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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:02 am 
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Chapter 26 - Pursuits


My arm was buried up to the elbow, and the part in question was well out of sight. I closed my eyes, heightening the awareness of all sensations in my fingertips. I was absolutely focused on feeling the rotation of the fuel line coupler until the threads on the small part finally caught.

The swoop bike I had picked up at the parts store wasn’t that old, but had been treated roughly and had been in dire need of some basic repairs and maintenance. I tightened the piece down by hand and then reached for the coupler wrench to finish the job. When it was firmly in place, I pulled my arm out of the small space in the engine compartment.

As I wiped off the thick, black lubricants that were smeared across my forearm, Holder came running into the courtyard, closely followed by Falker and Topolev. All three crossed behind the Sentinel and looped back around to the loading dock where I was working.

Winded, and barely able to form the words to speak, Topolev leaned against the dock with his head hung low, gasping in breaths, “Not bad, Holder. You’re showing some improvement.â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:03 am 
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Chapter 27 - Darkness and Light


“By all that’s holy, I hope its GOOD AND COLD somewhere in the galaxy!â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:04 am 
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Chapter 28 – The Taste of Truth



Image

As the running Corellian and the Handmaiden came to the end of the man-made tunnel, the opening narrowed; the walls now those of a jagged, raw cave in the cliff side.

“This is the original cave, it’s not far now.â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:08 am 
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Chapter 29 - Echoes From the Past


With her face pressed against it, she could see, if not believe, that on the opposite side of the transparisteel of her third story window, life went on. Her breath fogged a small portion of it as she took notice of the sun losing its firm hold on the afternoon and lazily slipping into early evening.

Across the courtyard, a stand of trees swayed gently in the wind and straight down on the walkway below, several pieces of trash caught up in small whirlwind spun in tight circles, dancing on the vortex of air. She watched it spin uncontrollably, like her life, until the wind calmed and the trash settled once again to the ground.

Staring blankly out at the remains of the day, Toryn Farr drew in a deep breath, followed by a labored exhale, as if it hurt to do so. There was no emotion, no expression and no reserves within to draw from. What day it was she didn’t know, and didn’t really care. She had stopped caring and lost track of what, where and when today and now was.

Tears gathered now, welling along the lower lid as her green eyes stared blankly at the outside world. Nothing held meaning. The wrenching heartache in her chest felt as if it would drain the very life from her, emptying through the gaping hollow in her heart.

So many people had been lost.

In her mind, she pictured her family and friends, going about their business, as the entire planet was suddenly ripped apart in a blinding flash. Everyone and every place she had ever known . . .all vaporized in an instant.

Tears finally fell from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks. The only thing surpassing her bottomless ache and despair was the very primal, burning human need to find a way to strike back at the Empire. Through the pain and depression, a vision was coming into focus. She now knew what her direction was, what path had been laid out before her. She would heal herself by seeking out the growing rebel alliance. In the wake of this very public, horrific display, she would not be the only one looking for a way to serve against the Empire.

It was sheer chance that she had been en route to nearby Talasea when Alderaan was destroyed. She wondered why that was. Why had she been spared? Her mind raced with too many thoughts; more than she could listen to all at once. Of them, none had been of suicide, but the attendants monitored her every move and came by to check her regularly. No, she would not take her own life. If her life was to be lost, it would be lost taking as many Imperials as possible with her.

She pulled off the wrap that had been draped around her shoulders, stepped over to the intercom beside the door and pressed the CALL button. A moment passed and a voice came on the line, “Yes Miss Farr?â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:10 am 
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Chapter 30 – Crossing Paths


Holder rocked back off his knee and sat in the sand. He lowered the commando helmet in his left hand to the ground beside him as he stared into Watcher’s face, flashes and bits of memories racing before his eyes. He blinked twice and shook his head to clear them away.

“Who the hell is Watcher?â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:13 am 
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Chapter 31 - Divulgence


“I’m telling you that’s what he said, a genetic duplicate.â€

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Terek Deckard
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http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:15 am 
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Chapter 32 - Inchoation

Sand was held out by the magnetic shield as the overhead bay doors drew together, sealing out the dark sky and wailing winds. Topolev was waiting for us, and as we settled to a repulsor-field hover 2 feet from the ground, he popped open a small port in the hull, securing the charging cables.

Etz cut power and those of us that had been riding in the exposed rear portion of the transport pulled off our helmets and shook sand from beneath our armor plates in the still, dank air of the bay. Topolev hollered back to us as he returned to his work in the adjacent cache supply room. “How’s Holder?â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


Last edited by deckard on Tue May 03, 2011 9:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Fri Aug 27, 2010 4:41 am 
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More will come as it is written.

I'd love to hear feedback if you are reading! :D

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Terek Deckard
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http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Thu Dec 09, 2010 11:47 pm 
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The calm of the empty street was broken as Etz, Danz and Blade stepped out of the barracks into the still morning air. Though ambient sunslight now filled the sky, the gleaming twins had not yet arisen beyond the horizon.

As the door slid shut behind them, a cloaked shape that had been walking their way hastily slipped into the shadows of an alleyway further down the street. Not having seen the figure’s quick retreat into the darkness, Etz and Danz slipped on their helmets and set off for the morning patrol loop of the spaceport.

Blade stood in his baggy black flight suit, watching as they walked away. Then he turned sharply, heading in the opposite direction and making his way toward the center of town. He was preoccupied; busy rolling thoughts over in his mind as he searched for the right words. He had promised Rogue he would speak to the shadow; the incredibly attractive shadow woman that waited at the Dowager Queen.

For the upcoming mission, he would need her to stay behind and not trail him, for her own safety. The search for the lost security recordings could be very dangerous, and he needed to be sure that anyone tracking his group was a target, not a friend. He shook his head; he didn’t even know her name.

Holder peered from beneath the deep cloak as Etz and Danz disappeared onto an adjacent street. He watched silently, deep in thought, as Blade moved further away. Should he follow him, or the other two? He looked back in the direction the others had taken. Then, having made his decision, and when he felt comfortable with the distance between them, he pulled the thick cloak over the top of his head, draped it around his face and cautiously stepped out into the empty street to follow Blade.

*

The people and situations that filled my dreams evaporated into darkness as I mentally ascended toward consciousness.
In those last few moments of sleep, I could hear the sounds of morning in the barracks before my eyes ever opened.

When my brain was fully functioning at a level that told me what I was hearing was real, my eyelids slowly parted, letting reality in.
The still dim room was fairly out of focus, so I blinked again. This time I opened my eyes to crisp detail.

Topolev, 1265 and Falker were carrying supplies from the front office through to the storeroom in the back.

4120 was sitting on the bunk adjacent to mine. He had the small metal case containing his cybernetic replacement hands open, and was unwrapping the synth-skin at his wrist. “Finally decided to join us, eh Deck?â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Tue May 03, 2011 9:41 pm 
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Chapter 33 - Enter the Sandman


Blade looked quickly to the left, then the right and exited the small room into the hall of the Dowager Queen. Two Jawas leaning against the dusty wall several doors down stopped their jabbering and turned to watch him go, their amber eyes piercing the blackness of their cloaked faces. Their gaze then moved slowly to the still-open door he had come from.

His auburn-haired shadow, ‘Sabela Arlen, slid into the narrow gap between the door and frame he had vacated, watching him go.

As the doors of the turbolift closed with him inside, she silently disappeared behind the closing door of her room; echoes of their brief conversation playing over in her head as she leaned back against the inside of the door. It clicked shut and she locked the heavy bolt. She needed to know more about Kaird and Guri. If they were tailing Blade’s group, she needed more information.

She thought about him again; Ardan Drone, aka Blade. He didn’t want her to follow; he wanted her to be safe. The more she thought about it, the less she could fight the smile creeping across her face. He was worried about her.

She went to the window, leaning toward the pane, her face pushed into the musty diaphanous curtains that hung to the floor watching. As he walked away into the masses on the sandy street below, a bent, hooded figure bumped into him in the street. Reflexively she jumped, but the stranger retreated immediately, bowing and apologizing. Flipping the safety back on, her hand moved slowly off the grip of her blaster and she relaxed as Blade disappeared into the crowd.



*


The door to our building slid open, and Garindan entered, trailed by a crusty, weathered old man in a hooded cloak with desert wraps covering his body and face, and dark goggles shielding his eyes. Rogue and Felth looked up from their seats at the holonet console, as the door slid shut behind their snitch.

Garindan began speaking in squeaks and squawks as Rogue motioned for him to wait. “Hold on.â€

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Terek Deckard
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http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Sat Jun 18, 2011 12:09 am 
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The spiked cleats strapped to Solo’s boots dug in to the sheer face of the ice wall, and he slammed the pickaxe into the frozen slope, pulling his way up the slick trail toward the mouth of the cave. The rest of the search team was below him, beginning their ascent.

Just outside the rough cut opening ahead he could see several soldiers standing guard with rifles drawn and energized; two facing the room, and two facing in toward him. Behind the guards he made out the figures of Leia and Mon Mothma. Both of their faces wore the pallor of extreme concern and worry as they paced; expectantly awaiting his return.

He emerged from the dim passage, breathing heavily from his climb, pulling off his goggles and hood as he stepped into the room. One of the guards shouldered his rifle and offered him a drink of water as he sat down on the idle ice cutter’s treads.

Leia caught his eye, looking for a clue, anything; and for an instant he returned her worried stare with a solemn one that offered no hope. Mon Mothma also saw his expression as he looked up. She clamped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes as tears fell, realizing Alia was gone.

Han took a breath and began as delicately as he knew how. “We followed every path, every corridor down there, and they’re extensive. We killed several of those things, but there was nothing, no sign of her . . . until we came to the spot where it empties to the outside. There was . . .â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Sat Jun 18, 2011 12:10 am 
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Chapter 34 – Into The 'Sea


It was deep in the murk of a dense mental haze that 4120, quite certain he was falling to his death, suddenly jolted awake. His arms reflexively splayed out wide back to the stone wall he sat against; his wild eyes and rapid breathing conveyed the terror of the very real sensation.

His disjointed mind raced, trying to make sense of the mental clutter in his head, trying to determine just how much time had elapsed since he had ingested the Spice stick. Like some synchronized, mechanical stamping tool, the blood pounding rhythmically through his brain created small flashes of light, strobing in the darkness behind his now closed eyelids.

From out of the darkness of the courtyard, the wide, rough tongue of one of the Eopies licked the side of his face from jaw to hairline as it lowered its head to inspect. 4120 leaned forward suddenly, reaching for his mouth as his stomach spasmed involuntarily and he vomited into the sand. The animal jerked its head away suddenly, disturbed by the abrupt sound, and the foul smell that followed. It watched as the trooper wiped his mouth and stood up, staggering; moving slowly closer to the supply sleds.

He looked around. Somehow before blacking out from the Spice rush, he must have made his way back to base and finished packing the supplies. He glanced skyward noting the blackness and stars. It’s still night, he thought to himself.

Mustering all the strength and balance possible, he took the stairs up to the loading dock and opened the back door to the barracks. Quietly he navigated his way through the tangle of sleeping bodies to his bunk and rolled in. As his eyes fell closed again, he noticed Felth lying in his bunk asleep; it registered on some level in his spinning brain, and he quickly descended into a deep sleep.


* * *


Deep in the bowels of the Star Destroyer, Seether, a unit of Stormtroopers files into the cramped ships’ armory to replace damaged gear and replenish supplies.

As they enter the small room, several remove their 02 tanks and wait in a line to refill them.

One trooper, helmet in hand, moves past this group directly to the repair counter and strikes up a conversation with the technician, pointing to damaged thermal imaging sensors inside his helmet.

Another sizes himself for a new pair of boots.

One sits on a bench, emptying his damaged utility belt and transferring its contents to a new belt. As he pulls out his med kit, a small datacard drops to the deck plate. He bends over to pick it up, and holds it to the light. It is cracked, in a spiderwebbed pattern with the smeared words “Base oneâ€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Wed Sep 21, 2011 1:48 am 
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Our crusty guide chewed the last bit of his lunch and swallowed. From the shade beneath the makeshift canopy of fabric of his outer wrap, his ice-blue eyes moved slowly over both teams. The troops were gathered in a small circle, as were the archaeologists.

His tongue moved over his teeth, working loose the small pieces of food stubbornly caught in them. Neither the troops, nor the diggers was intentionally excluding the other; they simply seemed to naturally gravitate toward those of their own.

Miren and “Lina sat with their backs to a supply sled and had followed his lead, constructing small shade canopies above their heads. He nodded approvingly.

Temperatures out here on the ‘Sea varied by 10 – 15 degrees between direct sunslight and shade. By removing the overhead sunslight, they had removed one of the four ways they were being bombarded by heat: overhead direct sunslight, heated winds, heat reflected from the sand, and the heat of contact with the sand itself. Reducing even one of these would reduce their need for water, and on an open-ended search like this, that could prove helpful.

The traveling so far had been both difficult and demanding, tapping the strength of each in the group, likely leaving them more exhausted than they might have imagined possible even a day ago. The ‘Sea was blistering and merciless, with no natural shade to be found anywhere.

I glanced around the resting caravan and off to a small stony outcropping to our right. Contrary to what I had previously believed to be true about this barren wasteland, every now and then we came across sporadic clumps of coarse scrub vegetation.

In a bit of forced conversation earlier in the day, our guide had said the near invisible path we were taking was a Bantha migration trail. The more I thought about it, the more I realized he was probably right. The little bit of brush had most likely sprouted from seeds left behind along the trail in dropped Bantha dung. Unfortunately, the woody scrub grew very low to the ground with few leaves and no shade to speak of.

Sandie took a small sip of water from his belt canister as Rogue walked over to him, asking “Do you have a feel for when we’ll pick up a trail?â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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PostPosted: Wed Sep 21, 2011 1:50 am 
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Chapter 35 - Unnamed as of yet


Taking advantage of a brief reprieve from the storms that had raged across the frozen surface of Hoth, Mon Mothma ambled through the defensive trenches roughly cut into the snow and ice outside the base.

The seemingly endless wailing of the winds had finally given way to still, clear blue skies and sunlight. The spiked deck plates beneath her boots had been dropped haphazardly into all of the trenches, creating a more stable path than the bare snow and ice afforded. Rebel troops hurried around her, moving supplies, guns and energy cables to key positions along the trench and to the many turret gun arrays that made up the outer defenses.

Her personal guard detail trailed silently behind, noticing that today she was more disconnected than usual, quieter; more distant. Although fairly young, Alia had been her aid for years and had not only known the duties her position required, but also the proper manner and behavior required among any dignitaries she might encounter. The guards mourned the loss of her as well.

Alia was so young. So much loss and pain had been endured by so many. Darkness had somehow wormed its way in, rotting the core of the Senate; choking out everything the Republic had been. She suddenly realized how quiet it was. All the troops had moved on to forward areas and were gone; she was alone in the trenches, staring out across the ice fields. The Emperor must be stopped, she thought. If he and Vader had built one station capable of destroying planets, they could build more, if they hadn’t already.

Tears streamed down her face, burning on her cheek in the frigid air as the faces of her friends Bail and Breha appeared in her mind’ eye, both gone in an instant along with the rest of Alderaan, while their daughter watched helplessly.

Mon continued to wander ahead of the guards, openly weeping now.


*

Inside the base, Yané walked the frozen corridors in search of the princess. Their meeting had been both abrupt and awkward, and she feared the wrong first impression had been made. She sensed something between Leia and Solo, and did not want to in any way be seen as an obstacle.

She made a turn into a dim hall lined with doors on one side. As she moved through the narrow corridor, she heard music flowing from within one of them. It stopped her in her tracks; the sudden recognition. She closed her eyes, listening as she turned back toward the door. It was the unmistakably beautiful strains of the Royal Anthem of Alderaan.

She retraced her steps and knocked softly on the door, waiting for a response. The music played on and she heard no movement from within. She knocked again, harder this time. Almost immediately the music fell silent, after which the door opened slightly.

Torynn Farr’s face appeared in the narrow crack of the open door. It was obvious from her puffy face and red eyes that she had been crying. “I’m sorry, did the music disturb you?â€

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Terek Deckard
Sandtrooper, 104th Moisture Farm Patrol
http://mfpblogdlpage.blogspot.com/2006/ ... -site.html


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