Back to the Moon [ character fiction ]

The traffic monitoring station was as abuzz with life as it would be on any other day. The docking port, affectionately referred to as the Crimson Pit by its owner, was far from a well maintained facility. Instead of using droids, the boss preferred to keep humanoids manning the stations. The operators were fueled by caffeine, bad coffee, and food brought in on little metal trays. At least, that is what it felt like to one of the longest-working Twi’leks there.

“Hey Aztin,” a rumpled looking Human handed a cup of stimcaf to his tired coworker, “So how many freighters have we lost today?

“Not enough,” the joke was old, tired out, and oft repeated. The human walked away to his own station, taking a tentative sip and making a foul face.

Though Aztin would never admit it aloud, the Twi’lek would almost kill for a nice distraction for the monotony of his job. If only he had listened to his mother, he could have bought a ship, became a merchant, and at least he would be seeing a bit of the galaxy.

Instead he got married, bought a home, and fathered a couple of brat children. He then had to watch as his wife took his home and kids away from him. Because of the divorce ruling he wasn’t even allowed to see his children. He sighed, realizing he wasn’t even sure his kids would want to see him these days. Their mommy’s new guy helped carve him even further out of their lives.

He shook his head, trying to bring him focus to the present. He felt a bit of dampness at the edges of his eyes. A beeping noise from his workstation drew his attention, and the middle-aged operator wiped his eyes before turning back to his work.

A ship was requesting permission to dock. The name Bitter Kodashi flashed on the screen, and an automated voice crackled over the comm, “This the Independent Corellian Transport Registration #AA961294, requesting permission to land.”

Kodashi? Aztin bit his lip in a moment of doubt. Surely they could not be that stupid, really? He looked at the screen for a moment, before typing in the command that transmitted the proper codes to the vessel, and registered its arrival in the logs. Without looking away from the screen, he reached into the top drawer of his desk, and fished out a rectangular commlink. Punching in a number quickly, he drew a breath to steady himself.

“Tell the boss that we have just spotted a snake among the hens,” he spoke the words in a low voice.

Bentre stepped out of the spaceport, and took a deep breath. The air he was as grimy and putrid as he remembered. The months spent away from this horrible planet were not regretted.

I think I would have been quite happy if I never had to come back here, he gave a grunt.

“Hey,” he heard a voice call across the spaceport to him. The Obelisk did not even turn toward the voice. He had a mission to complete, and he had little interest in hanging around with the locals. “Buddy, hey buddy,” a Gran stepped in front of him, walking backward in rough pace with the human. “Surely, you don’t want to visit Nar Shaddaa without visiting some of the best clubs?”

“Back away, slowly,” the Jedi Hunter drew his cloak up around himself in obvious discomfort, drawing the collar up to obscure his face. “I don’t have any interest in your clubs.”

“Oh, come on guy, you seem so tense. I can take you to a club where the ladies wiggle so nice, and the ale flows freely,” The humanoid did not seem to be phased by the sharp look from Bentre.

“I am trying to warn you,” he spoke slowly this time, “you will want to back up while you still have a chance. I don’t have need to frequent some seedy club. You are up to no good, and we both know it.”

“I swear, this is on the up and up!”

Raising up a hand toward the Gran’s face, the Human looked him in the nearest of his eyes. “I am not the kind of person you want to mess with,” he shook his head, “bad things might happen.” He put some emphasis on the last few words, putting to use some of the skills he had learned since joining the Brotherhood. He hadn’t practiced a lot of the mind affecting abilities, so he hoped the manipulation would work.

The alien glanced at him with a conflicted expression on his face for a moment. He looked the cloaked Human over again, and then seemed to to reconsider his original plan. He placed his hands up in an expression of surrender, and backed away with a nervous laugh. “Hey buddy, I was just trying to tell you about a nice play, but-” his voice trailed off a moment, and he backed away slowly, unwilling to turn his face from Bentre.

Good. Maybe I can get some work done now. Bentre sighed, pulling out his trusty datapad. The message from Daedric contained the details to his latest mission.

Attn: apprentice. You are to travel to the moon Nar Shaddaa immediately.
Attached are the dossiers of two smugglers. You are to terminate the
targets and retrieve the navigational data they have>on the regions near
Dromund Kaas and Sepros. That is all.

This mission should be pretty simple. He looked over the files on the two men. They were close buddies and both frequenters of a nearby cantina, so perhaps the mission would be just a waiting game.

Oh well, I have been itching for a drink since I left home, he licked his dry lips, so I can take this as a chance to whet my throat. It isn’t likely to be as good as what we brought back from Red Fury, but that stuff could burn the hide off a rancor. He smiled at the thought of the fine brew he had tucked away in his quarters. He would have to have a glass or two when he got back.

“Sir, we have data on the ship you requested,” the officer dropped the datapad on the desk. “We got some pictures from the security cameras at the spaceport, as you requested.” The officer waited expectedly as his Rodian superior studied the picture. “We hope this can help you with your investigation.”

“Very good, Stiln,” the Rodian nodded, “these gangsters have been plaguing the moon for a long time now. I will forward these files to the chief and make sure that justice is served.”

“Yes sir,” Stiln gave a salute and stood at attention, “is there anything else I can do?”

“Bring me the corporate file on the operator who was so kind as to bring this to our attention.” The human officer could not help but glance at the oddly hungry look on his superior’s face. “After that, you can be dismissed. You can take some time off, enjoy a bit of time with your lovely wife.”

“Um,” something made him a little uneasy. “Alright then, sir.” Without looking back, he wandered back to his desk. Something was very wrong here, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it will come to me later. He would have to make a few calls to get the files requested.

Why does he need the records on the citizen who reported this troublemaker?

Some odd things had been going on in the office in the last few months. It started shortly after the change in command. The chief had taken the gang problems on with an admirable sense of duty. Stiln just wondered if he was getting a little too zealous in his crusade.

The cantina had proven to be about as boring as the Obelisk had expected. Which was unfortunate, but he figured to be just as well. Bentre had spent enough time running through the alleys of this moon. So the less attention that I draw to myself, the better, he reasoned.

Just after dinner time, the first of the two targets showed up. Being listed in the dossier as Joey Manzel, the blonde man ordered Corellian ale and sat at the bar. He mostly hit on the shapely bartender who served up drink after drink. As the number of cups increased in number, his advances grew more and more aggressive, and more and more raunchy.

From the bartender’s expression, however, this seemed to be a common occurrence. That is really too bad.

Eventually, Manzel got up, headed for the refresher like a bantha with its head cut off. *That’s what you get for drinking so many liters of ale, you sop. Bentre shook his head, and walked over to the bar.

“Don’t you just hate that?” he pointed after Joey’s form as the human disappeared through the refresher door.

“He’s not too bad,” the woman did not look up as she gathered the empty glasses from the bar.

“Really, I mean, the way that he was coming on to you like that. Don’t you think you deserve better?”

“Hey,” these drew her gaze up sharply at Bentre, “Forget it, I am not interested.”

The Corellian raised a hand calmly and shook his head. “You misunderstand me, mam,” he chuckled briefly. “You can’t tell me you actually like serving guys like him?”

She shrugged with a look of discomfort on her face, “Their business pays the bills.”

“Hey people! How are you all doing?” an irritating voice rose over the ambient sounds of the cantina. “Hey Sarli, can you make me an Arkanian Sweet Milk while I go take care of nature?” he winked at the bartender as he headed to the refresher. The Assassin recognized the man from the mission dossier.

“There goes his pal, Rui.” The expression on disgusted. “It seems every time they get together they are making trouble for me. Rui has a bad habit of breaking glasses when he gets too excited.”

Bentre paused, studying her features a bit before he spoke again. “Don’t you wish guys like that would just up and,” he paused a moment, ”disappear?”

Sarli appeared a little taken back by what he had suggested. She leaned toward him, “What are you talking about?”

The Obelisk smiled wryly for a moment, before he pushed off the bar. “Let’s just say sometimes things have a way of taking care of themselves,” he gave a wink and walked slowly to the refresher.

As the Corellian passed through the doorway, he heard the annoying voices of his targets. He closed the doorway behind him carefully as he walked in. Rui’s voice was rising from one of the stalls, while Joey leaned against the far wall.

“She still denying you, then?”

“Oh yeah,” Joey laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t think she realizes what she is passing up.”
“You know, maybe you need to clue her in a little bit, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think my wife would appreciate that too much.”

A laugh echoed in the room. “Who says she needs to know Jo’?”

Bentre shook his head, walking up slowly. “So,” he raised a finger inquisitively, “you are talking about the bartender here?”
The blonde Human eyed Bentre suspiciously. He was obviously irritated by the intrusion, but he appeared to shrug it off. “You know Sarli then?” he cocked his head slightly to the right. “You don’t look like one of the regulars here.”

The Assassin lifted a hand to hold his face, looking thoughtful. He subtly allowed the illusion over his left eye to fall, revealing the glowing eyeball beneath. Joey’s eyes widened at the phenomena. “Not at all.” the Obelisk raised his familiar SE-14 and fired twice into Joey’s head. The target crumbled in a heap as the shot echoed out.

Well that is one target down now. Gotta move more quickly.

Moving to the stall, Bentre kicked in door between Rui and himself. When he met eyes with his victim, he heard several plops into the water below the target. The Assassin took three shots, kicking over Rui and looking down curiously into the toilet.

So he literally crapped himself.

The door behind him opened with a bang. “Are you guys okay in here, it sounded li-” the voice of a man trailed off into a wail. “What the hell is all this!?”

Well kark me. Bentre had really been hoping he could slip out before people realized what had happened. It looked like he might have to spill a little more blood than he had hoped. I can’t get caught here, damn it.

The alert had hit his desk just a few moments before. The bartender of the Silver Eclipse cantina had reported a human fitting the description of one of those punks. The name attached to the alert was Bentre Stahoes. The cameras had caught his face near the spaceport as he spoke to a Gand on the street.

The Chief smiled to himself as he thought about bringing in another of those Jade Kodashi. This one was an even bigger catch. He had gone on the run on charges of murder, and a warrant had been out for his arrest for months.

The murders had enraged several of the officers in his department, so it might offer them some form of closure. One of the victims was the nephew of an officer near retirement. Closing the case on this miscreant could be a high point to end a career on.

Walking over to the display case in his office, the Chief looked over the weapons held within. He had confiscated weapons including various blasters, sporting rifles, a disruptor rifle, three thermal detonators, a pulse rifle and even a prized phaser. He picked up one of the heavy blasters in the case, and inspected it.

He was going to go out and make sure this was taken care of without a hitch. He wasn’t about to lose an officer to some random murderer. He had been waging a campaign against gang violence since he took his office. He knew some of his political opponents claimed he was being too brutal, but he knew that was sometimes all those beasts understood.

This is too familiar, Bentre growled as he ducked into a random building. The small entryway was cramped, with a long curtain hung over the open door.

I was running from the law when Marcus chanced upon me too. He knew now that it hadn’t been chance. He took a moment to alter the appearance of his eyes. His illusory abilities may not have been spectacular, but he knew that a glowing red eye would be a beacon to anybody if they knew what he had just done or not. Once that was done, he stepped confidently into the next room.

“Can we help you, sir?” the kind voice of a well-dressed young woman greeted him as he passed through the curtain into a quaint little clothing shop. She raised an eyebrow as she stared at the heavily-breathing Corellian.

“Um,” the Assassin glanced around before spotting a long brown jacket, almost like a trenchcoat. He pointed to it with a forced grin. “Sure you can. Do you mind if I try that on?”

“Of course, sir.” the girl reached up, pulling down the clothing hanger holding the garment. She handed it over, allowing the Corellian to turn the jacket around and slip it on easily.

“Nice,” he nodded appreciatively. The leather looked nice, the jacket felt comfortable, and it seemed more than large enough to allow him to carry some a few little extras in the inside pockets. “I think I will take it.”
“How will you be paying today?”

Bentre smiled, reaching inside his jacket, his hand brushing over his blaster. He pulled out an envelope carrying a couple hundred credits. “These credits should more than cover the cost,” he smiled. “Just don’t tell anybody you saw me. He gave a wink, and watched her eyes widen as she examined the money inside.

“Y-yes sir.” she stammered, giving a slight bow.

The spaceport was not too far from here at this point, thankfully. As he had ducked and weaved between buildings and in and out of crowds, Bentre felt the hard hand of the law ready to grab the back of his collar at any moment and throw him into a dark cell where he would be forgotten.

He had seen what those monsters in clothes of humanoids had done to that woman. He couldn’t blame anybody who thought that he had done that for being enraged. Unfortunately that did not mean it was going to stop him from taking out anyone who tried to stall his escape though.

The Obelisk tried to keep his pace, jogging down the road. He tried to look as nonchalant as possible, keeping his stride and trying to prevent eye contact with any of the people on the streets. After several minutes, he made it to the spaceport and it looked like he had not been followed.

“Mr. Stahoes,” a deep voice bellowed from across the spaceport. For a moment, Bentre gaped in shock. The officer addressing him was carrying a scattergun in one hand and a heavy blaster in the other. His uniform was pressed, his stare was resolute and two other officers flanked him. He was also supposed to be dead.

“Garan?” the Assassin felt certain he was mistaken.

“That is *Officer Garan to you, worm,” the Duros smirked down as the Human standing before him looked at the other two officers.

“You cannot be serious.” Bentre shook his head. “After everything that happened?”

“I heard about your murders, Human,” Garan seemed determined to play dumb.

The Obelisk pulled out his lightsaber, and activated the weapon with a snap-hiss. The blue beam bathed the Corellian in cool blue light as he swung it twice in an attempt at menace.

“So the criminal brings me a new souvenir to add to my collection?” Garan raised the blaster, and fired a shot at Stahoes. This caused the Jedi Hunter to sidestep to avoid the plasma bolt. He didn’t try to retaliate though.

“Do these officers know what happened? Do they know about how your buddy got angry? Do they know about how you covered it up?”

“Shut up!” Stiln pointed an accusing finger at the Obelisk. “The Chief has been doing everything to stop atrocities like those murders. Do you really expect me to believe he would really commit such a terrible act? Is he supposed to have forsaken justice?”

“Just take him in,” Garan waved the two officers forward. As they closed in Bentre did not take a swipe at either of them. Instead, he looked at the human officer who had so quickly defended the Duros.
“Please don’t make me do this,” the Assassin glanced between the two officers. “I am sure you guys are just doing your job. You don’t have to be in my way, this time. I am offering you a free pass.”

Both officers seemed to stop for a moment. Stiln looked over at the older officer, who was glaring down the sights of his blaster. “You killed my nephew, you bastard.” the old man growled. “I am going to feed your corpse to the akk dogs you worthless piece of shit.”

“Calm down Jer,” Stiln shook his head, looking nervous. “We will take him in, and make sure he sees justice.”

“This is justice, kid!” the older officer snarled. “Right now, I am justice!”

Before his partner could argue, Garan interrupted. “Let him destroy this piece of trash, Stiln. He is right, this is justice.” Bentre shook his head, and tried to step backward slightly.

“You are going to let him escape!” the Duros yelled, his voice echoing over the street. “Look out, he has a thermal!” Then, with a smirk, Garan pitched a live detonator between the two officers.

I only have a few moments. Bentre’s mind raced. *He didn’t think either officer would realize what was happening until it was too late. Every fiber in his body screamed out in protest. He knew what was coming, but his body didn’t seem to want to respond.

Do you really want to die here?

The Obelisk managed to roll backward, rolling back to his feet and backpedalling. He watched as the initial blast tore into the bodies of the officers. He had just managed to bring up a barrier in the Force to block the bits of shrapnel as the the kinetic explosion hit him. The absolute worst was caught by the barrier, but Bentre was not unharmed. The detonator threw up dirt and smoke.

That might be my one way out of here.

When the dust began to settle Garan began to yell. “He killed two more officers! I want the area searched. I want this man brought to justice! Now people!”