Galactic City

Kel stood and massaged his knees as he admired their handiwork, which sounds strange considering that they were looking at a closed hatch. But as far as he could tell everything had worked out fine. He just hoped the engine wouldn't explode when they started it.

Yeah I'd say so.

He faced Kaytra and pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

I'm going to go finish taking care of some things, just to make sure I have everything I need covered. I should be back well before you need to leave. Here's my com data just in case you need to get in touch with me.

Kel rattled off the channel and code for his personal comlink before trotting over to the ladder and climbing down. He jogged to a relatively quiet section of the docking area and called Kaylee on her built it comm unit.

Hey boss, what's up? What's with all the big rush and fuss? You got turned down from all those jobs remember?

Kel smiled and shook his head.

Yeah I know. But I just got lucky. I mean, I literally just bumped into someone and got offered a job.

Seriously? Sounds good to me boss. I'm about twelve minutes out from the space port. I'll home in on your comlink when I get there so don't turn it off okay.

Gotcha, see you in a few.

After disconnecting he put in a call to his apartment manager. She agreed to hold his things for him and then send them to him wherever he ended up. That business done Kel bought himself a caff and leaned against one of the giant columns supporting the levels above. As he sipped he gazed around the port, but his eyes kept coming back to the orange and white gunship, his ticket out.

Kels caff was about full Kaylee arrived. By now he had started to walk around a bit, but onlookers might call it pacing. He saw her just as she came through the entrance, and though she headed right for him he didn't resist the urge to wave her over anyway.

The majority of Kaylees body was made up of cast-off parts from a serving droid project that was scrapped a few years before. Kel had salvaged it for his own personal project. It had been based loosely off of an adult, female Codru-Ji because of the utility that a set of fours arms offered. Below the elbows however were hands that clearly did not belong to the body. They were of Kels own design and were rough and mechanical, in opposition to the flowing lines of the rest of Kaylee. Inside each wrist were 2-3 common mechanics tools which could extend once Kaylee retracted her fingers into her forearms.

She skated up to Kel on a set of repulsors built into her boots and smiled at him, all of her facial features were fully articulated. In her arms she carried two trunks full of the things that Kel asked her to bring.

Hey there boss. Glad to see you happy again. Wheres this boat I hear is going to take us to far off places?

Kel waved in the direction of the gunship.

There she is, the Hati. What do you think?

Kaylee tilted her head as they moved towards the ship.

That's an SS-54 assault ship. It's a good boat, did you know that although it was designed exclusively for military use a clerical error classified the ship as a cargo freighter, allowing many civilian pilots to purchase it without proper authorization.

Now that was interesting. Kel had programmed Kaylee to periodically scan the holonet for information on ships, and not all of the information was technical. But he had no real problem with that. He waved to Kaytree as he came close to the Hati.

Kel nodded.

Yep. I've been trying to get a job off world for a few years now. I figured that if I ever got one I'd want to get there asap, so I backed a trunk and left it alone just in case. Well, I've rotated some things here and there but mostly it's still the same stuff. By the way this is my droid, KLE 62-00, but I call her Kaylee. Where so you want her to stow my gear?

As he spoke he and Kaylee moved up the ramp with Kaytra, the droid smiling and peering around curiously.

Kaylee placed the trunks in an empty storage compartment as Kel seated himself in the copilots seat. The rumble of the ship beneath him sent a shiver through his body. This was it. He was really leaving Coruscant. He looked back at Kaylee with a giddy grin on his face before replying to Kaytra.

Oh more than you know. Lets get out of here.

He strapped himself into the chair and tugged the harness tight. Gripping the shoulder straps with his hands he watched Kaytra manipulate the ships controls with an ease and familiarity that spoke of experience. That was good, Kel hadn't stumbled onto a pilot that only pretended they could fly. He looked out of the cockpit and let out a deep breath. Here, he, goes.

With the sound of broken glass beneath his feet betraying his presence within the exposed apartment, Alpharius glided across the floor and knelt beside his fallen target. The only blemish or signifying mark to show that the man was dead was the smoking hole between his eyes. It was a clean shot and the death was instant. The assassin took a moment to admire his work, reliving the tense moment of excitement that occurred mere minutes before. It was a shame that the execution did not go as planned, and that he had to react quicker than he expected. But, in the end his job was done and he would get paid. The waste of ammunition was an unforgivable lapse in preparation, yet it made the situation all too easy. No competition had been able to take out his target, nor claim the bounty thereafter. All in all, it was a job well done. The clean up on the other hand would be a nightmare, one he had decided that would not be worth the risk of exposure. The window of law enforcement arrival was closing, he had little chance to remove the bodies of several victims, let alone recover his gear lest the police find it. The only thing he did have time for was to recover a pair of trophies from the woman and Raynald, as Alpharius deemed that they were more worthy foes than those of the gangsters below.

A digitally camouflaged hand clasped the lower portion of the man’s jaw, swiveling his rapidly decaying flesh from side to side. The lack of blood flowing throughout his body had given his once bronzed flesh a more pallid complexion, truly befitting the corpse he had become. Sadly no external ornamentation hung about the targets head. No earrings or other items of decoration could be found, yet that all changed when he spotted a golden chain underneath the collar of his tunic. Sliding his invisible fingers underneath the fabric and grasping onto the metallic links, the assassin revealed a silvered contraption that was to be considered a locket. It was a miniaturized holoprojector surrounded by engraved metal, giving the simple piece of technology value and worth. Behind his mask, his cracked lips curled into a thin smile. As the item came to rest within the palm of his hand, the projectors activated and a grainy blue picture of a woman flashed into life. From the various women he had seen and killed, this one was to be considered beautiful by common standards. She stood atop the locket in a dark dress; the true colour of whatever she wore was obscured by the azure light of the picture. It was long and flowing, elegant in its design. Clearly, just by the dress alone, Alpharius had determined this to be a woman of regal standing, someone whom was a noble bearing or perhaps a government official. Upon closer inspection however, the assassin had recalled seeing her face once before. In another time and life, Alpharius would have known her as Lyra Vid’aan, the former Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

As the image of Lyra spun about within the palm of his hand, he noted that her blue figure flickered uncontrollably. The image was fragmentary, either a corrupt file within the units data core, or misuse during its life span. Either way, it would suffice to the assassin as a worthy trophy. For the target wore it about his neck and was married to the woman in the image. Any other significance did not matter, as long as the target had held it dear during a single point in his lifetime. Yanking the metallic chain free from the corpse, Alpharius deactivated the locket and placed it within a pouch upon his bandolier. Keeping to his portion of the contract, evidence of the kill was being uploaded into a small video file for the transmission to come. The images began flashing by in a small screen in the corner of his heads up display. Adding in the most recent pictures, close-ups of Raynald’s corpse, the assassin began opening a secure channel with the coordinates provided as the files destination. The transmission was sent and the client would no doubt express their pleasure at a contract fulfilled, perhaps giving Alpharius a bonus for promptly exposing this candid affair and eliminating both targets, despite the contract requiring only Raynald’s death. He assumed the client was a jealous and vengeful lover whom sought to have the man eradicated out of spite, as he had been hired on for similar jobs. Alpharius didn’t care that he was the tool of another’s revenge, for as long as the pay was good the reasons behind the targets death mattered little.

Seeing that the destination of his data conveyance had accepted and opened the files, Alpharius swiftly accessed his personal account and watched as the transfer of funds began. The digits began to scroll ever upwards, and his heart began to beat in tune. Releasing a heavy sigh of pleasure, the assassin closed the link to his account and that of the client. The job was done and the contract had been upheld, there was nothing more that needed to be done here. Save one thing. He still had one more trophy to take, and the time before the law would arrive on scene was slowly counting down towards zero. Rising from the floor, the shrouded warrior moved towards the fallen woman and began patting her down to see what secret trinkets she had held. With the lack of clothing adorning her skin, it seemed as if there would be nothing that would, or even could be considered a worthy trophy. That was his mindset until he felt his fingers caress a stiff blade of metal hidden within her bust. Dextrously darting within her dying flesh and clothing, Alpharius removed a small dagger. The blade was drop forged and engraved with several cuneiform inscriptions, many that he had seen before and most that were brand new to his eyes. His suit began scrolling through its translation software, eagerly trying in vain to decipher the secrets this blade held. Knowing it was a wasted effort, he slid the knife into a vacant sheathe upon the bandolier; effectively replacing a knife he had thrown and lost several weeks before.

The thin smile he had worn faded when his hand had turned her face towards the ceiling. Deftly moving the strands of dark hair that obscured her face, a stab of recognition robbed Alpharius of all thought. He was frozen by the face this dead woman had worn, throwing his consciousness back onto the surface of the death world. Through eyes that were not his own he watched as this woman, now clad in an outfit befitting of a Republic Sector Ranger, stalk through the underbrush of a planet he would dare not name again. The howls of far off animals and the shouts of nearby savages had kept his eyes sharp, yet for some reason he could not help but chance a glance at the woman before him. He felt warmth spread throughout his body as he did so, a relatively new sensation that was considered to be taboo to the members of the Order, yet upon this despair laden world it was all he knew to be true. It was a love formed from desperation, an act that both of them knew would last as long as they were together. Adversity had thrown their souls to the wolves, and as one they would defy the very fate of the universe in order to survive. Yet, that warmth suddenly turned to frigid ice when he had heard the blood curdling scream of the woman he loved. He knew what that had meant, as he had heard it hundreds of times before when the unwary were claimed by the death world. The icy dagger of horror and fear stabbed into his heart as he sprang into action, his movements made all the swifter in the hopes he would be able to save his love in time.

His advance stopped as quickly as it had started, when he finally arrived to witness what had occurred. Bubbling acid coated the woman body and began eating her very soul from the outside in. Revulsion boiled within his veins, and the man dropped to his knees. Alpharius felt the sympathetic pangs of emotion and threw the woman’s head to the side. That man is dead never to live again, he mused despite the tears trailing after one another from the corner of his eyes. Leaving the past behind with layers of learned mental discipline, the assassin regained control of himself and looked at the timer. He had lost track of the time as his mind drifted into the forgotten past, and he knew that he would pay for it in one way or another. As if on cue, the door to the apartment slid open and several men burst into the room. Clad in navy blue uniforms with plates of white armour, Alpharius instantly knew what they were and why they were called in. Their guns were instantly drawn and their nozzles were pointed directly at him. Even though he was shrouded from sight, these men were could see the electronic residue he had left behind from the digital cloaking.

“Freeze!” One of them yelled. It would be the last thing he would ever say as Alpharius quickly drew his pistol from its holster and depressed the trigger. The officer dropped to the floor of the apartment with a smoke trailing from his shattered visor. The enforcement officers beside their fallen comrade returned fire, raking the wall behind the assassin with carbon scoring. A lucky shot had broken the consistency of his cloak and had subsequently failed seconds after. Now revealed, the armed officers before him had begun localizing their shots. Cursing silently, Alpharius dived for cover. Behind the rapidly depleting sanctuary of the apartment, the assassin did his best to return fire. Several shots went wide and he felt anger slowly filter into his blood. The frustration was swiftly ebbed as a section of his HUD was directed to the optic cable attached to the housing of his pistol. A real time image of what occurred about the corner played through his visor’s eye piece, giving Alpharius the edge he needed. His shots became more precise as soon as his suit adjusted, and a pair of officers collapsed to the floor with mortal wounds. Death once again filled the habitation unit as the assassin began his work anew, though lacking a client Alpharius aimed to fall back upon his talents to survive. The firefight had drowned out the sounds of the city beyond, passing traffic giving way to the thunderous chorus of discharged energy. His pistol sang with the sounds of exhaustion, and Alpharius cursed once more. Pulling it back from the skirmish, he counted the seconds it took to replenish the dwindling charge upon his sidearm. Seven, his weapon was starting to get slower and, in the middle of an intense firefight as well. He would have to have the power cell replaced with something more… efficient.

As the charge meter read full, Alpharius began blasting away at the officers trickling into the habitation unit. More fell, but as the vid-link wasn’t established the shots were wild and askew. They collapsed with light injuries or they tripped over the corpses of their fallen comrades. Either way, it opened a momentary lapse in their relentless volley of energy. It was a chance that Alpharius could not refuse, thus taking the opportunity he bull rushed the shattered window and leapt into the air. He was in free fall for several seconds before he had landed atop one of the hover buses from the surface. He hit the roof of the transport and rolled to his feet. Without turning his head to look back at the apartment, the assassin made his break for liberty. His feet started carrying him forward as the bus began lifting itself from its dock outside the Outlander club, and as it rose into the air he bounded from its metallic flesh. Landing with a grunt atop the building with his sniper rifle, Alpharius strapped the case to his back and set off into the darkness once more. That momentary pause however, was all the time the Law needed to cast two beams of light upon his ebon clad form. Spotlights from overhead gunships began fixing the target with their intense illumination. He had barely bit back the urge to spit and felt the warmth of his spittle caress his lips. Had he given up, he would be caught and black listed by the syndicate. That meant no work, no massive inflow of credits, and no more hunting. Alpharius could not have that. Two bolts flicked from the end of his pistol, as it shot up at the overhead gunships. The power of the side arm was not enough to breach the thickened armour of the patrol vehicle, but it was enough to shatter the glass housing the two spotlights. With a thunderous bang, the two lights went out and shadows once again encircled Alpharius.

Engaging his cloak as he holstered his weapon, the assassin took off into the depths of the underworld. For hours on end he had avoided the justice of the law, by ducking into darkened alleyways or eliminating scout elements of their enforcement patrols. He did this all from the shadows, each incapacitation adding a tally onto his counter and adding fuel to the wrathful legend he was sure to create. He was the spectre, the man whom death itself could not kill. Those who witnessed his physical form and made to call for help were silenced before they could utter a single word. Others, whom believed they saw a ghost, were spared his retribution. The underworld became a place of madness and chaos, for several hours at least. For that was the length of time the Law had searched for this mysterious killer, any longer and they would find themselves lacking in other areas that desperately needed officers. Thus the assassin was freed from the clutches of Coruscant’s security force. These men did not need to die, he mused as the assassin took shelter in a rundown area of the Underworld. His arm was bleeding badly, the shot from earlier had been cauterized by the heat of the condensed plasma but the strain he had placed upon his body mere moments before had torn open the seared pathways. Opening one of the many pouches upon his webbing, he tore a strip of gauze and wrapped it around the wound. The adhesive material stuck to the gash and soothing balms began to treat any infections that may have lingered within the sundered flesh.

He breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the pain subsided. His eyes closed as he tilted his head back, calming his heart and letting the bacta work its magic. It raced with reckless abandon before his will had forced its rhythmic cycle to lessen the pulse. Hidden within an alcove behind a bustling street, the assassin set about restoring himself to combat effectiveness. His suit, angered by the searing of its fibre’s, began weaving itself back together. Strands that were taken away by the searing heat of the blaster bolt reknit themselves into the greater personage of the body glove. Opening his eyes, Alpharius watched the gap upon his shoulder slowly stretch closed on its own. He was not in the least surprised when the gauze fell from his shoulder and the wound, in both his flesh and that of the suit, were gone. It had happened before, and it would happen again. Such was the life of an assassin who got careless. Given time he would perfect his art and become one with the darkness, but at the rate he was going he would be nothing more than another occupant of the suit. Such was the fate of all whom claimed the name Alpharius, to end up as nothing more than a man made by the suit he wore. Yet the deeds that a man did whilst interred within would become legendary, told by generation to generation. By his hand, the fate of the galaxy hung in the balance. A single pull of the trigger could end the tyranny of a despot, or topple a beloved master of man. Such power had made many whom wore the suit go mad and their feeble attempts to rid themselves of the suit had ended with the lives they lived ending in a single moment of agony.

Shaking his head free of such thoughts, the assassin looked out into the street and waited for the inevitable arrival of the law. For what seemed like hours, he waited to see if he were being followed. Yet as the sound of silence began to fill his ears, he knew that the law had given up in their pursuit of their suspect. Good, none but those that sought to take Raynald’s life and bounty away from him needed to die this day. Those officers were just doing what they were being paid to do, just like he was. They were not his target thus would be nothing but a waste of his precious ammunition, save for the lucky few whom have decided to threaten his very life. They had gotten nothing but swift and painless deaths in return, easing their suffering and ceasing the pain almost entirely.

It was not his way to shoot the innocent, for they had little reason to die. He killed because he must; each target he was contracted to kill was evil in some respect. Like Raynald, he was unfaithful to his wife and was a partial cause to her losing her station as Supreme Chancellor. His organization determined that she would’ve leaded the galaxy to an age of peace and prosperity in the likes that would have never been seen since the Original Republic’s formation some twenty thousand years ago. Yet due to the folly of a single man, that dream was brought crashing down in flames. Thus assassins like Alpharius were brought into play, eliminating those that sought to break the balance of power. One death to save thousands, which was the ideal, the creed him and the Syndicate lived by. With the death of Raynald, Lyra would be able to live a normal life bereft of the shameful deeds her husband committed. With the death of the swoop gang, Coruscant was but one step closer to being free from criminal corruption. The death of the assassin however… His thoughts paused as he tried to justify her assassination, the one woman whom held a face so similar to that of the woman he had once loved. She died because she had to. It was the best he could muster, and it would have to do.

The ends, justify the means. His thoughts had said. They weren’t his, but they wore his voice like it was a cloak. It was the spirit of the suit, the true bearer of the name Alpharius. Nodding his understanding, the man whom wore the suit pushed off the wall and flexed his aching muscles. That moment of peace, however, did not last as the sounds of boots echoed nearby. His mind raced with options, though he could not truly determine a course of action until he saw just who this man was. Alpharius did not have to wait long until he saw the man who had entered the alley; the lengthy black trench coat and the face were familiar but in this day and age such details can be easily mimicked. The man stopped after seeing the ruby lenses of Alpharius mask peek out from behind an alcove, his hands slowly crept skywards in an ancient gesture of supplication. A small smile curled across the man’s lips before he parted them to speak. “Code in: Sparrow” The assassin’s eyes widened, and almost instantly after Alpharius responded with, “Response: Everest.” Such code words were used by all secret agencies about the universe to determine whom was friend or foe before or after a mission had taken place. Sparrow was the code name for this mission and the handler who had set up the contract between client and assassin. His response was always Everest, as the word itself belonged to an ancient memory that came with the name of Alpharius.

“Agent, the HoloNet is erupting with the news of Raynlad Vid’aan’s death. I congratulate you on the swift and simple kill.” The man’s tone was flat and lacking any emotion. However that changed as the Handler approached Alpharius’ alcove, disappointment clouded his vocal chords when he continued to speak. “However the Syndicate is not impressed with the lapse of judgement upon your part. We have allowed you to take trophies from your kills as you have always done, but the death of several Security Force officers will put a strain upon our operations here in the future. They were unsanctioned and for that you will be reprimanded on your next assignment.” Alpharius’ head drooped slightly, shame gripping his heart ever so tightly. “It won’t happen again.” The assassin promised. The Handler’s smile faded now as he came to stand beside the contract killer. “No, I assume it won’t. Our organization has seen fit to gift you a small Corellian vessel for your needs, we’ve taken the luxury of upgrading it past the stock recommendations giving you all that you will require for your next mission. You will be briefed in transit by your new handler. The ship is on Dock seventy-three at Westport, and it has already been attuned to your biometrics. Pay the dock master and head towards the transit point, by then you will know which way to go.” Alpharius nodded and turned to leave, but was suddenly stopped by a firm grip upon his shoulder. Swivelling his gaze to meet that of his Handler, the assassin saw something akin to concern fill the man’s eyes. “Tell me agent, who is in control; the man beneath or the suit?” The assassin’s lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. “I am Alpharius, and we are in control of our actions.”

Holocron Days

For a long moment the woman looked at the man sitting on her desk with a slight frown on her face. The man sat there with a rather forced smile that faded the longer the silence stretched.

-Mary
Right. Where did that hammer go.

Standing up, the woman steps around the desk to look for the hammer. Spotting the item half hidden behind the back corner of the desk, she leans over to grab it. Suddenly there is a slight tingle in her fingers as the hammer slides out of reach under the desk. Somewhat surprised by the sudden movement of the hammer, she pauses before looking up to see the smug grin on the face of the man.

-Mary
Right, I think you had better do some more explaining before I have to resort to something slightly more creative than the hammer.

The man let out a somewhat annoyed sigh at the fact that he apparently managed to bind to someone this ... bullheaded.

-DeGuy
Right, lets start with the basics. You may or may not know that the item in front of you is a holocron.

He motions toward the crystal as the woman returns to her seat. Seeing the rather blank look on her face, he realized he would have to start from the very, very begining.

-DeGuy
Ok, a Holocron is a type of computer that stores the memories & experiences of a person, generally one that is force sensitive. The holocron in front of you however is somewhat special.

-Mary
I assume it has something to do with you calling me a channeler?

-DeGuy
Correct, a channeler is a somewhat rare & understudied branch of the Force. Personally, I think that the rate is somewhere between .0001% & .0000001% of the population or between one-in-a-million to one-in-a-billion.

-Mary
That actually seems rather common to me.

-DeGuy
Yes, well. that isn't taking into account the low number of holocrons, the unlikeliness that random people will handle a holocron, & the chance that the holocron will bind with the person. I personally believe that not every holocron is even capable of binding.

-Mary
So, what happens when a channeler binds to a holocron?

-DeGuy
It varies a bit from person to person. Mainly holocrons are made to teach. Usually it is by talking about the subject, channeler holocrons teach by showing how it feels to use the power. Additionally, a channeler holocron gives a boost to the channeler's raw power. I once saw someone that had used seven, he was a right beast to put down in the end.

-Mary
So that tingling was ...

-DeGuy
Me using the Force through you. Namely a little bit of telekinesis.

-Mary
So how do I keep you from just taking outright control?

-DeGuy
Practice mainly, the more familiar with the power you are, the less my ability to use it through you will be. Much like I can't control the muscles in your arm. I also need to warn you that people are hunting me, so you woln't be safe here, at least not until you have finished learning & the bind disconnects.

She sat sit for a while to think about this, her eyes tracing over the faded markings carved into the edges of the crystal that might have been letters so distant point in the past. On one hand, this would steal her away from her job & her peaceful, boring life. On the other hand, if she didn't, she would have a ghost lurking around behind effecting the world around her in ways she couldn't hope to control.

-Mary
Alright, What do I need to do?