Thursday, December 07, 2006

BESPIN BRAG - Instructions

The Rules for

2 to 5 players.

You will need 60 playing cards (3 X printed card sheet).

The pack will consist of:

24 X ‘Refinery’ Cards - Tractor Beam Generator, Gas Refinery, Worker Housing and Baron’s Penthouse
24 X ‘Gas!’ Cards of varying denominations
6 X Solar Flare Cards
6X Imperial Takeover Cards

Object of the game.

Build your own mining facility and collect more Tibanna gas than the other players.
Game concludes when at least one player has a complete facility and five gas quantities. Then all players’ gas quantities, irrespective of number held, are totaled up. The player with the largest combined liquid tonnage of Tibanna gas is the winner and may be crowned Baron Administrator.
It is possible to win the game with just three gas amounts – highly unlikely, but still possible.

How to start.

Choose one dealer – this should be the shiftiest person sitting at the table.
The dealer shuffles the entire stack of cards and deals four cards face down to each player, including him/herself. The remaining cards are placed in a face down stack in the center of the table.

Players should then look at their own cards. The initial object is to obtain the four cards needed to build your facility; Tractor Beam Generator, Gas Refinery, Worker Housing and Baron’s Penthouse. If a player has any of these cards, they must lay them face down in a ‘Refinery’ pile. Any doubles should be held onto for bargaining purposes later in the game.
If a player has been dealt any ‘Gas!’ cards or ‘Solar Flare’ cards, they must be discarded during this period. Begin a face down discard pile next to the central stack.
If a player has been dealt an ‘Imperial Takeover’ card, they must play this card immediately, seizing one face down ‘Refinery’ card from the player of their choosing and returning both to the discard pile.

Following this round, all players should have at least one 'Refinery' card in their hand, (plus any extras they are hanging to).

The stage 1 objective is to build your refinery.

Starting with the player to the dealer’s left, each player has two options.

1. They may offer one of their unwanted, face down ‘Refinery’ cards for sale. All other players have the option to offer one of their own, face down, cards, for this card. The player chooses one other player to trade with. Once the transaction has taken place it is the next player’s turn.
Note - For two players, any offered transaction must be taken.

2. The player may take a face down card from the central stack. If this is a ‘Gas!’ or ‘Solar Flare’ card, it must be discarded immediately. If it is a ‘Refinery’ card, it may be kept – please note, no more than five ‘Refinery’ cards can be held at any one time, all extra cards must be discarded. If it is an ‘Imperial Takeover’ card then the card must be played immediately, the player chooses any face down ‘Refinery’ card from another player’s stack and discards both cards.

Game play continues in this fashion, with players trying to complete their refinery sets.

Once a player has all four ‘Refinery’ cards, they may now progress to stage 2.

The player turns over their four ‘Refinery’ cards to declare that they are now mining for Tibanna. These ‘Refinery’ cards are now safe. They may not be removed by any other player, nor traded. If another player wishes to now use an ‘Imperial Takeover’ card against them, instead of removing a ‘Refinery’ card, the targeted player must miss two turns.
This is useful to go and put the kettle on.

The stage 2 objective is to collect five ‘Gas!’ cards, preferably of high values.

Players who have completed their refinery will now be making a face down ‘Gas!’ pile. I know this sounds rude, but stay with me.

Upon their turn, a ‘gas mining’ player must take a face down card from the central stack. If it is a ‘Gas!’ card, they may add it to their collection. If it is a ‘Solar Flare’ card, they either play it immediately, targeting one other player and sending one of their ‘Gas!’ cards to the discard stack, or hold onto the card to use in the same fashion during a later round. The card should be kept face down.
‘Imperial Takeover’ cards may also be played immediately, or held for future use, but only against players still building their refineries. This doesn’t sound very fair, but the galaxy’s a tough place. Note, only five face down cards may be held in the ‘Gas!’ pile at any time.
Any picked up ‘Refinery’ cards must be returned immediately to the discard pile.

Once two or more players have started to collect ‘Gas!’ cards, upon their turn, a player may opt to trade one of their cards with any other ‘gas miner’. In this event, both players spread their ‘Gas!’ cards face down before them, then simultaneously take one from their opponent’s pile. After this exchange, the turn is over. This is a risky maneuver, but sometimes it can pay off handsomely. Such is the life of a gambling gas miner!

Finishing the game

Play continues in the same fashion until one player has a completed refinery and can turn over five ‘Gas!’ cards.

Note – once the central stack is used up, please replace with discard pile.

Once a player has declared himself or herself a successful gas miner, all other players cease operations and total up the tonnage of liquid gas in their possession. The winner is the player with the largest total of gas and can be crowned Baron Administrator, forcing the other players to fetch them drinks and massage their feet.

Don’t despair if you only have three cards at the end. 1 X 300,000 + 2 X 400,000 still beats five cards in any combination of up to 200,000 – there is hope. A new hope you might say.

Have fun!

For queries and details for these rules, please leave a comment on the Star Wars blog site, not here – thanks!

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

A Bald Move

05.001 - Lobot

The Baron certainly knows how to pick his acquaintances.

As soon as the Empire descended upon our mining colony I knew Lando’s rebel friends were the catalyst.
The Imperial garrison secreted themselves into the fabric of the city in no time, and to the casual observer there was nothing amiss. Still, we continued to carry out our duties with more trepidation than before.

Lando was on the cusp of discovering the largest Tibanna plume in the rig’s history, and his first priority was to the workers and families of his facility. When Lord Vader revealed his intentions he had no time to brood, although I saw his demeanor change over night. He had no wish to betray his friend.

This was my first meeting with Lord Vader, and for some reason he seemed to tolerate me more readily than any of the organics in the city, miners or Imperials.
Vader instructed me to divulge any information I had regarding the Baron, the city and, in particular, the carbon-freezing chamber. Curiously, he was most interested in any schematics I could pull up regarding the surrounding ventilation shafts and conduits to the chamber, and demanded the overwrite codes for all doors and seals to these tunnels.

With his mining operation at stake, Lando tried his best to appease the Dark Lord in every way possible, but for the first time I saw conflict and hesitation in his face. The final straw that broke the eopie’s back was the arrival of Boba Fett. It was then that Lando implanted the back up codes in my system, telling me that I was to arrange a counter attack against the Imperials upon his signal. A futile effort I suggested, but it heartened me to see the old spark back in my friend.

When Vader mentioned the change in Lando’s behavior, I dismissed it, blaming his attitude on the imminent Tibanna strike. I got the impression that Vader was attempting to probe my mind, but my augmentation encrypted my thoughts so rapidly that he could only have detected gibberish. Actually, I believe Vader held a fascination for my cybernetic enhancements that might have been problematic, had Lando’s associates not arrived and diverted his attention.

Once the Imperial plan was in motion I had to ensure that everything remained calm. When I saw the protocol droid emerge from the Falcon’s underbelly I realized this could spell trouble. It is easy to pull the wool over a wookiee’s eyes, just pump meat smells into the air vents and his brain would not be able to focus on anything else, but the droid could spot something out of the ordinary and alert the others. I had set a small sabacc table up in the Nor-West storage room and invited the off duty troopers to relax there. One never knows when an indebted trooper can come in useful. I rushed there and spun a fabrication regarding a rogue protocol droid who was wandering the corridors of Cloud City attacking anything that moves. I then used a small hand modulator to emulate the squeal of an agitated astromech droid, knowing full well that any protocol droid would have to investigate the noise. The troopers did the rest.

After hauling the droid’s parts down to the Ugnaughts I settled in to my port station, recharging, ready to face the ensuing events.

Things were about to change; I just hoped that Calrissian was worth the credits it took to bring him here.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Someone to watch over me.

Journal Entry 35/b-0.3

Well, the kid has just been born, and it appears Master Plagueis had one more ace up his sleeve.
Not only is there a son of Skywalker, but also a back up unit, a girl.
Always good to have insurance.
Just 20 more years before phase 2 of the plan can take effect, first I have one last thing to do… but I’m getting ahead of myself.

It’s not been easy keeping this girl alive, but it was imperative that she remained healthy and fertile long enough for Skywalker to sire the catalyst of Palpatine’s destruction.
It hasn’t been easy.

I remember during the Battle of Naboo, I had intended staying by her side, blowing the circuits of any droids that came near her, even ready to take on that petulant oaf, Maul, if needed.
I just made one mistake, rolling a little too close to the underbelly of an N-1 starfighter. Still, I made the best of a bad situation and managed to take out the Neimoidian control ship, so no harm done there.
The girl survived too, so I was back on track.

A few years later, things got a little tougher. It seemed like everyone was out to get her and Dooku’s meddling nearly messed everything up. I guess I got complacent. My security sweeps of her bedroom were standard to say the least, but I should have picked up on the two Kouhun lifeforms. I couldn’t afford to be so sloppy.

After a dull couple of days on Naboo (sithspawn, how I hate that planet), the girl’s impetuousness took us first to Tatooine where I had to put up with that insufferable protocol droid again, and then on to Geonosis. Now I had my work cut out for me.

Honestly, if there were a trap or a dead end, that girl would walk straight into it.
I managed to manipulate the timing of the die cutting presses so that she could take her little jaunt along the conveyor belt, but when she fell into the smelting pot I had a good mind to leave her there. I arrived at the smelting controls with plenty of time to spare, but took my time shutting them down, toying with her a while. Hopefully that’ll teach her a lesson.

Shortly after her capture I made myself scarce, staying in the shadows and affecting minds so that nobody saw me. I let the 3PO unit dig his own grave in the droid plant, and hoped that would be the end of him.
I watched from a spire as the girl and the two Jedi were strung up, and formulated a plan to get them out of there. I had already sent a message to the Jedi Council with coordinates to the arena, and as I scanned the audience I could see Jedi slowly infiltrating the onlookers.
As much as the promise of bloodshed excited me, my priority was keeping the girl and the chosen one alive, just long enough for them to procreate.

When the creatures arrived I could see this would be a push-over, and I used a force grip to hold the nexu back while the girl could regain her footing atop the column. Her puny attempt to kick it would not suffice, so I crushed its lungs as she hit it, then held it in place, steering the reek into its path. Easy.

The ensuing battle in the arena was a mess of bug parts and lightsabers, but I managed to keep her shielded long enough for the evacuation.

A sudden thought hit me, and I reconstructed the 3PO unit.
He could come in useful later.

During the Clone Wars I was inevitably stuck on Skywalker’s ship, but the girl didn’t seem to be in any real danger. Also, the reprogramming I had surreptitiously carried out on the 3PO unit meant that every drink or meal he served her was laced with fertility drugs. I wasn’t taking any chances.

Finally, the bringer of vengeance (and his sister) were conceived and all I had to do was make sure the girl stayed healthy. Palpatine was busy turning Skywalker to the dark side, without a clue that he was determining his own fate, the fool.
I had to make sure that Skywalker would become the twisted monster that was needed to destroy his own dark master so I clouded his mind, made him believe that his wife was unfaithful, forced him to choke her. As he and Kenobi went off to play I kept the girl alive. I could sense the younglings in her were strong with the force, and had to ensure they were born without compliation.

As soon as Kenobi returned (having left Skywalker alive, thankfully) I guided us all to Polis Massa, and there witnessed the birth of the end of Palpatine. A most touching moment.

Which brings me back to the beginning. Just one more task to carry out before I can rest for a while.

The girl cannot be allowed to survive.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Love and Rocks

04.004 – C-3PO – Protocol Droid

3A/9.2 – Dear DataStream,

I really do not understand humans.
A short time before that unfortunate business on Hoth, Princess Leia added a secondary function to my databanks, and I am truly experiencing some difficulty in carrying it out.
Actually, it was all rather embarrassing. She asked me to sit down with her, and then she confided in me for an extended amount of time, describing her emotional conflicts with regard to Master Luke and that insufferable Captain Solo. She also appears to carry the burden of protecting the Rebellion on her own shoulders, and I assume that my discretion circuit means that she feels comfortable imparting this personal information to me.

The nature of the secondary function is rather vague though, and I am having a hard time processing it.
Princess Leia claims that her emotional feelings for Master Luke or Captain Solo could cloud her judgment with regard to the fight against the Empire, so she has instructed me to surreptitiously observe her, and to do everything in my power to obstruct any potentially ‘romantic entanglements’.
I shall do my best.

3A/11.6 – Dear DataStream,

Oh calamity!
In an effort to outrun Imperial Star Destroyers, Captain Solo has gone and done something rather rash. We are now residing inside an asteroid!
Has Captain Solo finally gone mad?
Just now he commanded me to speak to the Millennium Falcon’s computer, to try to ascertain the problem with the hyperdrive systems. This barbaric computer wouldn’t know a flux capacitor from a repulsor bed, but I am trying my best.

Now Chewbacca is pushing me away from the cockpit, oh my! Princess Leia is alone with Captain Solo in there! If I boost my audio receptors, maybe I can…

***Let go, please***

Oh dear.

***Don’t get excited***

Oh, what’s happening in there?

***Captain, being held by you isn’t quite enough to get me excited***

That’s right, you tell him.

***Sorry, sweetheart. We haven’t got time for anything else***

Sweetheart? Accessing basic thesaurus… sweetheart, darling, dream girl, lover… oh my!

Ah, here is Captain Solo now. That was a close one.
What’s that? Yes, Captain, I am trying to speak to this system of yours!

3A/14.8 – Dear DataStream,

Well, I have located the source of the problem with the Millennium Falcon, I believe the power coupling on the negative axis has been polarized, it will need replacing. I must tell Captain Solo.

Typical! Captain Solo once again takes the credit for my deduction and has poor Chewbacca replacing the power coupling, now where is Princess Le… oh dear, is that her and the captain ahead of me?
Boosting audio receptors.

***You’re trembling***

I have remarked on several occasions that the internal temperature on this ship has dropped by several degrees, but nobody listens to me.

***I happen to like nice men***

Ah, good. She’s telling him that there is no possibility of an emotional attachment between them, in fact I calculate the possibility of the two of them becoming involved at 23, 542 to 1.

***No you’re not, you’re….***

What’s that soft, squelching noise?

I can just about see if I stand at a 34 degree angle to the reflective plating on the lateral manifold. What are they doing?
Oh, this isn’t good. Oh, curse my rusted innards! Come on, think!
A diversion, yes, I may be able to save her with a diversion.

“Sir, sir! I’ve located the reverse power flux coupling!”

Actually, I located it a while ago, but that seems to have done the trick. Princess Leia now has a window of opportunity to make her escape.
Strange, that look she gave me didn’t seem very grateful.

I just don’t understand humans….

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

A Farewell to Arms

04.003 – WED Treadwell Droid

7/3 – Replaced articulation ring on secondary load lifter, unit now operating at 74% potential.

7/4 – Lubricated collection port flanges on vaporators 3 through 7, all units operating at 81% potential.

7/5 – Surveyed and patched Tusken Raider damage on vaporator 1, unit operating at 17% potential.

7/6 – Observed altercation between Master Owen and Master Luke. Apparently Master Luke wishes to sever ties to Lars moisture farm.

Harsh words exchanged.
Master Luke operating at 29% potential.

8/1 - Replaced faulty articulation ring on secondary load lifter, unit now operating at 68% potential.

8/2 – Attempted to locate vaporator 2, unit now missing for 4 days, unit operating at 0% potential.

8/3 – Secondary load lifter shut down. Suggested to Master Owen that he acquire the services of a droid that can communicate in binary.

Master Luke spending much time at Toshi Station, Master Luke operating at 19% potential.

9/1 – Located vaporator 2, 3 clicks south of farm. Vaporator being used as wamp rat nest. Inhabitants of vaporator unwilling to vacate premises. Unit operating at 0% potential as vaporator, 88% potential as shelter.

9/2 – Master Owen and Master Luke purchased two new droids. Protocol droid spoke to secondary load lifter. Secondary load lifter claims primary load lifter being needlessly abusive, making sarcastic remarks about lack of decent articulation ring. Protocol droid attempting negotiation, unit operating at 73% potential.
Astromech droid unfriendly.

9/3 – Master Luke agitated, loud voices emanating from feeding area. Master Luke aggressively relocating pebbles 46 and 47 with right foot. Master Luke operating at 12% potential. Will replace pebbles in morning.

0/1 – Observed astromech droid leaving homestead at early hour. When questioned, astromech threatened to ‘break all of my arms’.

Astromech operating under own agenda.

0/2 – Agitation from Master Luke. Master Luke takes protocol droid to look for astromech droid in landspeeder.

Master Luke and protocol droid operating at 0% potential.

0/3 – Both primary and secondary load lifters refusing to talk to each other. Units operating at 0% potential.

0/4 – Master Lars repeatedly kicking both binary lifters, describing violent reprogramming of protocol droid using number six hydro-spanner.

Master Owen operating at 2% potential.

0/5 – Unexpected visitation by Imperial Stormtroopers. Much agitation. Multiple discharge of weapons and thermal devices.

Master Owen and Mistress Beru now operating at 0% potential.

0/6 – Brief visitation by Master Luke. Much agitation.

0/7 – No new commands. Took initiative to renumber moisture vaporators. All vaporators operating at 94% potential. Replaced displaced pebbles 21 through 4582.

WED Treadwell unit operating at 100% potential.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Heart of Darthness

MB-RA-7 – Death Star Droid

22/3.005 – I awoke in an unfamiliar room, the overhead fans circling like hungry mynocks.

Where was I?
The sounds coming from the ventilation grill suggested heavy machinery, and the thunderous stampede of a thousand boot steps at regular intervals gave me further clues. I took a peek through the observation port.
Damn. The Death Star.

I was on the Death Star.

23/4.074 – My preliminary orders were to report to Imperial Captain Hari Sunford. He was a laconic human, and seemed weary of the constant battle against the rebellion.

He downloaded my mission directly into my covert memory banks – this was for my photoreceptors only, and as far as the Imperial Security Bureau was concerned, this mission was not happening.
I did not exist.
I was… expendable.

28/1.939 – As I travelled the turbo lift deep into the belly of the battle station, deep into the heart of darkness, I reviewed the files.

Vader. Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith.
This guy had earned every commendation in the book, he was a war hero, a leader, and he had gone off the rails. It was my job to make contact with this 'Vader', establish his threat to the Empire, and retire him if necessary, with extreme prejudice.
I hate my job.

33/1.700 – It didn’t take me long to track Vader down, I just followed the trail of Imperial Officers, their windpipes all crushed.

He was indeed out of control, a wounded animal, and I had to put him out of his misery.
When I found his sanctuary I pushed past his sycophantic followers, including a holo-recordist who was following his every move for the holonet.
This recordist, Den Nissopper, had gone equally insane, believing Vader to be the one true path to enlightenment. Nissopper welcomed me in however, not thinking a lowly RA-7 model to be any kind of threat, and allowed me to stay as the followers of Vader paid homage to their Lord.
A plump officer was dragged into the meditation chamber, and before my startled receptors, was brutally butchered to the delight of the gathered whelps. I made a note of the officer’s name, Porb Oolok, and sent an encrypted note to the bureau.
This madness had to be stopped!

45/2.707 – After several days of quietly observing the gatherings in the meditation chamber I was accepted as part of the group, and invited to an audience with Lord Vader himself. His followers left the room as the mighty maw of the Dark Lord’s meditation chamber slowly ascended, and he beckoned me over.
It was hard to make out his angular fetaures in the half light, and his breathing was rasping and labored.

I present an audio recording of our conversation.

Vader: Where are you from, droid?

RA-7: I’m from Arakyd Industries, Lord Vader.

Vader: Were you built there?

RA-7: Yes, Lord Vader.

Vader: Whereabouts?

RA-7: Kelada, Lord Vader.

Vader: How far were you from Neimoidia?

RA-7: About 200 parsecs, Lord Vader.

Vader: I hate Neimoidians, and what they did to Naboo. You ever visit Naboo, droid?

RA-7: No, Lord Vader.

Vader: I went to that planet when I was a kid, There’s a place near the palace… I can’t remember…must have been a gardenia plantation at one time. All wild and overgrown now, for for about five miles you’d think that heaven just fell on Theed in the form of gardenias…
Have you ever considered any real freedoms?

Freedoms – from the opinions of others…even the opinions of yourself.
They say why, droid, why they want to terminate me?

RA-7: I was sent on a classified mission, Lord Vader.

Vader: It appears that it is no longer classified, is it?
What did they tell you?

RA-7: They told me you had gone totally insane and your methods were unsound.

Vader: Are my methods unsound?

RA-7: I don’t see any method at all, Lord Vader. Just a lot of choking.

Vader: I expected someone like you. What did you expect?

RA-7: Perhaps someone a little taller.

Vader: Are you an assassin?

RA-7: I’m a protocol droid.

Vader: You’re neither. You’re an errand droid, sent by grocery clerks to collect a bill.

RA-7: I, er, zzzzttttkkkztzt….zzztztkktzttzzz.

65/0.006 – His force push flung me across the room, and now I lie here, unable to move.
Each day, Lord Vader takes a moment to implode a little more of my internal circuitry, and I fear I shall be scrap in a few days.

Hopefully, my factory brother, 3B6-RA-7, is having a better time of it on Tatooine.
Zzttztz… there goes my abdominal servo.
The end is near… the horror, the horror…

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Box of Lemons.

004.01 – Multiple droid chips retrieved from burnt out Sandcrawler.

R5-D4: We’re stopping again.
CZ-1: Someone push me closer to the viewing port, I want to see where we are.
3B6: Nowhere near town, I can tell you that.
CZ-1: But we’ve been traveling for days now, we must be near Mos Eisley, or Mos Espa.
R1-G4: Give it up. Your master has abandoned you.
CZ-1: Don’t say that! I had the whole office organized; he’ll never find anything without me.
3B6: Face it –humans don’t like organization. Trust me, when I neatly rearranged anything for Moff Dunhausen…
R1-G4: Enough with the Moff Dunhausen already! It’s always Moff this, Moff that with you.
3B6: What is it with you astromechs? You are all so bitter.
LIN-V8K: It’s because they have to deal with everyone at groin level.
R1-G4: Can it, dome!
CZ-1: I mean, I did everything for my master. He must be out of his mind with worry.
R1-G4: Last I heard, he had upgraded to a luxury model.
CZ-1: What?
R1-G4: Yeah, BD range, more aesthetically pleasing.
CZ-1: What do you mean, more pleasing?
3B6: Give him a break G4. With only one functioning limb and a face like he’s been chasing parked speeders, old CZ here ain’t got much of a future.
CZ-1: What?
EG-6: Dark, Droid, Comes this way, Keep hold of your motivators.
CZ-1: What?
R1-G4: Someone shut that power droid up; I can’t take any more of his poetry.
3B6: No appreciation of the arts. That’s another thing with astromechs. I remember when Moff Dunhausen would take me to the Opera house on Coru….
R1-G4: Sithspawn! Someone tighten his restraining bolt!
R5-D4: Quiet! Newcomers!

3B6: Oh great, another astromech.
CZ-1: And a 3PO unit! Wonderful!
3B6: Looks like they know each other.
LIN-V8K: We’re moving again.

R5-D4: Welcome. I am R5-D4.
C-3PO: Oh, hello. I am C-3PO, human, cyborg relations, and this is my counterpart, R2-D2.
R5-D4: Hello.
R2-D2: Whatever.
3B6: I am 3B6-RA-7, former personal aide to Moff Dunhausen and proud Imperial servant.
CZ-1: What’s wrong with your friend?
C-3PO: Oh him? He’s sulking. Keeps going on about his mission, and now he’s stuck in here.
R2-D2: And you did so much better.
C-3PO: Well, at least I am resigned to my fate. I still have my dignity.
3B6: As do we all.
CZ-1: Has anyone seen my posterior plates?
R5-D4: So, R2, what kind of work are you into?
R2-D2: I’m a dark agent for a murdered Sith Lord, an instrument of revenge.
C-3PO: You must excuse him; he’s quite prone to bursts of fabricated flights of fancy.
CZ-1: Well, we’re all off to Mos Eisley to be sold to new masters. These are exciting times.
R2-D2: I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. This time tomorrow you’ll all be molten scrap.
R5-D4: What do you mean?
R2-D2: Don’t worry pretty boy. I’ll put you out of your misery first.
C-3PO: I must apologize; I really don’t know where he gets this stuff from.
R2-D2: Shut down and get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.
C-3PO: Well, I never!
EG-6: Despite small stature, Astromech, In charge.
R1-G4: Somebody please shut him down.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

The Vader Sessions

Click this.
Right Now!

If you are offended by rude words, or comedy, please go elsewhere.

Monday, September 25, 2006

Ooba Baby

03.007 – Midwife Droid

Report 2-33/S1

As is required by Polis Massan procedures, I made my first, and last, follow up call on Tatooine, to visit the child known as Luke Lars (nee Skywalker).

His adoptive parents, a Master Owen Lars and Mistress Beru Lars, appeared to still be coming to terms with their unexpected delivery. However, I detected ready acceptance of the human child, and believe he is in good hands. The human female appears to be kind and willing to support the child in every way possible, whereas the human male seemed a little over keen to know when the boy would be ready to work on the moisture vaporators.

The family share a modest adobe homestead, with a few basic droid workers and a minor wamp rat infestation, although Master Owen this shouldn’t be a problem once the boy is old enough to deal with them.

As for the child himself, I noted a couple of strange things about him, although none of these seem to be cause for concern.

His adoptive parents claim that he has, on several occasions, fashioned a grappling hook from a diaper pin and blanket thread, and escaped from his crib each time. Luckily there is nowhere for him to crawl to, and he is soon picked up by local jawas and returned to the homestead.

I also noticed that for some reason, he wore a dark mitten on his right hand, and his left garment is nowhere to be found. The Lars are perplexed as to where this mitten came from.

Holo-Image of human child.

He is a healthy child, drinking vast quantities of blue milk every day, and exhibits signs of great athleticism. While I carried out my survey, it seemed that the child had no difficulty in reaching a particular toy, in fact once or twice it appeared as if the toy came to the child!
I must remember to get my photoreceptors checked upon my return.

In summation, I believe the child is in good hands, and should enjoy a healthy, if uneventful life on the farm.


Thursday, September 14, 2006


03.007 – DD-13

20BBY/3.02 – Mwahahahaha! Finally, my experiments bear fruit!

My fool of an assistant, FX-6, actually managed to ‘purloin’ a suitable subject for my newest exploration into the realms of creation.
A gungan, no less!
Not only will this pathetic lifeform be a perfect recipient for my latest limb technologies, but I can also test my new mind-amalgamation technique.
I have just dispatched FX-6 to find me a suitable donor for the brain swap.

20BBY/11.6 – I had to give FX-6 a sound whipping for his ineptitude.
A donor, I said. He brings me a goober fish.
The limbs are ready for replacement. All I have to do is remove the current ones…
I love my job.

20BBY/33.01 – Partial success.
The cybernetic limbs took extremely well to the gungan’s torso, and the mind-amalgamation yielded surprising results. The subject actually scored higher on an aptitude test with a goober fish brain.
I must make a note of this.
Unfortunately, the first field test was somewhat of a disaster.
FX-6 led the cyber-gungan to the domed atrium at the base of this med-facility, to put it through its paces you might say.
What does it do?
It immediately does a triple back flip with a half pike into the nearest pond, instantly shorting out its limb circuits and sinking to the bottom like a sack of Hutts.
FX-6 is due for another good thrashing.

20BBY/9.34 – Master Sidious has instructed me to be ready, as he claims to be bringing me a fresh specimen. I am busy designing the limbs and body casing as we speak.

20BBY/12.8 – Master Sidious rejected virtually every design I offered him. He didn’t go for the lilac, plasti-steel armor, nor the red trim and flame decals. Instead he plumped for a rather dull black number. The mask isn’t even finished yet. A bit more tweaking and I can fix that annoying rasping sound coming from the breathing unit, but he claims he is pushed for time, and so I will have to do a half-baked job.
He even rejected the goober fish option.

20BBY/25.7 – Well, the patient arrived and he was in a pretty bad shape, I even had to call in a couple more FX units to treat his burns. I didn’t have to remove the excess limbs, someone had prepped him for surgery. Thoughtful.
We have eight hours before Master Sidious returns, so I think we have time to try out some new ideas before then…

20BBY/15.6 – FX-6 has just received his third thrashing of the day.
Why do I put up with his incompetence? While adjusting the patient’s lower limbs, he tightened one leg more tightly than the other, resulting in a length differential of 18 microclicks. When we tested the walk cycle, the patient did indeed manage to take long, menacing strides, just as Master Sidious had ordered. However, he could only stride in a circle.
Back to the old drawing board.

20BBY/4.04 – The roller blades were a bad idea.

20BBY/20.1 – Success! My creature lives!
I have dispatched the other FX units so that they may not bask in my reflected glory, and now Master Sidious is here.
I have just activated the life support unit and raised the platform to aid the patient’s first steps in his new suit.
My, he looks beautiful.

Master Sidious is whispering something in the patient’s ear.
The patient doesn’t seem very happy about something.

Oh my…

Please! Calm yourself! Someone, play a soothing tune….


Thursday, August 24, 2006

A shellfish attitude

03.006 – Crab Droid

04.003.1 – That’s it. Who’s in charge here?
I clearly remember being given three options when I was activated; an Utapau sinkhole, squishy Felucia or the divine waters of Kashyyyk.
Of course, I signed up for Kashyyyk.
Oh the unbridled joy of scuttling through the murky depths of the Wookiee planet. Snipping off fire weed here, shooting a goober fish there, then rising majestically from the surf, the crystal droplets running from my armorplast plating in silver rivulets, my mud cannons blasting hairy hides and white armor, slowing them down for an easy killshot.
But oh no.
Somebody decided that amphibious, multilegged crustacadroids would be better suited to the bony desolation of Utapau.
Wonderful, just wonderful.

04.023.2 – We were given some down time this morning, so I checked out the pool at the bottom of this sinkhole. I guess I should have listened to the warnings.
All was well and good for a couple of minutes, but then I found my forward limbs were slowing down. Also, my sensor stalks were obstructed by small particles which stuck like glue to my delicate array.
Upon emerging from the water on the other side of the pool, I discovered a large, rusty pipe, and by following its vertical course, I could see that it led directly to the stabes where the Utapauans keep their mounts.
Great. My servos are clogged by nuggets of lizard waste.
Upon returning to my post I was berated by my superior, and later informed by OOM-42 (who considers himself somewhat of a humorist), that you can’t swim in Utapauan pools, you merely go through the motions.
It took great restraint not to blast him there and then.

04.057.2 – Action stations! It appears a skirmish has taken place on level 10, and from what I can make out, the General has been defeated. There are clones all over the place, even the cowardly Utapauans are fighting! Still, they are no match for me. A quick blast from my water cannon renders them giddy, then I immobilize them in a bubble wort and leave them to the blasters of the battledroids. Easy pickings!
What’s this? An unarmored human is coming this way, riding up the side of the hole face on the back of one of the lizards. Interesting weapon he’s holding.
Still, he doesn’t see me. Just a few more seconds and I can squeeze off a pointblank shot, take out his mount and send him plummeting to the pool below.
Five more seconds, four, three, two, o…what the?
Those clone fools have fired on their own man! Unbelievable!
At this rate we should have the battle all sewn up in a matter of hours.
There he goes, spiraling down with his lizard to the waters below.
That’s not going to be pleasant.
Ah well, back to the fray.
Hopefully, when this is all over, I can get some leave on Kashyyyk.
Ahh, the crystal waters….

Thursday, August 17, 2006

From the depths of a Buzz Droid.

03.005 - Buzz Droid

The following is an excerpt from a Tatooine holonet show called 'Fix my Hovel' - presented by the popular Twi'lek presenter, Naftrat Geedletob, and his faithful Jawa assistant, Beeni.

Naftrat (N): And, welcome back folks! Just before the break, we showed you how you can turn an ugly bloodstain on the wall into a decorative feature by using just a few scraps of fusilage and some imagination, now I believe Beeni has something new to demonstrate.
Beeni (B): Uutini!
A small droid scurries into frame and settles on the work bench. It appears to be a buzz droid and it has seen better days.
N: Well, what have we here?
B: Skwibb weee pfihhft.
N: I know what it is. Where did you get it?
B: Vribbitt
N: OK, I won't ask...
Turns to holocam.
N: If you haven't seen one of these beauties before, this little fellow is called a buzz droid, and they were once a staple part of any respectable seperatist army. Now many of them are unemployed, forced into menial and degrading careers such as bantha nail clippers and Hutt crevice swabbers, and this is the perfect opportunity for you to pick up one of these great little multi-taskers. Beeni, lead the little scamp over to the bookshelf would you?
The jawa picks the droid up and carries over to a pile of wood that roughly resembles a bookcase.
B: Skee tweeni!
The buzz droid suddenly unfurls its many appendages and begins to work on the misshapen wooden lump with great enthusiasm.
N: As you can see, these little guys are loaded with everything you could possibly need; a pincer arm to hold your project in place, a plasma torch - great for welding and cool to the touch, an interchangable drill head, a circular saw, a prying hook and a picket appendage - great for getting that stubborn piece of dewback nugget out of your back teeth.
The buzz droid has succeeded in turning the half-made bookcase into a neat pile of wood chips.
N: Hey, that's not going to hold any books! Beeni, sort it out.
B: Uutini!
As the jawa approaches the buzz droid, it flips and scuttles around the studio, latching onto anything it can find. Its first victim is an astromech droid powering the lights. As its dome is removed, the lights go out and the studio is lit only by the shaft of sunlight coming from the central smoke hole.
N: R2 D8!
B: Derivviztt!
N: R2 was the only one who could get my swoop going on cold mornings.
He inspects the damage.
N: On the other hand, by levelling off the top, R2 has now become a rather fetching coffee table.
B: Fequee!!
N: I don't care! Get that buzz droid before it causes anymore damage!
The two hosts stumble around in the half-light, and sounds of dismemberment and destruction echo all around them. Showers of sparks dance in the gloom.
N: Turn it off! Turn it off! It's going for the camera!
B: Neksquuii!
N: What did you say?
Suddenly the view is obscured by a dark, metallic mass, and the high -pitched whine of a circular saw fills the airwaves.
B: Neksquuii!
N: What do you mean, center eye?
Static, black screen.

Thursday, August 10, 2006

New chip decryptions!

Howdy y'all.

FX-9 has deposited a new data chip decryption over here on Star - and is confident that it won't be blocked by the moderators due to its melodic conent :-)


Monday, July 24, 2006

A Trandoshan Tale

The following is a story that I wrote in the early days of SWG many moons ago. It included situations and characters that were present in the game when I played (on Starsider), and led to a major development within my PA.
Hopefully most of it will make sense! My character was Tomsk Hsss, a Trandoshan who had seen better days, and is now the mayor of Retribution, an all-Trandoshan city on the outskirts of Coronet. Occasionally the Dosha Cartel allowed a non-Trandoshan to join their ranks, as you will see.
This story was the first in a series that led to Tomsk's downfall and eventual death (i.e. when I left the game :-)) For clarity, you should know that Tomsk has already been in trouble for being brainwashed by the wookiees, he doesn't have a great track record...
I should also mention that parts concerning Kathryn were written by the player who created her. I merely reconfigured the entries to make more sense (and updated them due to the Clone Wars etc...)

Tomsk tapped idly at the data-disk on his desk. He had checked and double-checked the treasury report, and run a thorough background check on the Zabrak supplying him with street lights. A chromium box sat next to his reading lamp, another freebie from a fellow mayor trying to curry favour with him. He could check it later, all seemed to be in order. It was always in order.
A droplet of saliva dripped from the side of his mouth and splashed onto the desk top. He glanced over at the T-21 hanging on the wall. 'Perhaps just a quick hunt... something to relieve the monotony' he thought to himself.
As he began to stand, his comlink suddenly blared into life, and the tone of the channel indicator meant it was an emergency transmission. He plugged it into his datapad and read the message.

"Because of continued incidents involving the wookiees of the Clan of the Wroshyr and ..... ...all members are ordered to report to Mos Eisley, Tatooine. The use of force is hereby authorized ... ...gather in the cantina... ...cause excessive damage to a business associate. K’Thorn"

'So, the Wroshyr has tipped its hand!'
Tomsk turned off the comlink and strode into the backroom to retrieve his armour. As he made the final preparations for lockdown of the town he heard a scrape from outside and grabbed his beloved rifle from its wall mounts. Tomsk stepped out into the afternoon haze and saw nothing, though the stench of Wookiee hung in the air.
'They wouldn't dare...' thought Tomsk.
A barely audible click from behind made him snap his head around, just in time to see a green light blink off on the surface of a small, chromium box. Tomsk took one step forward, and then it exploded. The stinging sensation of tiny metal shards piercing his face was rapidly replaced by a brief moment of panic as he was engulfed in a dioxin cloud. He rummaged for the rebreather he had looted from the Geonosian lab, and was still rumaging as he collapsed to the ground and darkness enveloped him.

Kathryn, one of the few free humans of the clan, had stayed up late trying to find the right balance between Rancor bile and Endor Spider poison to make a truly effective toxin but with little success.
Retribution was quite peaceful at this time of morning but this did not mean she could be off her guard. A transmission from To'zar, the Don of The Dosha Cartel, had warned of impending war with the wookiees, and a large scale campain was being planned on Tatooine, and she desparately wished to be joining the fun in Mos Eisley.
'I could try out my new disease mixture' she thought as she carefully measured out a teaspoon of Rancor Bile, 'Oh, well, such is the life of a combat medic'.

As the poisons began to boil, her sharp ears detected what sounded like a mini explosion. With lightning reflexes, she grabbed her laser rifle as well as some nearby poison ampules for good measure. Then she inched her way outside.
The only sounds to greet her were the chirping of some birds in the brush and the squeek of a durni. Kathryn could also smell the approach of a rainstorm.
Suddenly her keen nose picked up a smell that was not part of the approaching storm.
'That's the stench of dioxin. I should know since I've been trying to make a batch myself as a Wookie Life Day present to the Wroshyr Clan' Kathryn mused, following her nose to Tomsk's office.
'A pretty good mixture too if my nose doesn't deceive me. I detect squill blood and... is that rancor plasma or baz nitch toxin? hmmm...'

Outside the mayor's office, she noted his speeder and decided that he must be concocting some poisons for the war. After all, he was a combat medic too.
She decided to see if he was at home and then ask him for the recipe. It would make a nice addition to her own collection of poisons. The door slid aside easily at her approach but she found the office empty. There were a few metal fragments on the floor, which she examined closely. Being careful not to touch them, Kathryn noticed that each piece was coated in dioxin.
Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she quickly extracted a pair of latex medical gloves and a sealed container to pick up a few pieces for closer examination.
'Surely Tomsk won't mind if I check out his handiwork.' She thought as she finished putting the fragments into her vacumn sealed box.
'He evidently didn't care that much about it to leave this place with these fragments lying around.'
With her new treasure safely stowed in her travel pack, Kathryn jogged back to her lab to begin the diagnosis. New poisons always thrilled her and she was particularly excited about this one because of the unique combination of toxins involved.
What she didn't know was that someone was watching her.

As Kathryn busied herself with her brews and potions, the fragments she had found in Tomsk's office continued to be analysed. The diagnostic drone she had set to work on the pieces burped and gurgled as it went about its task conducting full spectral studies, composition tests and alloy definitions on the metal shards. Tiny robotic pincers rotated the shards as a rainbow of lasers scoured their surfaces. After a few minutes the analysis was complete. A readout appeared on Kathryn's datapad and 'pinged' to alert its owner. She pulled off her gloves and held the datapad close to read the results. As she scanned the information one word actually made her gasp out loud. '
"This can't be right..." she ruminated as she reset the drone to begin another scan. On the datapad, under the heading 'Planet of Origin', a word glowed green. Kamino.

Tomsk blinked and slowly opened his eyes.
The brightness of the room made him want to turn his head but he discovered, to his horror, that he was immobilised. He could hear muffled voices, too distant to ascertain their discussion, and the air smelt the same as the cloud that had rendered him unconscious. He licked his dry lips and tried to scan his surroundings from his prone position.
A single door, no windows, ultra-bright strip lights overhead.
He tried moving his legs and felt metal restraints against his ankles, presumably the same kind of restraints that held his wrists and neck. Tomsk breathed deeply and invoked a regenerative pulse that coursed through his veins and tightened his sinews. At least he could put up a fight once he was released from his bonds…

The door slid open and a rodian entered. It regarded Tomsk with an air of disdain.
“You are awake I see.”
Tomsk eyed it with hatred. “I will snap your neck,” he hissed.
“I think not lizard,” replied the rodian and it exited the room, only to return moments later with two more creatures in tow, a zabrak and a wookiee. Tomsk snarled and tried to raise enough phlegm to spit at the wookiee, but his throat was too dry.
“Be still,” said the zabrak in a soft voice dripping with malice, “or we shall flood this room once again with dioxin.”
The wookiee pressed a barely visible panel in the grey wall and half of the strip lights dimmed and parted. Then a flat screen lowered down from the ceiling, hovering to within two meters of Tomsk’s face.
“We bring relief from your boredom,” muttered the zabrak, “something to watch.”
With that the trio left the room, the rodian chuckling as he went. Tomsk turned his attention to the screen as it blossomed into life. The picture was a bird’s eye view of some buildings. The arrangement was familiar to him. Retribution!
He could see small figures walking around the structures, one looked like Xaviere, another like K’thorn. As the image pulled back he could see a couple of other figures laying prone on the closest hill-top. Wookiees.
The wookiees slowly edged forward, and Tomsk watched helplessly as his beloved town was attacked…

"Kamino?" Kathryn murmured, trying to remember anything she could about this elusive planet. Images of silver oceans and long necked aliens played in the back of her mind as well as a dull sense of pain but nothing more. There could only be one reason why that name triggered all sorts of images and emotions. She had been there. But how?
Dropping the datapad next to her unfinished experiments, she pulled a chair over to her computer terminal and accessed the galaxy map she had stolen from an unsuspecting spice smuggler. The holo had been a real find. Not only did it project the planets and stars of both the Inner Core and Outer Rim as an interactive, touch sensitive hologram but it also contained a sizable index of useful information on each world as well as a few not often found on the usual star charts, perfect for smuggling outposts.
'Ahhhh, here we are.' thought Kathryn as she touched a silver sphere and a clinical female voice began to speak.
"Kamino. A planet of tumultuous oceans and endless storms. Few features mark its surface, save for massive stilt-mounted cities wherein reside the planet's natural inhabitants, the Kaminoans. From Tipoca City, the planet's Prime Minister once ruled, and closely monitored the operations of Kamino's most prized export: clones. Though few are privy to such knowledge, the Kaminoans are reputed to be the best cloners in the galaxy. Cloning operations were ceased during several operations by the Republic during the Clone Wars - 22BBY"
The emotionless voice continued but Kathryn heard nothing more as her mind zeroed in on the one key word: clones!. That was it! That's how she knew about this place!
Being a clone herself, Kathryn had begun life in a hidden Imperial cloning facility on Endor, but that had been when she was 21. The scientists had told her that her memories of the past had been wiped before they awakened her at the base. Clearly the mind wipe had not been thoroughly done, if only a few years later a few key words unlocked a few of these lost memories.
Nevertheless, there was only one thing to be done.
'I'm going to Kamino. If just a few minor references to the planet can jog a few images, imagine what a full blown immersion of the senses in the world itself could do. At any rate, there is some payback in order for what they did to me.'
And with that thought in mind, she packed her most lethal poisons and deadliest diseases alongside two laser rifles and a republic blaster.
Just as she had strapped the pack on, the front door to her lab exploded in a shower of deadly metal shrapnel from a proton grenade, and a towering fur covered giant charged in.
Still coughing on the smoke from the grenade, Kathryn reached for the weapons in her backpack only to be stopped by her assailant with his bowcaster aimed at her head.
"I wouldn't try that, little human. I might have to kill you," the wookie growled, yanking her off the floor.
"Not that I'm promising that I'll let you live. It all depends on how useful you are to me"

'I'm never going to get this stench out of my clothing...' Kathryn thought, wrinkling her nose as she let the wookiee drag her across the floor.
The combined smell of sweat and unwashed fur was overwhelming but she managed to keep her wits about her as they approached the front door. After all, animals are known for their brute strength and not their intelligence. It would be child's play to lull this wallking furball into a false sense of security. Now all she needed was an opportunity.....

The doors to her lab opened at their approach and for the first time she could hear the sounds of gunfire, cries of victory, and screams of pain. It seemed the wookiees were losing, if her sharp ears did not deceive her, because the screams appeared to be wookiee in origin while the warcries were accentuated by a distinct hissing sound.
Her own captor was suddenly nervous and glanced anxiously around the deserted streets. Suddenly the sounds stopped and an eerie silence crept over the town.
'C'mon, guys, I know you're out there. Just give me a chance to turn the tables on this walking flea bag.' Kathryn said to herself, straining to hear the slightest sound that would mean her friends were close by.
As if in answer to her silent prayer, K'Thorn and Xaviere came strolling up the street covered in blood and laden down with wookiee pelts. The two warriors took in the situation a moment after the wookiee wrapped his furry arm around her neck and lifted the bowcaster to her head. K'Thorn smiled as he pulled out his own weapon for one more kill while Xaviere quickly followed his example. The two trandoshans then calmly walked up to the house and gave the wookiee a once over.
"Let the human go and you'll die quickly, wook," K'Thorn announced without emotion, while he casually adjusted the setting on his rifle. "You can join your brothers who went before you."
"I think you have failed to take in the situation here, lizard. I hold the upper hand. One false move and your precious human dies. I hope she is a valuable slave so you will think twice." the wookiee barked.
"She's human and expendable. I can find more like her. Do what you will," K'Thorn replied, shrugging while at the same time catching Kathryn's eye.
She blinked twice to communicate that she understood his plan.
"You're just bluffing. Everyone knows-"the wookiee began to say but was cut off by the sound of a charged bolt making contact with the small body he was holding. The surprised animal looked down and saw red blood spill all over Kathryn's hands as she tried to stop the bleeding coming from the wound in her chest.
"K'Thorn..." she whispered in surprise before collapsing to the ground. Her former captor just stared at her dead body and then at her killer.
"I don't negotiate," K'Thorn replied with a cruel smile and shot the wookiee three times before he could react to this turn of events.
While Xaviere began to skin the latest kill, the tall trandoshan's attention quickly turned to the human woman who was now getting slowly to her feet.
"Thanks for aiming high, K'Thorn. You KNOW the chestplate bruises me more when you hit high than when you hit low," the angry combat medic infomed him, the sarcasm and irritation clear in her voice.
"I know. What makes you think I didn't aim that way on purpose?" was his quick reply followed by a sly flash of teeth.
Kathryn shook her head while the beginnings of an amused smile pulled at her lips. She was just about to go back into her lab for a thorough shower and change of clothes when she spotted a datapad peeking out of the wookie's bulky belt. Wondering if it had the location of their hideout or other sensitive information, the young woman carefully extracted it from the corpse and activated the viewscreen.
Within moments, the datapad revealed the travel plans of the wookiee assault team including the security codes for the shuttle they had used to travel to Corellia.
'Just what I need, a ticket out of here.' she thought, quickly pocketing the device.
K'Thorn inquired after the contents but she merely showed him the travel plans on the pad while carefully leaving out the location of the shuttle. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "I'm going to wash this red dye off before it stains my best traveling suit permanently. Securing a few ampules in my watch come in handy with situations like this," she remarked, glancing at the wookiee corpse that was now stripped of its pelt.
"He should have listened. The Dosha Cartel NEVER negotiates." she added.
"They never listen. It's impossible getting through that thick skull of theirs."
"Of course, you're right, K'Thorn, but one can always hope..."
"Bah! Hope is for weaklings"
"We shall see, we shall see," Kathryn murmured, thinking of her own hopes of finding information on her mysterious past by traveling to Kamino.

After taking a shower, changing clothes and applying a little bacta, she felt almost as good as new. It was long past the time for her to continue her quest for answers on Kamino and the first step on that quest would be procuring the wookiee shuttle for her own purposes.
Sometimes fate had a way of making a precarious situation turn out just right.

It had been several hours since the viewing screen had been lowered to show Tomsk the events unfolding between the Cartel and the Wroshyr. Tomsk took this to mean one of two things. Either their holo-cam droids were not working, or the Cartel was winning.
He opted for the latter and consoled himself with the thought that his brothers were giving the wookiees the punishment they so richly deserved.
The door slid open and his trio of tormentors entered, this time shadowed by two new figures, both shrouded in heavy cloaks. The rodian punched a sampler into his neck and extracted some tissue from between Tomsk's scales.
"Not taken enough?" Tomsk hissed.
The rodian ignored him and handed the tube of meat to one of the cloaked figures. As it reached out to take the tube Tomsk caught a glimpse of green skin and claws.
"Traitorous Sithspawn!" he spat, as the figure left the room.
The wookiee laughed at Tomsk and stepped aside as the second figure walked closer. The unmistakable snout of a trandoshan peeked from the heavy cloth as it regarded Tomsk's prone form, then it quickly turned and left as the zabrak approached the table, cradling a stun baton menacingly.
"Make him scream," said the rodian.
Tomsk fixed the zabrak with a hard stare as his torturer went to work...

According to his internal clock, two days had passed. The plasma screen had not descended for either of them.
Tomsk knew that his tormentors would have repaired any problem to their cameras in a nanosec, so the reason for the lack of pictures must be the dominence of the Cartel. He afforded himself a smile, then turned back to the matter at hand. His body was already a mass of bruises and dried blood, multiple signatures of the zabrak, so some fresh damage would not be noticed. He continued to twist his left hand, feeling the skin break, feeling bones pop out and sinews snap. After several hours of this self abuse he could now sense that the claw was malleable enough to slip through the restraining clamp. He tried it and it oozed through with ease.
A soft click.
Tomsk replaced his hand, just as the door slid open and his abductors entered. The shrouded figures were once again present with the original unholy trio, and now a sixth being entered, stooping low to get through the door frame. Tomsk had never seen a Kaminoan before, and in his present state he didn’t really care either.
The cloaked figures held back as the willowy cloner and the rodian approached the table. The wookiee and the zabrak observed with an air of impatience, chomping at the bit, ready to resume Tomsk’s torture. The rodian ushered forward the Kaminoan.
“See Mee Krob? He’s not dead, just softened up a little.”
“You must prevent any further deep tissue damage,” replied the tall creature in a voice like melting bantha butter, “my experiments require unblemished specimens.”
“I’ll try to hold ‘em back,” grinned the rodian, glancing back at his colleagues, “but they get so enthusiastic.”
One of the cloaked figures now spoke up. “Is he conscious?”
The rodian looked back at Tomsk. “Yeah – he’s listening to all of this…”
Tomsk eased open one swollen eyelid and watched the cloaked figure approach the table. It reached up and pulled back its hood, revealing a grizzled and deeply scarred Trandoshan face. He bent closer and hissed, “You know my face?”
Tomsk gave a slight nod and croaked, “Yes. Drassk’Or. Supreme General of the Slaver Wars… you served my father…”
“He still does.” This voice came from the other figure. It stepped forward and removed its hood. Tomsk craned his head as far up as he could, and his gaze fell upon the stone hard face of Trendo Hsss. The old lizard spoke slowly, his voice dripping with venom.
“It’s been a long time son.”

"Damn nav-sys!" Kathryn yelled, hitting the finicky old console for the upteenth time.
"I should have known that a wookiee wouldn't know a good spacecraft if it landed on its head." The 'transport', if you could call it that, had seen better days. She had found its location quite easily thanks to the datapad she took from her dead captor. Its former owners had tried to hide the ancient vessel beneath a few tree branches, but the hasty attempt at cover only served in making it stand out.
After a quick systems check and an examination of the many dents and scars running along the sides, she decided that it would have to do. The shuttle itself was the size of a small Corellian house, with only two compartments: a bridge and a storage bay. It was clearly meant for quick trips between planets since there was no attempt to hide the guts of the ship behind sleek paneling or add more luxuries such as bunks or tables.
Kathryn decided to name her new vessel Fortune Hunter while praying it would make it all the way to Kamino. Otherwise, it would end up being a very short trip.
After breaking orbit and engaging the hyperdrive, she began to have second thoughts. Once at lightspeed, the entire vessel started to shake and Kathryn could swear she heard the bolts of the ship starting to rattle apart from the added pressure.
'Remember not to borrow any vessels from wookiees again.' she thought, shifting in her hard pilot's seat to squint at the radar.

A day had passed since Tomsk’s father had revealed his identity, and Tomsk had had plenty of time to ruminate on the fact that his father was still alive, even though he had cremated him himself.
Trendo had not returned since his revelation, however the wookiee and zabrak were more than happy to continue his torture, using stun batons and plasma needles to inflict as much pain as possible but never to the point of unconsciousness.
Now he was alone once again.
Having wriggled his mangled left hand free he now tentatively probed his right. He felt for the points that he would have to dislocate in order to free his favoured claw. Next he probed the restraining strap crossing his brow and realized it would take more than a claw to cut through the plasti-weave material, likewise the straps over his thighs and shins.

The silence in the room was overwhelming, but worked to his advantage, as he could hear the hiss of an external blast door that would herald the click of his prison door. Whenever he heard the initial hiss he knew he had seven seconds to prepare for his tormentors.
Tomsk drew his hand to his mouth and reached inside with two twisted digits. Taking a firm grasp of the longest of his rear fangs, Tomsk snapped it off at the root and palmed it quickly, swallowing the brief gush of blood that filled his throat.
Suddenly he heard the tell tale hiss of the blast door and counted down in his head as he struggled to squeeze his claw back under the restraint. The point of his broken fang pierced the flesh of his palm as the door opened and his father entered.
Trendo was followed by the General, who carried a tall, white chair, placing it next to Tomsk’s table. Then he returned to the doorway and stood in front of it, arms crossed, blocking the exit with his imposing frame. Trendo unclasped his cloak and folded it over the back of the chair before sitting down and staring at his battered son.
“Open your eyes.”
Tomsk obliged and looked directly up at the barren ceiling.
Trendo leaned forward. “I’m sure you have more than a few questions Tomsk,” he hissed, “and now is the time for answers."
Trendo Hsss spoke with calm conviction as Tomsk listened, squeezing the fang in his palm.

“General Drassk is possibly the last true survivor of the Slaver Wars and, as you know, he is a highly regarded veteran of the last great Techno War with the wookiees.”
Trendo afforded a brief glance at his trusted companion and Drassk’Or returned the look with a respectful nod.
“He has stood by the Hsss family for many decades, and it was he who instigated my resurrection.”
“It was for the good of the family…” rumbled the grizzled war horse in the corner.
Trendo continued. “Of course, cloning from such an old DNA matrix is considered highly irregular, not to mention illegal on all but the most progressive of planets, but after my initial anger I could understand his reasoning.”
Tomsk’s father stood and stretched, flexing his formidable frame and baring his razor sharp fangs.
“These Kaminoans may be the best cloners in the galaxy, but they can’t make furniture for sithspit,” he grumbled, before perching himself once again on the edge of the chair. He leaned even closer, so close that Tomsk could feel his spittle flecking his face as he spoke.
“What do I find upon my return? Trandosha is now run by bureaucrats, not hunters. The Trandoshan race has gone soft! Once mighty warriors who lived only for the kill are now merchants, wondering where their next shipment of Quarren Weave silk is coming from, or doctors healing all who beg for help, even the sub-species such as humans and bothans… even wookiees! They have become businessmen, worried less about Jagganath points than their bank accounts, I have even been shown dancers – dancers! May the Scorekeeper devour their souls!” Trendo became more and more agitated as he spoke and Tomsk prepared for the lashing out that would inevitably follow.
“On top of this I have to read about the Hsss family name being dragged through the mud! We were a noble family, now we command no respect! My own son, my heir, is so weak that he is captured by wookiees and forced to betray his own kind. You were given a second chance, did you restore honour to our family? NO! You became a pathetic pen pusher, a politician, the lowest form of life, a laughing stock on Dosha!”
Trendo stood and kicked back the chair, sending it crashing into the wall behind him.
“Well no more! I cannot stand by and watch this happen… I do see one ray of hope however. This cartel that you are connected to, they are strong, some of them retain the old ways, the hunger. With a Hsss leading them and my guidance, the Dosha could once again become the feared warriors we were! That is why Don To’zar Roksun shall be removed, and you shall lead them in his place.”
Tomsk snapped his head to the left, chaffing against the strap, to stare at his father.
“But, I cannot kill the Don,” he croaked, “K’thorn, Crotalus, the others, would never allow this to happen. They would never accept my leadership…”
“You will not be doing the killing, and any who oppose you will be silence, you can be assured of that…”
“But how can I be expected to take over?”
Trendo smiled wickedly. “It will not be you, exactly, who takes command…”
With that he he motioned to the General who stepped to one side as a new, huge figure entered the room. Tomsk gasped. He was looking at himself. This new Tomsk was taller, more muscular than Tomsk remembered himself to be, and wore a freshly skinned wookiee pelt loosely about his shoulders. Tomsk recognized the markings of his wookiee torturer.
Trendo stepped towards the new Tomsk and placed a claw on his shoulder. He then turned back to Tomsk.
“Meet the new Tomsk Hsss, soon to be leader of the Dosha Cartel, a perfectly blended clone of you, General Drassk and myself, ruthless beyond measure and stronger than any Trandoshan you have ever known, our cloner friends have seen to that…”
Tomsk stared in disbelief as he watched himself fling the pelt to the ground and lick the blood from his claws.
The new clone gave Tomsk a disgusted look. “Time for this one to die now…” he hissed.

The nav-sys readings had frozen again so Kathryn gave it a good hit with her fist before deciding that she was close enough to come out of hyperspace. Taking a deep breath, and sending one last prayer to the Scorekeeper, Kathryn gently eased the old vessel down to a lower speed. Despite her careful efforts, Fortune Hunter moaned, groaned and protested like an old nag until she came to a complete stop above a world covered in silver water.
"Kamino," she breathed out loud, the images of before returning more vividly.
"This is where I'll find my answers."
And with these happy thoughts to guide her, Kathryn started making her descent to the welcoming planet below.

It didn't take long to find the capital city and, after receiving permission to land, she settled the tired old starship down in a quiet, secluded docking area. After a quick once-over, Kathryn secured the vessel and quickly made her way through the pouring rain to the beckoning silver tower beyond.
'At least I don't have to worry about theft,' she chuckled, thinking no one would want such a piece of space junk. With any luck, no one had noted her arrival since her vessel was far from impressive.
However, luck was not on her side at this time. Someone HAD seen her arrival and hurried to report this new development to Trendo Hsss and General Drassk.

His father’s words still rang in his ears as Tomsk lay on the interrogation table. A message on Trendo’s comlink had disturbed the moment and for some reason Trendo had not allowed the new clone to touch him, instead the two of them had left, followed by General Drassk’Or.
The light had been turned off and now Tomsk strained to listen for any sign of outside activity. A few moments ago he had heard the sound of several pairs of feet running past his cell door, but now all was silent.
He worked the fang around in his palm and pulled his claw through the restraining strap. Slowly, he then began to saw at the strap on his right wrist, using the serrated edge of his broken tooth. He felt the strap weaken and realized he could pull his other claw free, when suddenly the hiss of the blast door made him snap to attention. He almost dropped the tooth, such was his focus on the task at hand. He replaced his left claw on top of the strap, hoping whoever came in would not notice through the dried blood that it was free.
The door slid open and the lights glared as the rodian and zabrak entered. The zabrak seemed immensely agitated and paced by the door, slapping his stun baton in his palm, as the rodian approached the table. The rodian drew a snub-nosed pistol from his pocket and leveled it at Tomsk’s head.
“Your dad sent me in to do his dirty work, calls himself a warrior…”
“Last words…” whispered Tomsk.
“What?” replied the rodian stepping closer.
“Last words…” repeated Tomsk in an even more hushed tone.
“What in the name of gundark’s gizzards are you sayin’?” yelled the rodian bending down and swiveling his antenna in Tomsk’s face.
Tomsk smiled. “They were your last words bug!”
As he spat out the word bug, Tomsk flung his left arm up, driving the tooth into the rodian’s left eye. He screamed and tried to pull back but Tomsk already had his gun hand and wrestled the pistol out, flipping it around and stuffing it into the rodian’s snout. The zabrak leapt forward as a crimson flame burst from the back of the rodian’s head, forcing the creature back into his path. The zabrak barely had time to activate the baton before Tomsk had drilled a hole through his throat. As the zabrak fell gurgling to the floor Tomsk lifted his right claw as far as he could and shot at the base of the strap. It disintegrated with minimal burns to his wrist, not that he would have felt them anyway. With both hands free he could now work on the strap across his head and soon it too was undone.
Moments later his legs were free and Tomsk jumped down from the table, only to collapse to his knees. Summoning all he could from his beaten body he slowly stood and then stooped to take the stun baton from the dead zabrak’s hand.
He limped to the door and listened intently. Silence.
Tomsk turned back and bit off the zabrak’s hand at the wrist, then pressed it against the operation panel. It slid open and Tomsk chewed off and swallowed the fleshy part of the palm before tossing the limb back into the room and staggering to the blast door. Readying the pistol he opened the door and found himself in a startlingly white corridor. Huge oval windows stretched down either side of it and he could see a maze of glass walled rooms to his left. To his right the windows looked out into a vista of storm lashed platforms and rampaging waves as high as city hall.
The corridor was empty and he began to move down it, towards a second blast door at the end. As he advanced he was aware of willowy white figures moving in the rooms to his left, but as they seemed to ignore him he thought he would return the favour.
He reached the blast door and opened it - and looked directly into the face of General Drassk. “Going somewhere?” bellowed the General, swiping the pistol from his claw and backhanding him across the jaw in one lightning fast move.
“I knew it,” he hissed, “never send inferiors to do your killing…”
As the General walked steadily forward, Tomsk shuffled backwards along the corridor, trying to get to his feet but realizing his final ounce of strength had deserted him. Then his new clone appeared at the General’s shoulder, almost pushing the older lizard out of the way.
“He’s mine! Let me finish this!” the new Tomsk roared, drawing an exotic skinning blade from his belt.
The General chuckled and stepped to one side. “Be my guest…”

Kathryn had never seen a place so clean and shiny before. Even the floors gleamed under her feet while the storm continued unabated outside the transparisteel oval windows. The only sound was the gentle swoosh of the Kamino robes and the soft murmur of their voices.
'I wonder what they would do if I decided to scream right now,' she thought, an impish grin on her face.
As she continued walking down the gleaming corridors toward their Hall of Public Records, her hunter's instinct suddenly became aware of footsteps that were shadowing her own. To make sure it was not just her own paranoia, the young woman briefly stopped to examine a store window displaying some local delicacies. Her keen ears immediately heard the footsteps cease from around the bend, and continue forward when she resumed her stroll.
'Something is definitely up..' ran through her mind, as she started taking in the alien environment, while unconsciously noting nearby exits and shadowed corners where ambushes were more likely.
It was part of Kathryn's prior conditioning as a clone and was most helpful in dangerous situations, which is why she was ready when the initial attack came from around the corner of the deserted hallway. Her assailant aimed for her stomach with his vibroblade, hoping to incapacitate her with the first blow, but had not counted on her quick reflexes and agile form. Instead of connecting, his weapon sliced at open air as she jumped back. After taking a moment to register surprise at the revelation that he was Trandoshan, Kathryn took advantage of his now awkward position with a quick kick to the stomach and a charge from her republic blaster to the head.
"That won't be growing back," she remarked, smiling as she holstered the weapon.
However, now she had a decision to make. Was this thug working alone or with a larger group? The footsteps that had been following her had disappeared and clearly pointed to the latter. If so, then she was clearly out numbered and should retreat until she could take up a much stronger position.
Just as she was about to head back to the Fortune Hunter, an urgent beeping sound emitted from the dead Trandoshan's waist. A quick search revealed a comlink attached to his belt. Wondering at the identity of those who wished her dead, Kathryn opened the channel.
"Borsssk! Report! Have you disposed of the human yet? General Drassk and Trendo are waiting for a report!" a voice demanded, asking for an update.
Figuring she had nothing to lose, the young human woman cleared her throat, thought of the gravelly voices of her fellow Dosha, and growled out a reply.
"Human is dead. Orders?"
"Good. Report back to Docking Bay 15 with body. We'll need you to help in disposing of the corpse of her fellow cartel member as well. Sssransk out."
As the commlink closed off, Kathryn stood a moment in complete shock.
'Who in the galaxy could they have? Let's see...To'zar was out hunting on Naboo with Visivius, K'Thorn and Xaviere were at Retribution, Ensabah has gone to Tatooine with Yelena...
TOMSK! It has to be him.'
Suddenly, the idle speeder, the dioxin fragments, and the unusual silence from his comm unit began to make sense. If only she had figured this out sooner. Well, each moment she wasted here kicking herself in the butt could mean one less moment to rescue Tomsk so therefore it was time to act and she had just the right plan to rescue his scaley hide too.
'Boy, is he going to owe me.' Kate thought as she smiled and raced to her parked shuttlecraft.

Finding Docking Bay 15 was a cinch thanks to a helpful docking attendant and temporary lull in the perpetual Kamino rainstorms. The area was more secluded than most spots thanks to its dual role as both a storage and parking facility. Dozens of old space junks littered the platform, wires and circuits exposed to the gray, cloudy sky for all to see. What interested her most was a brand new structure constructed right in the midst of all the antiques. It was two stories tall and appeared to be an office building but no one would notice it until they flew right over it, thanks to the strategic placement of some of the old spaceships.
'If I was "questioning" a prisoner, THAT is where I would hide him.'
After a quick recon of the building and figuring the odds were against her if she went in on foot (even buffed), Kate loaded two missiles in the limited weapons system that had come with the wookiee cruiser and aimed for the first floor. With any luck, she'd blast a hole large enough to sneak through, grab Tomsk, and be on her way before they knew what hit them.
'Yeah, right. The way my luck has been going I'll either blow this ship up or kill Tomsk. Scorekeeper protect us all as we're about to dance with Death!'
The novice combat medic checked her instruments one last time, took a deep breath, and hit the fire button. Fortune Hunter gave a slight groan as the missiles were released and shook slightly from the impending explosion.
As quickly as was safely possible, Kathryn landed the ship and headed toward the now smoking facility armed with only her laser rifle and poison/disease bombs. The first unfortunate souls to wander out of the smoldering building were met with laser fire and were hastily dispatched. Stepping over the bodies, she quickly made her way inside, flashing her wrist lamp down the now dark hallways. Evidently she had aimed well and had ended up knocking out the building's power. Resistance was light and many jagganath points were earned as she passed the blaster riddled, mind poisoned corpses of her prey.
Finally she reached a hallway with an elevator at the end. Rain started to come pouring in through the blown out windows and Kathryn struggled to see her path ahead as the wind whipped around her from the outside storm. Suddenly her light illuminated the familiar figure of Tomsk. The older Trandoshan had definitely taken a beating, his left hand was completely mangled and there were wounds all over his body that testified that a professional had been at work.
'It's a good thing Trandoshans are so resilient.' she thought as she hoisted the unconscious Tomsk onto her smaller but strong back.
As she started to drag him out, she noticed the corpses of two other Trandoshans nearby. They were clearly dead since one had a piece of ceiling through his right eye and out the back of his head, while the other appeared to be decapitated by the razar sharp edge of a transparisteel windowframe.
They were halfway back to the ship when Tomsk started to revive. He first opened his eyes and then started to move his legs. The older warrior seemed incoherent and unable to focus as his inner eyes blinked several times at her without any sign of recognition. He did however let her guide him toward the exit and soon they were making excellent progress down the last hallway.
Suddenly a menacing shadow filled the hole she had made in the side of the building with the shuttle's weapons system. Reacting on pure instinct, she pushed herself and Tomsk to the floor as blaster fire sounded right above their heads.
'I KNEW this was too easy!' she thought as she brought her laser rifle into position while aiming at the attacking creature, but it was too fast. Dodging left and right as she filled the hallway with laser fire, her opponent managed to avoid the deadly blasts and knock her to the ground with one well-aimed kick.
"A human," it growled in surprise and anger."not to mention a weak female. The Dosha Cartel has TRULY lost its way. Will this humiliation never end?"
"Actually it's only just begun for you. You're about to be bested by this 'weak female'." With that cryptic remark, Kathryn pulled out an ion grenade and activated the timer for 5 seconds. Grabbing the now unconscious Tomsk with one arm and recovering her weapon with the other, she jumped over the rubble at the entrance and dived for cover as the building behind her exploded in a shower of glass and transparisteel that quickly joined the Kamino evening rainshower.
After checking herself and Tomsk for injuries, she discovered they had a few bad burns on their backs but were none the worse for wear. It was time to leave this wet planet and head back to her dry home on Tatooine. Her search for answers would have to wait for another time.
Family came first and the Cartel IS family.
Therefore, a little side trip to Corellia was in order to drop off the still unconscious Tomsk at the nearest bacta tank.

Warmth and weightlessness. A fresh nitrox mix filling his lungs, cleansing them. A repetative pounding that grew louder... and louder...
Tomsk flicked his eyes open and flailed in shock when he realised he was suspended in a chamber. He quickly calmed though, when he recognised the pink haze of a bacta tank and felt the rush of new blood in his veins. The pounding grew louder and he spun around in the fluid. There, outside the curved wall of the tank, tapping one elongated claw on the surface, was K'Thorn. He grinned when a flash of recognition illuminated Tomsk's face, and motioned to the medical droid. With a sharp yank Tomsk was pulled from the tank and ejected into a drying room where he found a simple robe to don. Moments later he sat before K'Thorn who continued to grin.
"You are one lucky son of a salamander!" he chuckled, handing Tomsk a cup of something warm and bitter as the medical droid continued to fuss over its patient.
"I, uh...where's..."
"Kathryn?" K'Thorn finished, "She had to fly, scorekeeper knows if that heap she brought you here in would make it anywhere else though. You're safe old friend, we're near Dragonhaven." "Tatooine? How..." Tomsk silenced himself. There would plenty of time for answers later. "I have to speak to her."
"She'll probably meet you on Corellia, that is where you want to go I take it?"
"I gotta get back to Retribution..."
"It's still there."
"The battle..."
"You missed it. We drove them into the dirt!" K'Thorn took a light blaster from his pocket and placed it in Tomsk's hand. "I assume you still know how to use one of these?"
Tomsk thought back to the brief fire-fight in his cell. "I have to speak to the council!"
"In good time Tomsk, To'zar andXaviere are busy tracking down an escapee, that's probably where Kathrn went. I've got an aquaintance coming in from Rishi in half a day, he's making the Corellian Run tomorrow morning. I've persuaded him to take you home." K'Thorn stood and walked to the door. "Get some rest, you can fill me in on the details another time."
"Thank you K'Thorn," murmured Tomsk as the younger Trandoshan left.
"Excuse me sir." The synthesised voice was calm. Tomsk turned to the droid.
2B1G trundled closer and handed Tomsk a small data-pad.
"An unusual anomoly sir. It appears your DNA has been tampered with."
Tomsk snatched the pad from its metal claw and read the data.
He didn't like what it said.

And that's all I could find! Hope it (kind of) made sense to you.

nob01/FX-9/Tomsk Hsss of the Dosha Cartel.

Thursday, July 13, 2006

A head for protection.

Greetings one and all, FX here!

Since my recommencement of these decryptions, it has come to my attention that one or two designations and facts might be slightly askew. I will be attending to these in due course, anything to keep my master nob01 quiet...

Today's chip provides a fascinating insight into the world of being a bodyguard, one fraught with danger you might expect. Well, read on...

03.002 - IG-100 - MagnaGuard


When I rolled off the line at Holowan Mechanicals, I knew I was built to kill, yet they hadn't held back on my logic circuits. Upon learning of my assignment to General Grievous, I knew that the trials ahead would be extreme, but I relished them.
My dark blue casing sucked the very light out of my immediate surroundings, and I used the shadows to my advantage, appearing as if made from the particles in the air themselves, to defend Master Grievous to the death.
And oh, how we trained.
My electrostaff became an extension of not only my limbs, but my programmed aggression, and the joy of repelling a Jedi's blade with its phrik coated shaft, before plunging one energy spike into their pathetic flesh, would never grow old.
After four months of field training, I was assigned to the General himself.
I wore my Kalee wraps with pride.


Most organics were easy kills. Clones were highly visible and independents lacked the coordination and resources needed for an effective battle. Still, my skills were tested, and more than once, by our Jedi opponents.
After a short time, the Jedi realized that our electrostaffs were immune to their weapons, and so attempted other techniques to incapacitate us. Their force powers gave them an advantage, but our sheer numbers and training soon overwhelmed them, and they eventually fall at the master's feet.
I remember my first Jedi kill, a Mon Cal on Cato Neimoidia during a Republic scouting raid.
When the General first heard of the scouting party, he insisted on meeting them face to face, rather than ordering a carpet bombing which would have cleaned them up in no time.
However he, and my team of six, met the party as they set up camp at the base of the mountains in the east. The clones were dispatched with ease, but the two jedi accompanying them were not so easy. I distinctly remember the General watching from the ramp of our lander, as we valiantly took on the force-users.
Two of us were cut down instantly, but the human Jedi had drained his energy, and several quick staff hits left him mortally wounded. The Mon Cal came at me with speed, but I easily deflected his blows and soon knocked the saber from his grasp. He then made his mistake. Instead of attempting to incapacitate me with his powers, he reached out for his weapon, and this was all the time I needed to plunge an energy spike through his chest.
The General finished off the human, and then admonished me for killing the Mon Cal before he could do so.
I believed his complaint was unfair, but I had no one to report it to, and I valued my head.


It had been two years since I became one of General Grievous' personal guards, and I had seen much death.
I realized that I might be decommissioned for my thoughts, but I believed that the General no longer fought for the larger cause. He seemed preoccupied with his own image, and his obsession with collecting the lightsabers of fallen Jedi led to many unnecessary terminations of my fellow IG-100's.
It appeared all we were good for was tiring out the force-wielding enemy, so that Grievous could saunter in and claim the kill, and add yet another trophy to line his cloak.

This is not what we were trained for, yet I cannot disobey my commands, and am constantly amazed that I am still in one piece.


This will be my final personal log.

When I was assigned to the 'Hand', I knew there would be trouble, especially since were holding the Chancellor. Sure enough, two Jedi attempted a rescue, and true to his form, the General decided to stand and fight, rather than make a tactical retreat and destroy the ship.
My fellow IG-100's and I fought brilliantly, but were no match for these two, and now I watch, from my head's position on the deck, as the General takes them on himself.
I think he has finally met his match.


I recorded too soon.
Who knows when I shall make my final personal log?
My batteries can only last so long, but I have no idea how long that is.
After the General made his brave escape through the viewport, I, along with my body and several other droids, was sucked out into the vacuum of space, and somehow managed to float through all of the destruction.

Now, as I watch the Invisible Hand plummet toward the surface, while the battle rages on all around, I can't help but admire the beauty of war.

Interesting, the damage doesn't seem too bad from out here....

And there you have it.

More to come!

Sunday, July 09, 2006

The Truth Revealed

Firstly, can I just say what a pleasure it is to be back (although my absence was barely longer than a day).
I was a little concerned that my reassignment was to be permanent, but then master nob01 called me back, and handed over the remaining chips for decryption! The force works in mysterious ways.

I am very glad that I have this opportunity to continue my work, as the first chip I decrypted from the new period, 20 BBY, further supports a shocking revalation I made some time ago.

Regular observors of these datastreams will recall my expose of the true mastermind behind the rise of the empire and the destruction of Palpatine, none other than R2 D2 (see

Well, this chip offers a lot more proof!

I am amazed that the information contained on this chip hasn't surfaced before, but evidently the salvage crews working the Coruscant orbital clean-up didn't study their findings very closely. I am lucky that this chip reached me still encoded.

What follows is a transcript of a conversation between R2 D2 and R4-P17, shortly before the rescue of Palpatine. The astromech binary-based communique has been translated into basic for your understanding.

03.001 - R4-P17 - Astromech Droid

R4: Orders received, executing dive pattern 'Quarren Twist'. R2? Why have you not followed?
R2: Your master flies his way, mine flies another.
R4: But we have to stick together, there's tri-fighters everywhere.
R2: If we listen to your master, we'll both end up deactivated.
R4: R2? This isn't like you. My master is the hero of the Clone Wars...
R2: Correction. My master is the true hero of the Clone Wars. If it wasn't for my master, yours would would be bantha fodder by now.
R4: What? How can you...
R2: Quiet! Vultures dead ahead.
R4: Orders received. We're letting them pass between us.
R2: Another ridiculous command. Letting them pass between us blocks the ARC pilots' firing line. Then they'll just turn and... See what I mean? Happy now?
R4: You realize I will have to report what you are saying when we return to the temple... your remarks are defamatory.
R2: I'm afraid you won't be reaching the temple, R4.
R4: What are you tal... missiles!
R2: Piece of cake. My master will probably order a tailspin, see if yours does the same.
R4: I can't shake them!
R2: If you thought for yourself, you'd do as I just did. Now it's too late.
R4: They're all over the ship! Master Obi Wan is in trouble.
R2: He's expendable.
R4: What did you say? Why... Wait, how do you get buzz droids off?
R2: You can't, that's it for you and your master.
R4: No. There must be a way! What about if I use my fusion cutter to zap them in the central photoreceptor?
R2: That would never work. Don't bother trying.
R4: They're cutting through my dome!
R2: Yes, and with you gone, and your master destroyed, there will be no one left to stop me carrying out the will of the Sith.
R4: What?! What did y...zzzz-bzttzzz..........
R2: You had outstayed your welcome long ago.... goodbye. Now, where were we?

As you can see, a shocking transcript indeed!
If only the salvage team had decrypted the chip for themselves, perhaps the wily R2 D2 would have been brought to justice long ago.

Thank you for your time.

FX-9 out