying to bite his neck and cheek.

He pulled back in time and slapped her again. Three times.

“Are you an animal or a woman?” he asked. Then he smiled, “I guess with Twi’leks they’re the same thing.”

“I’ll kill you!” Gabrielle shouted.

Katarn growled. “I don’t take kind to threats, especially from women.”

Gabrielle kept squirming, trying to wrench herself free. He kept hitting her the harder she tried.

But then she felt her right leg slip out from under his. It was free.

Without hesitation, she slammed it up. Her knee struck right where she wanted it to.

Katarn yelped and cursed, but the pain caused him to loosen his grip.

It was enough.

With her strength, she shoved him off her and onto the floor. She leaped off the bed. The thought entered her mind to run…but she decided against it. This worm needed a lesson.

She grabbed a chair from the table nearby and slammed it down on him. Then she did it again and again. He roared and grunted with each strike.

The chair wasn’t doing it, so she pulled his gun from his own holster and slammed the end of it into his face. She struck him as many times as he slapped her, and then doubled it for added satisfaction.

His nose was bleeding and he was wailing for her to stop. He was helpless – his hands tried to come up to protect his face, but she planted her feet on them and pushed down hard.

He writhed and roared in anger. He swore at her, tried to spit at her, and promised that he’d kill her and then do what he wanted with her corpse.

That only made her hit him more…and harder. Her lips parted, she bore her teeth, and she roared with each time she slammed the gun into his face.

“Stop! Please stop!” he finally begged.

She stopped, but only to turn the gun around and ready to pull the trigger.

“No! NO!” Katarn wailed.

Her eyes were deathly cold, and she was set…and then she stopped.

“I’m not going to kill you,” she said, her voice cold and fierce. “I’m going to leave you here, drooling and bleeding, so you can tell everyone that a dainty little girl beat the bloody hell out of you.”

Then she kicked him in the face to finally knock him out.

Gabrielle stood there for a moment, nearly stripped of her clothes entirely. She took several deep breaths to let the fire in her chest cool down.

Then she gathered her clothes and put them back on. She smoothed her garments, and then put on her black coat. She needed to find her guns…but she would. She knew this place as well as anyone.

Without so much as a second glance, she walked out the door.

The hall was empty, and she was grateful for that. She made her way back down towards the holding cell.

She was surprised when she found the others just leaving the room. They had their weapons and everything.

“Oh, so now you figure out a way?” she growled.

Rick’s eyes widened at seeing her. “You…Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Rick,” she rolled her eyes. “What? You think I can’t take care of myself?”

“I…I was just…”

“Here are your guns,” Greyhawk threw the pistols to her. “Now we need to go find Targon and get out of here.”

Gabrielle glanced at the really tall man. “And this is…?”

“Ryner Sanpo,” the man nodded. “I’m not staying, though. I’ve got to get the troops mobilized. We’re taking these criminals down.”

“Sounds good,” Gabrielle nodded in reply. “Though, you look ill-equipped.”

Ryner shook his head. “I’ve been infiltrating Quinn’s operation for some time, and certain people in Corellia’s government are ready to get him out of here.”

“As long as they leave Quinn himself to me,” Gabrielle stated.

“Hold on, now, sister,” Xana shook her head. “You need to get in line.”

“You’re a Jedi,” Gabrielle smirked. “Your code won’t let you kill Quinn. I’m a bounty hunter…I make my own laws.”

“If you two don’t come along,” Sorgal growled, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“See you all later,” Ryner saluted and then ran off down the hall.

“Any idea where Targon will be?” Greyhawk asked.

Rick and Gabrielle both nodded.

“It’s dinnertime,” Rick stated. “They’ll be in the dining hall…if they haven’t killed each other yet.”
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi

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04.11.2012 , 10:15 AM | #110
Chapter Seven

No sooner had Targon activated the lightsaber then the shooting started.

Guards flooded the room, men of all the bosses. Quinn’s guards shot at Jefe’s and Togga’s. They shot at each other, and no one knew who the enemy was.

Djehad Nguyen gunned down T-100X after a brief firefight. He kept himself in front of Togga, protecting his employer for as long as it was profitable.

The Phantom charged Shazzar, but the two of them were lost in the crowd.

Hellion drew his saber and cut down everyone around him, trying to make his way for Targon.

As for Targon himself, he kept a defensive. He wasn’t there to kill anyone, but he had to hold out. The criminals were doing a great job of killing themselves without his help.

Nalia herself was unarmed, and she tried to hide beneath the table. Targon moved to stand over her, keeping all shooting away from her. After all, she was defenseless in this chaos.

Jefe grabbed his cane and drew a small sword that was hidden within it. With a roar, he charged at Targon and Nalia, with the intent of killing one of his biggest competitors.

Targon’s blade intercepted his, and the two clashed amid the storm of lasers. Jefe was strong and well-trained with the blade, but he underestimated Targon’s reflexes and affinity to the Force.

With a twirl, Targon disarmed him and held his saber to Jefe’s neck.

“Stand down,” Targon ordered.

The black man glared at him, but he raised his arms in submission and nodded.

But then a red blade stabbed right through him.

Hellion pushed the dead drug lord out of the way and attacked. Targon moved to defend. Red blade crashed against green.

Even more shooting broke out, as Rick, Gabrielle, and Greyhawk burst into the chamber. At first, they were shocked at the incredible scene, but they soon became targets of the fighting. So they shot back.

Sorgal and Xana were at Targon’s side. The three of them crossed blades with Hellion. The Sith Lord was surprised at the Jedi’s reinforcements, and all the more angered.

Togga raged when he saw Gabrielle.

“Djehad!” he roared. “Kill the schutta that murdered my uncle!”

The small man turned his guns on Gabrielle. In response, she dove for cover and then started shooting back.

“I didn’t kill that slug!” she shouted. “Quinn did!”

“Lies!” Lycos roared from behind his wall of guards. “Never trust a woman who knows how to use a gun!”

Rick laid down fire against Djehad, forcing him to abandon his employer.

“Where are you going?!” Togga bellowed. “Come back here!”

“Not worth it!” Djehad shouted back at him as he found cover.

Blaster bolts peppered the giant Hutt, as he was the largest target to hit in the room. The slug gurgled and roared as he died, causing a massive stink in the room.

Hellion’s attacks were furious, pushing all three of his opponents back. Targon made sure, however, that he kept Nalia behind him. She scurried along the floor, crawling over the bodies of dead men and trying to look for a place to hide.

“Why are we defending her?” Sorgal asked.

“Because she doesn’t have any way to defend herself,” Targon replied as he struggled against Hellion’s blade.

“Your compassion is your weakness!” Hellion laughed. “Such a typical Jedi.”

“Yeah,” Sorgal sneered. “Well I’m not!”

With that, he landed a punch into Hellion’s cheek, and then landed a groin kick.

Hellion roared in rage, and focused his attacks on Sorgal for his insolence. That gave Xana an opening, and she took it.

The Sith’s focus was distracted between the three of them. He couldn’t concentrate on any one of them for long before another came at him from a far different angle.

He decided that he wasn’t going to be getting anywhere in this mess of humanity and senselessness. So he sent a wave through the Force to create an opening, and he rushed out.

Not many seemed to notice or care about his departure. The shooting kept going. Most of the room was full of the dead or wounded, and the largest force was the crew of the Lone Eagle.

Djehad was still keeping behind his cover, and Lycos’ men had been whittled down as they kept him safe.

Oddly, the Phantom and Shazzar had disappeared from the fight. They had been at each others’ throats at the beginning, and had taken each other to the ground in a fierce confrontation. Yet now…they were nowhere to be found.

Djehad traded fire with Greyhawk and Rick, but he knew he couldn’t hold out for much longer. Instead, he decided to follow the Sith Lord’s path and escape. He made his way out the very same way that Hellion had fled.

So now it was just the Lone Eagle crew and Lycos Quinn. Greyhawk gunned down the last of his guards. Now the crime lord was alone.

“It’s over, Lycos,” Rick stated, holstering his blasters. “Your little game her has ended.”

“Is that what you think?” Quinn laughed. “Do you have any idea what I’m capable of?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sorgal sneered as he held his saber to his throat. “Unless you know how to fight like no other, you’re done.”

“Guns and blades may not be my strength,” Lycos smiled. “But money is more powerful than anything.”

“What?” Sorgal snorted. “You are going to try for a bribe? It’ll take more than credits to make up for what you put me through. I should gut you right here.”

“Sorgal! No!” Targon called. “He’s done, let the authorities deal with him.”

“Authorities?” Lycos laughed. “I own the authorities!”

“Not from what I hear,” Greyhawk smiled. “Looks like certain government officials want you taken down. A Jedi is bringing the police here as we speak.”

“Foolish old man,” Lycos shook his head.

“Shut it!” Sorgal hissed as he drew the blade closer.

A window burst open and police officers stormed into the dining room. They had their guns ready, pointing at everyone, armed or not, standing or wounded.

“Hands in the air, now!” the commander shouted. “All of you!”

Lycos laughed. “See? It doesn’t matter what a few bureaucrats want. I own the police!”

“Hands in the air!” the officer repeated. The other police emphasized his command by taking a step forward, guns ready to shoot.

Gabrielle hissed angrily. She took her gun and pointed it at Lycos’ head. “For all the years you used me and then threw me to the wind!”

She pulled the trigger.

Lycos Quinn dropped to the ground.

The police were ready to shoot her.

“The boss is dead,” she stated. “Where are you going to get your money from now?”

The lead officer scratched his mustache and frowned. “You are all under arrest for the murder of Lycos Quinn and countless others. We’ll get to the bottom of this, mark my words!”

Targon and Xana helped Nalia to her feet.

“You protected me,” she said, eyes wide. “Why?”

“It is the duty of the Jedi,” Targon replied.

“Even those that don’t deserve protection,” Xana stated.

Targon put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. She sighed and apologized for her insult.

And then they were all put in cuffs.

“So much for that Jedi and his promises!” Sorgal laughed as the police cuffed them and dragged them off to the vehicles outside the estate. “Now we’re prisoners…again!”

He kept laughing as the officers put him in the vehicle and they were all driven to the station.

Conclusion of Episode Fourteen
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The Imperial Inquisition and The Voyages of Targon Karashi