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Save me from idealists and idiots! If I weren’t twenty-five thousand in hock to that bastard Illiz, I never would have left Paranoth, pit though it was. Instead, I had to take the first chance off-planet that got offered to me, and I promptly get in the muck up to my neck.
So how did I get into this pretty mess, oh unknown archeologist of the future? You better siddown, this one’s going to take a while. I’m in debt – that’s nothing new – and I needed to get off planet before word got to Illiz that I was in his town. I wouldn’t have gotten stuck in Paranoth if Chesolm had given me the right departure date for his ship, but I guess that’s neither here nor there, anymore. One of the Rebellion flag-wavers happened to catch up with me just as I was contemplating cutting my own head off to save Illiz the trouble, and offered me a quick job that would get me off planet. The money was nothing, but I didn’t really care about that and besides…pause…it was the Rebellion. You gotta help the good guys, right?
So I end up in a bar with Meric Faerivin, a competent guy and C.O of the ship that is currently keeping me snug and warm, and two poster-kids for the Rebellion. A sweet little Duke’s daughter called Duvessa liCidan who has a brain beneath the wardrobe - but it’s a big wardrobe – and a pilot, Dev Ceeto, who’s almost as good as he thinks he is. Oh, you should have seen their shiny young faces. All afire with righteous zeal, the pair of them.
Fortunately, they proved they can shoot straight when they have to, which was a good thing since we got ratted out in record time. Not only did we have to blast our way back to Meric’s ship, but we had the not-entirely-unique experience of getting our hyperdrive blown out of ass by a Star Destroyer. Thank heavens for timely rescues, even if they turn out to be performed by traitors...
It’s still not clear who sold us out. I can’t believe it was DeLorik. He wanted us to get where we’re headed. Blowing us into small chunks wouldn’t have helped him at all….Not that he didn’t try when things were going sour for him…
Anyways, so we end up on the sorriest excuse for a mining ship I’ve ever seen, the Vallinor. It didn’t take too much looking to find the baling wire and spit holding it together. Shame I didn’t see the droids just as quickly.
Practical upshot. Fake crew – humanoid droids – and the ‘dear benefactor’ to the cause and oh-so-suave owner of the Vallinor, Marquis DeLorik, was some kind of anti-Jedi trying to con the genuinely human command staff of the ship into ferrying him where he wanted to be and blow a few Rebellion secrets while they were at it. That did a pretty good job of banking some of the fire of revolutionary fervor in Ceeto and Duvessa’s eyes. Good thing too, too much idealism can prove fatal.
I feel a bit sorry for Duvessa. I think she blew a fuse when she learned that the precious Marquis, pillar of the Rebellion and all around smooth-talker was pure evil. Of course, I was a bit surprised, too – although I have a natural antipathy for politicians – but I sure as hell wasn’t going to show it. Twenty years of poker playing pays off, again…
Humanoid droids, I can’t believe it. The entire crew of that deathtrap were all humanoid droids. Isn’t there a law against that? Yeah, like deLorik was going to give a damn about that.
I’m such an idiot. Why do I have to have these heroic impulses right when the ten-foot-high-and-fireproof minions of evil are looking? No, I don’t believe deLorik is dead, not if these Sith things are half as tough as Valer’ian say they are – and I guess he should know. Valer’ian didn’t seem to sure that deLorik can’t breathe vacuum. God, I hope he’s dead…but we saw him walk out of a ball of plasma the size of Corellian freighter! What’s deep space to a creature like that?
Get a grip, woman. Burn that bridge when you get to it.
Who’d have thought it? An honest-to-heaven Jedi, ten feet down the hall and to the left. I thought they were all wiped out by the Empire years ago. I guess they missed a few. That’s pretty good to hear…I guess, especially given the existence of things like the Sith. Still, Valer’ian says he’s just an apprentice and the situation isn’t good for them, go figure.
So now, I’m on my way to the butt end of space for five percent of what my fellow dingbats believe is an abandoned Jedi Temple. I don’t know what I believe, myself, but if it is the genuine article…Well, five percent should pay off Illiz and get me a ship, besides. If I can find a buyer that won’t ask too many questions.
Still, as dingbats go, I guess I could be in with a worse bunch. They all know their stuff and it Duvessa and Ceeto are learning faster than I would have credited them for, and how can I not be impressed by a veteran of the 58th? Chuckle More on Waith some other night.
I think I’m going to do a little creative re-programming of the food units and show this crew what drinking is really about…It’s going to take a while to get where we’re going, and all work and no play makes for a bored, destructive and just plain unpleasant Yahnna.
Still no news from my parents.
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